Swinger Style: Hot Rods, Book 5

by Jayne Rylon

  “Meep, I’m tired.” Roman voiced Carver’s thoughts. Not unusual, honestly.

  Except this time there was something frightening in the lethargic admission.

  “Gonna go to sleep now, okay?” Barracuda’s head lolled onto Carver’s shoulder. “Don’t leave me until it’s over. Promise.”

  “What?” Carver sat up straighter, but Roman went limp in his arms. How much had he drunk? Had he taken all the extra pills this morning? Was the situation worse than he’d imagined? Feared. Surely, Barracuda wouldn’t have intentionally tried to harm himself, would he?

  Meep shook Roman, not caring if he jostled the guy’s broken arm a bit. The pain would help him come more alert.

  It didn’t, though.

  His dead weight seemed heavier than the times they’d leaned on each other when they were making love. No, this was like the old days, when Roman would often drink until he blacked out. Guzzle alcohol along with drugs by the fistful to numb his pain.

  Back then he’d had quite a tolerance.

  Maybe he’d overestimated himself. Maybe…

  Carver put his finger to Roman’s neck. The pulse beneath his flesh was slow and weak. Nothing like the man it beat inside. Something was wrong.

  Really fucking wrong.

  “Guys!” He shouted for the Hot Rods as he levered Barracuda into his arms then over his shoulder, hoping he didn’t do more damage. “Help!”

  He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled as loud as he could. Roman flopped onto his side.

  “Someone fucking help me! Help Roman!” Carver didn’t care if he sounded like a pussy. He screamed as he ran, slower than usual with the heavy load he bore. If ever he needed speed it was now. Tripping, he bobbled Barracuda, then leaned forward, tearing up the grass as he sprinted. Come on!

  Buster McHightops zoomed out of the garage, barking his fool head off, and nipped at Carver’s heels as he headed for his Roadrunner. The ruckus got the mechanics’ attention and they poured from the bays like wasps from a kicked nest.

  “My keys. Someone throw me my keys.” He opened the door and placed Roman on the seat as gently as he could without taking too long.

  Bryce called to Buster and the dog backed off. Within seconds, he was back, the keys dangling from his mouth. The rest of the Hot Rods were catching up, headed for their own rides. Kaige got there first and ducked in with Carver.

  “What the fuck?” Nova roared.

  Carver didn’t wait to explain. With Kaige tending Roman, Meep tore out of the lot, gravel kicking up in every direction. While he drove, he spotted the rest of the Hot Rods not far behind in his rearview mirror.

  “Overdose?” Kaige asked.

  Carver gripped the wheel tighter and nodded. “I think so.”

  Kaige cursed violently, then started texting with one hand while hugging Roman to him.

  Carver prayed they made it to the hospital in time.

  There was never a better time to be a Hot Rod. Especially a fast one.

  Meep slammed the pedal to the metal.

  About the Author

  Jayne Rylon is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She received the 2011 Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Indie Erotic Romance. Her stories used to begin as daydreams in seemingly endless business meetings, but now she is a full-time author, who employs the skills she learned in her straight-laced corporate existence in the business of writing. She lives in Ohio with two cats and her husband, who both inspires her fantasies and supports her career. When she can escape her purple office, she loves to travel the world, avoid speeding tickets in her beloved Sky, and, of course, read.

  Jayne loves to hear from fans. You can reach her by email at contact@jaynerylon.com or chat with her while she’s procrastinating on Facebook—www.facebook.com/jayne.rylon—or Twitter—@jaynerylon.

  For the latest news about what Jayne’s writing, where you can find her at events or to win one of her prize packs given to random subscribers in each addition of her newsletter, sign up for the Naughty News: www.jaynerylon.com/newsletter

  Look for these titles by Jayne Rylon

  Now Available:

  Three’s Company

  Nice and Naughty

  Play Doctor

  Dream Machine

  Healing Touch

  Men In Blue

  Night is Darkest

  Razor’s Edge

  Mistress’s Master

  Spread Your Wings

  Powertools

  Kate’s Crew

  Morgan’s Surprise

  Kayla’s Gifts

  Devon’s Pair

  Nailed to the Wall

  Hammer It Home

  Compass Brothers

  (Written with Mari Carr)

  Northern Exposure

  Southern Comfort

  Eastern Ambitions

  Western Ties

  Compass Girls

  (Written with Mari Carr)

  Winter’s Thaw

  Hope Springs

  Summer Fling

  Two to Tango

  Where There’s Smoke

  Hot Rods

  King Cobra

  Mustang Sally

  Super Nova

  Print Anthologies

  Three’s Company

  Love’s Compass

  Powertools

  Love Under Construction

  Two to Tango

  Hot Rods

  Coming Soon:

  Compass Girls

  (Written with Mari Carr)

  Falling Softly

  Hot Rods

  Barracuda’s Heart

  Touch of Amber

  Play Doctor

  Developing Desire

  Men in Blue

  Wounded Hearts

  Bound for You

  Four to Score

  Forever Theirs

  Love is waiting on the wrong side of the tracks.

