Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2) Read online

  The drive to the club was mostly a quiet one. Punk stared out the window watching the scenery pass by in lush shades of green. Cedar Valley was beautiful in its own quaint way. Though she’d wanted to leave many times, she never had because she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. This was her home.

  “The guys are very excited to meet you,” Beast said, interrupting her thoughts.

  She turned to stare at his profile. He’d used two dreadlocks to pull the whole bunch into a sort-of ponytail. They weren’t extremely long, but past his shoulders. Pulled back away from his face like that, they were hot as hell. She’d never considered herself a fan of dreads, but on Beast they were natural. She couldn’t imagine what he’d look like without them.

  “Ella talks about you all the time. And they’re all itching to make sure you’re okay. I think Surge nearly went off the deep end finding you under that fence like that. He’s nearly sworn off racing. Too dangerous he says. And he won’t even talk to me.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.” Punk shook her head, staring at the lines on the road in front of them. “It was an accident. Sure, I was hurt, but it wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I’ve been hurt on purpose and this is a whole different thing. They can’t be mad at you.”

  Beast was silent, but the air in the cab changed, thickened with tension.

  Punk glanced at him. His fingers white-knuckled the steering wheel and his jaw was set so hard it looked like it was chiseled from stone.

  “Who hurt you?” He forced the words between clenched teeth.

  Holy shit. He was furious. He’d gone from lighthearted to livid in a matter of seconds. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t as good-natured as she’d assumed.

  “It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Who, Punk? Tell me now.”

  She whipped her head around. “Excuse me. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

  Beast opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. She crossed her arms and went back to staring out the window.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice broke the silence that stretched between them. His tone was a fraction calmer, but still not what it was at the hospital. “I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you. In fact, it makes me murderous.”

  Punk stared, trying to read him. “Why do you care so much?”

  His gaze flicked to hers for a split second and then back to the road. “I just do.”

  Right. So, that was a man-like response if she’d ever heard one.

  Beast pulled into the Dirt Track Dogs parking lot, and then around to the back of the garage where he continued down a small driveway.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about murdering the bastard who hurt me. He’s already gone. He didn’t make it long in prison.”

  She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to divulge that bit of information. Maybe to appease him? So he wouldn’t worry? Didn’t matter now. It was out of her mouth, no taking it back.

  Beast parked the truck in front of a smallish house and cut the engine. Then he just sat there, fiddling with the keys and staring at the steering wheel. She gave him time to work out whatever was going through his head.

  “Good,” he said finally. “I’m glad the fucker’s dead. Mostly I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “I’ve been safe for a while now. I’m good. Really.”

  Beast nodded and opened his door without another word. He walked around the back, retrieving her crutches and opening the passenger side door while she unbuckled. But before she could start to scoot out, he invaded her space again. He didn’t touch her but he made sure she was looking directly into his eyes.

  “Whether you know it or not, whether you want it or not, you have friends here. You’re one of us now, and DTD protects what’s ours.”

  She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t need that. I don’t need protection.”

  As he stared at her his eyes softened. A slow, adoring grin slid into place causing Punk’s heart to flutter like some fairy on crack.

  “Your nose,” he murmured. “So fucking cute.”

  Her hand flew up to cover it.

  “Come on. Let’s get you inside before the others come looking for you.”

  She slid out of the truck and onto the crutches without Beast’s help, although he was hovering over her like a mother bird over her chick. Geez.

  She followed him up the two steps and onto the porch. He opened the door for her. Inside, she found herself directly in the large open living area.

  Two guys sat on the couch watching a football game. One of them jumped to his feet faster than should be humanly possible.

  “Oh shit,” he muttered. “Here, lemme help you.”

  He rushed over to the door.

  “No, no. I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

  He ignored her. “Here let me carry you to the couch so you don’t have to use your crutches. Those things can’t be good for anything. You won’t need ‘em here. Just call out and one of us’ll come and help you.”

  He wrapped an arm around her before his words could even register. What the hell was happening here?

  “Surge,” Beast snapped. “Back. Off.”

  But he didn’t listen. The man didn’t listen. He just laughed a crazy cackling sound.

  Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she jerked her elbow back, catching him hard just under the ribs where his soft organs were. But that wasn’t enough. She twisted out of his arms, bringing her good knee up landing a shattering hit to his groin. He groaned and doubled over, and that’s when she tangled her fingers in his hair to smash his face against her knee.

  She heard the commotion and the cursing all around, but all she focused on was the threat in front of her. She’d stop if he was ready to keep his hands to himself.

  He held his bloody nose, his legs squeezed together, staring up at her. “Damn, girl. What was that for?”

  “You don’t touch me,” she breathed, just now noticing the pain in her broken leg. “None of you touch me. Understand?”

  She looked around the room. Beast and a man with short dark hair stood looking at her in horror.

  “Yeah, shit,” the man she’d attacked—Surge—straightened, wincing in pain. “I understand. No touching. Got it. Can I breathe around you? Is that okay?”

