Roosted (Moto X Book 1)

by Brooke May

  “Stop it,” I bark, earning a yelp, then sudden silence. “Whatever happened last night was a fucking mistake.” Megan’s wide eyes find mine and she nods. “We both fucked it up, we are both to blame, and that’s it.” She nods once more.

  “Give me words, woman. I need to know you understand. It isn’t fucking happening again.”

  “N-never a-again.” She shakes her head, agreeing with me. “I didn’t want this to happen again.”

  “Why?” My nostrils flare. I need to settle the fuck down before I hurt myself. Megan rolls her bottom lip into her mouth and looks away. “I thought you wanted more with me?”

  A moment please?

  I don’t care what she wanted or still may want. I just want all this shit straightened out.

  “I don’t … not anymore.” She finally answers me, her still wet eyes meeting my enraged ones. “I-I sort of … met someone.” Getting up, she flees the kitchen, and a few seconds later, I hear my bedroom door slam shut followed by her quick race to locate her clothes—which have to be somewhere in my room and she just didn’t look hard enough—and leave the flat without another word.

  Going to the refrigerator to grab some eggs and bacon, I let an anger I’ve never felt take hold of me. The problem is I don’t know who is to blame.

  Myself?

  Megan?

  Or does it deserve to go to Paige?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I feel like a complete hypocrite as I march my way down to the garages to pull Paige aside and talk to her. Question her is more like it. I want to know who the guy was and why he was with her. We haven’t established anything between us, yet I still feel possessive when it comes to her.

  That’s never happened before. I’ve been territorial over things, items, and objects like my old dirt bikes or the Jeep I left back in Sydney, but never a woman. I know she got back late Sunday, so being my stupid fucking self, I waited for a message, anything from her, and I got nothing. This did not help my already fucked-up mind. While Jax was busy doing whatever he does, I was tearing my room apart, trying to find a hint or any sign of a condom wrapper or a used one.

  I found nothing.

  Fucking nothing.

  Nothing in the garbage, in my bedroom, or in the bathroom, so that left three options.

  One, she gave me a blow job and my mind tricked me into thinking it was Paige.

  Two, we fucked bare and neither of us remembers a single thing.

  Or three, we did neither, and somehow, we both just ended up naked and in my bed.

  I’m really hoping for the last choice. After all, my room didn’t smell of sex. Believe me, I checked. I smelled my bedding again and all that shit, and there was nothing.

  So why do I feel hypocritical of Paige?

  Something is crawling under my skin and making me feel dirty. No matter how many times I scrub the shit out of my body, nothing can get rid me of this feeling.

  As I said, this has never happened before. I’ve screwed multiple women back to back and never felt this way before. And I know it is because what I feel for Paige outweighs, overwhelms, and consumes me far more than any other woman has ever done.

  Roughing my way into the garage, I make quick work of tracking down the dark goddess. Everything is back to normal this morning; mechanics are working to get the bikes fixed or ready for the next time they will be needed. Looking both inside and outside, I don’t spot her or Len. I don’t give up, though. Heading out of the moto garage, I head to a different one and continue my search until I find the pair of them coming out of the last one.

  “Hey, Ax, how was your weekend?” Len offers me a smile while Paige wears her usual guarded look. I don’t offer Len a false smile; I don’t say anything about what the hell I’ve lived in the past couple of days has been like. Instead, I focus on Paige.

  “Could you give us a moment? Please, Len?”

  “Sure.” From my peripheral vision, I see Len back away. “Paige, I’ll see you in a bit.” Without waiting for a reply, Len gets the hell out of there, leaving Paige and me alone in the hallway that bridges the garage to the main building.

  Paige’s arms cross under her ample chest, causing the rise and fall of them to be more noticeable, but I’m too angry to want to fall face first into them right now. “What’s the matter, Oz? Get your period this weekend?” Her head tilts, taking her long black ponytail with it.

  “Normally, your odd charm would turn me the fuck on, but not today.” Each word spits from my mouth with the anger I’m doing my best to keep in check. We may be fucking around, but she is still my boss.

