Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I unzipped the jacket to check for more injuries and was shocked to find myself feeling a zip of attraction.
I hadn’t felt a spark of interest in a woman in a long fucking time. Even the pit bunnies had lost their allure in my early twenties. I wasn’t cut out for one-night stands or friends with benefits. But that worked for me because I was too focused on my career and had no desire to deal with a clingy woman and the shit that came with a relationship.
Her thick lashes twitched faintly, then her eyes fluttered, giving me a glimpse of gray eyes—like the ocean in a thunderstorm—before they closed again. She wasn’t fully out, but also not fully in. Somewhere between consciousness.
My gut twisted hard, and my heart pounded. My reaction was visceral, strong, and like nothing I’d ever felt before.
Seeing her lying there—small, injured, and helpless—I wanted to wrap my arms around her and fucking keep her.
Get a grip, Novak. You don’t even know her name.
A shadow fell over her as a guy in a track vest stepped in to help, reaching for her arm. “Shit, man, is she—”
I whipped around to face him, keeping her close and out of his reach. My fury surged hot and sharp.
“Touch her again,” I growled, “and I’ll break your fucking hand.”
He backed up so fast, he almost tripped over himself.
That’s right. Back the fuck off.
My angel stirred, a low whimper escaping her lips.
I needed to get her to a doctor, but without knowing who or what she was running from, I needed someone I trusted. Cage, my club brother, was our doctor. He even had his own clinic built on the compound, across a small parking lot from the clubhouse.
Without another word, I spun on my heel and stalked off the track.
I was halfway to the gate when I remembered the bag.
The one that flew off her back when she crashed.
I stopped, adjusted her weight in one arm, and bent to grab the duffel with the other. It was heavier than it looked, and the zipper was just slightly open. Inside, I saw a glimpse of neatly bound cash.
Yeah, this wasn’t a joyride.
This was a fucking escape.
Teeth grinding, I strode off the field. Bystanders tried to ask questions.
“Who is she?”
“What happened?”
“Is she okay?”
I didn’t answer or slow down. My steps were hard, my focus laser-tight on the parking lot behind the pit wall.
The voice of my MC’s VP, Edge, crackled through my comms. He’d been back in the office, rather than watching the race. Someone must’ve told him about the crash, and he was probably wondering why the fuck I was bailing mid-race.
“Axle? You alive, brother?”
“Yeah,” I growled. “Race is over. Meet me behind the pit in ten.”
There was a pause. “You got a reason for that tone, or just feeling dramatic today?”
I looked down at the girl in my arms.
Her lashes fluttered again, her brow crinkling.
“No,” I muttered. “Got a reason.”
Another pause. Then Edge’s voice dropped low, more serious now. “You good?”
I didn’t know how to answer because I wasn’t sure. I had no idea what the fuck this was. Why I was this pissed, this protective. Why my heart pounded harder now than when I hit 212 on the final straightaway.
“Just meet me,” I grunted.
Someone asked if they should call an ambulance. I snapped, “I’ll handle it.”
Because I would.
I didn’t know who the hell she was.
But she was mine now.
And no one was touching what was mine.
3
ASHLYNN
The first thing I noticed was the sterile smell. As if someone had gone on a cleaning spree with disinfectant. Definitely not my place because I procrastinated chores like it was my job.
My eyelids fluttered open, and although the room wavered at the edges, I knew I’d never seen it before.
I was on a bed, propped against pillows. A thin blanket covered me to the waist, and when I shifted, a dull ache rippled through my ribs. My scalp felt tight, and my temple throbbed under the bandage my fingers brushed.
I jerked upright, ignoring the flare of pain. Panic shot through me as fragments of memory slammed into me. The men with guns shooting at me. Jumping on a motorcycle. The deafening roar of engines at Redline Speedway. The barrier splintering as I smashed through, the ground tilting, the violent jolt of impact. And then strong arms lifting me. A deep voice rumbling something I couldn’t quite catch. A flash of hazel eyes that had locked on mine for a heartbeat before everything went black.
Relief swirled in my chest, clashing with fear so sharp it made my stomach knot. I was alive. But I had no idea where I was. Or if I was safe.
“Don’t move so fast,” a deep voice warned from somewhere to my left. “It’ll take you a minute to get your wits back after a crash like that.”