  Punk looked around again. None of them were coming at her. Fuck on a beach, she’d overreacted. They’d brought her into their home to help her, and she’d beat the shit out of one of them. But… they had to keep their hands to themselves. They had to… had to… she had to teach them the boundaries.

  Beast inched closer. “It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice low. As if he was talking to a wounded animal. He bent, picking up her crutches and handed them to her.

  She took them and met his eyes, pleading with him to understand. She needed someone to just… get it. I’m sorry.

  He grinned. Grinned. “Damn, Surge. When the lady says she doesn’t need help, she fucking means it.”

  The man standing by the couch laughed. Then laughed some more. He grabbed his belly and doubled over, hooting and hollering and pointing at Surge. “You got your ass kicked by a hu—” He shook his head. “By a gir—” He stopped again, laughing some more. “By a chick with one bad leg.”

  Surge surprised her by chuckling.

  Punk took a deep shaky breath. “In his defense…” She cleared her throat to get rid of the shaking in her voice. “He didn’t exactly fight back.”

  Surge nodded. “Yeah. What she said.”

  The door opened and a new man walked in. Punk recognized him too. How could she forget a face like his? Half of it was mottled in severe scars. He was like Two Face from Batman, except not as gruesome. In fact, the one side of his face was take-your-breath-away handsome.

  This was Ella’s uncle. Weird to think of him like that since they were about the same age.

  He took in the scene and his one eyebrow raised. “Anything I should know about?�
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  “Yes,” Beast said. “This is Punk, and she will kick your ass if you touch her without her consent.”

  She nodded. He’d summed it up correctly.

  “Punk, this is Blister. And that bastard over there is Diz.” The guy by the couch gave her a lazy salute. “And this of course, is Surge. He’s um…” Beast ran his hand over his jaw. “He’s the one throwing you the party tonight. Him and Annie.”

  “Fuck, Beast. That was a surprise!” Diz growled, throwing a pillow at Beast’s head.

  “Sorry, but I don’t think she likes surprises.” He looked at her. “Just a hunch, but am I right?”

  Punk nodded. “What is this party?”

  “A welcome home party. Duh,” Surge said.

  “But I’m not even at home.”

  He sighed, wiping more blood from his nose. “Fiiiiiine. Call it a happy hospital release party then.”

  “I don’t need a party,” she argued.

  “Well, who the hell ever needs a party? No one, that’s who. Parties aren’t like, necessities. That doesn’t mean we give up havin’ them, now does it?”

  She squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

  “So are you.”

  There was truth in that.

  Punk leaned on her crutches. The pain radiating from her leg was sharp. She’d fucked it up, no doubt, with her ridiculous friendly fire. Damn it, she’d have to call the doctor. But not tonight. Tonight, she needed to chill the fuck out. Maybe she actually did need a party.

  Chapter Four

  Beast stared at his mate, keeping his face from revealing the emotion that created a storm inside him. Something was wrong with Punk. The way she’d reacted at the hospital when he’d touched her face, and what she’d just done to Surge. Something bad had happened to her in the past, and she’d turned her fear into fighting.

  Except she was fighting the wrong thing. No one here would hurt her.

  Maybe the accident had brought back bad memories. Or maybe she was always this distrusting. Whatever the case, it wasn’t good for her and it wasn’t good for their future.

  His gaze traveled to her hurt leg. She’d put pressure on it when she kneed Surge. It must be screaming right now. He needed to make her comfortable so she’d relax and get off it.

  “You hungry?” he asked. “Let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  Surge gave him a skeptical look. None of them really did much in the kitchen besides Surge. It was like his playground and therapy at the same time. Working with fire, creating instead of destroying, it helped him deal with his issues surrounding the massive forest fire that wiped out their families twenty years ago.

  But Beast despised cooking the most out of all of them.

  “I am actually,” Punk said. “The hospital food hasn’t been kind to me.”

  “Were you mean to it first,” Surge asked, accusingly. “Did you karate chop a pork chop on your first day or something? Nut check a baked potato?”

  Punk narrowed her eyes. “No,” she hissed. “It didn’t try to touch me so it was safe.”

  “Touché, little beast, touché. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go cry over my injured jewels.”

  Diz snickered and flipped the channel on the TV.

  “Kitchen’s through there.” Beast pointed her in the right direction, eager to get her alone again.

  “Hey,” Blister spoke up. “Anyone know what time the other one is coming?”

  “Other one?”

  “The other…” He gestured awkwardly at Punk’s back as she made her way into the kitchen, his eyes not finding a place to land but rather bouncing off different points in the room. “Female. The other female.”

  “Annie?” Diz asked.

  Blister stared at the back of his hand as if there was something interesting there. “Yeah,” he said casually.

  Beast stared at his friend. What was this about? Was Blister interested in that syrupy female? Surely to hell not.

  “Around seven I think.”

  Blister nodded. “ ‘Kay.”

  “Why?” Diz grinned. “You wanna make sure you’re around?”

  Blister went still and his voice was eerily quiet. “No.”

  “Whatever man. I’m onto you. I saw the way you were look—”

  “No,” Blister said more forcefully. “You got it all wrong. I want to make sure I’m nowhere to be found.”