  Rebel on the Run

  © ٢٠١4 Jayne Rylon

  Hot Rods, Book 4

  Bryce Ellington has been keeping a really big bomb of a secret. And the platinum-blonde detonator is wearing five-inch heels, standing next to a broken-down Maserati.

  His fellow Hot Rods have never pried into the past that forced him from the only life he’d ever known, from the girl he loved. But as recognition dawns in Kaelyn DuChamp’s eyes—just before those eyes roll back in a dead faint—he realizes he’s going to have a lot of explaining to do. And a ton of damage to control.

  When Kaelyn’s great escape from her controlling family fizzles—complete with a face-plant in the dirt—she’s relieved to see the flash of tow truck lights. Then shocked to recognize the man behind the wheel. The best friend she’s been missing for too many years.

  Once Kaelyn collapses in Bryce’s arms, he never wants to let her go. But if she spills his secret, the resulting scandal could destroy everything he and the Hot Rods have worked for, built, and loved.

  Warning: Contains abuse of designer heels, bubble baths gone wild, an inexperienced heroine who can kick some serious ass, smokin’ hot sex as many ways as you can imagine it…and some you haven’t.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Rebel on the Run:

  Flashing amber lights crested the hill, followed by a monstrous tow truck decked out in chrome and metallic onyx paint. Enormous fireball graphics exploded over the hood, as if the vehicle plowed through an inferno. Its driver seemed proportionally huge behind the wheel. Either that or the company had a grizzly bear for a mascot and allowed the thing to respond to emergencies.

  Darn. Please don’t let this guy be sketchy too, she prayed.

  A lifetime of etiquette instruction took control and Kaelyn attempted to groom her disheveled hair, fix her suit, haul her s
hoe from the muck and school her face into a calm mask of indifference all at once. Illusions were the only source of power she had left.

  Instead she only managed to turn in circles, put some color in her cheeks and propel her heart rate from elevated to a ridiculous, extra-nervous thumping that pulsed in her fingertips while she began to perspire.

  Fantastic.

  Kaelyn deflated, admitting to herself that her great escape had more in common with a fledgling tumbling out of a nest than a majestic eagle learning to spread its wings and soar. She stared at the long, broad shadow her unlikely savior cast as he rounded the hood of his behemoth machine. Please, let him be decent.

  Did such people exist? She wouldn’t bet on it anymore.

  The clomp of his boots on the tar and gravel of the road was sure and steady as he ate up the distance between them with the immense length of his strides. Laying her shaky, sweaty palms against her thighs, she forced herself to lift her chin.

  Kaelyn prepared to do something she rarely did. Okay, never had done before.

  Ask for help.

  Beg for charity from a stranger no less. Humbling.

  Usually she was the one organizing benefits for those less fortunate.

  Except, when she scanned from his leather boots to his ripped jeans, which hugged his tree-trunk thighs, to a grease-stained T-shirt that showcased his impressive chest and broad shoulders, everything she’d rehearsed—about how she’d work off her debt, or leave an IOU behind—stuck in her throat.

  Or maybe that lump was her heart.

  Heaven knew that worthless thing had stopped cold.

  Because her savior seemed awfully familiar. He was what her best friend might have looked like if she’d seen the kid grow into an unapologetically sexy man. Instead, his rebellious teenaged urges had led him to a life roaming Europe as some reclusive rich playboy, who’d forgotten about the girl next door by the time his father’s private jet touched down across the pond. She glanced at her inherited Maserati and swallowed around the pain that still lanced her when she indulged in memories of Bryce Ellington IV.

  If he hadn’t abandoned her, maybe everything could have been different.

  Wishful thinking, she knew from endless experience, didn’t change what had happened. But it could ease the pain for a moment. She thought of him—drawing on the strength he’d embodied before he’d gone completely selfish—to get her through this, like other rough times.

  It must be a sign that this man was Bryce’s spitting image. Part of her relaxed.

  Unfortunately, she must have whispered his name.

  And that’s when the world went insane.

  “Yeah, Kae. It’s me.” The grim set of his mouth didn’t make him seem happy to see her. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t recognize me. It’s been so long. And I’m…a hell of a lot different. But, I’m not going to lie. Part of me is glad you haven’t forgotten.”

  It was the twinkle in his steely eyes that proved the impossible things spilling from this not-stranger’s wicked mouth. Surely, his rough and rugged exterior had nothing in common with the groomed adolescent she’d known. Still, something unmistakable reached out and grabbed her.

  “Bryce?” she croaked again. Louder this time. It felt rusty rolling off her tongue. Confusion had her lids fluttering as she struggled to believe what she saw. Completely overwhelmed, she blinked up at him. Squinted. Scrubbed her eyes.

  The vision remained.

  This was no rich, idle son. No, he was a blue-collar sex god right here in the US of freaking A. Forget another continent, she’d found him less than two states away. What happened to the stories his father had told her of Bryce’s escapades with an endless stream of gorgeous foreign women, with whom she could never compare?

  Was nothing she believed the truth?

  “Hi.” He reached toward her when the periphery of the world turned black, though he paused as if to admire her, unaware of the way things melted into a Dali-scape in her vision. “Damn. You grew up fine, didn’t you?”