  “Yep, definitely your period.”

  “Cut the shit, Paige.” My arms vibrate as my fists shake. “Who the fuck is Royce Pollard?”

  Recognition hits her face, and to her own shame, Paige does nothing to hide it. “A driver I’m hoping to recruit this coming season. He’s kicking ass in rally. I want him here.”

  “So you could fuck him too?”

  A disbelieving puff of air comes out of her mouth as she rolls her eyes and looks away from me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  I take off after her as she strides by me and back toward the moto garage.

  “No, I’m not.” I want to shout it far louder than I should. “I saw the picture. It was Wednesday night, Paige! You couldn’t fuck me, so you went to find someone else?”

  “Is that what you think of me?” She laughs an actual belly laugh as though she finds this funny.

  “Answer me!” Grabbing her arm, I turn her before she can get the moto door open.

  “And why should I?” Her chin jerks up out of insolence. “We are fucking one another, Oz, not dating. I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, and you don’t owe me either.”

  “Because I want to know,” I growl. She turns away from me and opens the door. I continue to follow her, tracking her to where all the riding gear is kept. It’s then I realize we aren’t in the main moto garage, but one where she and Parker store their street bikes, a garage I haven’t seen yet.

  “I’m not fucking around with other men, Oz.” A leather jacket smacks me in the face. I barely get it off when a helmet sails through the air at me. “I don’t do that sort of thing. Even if I did, no one would catch me, and …” She turns to me now, pulling on a jacket and then her helmet. “No one can say a goddamn thing to me. I do what I want, I say what I want, and I fuck whoever I please.”

  Her black covered legs carry her over to a bike, and she throws a leg over to sit astride it. “I want to hire him, not fuck him.”

  “Well, you fucked and hired me, only to fuck me again. Why not repeat with someone else?”

  “Because he is a douche nozzle.” She begins to drop the face mask but stops. “Are you coming?”

  Why do I feel like I’m in a state of constant whiplash with this woman? Blinking repeatedly, I try to piece something together. I was getting mad at her. She ignores me and almost gives me the cold shoulder. And now she wants me to go somewhere with her?

  “Where?” I finally ask wryly.

  “We have a bunch of stuff happening in the next few weeks, including a massive party that takes too long to plan for. Everyone is going to be busy; you and especially me. I need to do this now, or it will never get done.”

  “Get what done?”

  “Just get on the fucking bike so we can go!” she barks, dropping her visor and starting her bike.

  Quickly, I shrug on the jacket and pull the helmet on while I climb onto another bike. Hopefully, the one she was telling me to. I have to speed to catch up with her before the gates drop. I stay on her arse all the way back into Salt Lake until we reach a school.

  Why are we at a school?

  Perplexed, I walk the bike back into a parking space in front of the school next to Paige and get off just as she does.

  “What are we doing here?” I stay on her heels well into the building and into an office.

  “We are here for career day for Taylor Miller’s cla
ssroom.”

  What the hell am I missing? Isn’t career day for parents of students? When did it become for non-parents?

  “All right. If you could sign here, I will get you two passes.” I follow suit and scribble my name into the tiny box and graciously take the pass from the woman giving Paige directions. Of course, Paige doesn’t need them and marches out the door, leading me to a classroom filled with little ankle biters.

  I like Taylor. She’s a pretty cool kid, but being around a herd of them isn’t something I care to do. Their beady eyes focus on us, either with amusement or terror, as two tattooed adults advance into their territory. I’m quaking in my boots and about to piss myself, can’t you tell?

  I nearly retch when I clock a kid digging in his nose like it holds gold or a clue to the lost city of Atlantis. To make matters worse, can you guess? Yep, the little shit finds something and then sticks it in his mouth.

  Fucking nasty.

  I thought by the time kids were Taylor’s age, they would know better, but apparently, I have proven I don’t know shit about little people. They are just as nasty as a toddler or a baby. Not letting myself get into this situation ever.