  With that, he yanked the door open and stalked away.

  “Fuck,” Diz muttered. “What did I say?”

  “Don’t jerk him around, Diz,” Beast warned. “Something’s going on with him.”

  “Fine, fine. Damn sensitive wolves. It’s like I’m living with a bunch of—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence or I’ll have to kick your ass, and I don’t feel like it right now.”

  Diz flipped his middle finger, and Beast strode into the kitchen.

  Punk had settled on a bar stool with her broken leg propped up. Beast opened the fridge and peered inside.

  “What do you feel like eating? We’ve got eggs and bacon. Stuff for grilled cheese…”

  “You have tomato soup?”

  He rummaged through a cabinet and came up with a single can of Campbell’s. “Yep.”

  “Grilled cheese and soup sounds heavenly right now.”

  Beast tossed the can high into the air and caught it. “Coming right up, madam.”

  He got the bread out and started buttering several slices.

  “This is actually my specialty, you know.”

  She raised an eyebrow, not impressed. “That right?”

  “Mm hm. It’s your lucky night. Gourmet grilled cheese, a party among friends, and several bastards willing to wait on you hand and foot if you’ll let them.”

  She lowered her gaze, playing with the rings on her fingers. “Listen, I’m sorry for what I did to Surge. I just… No, I can’t apologize for it. I know he didn’t deserve it. I can see that now. But I can’t be sorry because having that impenetrable boundary is what has kept me sane all these years.”

  He stared at her, willing her to give him more. His wolf paced inside needing to know her secrets so he could make everything better.

  She shook her head slowly. “I know you don’t understand. I probably seem like an insane person right now. Which actually isn’t something I mind people thinking. Usually. But I… guess I wanted to try to explain myself. I think I’m doing a bang-up job. What about you?”

  He opened the can of soup to stall.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She smirked. “You just did.”

  Ah, his mate had such a smart mouth. Such a smart sexy mouth.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes.” He filled the soup can with milk and added it to the pan. Milk—instead of water—was the secret to amazing tomato soup. Surge taught him that. “What would your answer be if I asked you when?”

  She frowned. “When what?”

  Beast shrugged. “Just… when?”

  He was intuitive. He could gain a lot of information from her answers. Especially if she didn’t realize what question she was answering.

  While she considered how to respond, he flipped the sandwiches.

  “2005,” she said quietly.

  She’d chosen the past. A long time ago in the past. And he knew immediately that she must be referring to the bastard who’d hurt her.

  Beast held his breath and then let it out slowly.

  She could’ve said “tomorrow” or “3pm” but she didn’t. She’d made a choice to confide in him without actually confiding in him. Which was exactly what he’d hoped for. It sounded screwy, but he understood it. He understood how Punk worked. She needed to talk, but she also needed to pretend she was keeping all her secrets tightly locked away.

  “And if I asked where?”

  She stared at her fingers, but snapped her response as if it was poison. “In a dim alley.”

  Shit. Every detail was making him angrier, and s
he didn’t need his anger right now. He’d seen how she shut down in the truck.

  “And if I asked why?”

  “Because assholes exist.”

  He plated the sandwiches and poured the soup into bowls.

  Placing the food in front of her, he said, “And if I asked… what?”

  She met his gaze squarely. He saw a war raging within her, wanting to share and wanting to hoard. Past hurts weren’t easily revealed. Sometimes they never were.

  “I’d say go fuck yourself.”

  One side of his lip pulled up. His mate had had enough. She’d been brave to tell him as much as she did.

  “Congratulations, sweetie. You’ve just mapped out our first date for me. We’ll go fuck ourselves in a dim alley because assholes exist… in 2005. Although, that part we’re going to have to compromise on because I haven’t learned how to time travel yet.”

  She blinked once. Twice. Then busted out a laugh. And she didn’t stop there. She kept going and going until he thought he’d keel over from the pleasure the sound brought him.

  He’d made her laugh. Brought her through a panic, drew out some of the poison she was hoarding from her past, and made her laugh with abandon.

  Today was a fucking good day.

  “And that’s prettttty much what a date with me would look like too,” she squealed. “A total fucking disaster.” She laughed some more and Beast found himself chuckling along with her.

  “Damn, girl. My wolf likes that. Your laugh is beautiful.”

  Ah, shit. It slipped out. He wouldn’t take it back though.

  “Your wolf?” she asked, a giggle slipping through.

  “Yeah, don’t you know? There’s a wolf under all this sheep’s clothing.” He flexed a bicep jokingly.

  “Oh, really.” She picked up a sandwich and shoved half the triangle in her mouth.

  “Really.”

  “That why they call you Beast?” she asked around a mouthful of food. “‘Cause there’s a beast inside you?”

  He grinned. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait until our date to find out.”

  “I guess I’ll be waiting a long time then. 2005 is a long ways away… in the wrong direction.”

  He leaned across the bar so he was hovering over the plate of sandwiches. “Yeah but I said we’d compromise, remember?”