  She might have offered some witty remark if her entire mouth hadn’t gone numb along with the rest of her body. It wasn’t every day she saw the ghost of BFFs past.

  “Crap!” He jogged, closing the gap between them with a couple giant strides, his arms outstretched to brace her.

  Kaelyn retreated, afraid to let him touch her. This couldn’t be happening.

  “But you’re gone!” she shrieked as she stumbled backward.

  “I’m not. I never really left the country.” He winced as she wondered if he could be some kind of imposter. “Who else would know about the times we snuck over to your tree house and camped out, spending the summer nights looking at the stars and telling each other about our dreams? Or the stray cat we made our pet out there? Remember the time you snuck Mr. Whiskers that fancy salmon from your dad’s Christmas party?”

  “Bryce? Is this some sick trick my father is playing?” Anything made more sense than what this impersonator spouted.

  “No, Kae.” He swallowed hard. “It’s really me.”

  “I see.” She’d never punched a person in her life. Yet her fingers bunched before she could stop them. Next thing she knew, she had risen onto her tiptoes and decked him in his handsome, though no longer clean-shaven, jaw. The bristle of his whiskers chafed her skin as his face and her fist collided.

  He clutched the spot her hand had bounced off of, injuring her knuckles in the process. “What was that for?”

  “If you’re here, you’re a big fat liar.” Steam had built within her in a flash. Now vented, she sagged under the relieved pressure. “I don’t understand. Why? I cried buckets when your dad told me you’d gone to enjoy your freedom. That you’d left without bothering to say goodbye. That you didn’t plan to come home because there was nothing important for you there. That you were enjoying the high life, the parties, the women. And here you are, six hours from Windsor…driving a tow truck? This is crazy. The whole world is flipping nuts.”

  Whether it was because of dehydration, the shock or the devastation at discovering her supposed best friend’s ultimate betrayal—or maybe all of those factors together—Kaelyn felt as though she were watching herself from a distance.

  “Hey. I’m actually a mechanic. The truck is…” Bryce trailed off, probably spotting her glazed eyes. He lunged for her again, attempting to steady her as she listed to the left. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass—”

  His concern became garbled as her eyelids grew heavy. Her knees buckled. At least the grass would make a soft landing pad, again, she thought.

  Yet when she blinked against the bright sun swimming above, it didn’t seem like much time had passed and she definitely wasn’t sprawled on the ground. No, those were muscled arms cradling her against a very hard chest. One that had nothing in common with gentlemen she’d held at an appropriate distance while waltzing during her father’s social functions. Or even the handful she’d invited to share her bed.

  She attempted to protest, to keep herself separate from the guy she would have wanted—far too much—to come to her rescue if given a single wish. Though she’d figured it impossible. Maybe she’d hit her head when her tire had blown. Maybe this was some sick trick of her mind, recalling the one person who’d always had her back when she needed him most. Except transformed into the kind of man who wouldn’t place leisurely pursuits above hard work, dedication and loyalty.

  That had to be it. He was a figment of her imagination.

  Kaelyn reached way up and pinched his thick neck. Hard.

  “Ouch! What the hell?” He glared at her.

  A combination whimper and chuckle left her parched throat. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both seemed imminent. The chaos in her mind had her yearning to black out again. So she surrendered. Kaelyn allowed herself to be weak and lean on Bryce as she’d longed to do so many
times in his decade-long absence. “Making sure you’re real.”

  “Come on, your majesty. Let me hoist your chariot onto the flatbed and we’ll get the hell out of here. I’m taking you home.”

  “No! You can’t make me go back.” Despite the futility, she attempted to thrash and squirm from his unrelenting grip. “Please.”

  “Hush. What has you so scared, Kae? I don’t mean your father’s house. I’m taking you to my place. Where you’ll be safe. I swear. We can work out the rest later.” Bryce didn’t really give her a choice in the matter. He made it easy to surrender, though she hated letting him take care of her. Right when she’d vowed to gain control of her life, her choices, her future. “Whatever has you freaked out, I’ll take care of it. I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll—”

  “Stop talking.” Here she was, in the arms of another bastard who’d lied to her.

  For her own good.

  She must have growled against his neck—which smelled amazing, damn him.

  When he chuckled, rumbling against her ear, she balled her fists and thumped them against his chest. A waste of effort. The ineffective blows rained over him without denting his resilient muscles. “Okay. Whatever it takes. Settle down.”

  She tried, but her newly honed survival instincts screamed at her to run.

  He held her tighter. “I get that you’re pissed. I didn’t mean to laugh. But you always were adorable when you got mad. Some things never change, I guess.”

  Before she could lash out again, he shocked her by dropping a light kiss on her forehead.

  “I missed you, Kae,” he murmured. “Every day.”

  Two men, one woman, and a romantic vineyard. Summer’s never been this hot…

  Summer Wine

  © 2014 Jess Dee

  Tastes of Seduction, Book 1

  Angus Lowe feels like he’s just stepped onto the set of Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous. He’s checking out a luxurious boutique hotel and winery, lured by the possibility of landscaping the gardens. And he’s crazy mad about the woman giving him the tour.