  Instantly, I’m nudged violently back to the situation plaguing me with Megan, and I really hope we never fucked. I tear my eyes from the snot-eating freaks and find Paige smiling and talking with the teacher before turning to look at me.

  Fucking hell.

  “Class, we have a very special treat for you today. Taylor’s big sister, Paige, and her friend Axle are here to discuss what they do for a living.”

  Nope, this is something worse than hell. I pin Paige with a glare I learned from my dad. It’s a deadly one that nearly made me piss my pants when I was a child, but it doesn’t faze her. Instead, she turns her charm on the kids and me along with them.

  I start to forget why I’m worried or angry. I become fascinated with how she moves around the room and talks about her racing career. She smiles at the kids, doesn’t cuss once, and to my confusion, she avoids all questions about what she wanted to be as a little girl or when she was a little girl altogether.

  When it is my turn, I feel like I’m on trial for a crime I’m unware I committed. Yes, I’m a giant badarse who fears being in front of small children for anything. I stutter, use ‘um’ far too much, and begin to sweat.

  Unlike Paige, I do not capture the vermin’s attention with my career choice. I get it, I really do, and crunching numbers and doing what I do isn’t as entertaining as motocross racing is. They ask me zero questions, and we leave after thanks are said with a laughing—no, cackling—Paige.

  “That was hell.” I want to cuss, but I won’t. Not while we are still in a school or on school grounds. I have my limitations. Swearing in front of kids, elderly—unless they do so first—and nuns are a big no go for me. The last whopped me on the ears one too many times as a teen.

  “It was fun.” There is a spring in her step, but I stomp out of the building. “Come on, I’ll buy you a late lunch.”

  “Fine.” I am hungry, and I’ve missed being with her the past few days. “I still want to talk—”

  “It’s done.” Paige is absolute, and her stance says so if I didn’t pick it up from her tone. “Nothing happened or is happening between me and Royce. Drop. It.”

  Cursing woman-kind, I straddle the bike I’m riding and once again follow Paige through the city. When we stop again, I’m relieved we are eating somewhere simple. We can seat ourselves, so we find a corner booth.

  I feel like the biggest arse. I don’t know if I fucked around with Megan, and I’ve been busting Paige’s non-existing balls about her being with another guy.

  “Just say it.” She doesn’t look up from the menu in front of her.

  “How do you—”

  “Because the pitiful look you are wearing. You’re too easy to read, Oz. Parker isn’t even this easy.”

  “And you won’t be pissed?” God, I’m the woman in this fucking non-relationship.

  I see a dark brow quip under her bangs. She doesn’t look up at me. “Why would I be? I told you; I don’t you owe anything, and you don’t owe me.”

  “When you put it that way—” I scrub my face and then run my hair through my fingers. “I think I slept with Megan.”

  “Oh.” The menu is set down far too calmly, and her distant eyes find me. “Really?” The Wednesday Addams smile is back, and I think a little pee is coming out of me. “You think?”

  “I passed out on Saturday night, had a very pleasant dream with you as the star, and woke up to a naked Megan next to me. I don’t remember shit.”

  “Well, then.” She picks up her menu again. “Don’t worry.”

  “But—”

  “Our big event, our party, is coming up here soon. I really hope you will be there. I’ll give you passes to bring some friends.”

  “Paige.” She looks at me again, waiting for an answer. “I didn’t want anything to happen, and I hope nothing did.”

  “Why? You can fuck who you want. You don’t have to be just mine.”

  “What if I want to, though?” She flinches, not enough for someone not paying attention to pick up on, but I do. She licks her red lips and turns back to her menu.

  “We’ll have drag races, jumps, booze, DJs, and anything else you can think of for a massive party. It will be a lot of fun.”

  Nodding, I resign to her dropping my fuck-up. “I look forward to being there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The dream begins as it always does, but this time, it’s in black and white and I’m a spectator rather than a rider. I’m standing off to the side of the track gazing upon myself as I get ready to start to race. The other me is bantering with Jax.

  Dread pools in my stomach. I know exactly how this dream is going to end. Just like all the others, it ends with a crash. Two lives, maybe more, changed forever.

