Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Edge flicked the blade shut with a snap. “Guess that settles the application process.”
Drift lit another cigarette and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “Kid’s done.”
I stared at him a beat longer, letting the silence drive it in deep as I debated whether to change my mind and put a bullet in the sniveling fucker. But after a few minutes, I stood and pulled my cut straight.
“Dump him somewhere he can crawl for help,” I ordered. “But he’s not setting foot in this garage again.”
Drift grabbed the recruit under one arm, Edge under the other, and they hauled him toward the stairs, his broken screams fading into the concrete as they went.
I stayed a minute, fists still buzzing from the impact, blood thundering in my ears. My reflection stared back from the dark glass of the tool cabinet—sweat-streaked, eyes wild but steady.
Nobody touched my woman.
Not her ride. Not her skin. Not her fucking air.
13
JANA
Ever since Torin tore out of here after Jax called, my concentration had been shattered. I needed to stop wondering what the hell he was up to and remember why I was here.
I’d come to Crossbend to carve out a place in the racing circuit that no one could take from me. And I was doing it. I’d earned a spot and held my own against men twice my size. Car or bike, I’d beat them all. The lap times didn’t lie. My name was now out there, and people were starting to take notice.
But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being just about racing. Torin had tangled himself up in everything I thought I wanted.
I couldn’t tell if I was losing my independence…or if this was the first time I’d truly been building something of my own. With Torin.
More than just being a racer and proving I could survive on my own.
It would’ve been easier if the sabotage attempts had rattled me enough to run. But Torin had stepped in like it was already decided. As though he’d tear the world apart before he let anyone touch me.
Then, before he left, he told me I wouldn’t need to worry about anyone messing with my ride again.
I hadn’t asked what he meant. Because deep down, I didn’t really want to know.
Torin was good to me. Patient when I bristled. Relentless when I tried to push him away. Maybe even my own personal hero, though the thought made my stomach twist. He wasn’t anything like the men in my father’s club—bikers who used their cuts as an excuse to control and destroy.
Torin’s claim on me didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like a shield.
And that was dangerous.
Because if I believed in him and he failed me, I wasn’t sure I’d survive putting myself back together again.
I shook myself out of my deep thoughts and noticed that The Pit was unusually quiet. There was no revving of engines or clatter of tools. No gruff laughter or sharp curses echoing off the concrete walls. Just the faint tick of cooling bikes and the hum of the overhead fans that barely cut through the heavy night air.
My gaze darted to the ZX, and a reckless idea hit me. I needed space. Just a ride to clear my head. If I didn’t get out from under the weight pressing on me, I was going to crack wide open.
My pulse thudded harder with every step as I slipped my helmet off its hook, clutching it against my chest like a lifeline.
The bay doors were rolled down halfway, leaving just enough room to slip through with the racing bike. My boots scuffed against the concrete, loud in the hush, announcing every nervous step.
I held my breath when the night breeze hit me, cool against my heated skin, teasing me with the promise of freedom.
I was three steps from the exit when a shadow peeled away from the wall. Broad shoulders, leather cut catching the faint light, eyes sharp and unyielding. Torin.
He blocked the gap like he’d been waiting for me.
The hair on my arms prickled. My grip on the ZX’s handlebars tightened until my knuckles went white.
“You running from me, sweetheart?”
I forced a laugh, but it cracked at the edges. “Not running. I just…needed some air.”
His gaze flicked to the death grip I had on the ZX, then back to my face. I felt exposed, every story I wanted to spin unraveling under the weight of those dark eyes.
“I don’t cage easily, Torin.” I lifted my chin, trying to sound steady when my hands were shaking and my chest was too tight. “Sometimes I just need space.”
He stepped closer, erasing the remaining distance between us. His hair was damp, and the scent of leather and musk clung to him, wrapping around me. And tempting me to throw myself in his arms.
“You can have all the space you want, Jana,” he murmured, his dark eyes burning into mine. “But not if it means leaving me behind.”