Page 33 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Alaina

Piper’s thumbs land like knives.

Not in the metaphorical ‘wow, this massage is intense’ way. Actual knives. Serrated, probably.

“Breathe,” she commands, all calm and spa-voiced as she digs into the meat of my calves as brutally as possible.

“I am breathing,” I grit out. “Through the pain.”

“You’re fighting me.”

“I’m trying not to scream.”

She hums, sounding pleased. “Then it’s working.”

I’m face-down on a padded table that smells of antiseptic and lavender with my hoodie bunched up under my ribs, binder already stripped off because even I’m not masochistic enough to keep it on during this, but I did forget to remove the socks I stuffed down my boxers, and now they’re pressing awkwardly into my crotch as a sock-shaped reminder of every bad life choice I’ve made.

Awesome.

It’s late, and Piper already had a long day with pit setup and her other sessions, so she only wanted to work a quick one on my legs and hips and told me to keep my clothes on .

My sports bra feels loose, my limbs are Jell-O, and my brain is a goddamn war zone. The thing about a deep-tissue massage is that it gives you nowhere to hide. No excuses. No distractions. Just knots being worked out of your body while your mind works knots out of everything else.

Like the Luc thing.

God. The Luc thing.

What the fuck was that?

I can still feel his knee between my legs, the heat of his hand under my jaw, and the sharp scrape of his teeth where he bit me.

My body fucking lit up . One second, I was pinned between a tree and a French menace, and the next, I was soaked through my boxers .

I know my body, even if nobody else has ever touched me like Luc did. I’ve figured out on my own that getting off sometimes helps with pain by loosening the tension in my muscles.

But privacy is a luxury I don’t get, not when I’m living in a damn bus with Dane, where every creak in the floorboards carries, and the shower is barely big enough to sneeze in.

So, I haven’t done anything to take the edge off since Luc lit the fuse, and now the ache he left behind is still burning in places I didn’t know could ache so fiercely.

It was hot. Stupid hot. Just like Delacroix himself. The kind of heat that makes your brain shut off and your hips press forward all on their own.

He was possessive, and the way his body pressed into mine like he wanted all of it, like…

I shift on the table.

No. Not going there.

Breathe, Alaina. Concentrate on the pain .

And yeah, there’s plenty of that. Whoever said diamonds are a girl’s best friend clearly never met Naproxen.

I slept in the goddamn driver’s seat of the bus last night and the night before.

Curled up with a blanket over my head and spine propped against the gear stick, which let’s be honest, was dumb as fuck considering how I hurt on a normal day after sleeping in a bed, but Dane is still sick and quarantined to the back of the bus.

And, of course, that thought loops me back to Finn because he knows.

He knows.

He hasn’t said a word, though. Not after the tire was fixed, and we were stuck again for the rest of the drive over here, and not since.

And then there’s Mason, who’s apparently still mad at me. Sure, he helped change the tire, but he didn’t look at me or acknowledge me in any way. Not even a ‘hey.’ It’s all fucked.

Luc, Finn, Mason.

Me.

But I don’t need them, hell, I don’t need anyone.

Except Dane.

I’m here to ride, win, and finish what I started, and that’s it. I shouldn’t even talk to them or worry about them talking, not talking, or anything else , to me. I should stop letting them hang around me and only talk to Dane. Maybe Piper. But that’s it.

Piper chooses that moment to press into a knot just above my hip, and I actually moan. Like, out loud.

She laughs. “Thought you said this was hell.”

“It is,” I mutter into the table. “Keep going.”

Piper moves to my lower back, knuckles dragging heat into the muscles along my spine. I flinch when she hits a tight spot near the scar on my left side.

“Jesus,” she mutters. “How are you even riding like this?”

I grunt into the padded table. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Alaina,” she says hesitantly. “I… I watched your crash. On TV, when it happened.”

I hold my breath, my newly loosened muscles all tensing at once.

Oh. Oh.

I thought she just figured out I was a girl, not that I was Alaina Crews. Guess the missing dick was only half the giveaway.

“And I heard all about you and your injuries, what you went through. You’re like…

” She pauses as her thumbs dig into a knot on my lower back, making me twitch.

“You’re one of the ‘how bad can it get?’ examples we get in the med prep courses.

Literally. When you apply to work on the circuit, they show you examples of what can happen if you don’t pull riders fast enough, or when someone keeps going with a ruptured this or fractured that .

But here you are.” She presses a thumb into the side of my hip as she says it, like punctuation.