  I try to lift my feet, but I’m fastened to the ground and unable to move. The engines of the bikes rev to life, and my frantic need to stop the race does nothing to stop it from playing out before me. The gates drop, and I am helpless, left only to watch everything fall apart before me. The race goes well until the end. I brace myself, steeling every fiber, muscle, and sinew of my body for what is to come.

  As I and all the other riders zip past me, I do my best to shout at them, only nothing comes out of my mouth. I am mute. Like each time this dream plagues me, I watch everything slow down. Roosted, blindsided, over corrected, and finally, the crash—metal crashing metal, screams from fans, onlookers, and even other riders who are able to stop before they add to the pile up.

  And then in the grayscale movie surrounding me, a deep crimson red flows from the crash. I raise my feet again. I need to get to my friend. I need to try to help him before it is too late.

  To my surprise, I’m able to move. I take off in a dead sprint, hoping people will move out of my way, but I pass right through them. It is as if this race claimed my life, and I was a ghost now looming over this track, forever stuck with living this over and over again.

  I stop at the pileup as riders struggle to get to their feet, others helping them and their bikes. I watch as I get up and see the horror on my face as Jax is pulled out. But it is different, like this dream, and Jax does not look like Jax.

  He is smaller, curvier, and even though I can’t tell what colors the red, blood stained clothing were, I know they are not the colors he wears. They are darker under the red. I am pulled in by the dark locks that fan out from under the helmet.

  “No.” I fumble and stumble my way closer. I step through the person who had helped Jax remove his helmet. When I come out the other side, I fall to my knees in an instant; my legs quit working as I sink into the soft dirt mixed with a light layer of mud next to the body.

  The helmet is slowly removed, and along with the goggles, a vail is lifted, and I want to die. Where Jax once laid unmoving but breathing is the lifeless body of Paige. Her eyes are open, unblinking, u
nseeing, looking at the skies above. I hear myself scream from behind me.

  The other me loses his shit, pushing people who try to help her while I don’t move. I’m lost and suspended in this hell.

  “No.” My voice is far more broken than it has ever been. “No!” This can’t be happening because I love this woman. Yes, I barely know her, but this can’t happen. I would tear out my own heart if it kept hers beating.

  “NOOOOOOOOO!” The heavens, if they are truly up there, opens and thousands of tears fall around us, none touching but surrounding us in a ring, a bubble, a tomb to trap my hell for only me to endure.

  “It was just a dream.” I try to convince myself, but it does nothing to ease the jacked-up feeling I have or the fear that creeps its way into my soul.

  “Just a fucking dream.”

  Commotion comes from the hallway, and my door flies open in the wake of Jax hurrying in.

  “Is everything okay?” He rolls into my room, looking around, and finally taking in my hysterical appearance. His back falls against his chair. “You had the dream again, didn’t you?”

  My head rattles as I shake it. “Yes, but it was different.”

  And it hit far too close to home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My glasses spiral in my hand between my pointer finger and thumb, and I can’t do anything but wait for the glare coming off them when they round up to reflect the light from overhead. Being back to work has been shit. No longer do I stride in and feel on top of the motherfucking world. It feels like a shortcoming, as if I was given a wonderful job with a great opportunity and having a hot as fucking sin boss was a bonus. But it’s turned into Havre and Bell all over again.

  I fucked the boss.

  Unlike the last time, though, news hasn’t spread around my place of work. My co-workers don’t look at me in disgust or look down at me, which is hard to do since I’m taller than a lot of them. If anyone knows about Paige and me being physically together, they don’t let on.

  Well, aside from Len and Parker.

  I haven’t seen Paige since yesterday when I tracked her down and when we came back here to get my truck to go our separate ways. I’ve been an unbearable asshole. I’ve spent the majority of today getting my head screwed on right. Only, I’ve failed on that front. I threw aside my normal resolve to keep myself looking professional an hour ago and shoved my sleeves up, revealing my tattoos. I have no plans to leave until the end of the day and have no desire to see anyone at the moment, so I don’t care if my ink is showing.