“Alaina Crews. The cautionary tale. The ‘almost died on track, never raced again’ slide.”

“Wow.” I swallow past the lump in my tight throat. “Didn’t know I was famous.”

Piper snorts. “You are. I mean, you dethroned Delacroix last Sunday.”

I huff. “Raine dethroned him. I just showed up, and Luc had a bad race. It wasn’t about me being that good.”

“Well, Delacroix is off his game lately.” Piper rolls her shoulder as she moves around the table. “Apparently, he’s in love.”

My brain turns into a pretzel .

I wonder if she can massage that too?

I scoff, “Luc? In love?”

Just today, he was all over me. His breath, his hand, his body, hard against mine. His mouth was at my throat like he was starved for the contact. So if he’s in love with someone, why the hell would he do that?

“Sure it’s not just another rumor about him?” I add, trying to sound less interested in the answer than I am.

Piper hums under her breath. “Delacroix told me himself. He’s all moody and distracted. Apparently, he’s been trying to charm someone who keeps shutting him down.”

No. It can’t be me, can it?

Piper keeps working, but her voice goes soft. “He’s got a type, huh?”

My mouth is dry as I ask, “Does he?”

She laughs under her breath. “Looks like it’s quiet, broody boys with dangerous cheekbones and rage issues.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

Piper catches my eye from the side, a little too knowing. “You noticed how much attention he pays to you?”

“He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even know me,” I argue, too fast, even though my stomach flips.

“No?” she asks. “Could’ve fooled me. He practically ran after you mid-conversation this morning.”

I roll onto my side. “He’s just weird.”

Piper grins. “Weird and obsessed.”

I have nothing to say to that because some part of me wants to believe it, but a bigger part of me knows it’s a very bad thing if it’s true.

“Well, your legs might not kill you now.” Piper wipes her hands on a towel. “For at least twenty-four hours.”

I sigh heavily. “Bless you. ”

She grins, cocking her head. “So. Are you gonna put him out of his misery anytime soon?”

“Who?”

She gives me a look. “Delacroix.”

“Piper.” I laugh. “He still thinks I’m a guy.”

Her eyebrows go up before she chuckles. “Even better. No wonder he’s losing his shit. You’ve really messed with his head, and it was already pretty fucked.”

“Anyway.” I sit up slowly, sore in about sixteen places. “You said you’re kind of a doctor too, right?”

“On-hold pit medic, yeah,” she says, tossing the towel aside. “Not a real doctor-doctor, but for cuts, bruises, hydration, and panicked mechanics with finger sprains? I’m your girl. Why?”

I pull my hoodie down with a wince. “You know anything about sinus infections? Dane gets them sometimes, and I think the cold he has might be more than that now. The cough is gross, and he’s sleeping like crap, but he looks feverish like he did when he last had one, and I really can’t afford to get infected right now. ”

“Oh, sinus infection?” She nods. “I’ve got some stuff. I’ll walk over with you. Consider it a house call.” She holds up a finger like one sec , disappears behind a curtain, and returns a moment later with a small black bag slung over her shoulder.

We step out into the night together, and I catch the once-over she gives the school bus, probably taking in the faded paint, how one wheel is chocked with a rock, and the white CREWS decal on the side that is peeling at the corners.

It looks like a rusted-out joke compared to the gleaming setup we just left.

Home sweet home .

The bus is quiet when we climb in, the air stale with hints of leftover soup, used tissues, and travel.

Piper glances around. “Where’s the patient?”

I usher her toward him, and Dane sits up from his bunk, wrapped in a blanket like a grumpy goblin. His eyes squint between us.

“What the fuck,” he rasps.

“She’s my physio,” I explain quickly, and Piper flashes a grin.

“Hey, I’m Piper. Nice to meet you, Dane.”

He looks at me with an expression that says, “ Are you serious right now?” I just shrug back like, yep.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to make you feel a little better,” Piper adds, settling her kit on the small table. “You know, you’re kind of the reason I got into downhill mountain biking.”

Dane blinks in confusion, as if he doesn’t even know who he is. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She cracks open a small container and starts mixing something. “When you were in your prime, I watched every single race while I was doing my training to become a physio . You were it. You made it look like flying. So damn cool.”

Dane looks vaguely alarmed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She nods. “You were the reason I wanted to work on the circuit.”

He coughs into his elbow. “Damn.”

“Yeah, so dumb, right? I had such a crush on you.”

That little tidbit shuts Dane right up and makes me grin wildly.