Page 4

Chapter 4

Wild Thing

ZARA

T his is bad.

Cal hates the Hunter brothers. He’s been talking about them nonstop since we started dating.

I had seen them once a few weeks ago, when I snuck out to watch the Star Cove leg of the Super Bikes League. They were racing on their own turf then, and they were the crowd’s clear favorites.

Cal hates them because their father was a famous professional hockey player; he thinks they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths and all they had to do to get a MotoGP team to notice them was to get their rich daddy to buy them expensive bikes.

I’ve been around motorcycles my entire life—at least until my parents divorced—and having the best bike is important to win, but the racer’s skills are just as important.

Of course, I knew better than to say that to my ex-boyfriend. That’s also why I tried to hide who my father is.

The truth is that Levin Reilly, Atlas and Ares Hunter, and even their brother Chance, are super talented on two wheels. Cal has been placing behind them consistently. Today wasn’t a fluke. I think Blue Lightning is considering Cal more for his image than for the number of victories under his belt.

He’s the quintessential bad boy, someone who barely plays by the rules. He’s famous for his infractions and for being always ready to exploit every opportunity, his rivals’ every weakness, no matter how small.

“We want the racer with the best skills and the most grit. I want to see you all race on the sand and on the same bikes.”

“Good luck getting some bikes at the drop of a hat,” Heather snorts. Atlas’s girlfriend has been watching Kristy with a jealous gleam in her eyes the entire time. “The same type of bike, too? I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

Kristy’s smile widens. “I came here prepared for a challenge. My team has what we need. Guys!” she calls.

I hear the dirt bikes before I see them. Three riders, clad in black leather from head to toe, come to a skidding halt a few feet away from us. Sand sprays everywhere as the crowd cheers at the promise of an exciting challenge.

“These are just your basic, run-of-the-mill dirt bikes,” Kristy explains. “Each of you will race from here to the old bridge. The third bike is for one of my team to film the action. I have two of our latest, special edition pro racer helmets for you guys to wear. I’m going to stream the race. The first racer under the bridge will be the face of next season’s helmet.”

Atlas doesn’t look impressed. “I don’t see what kind of data a race on the beach is going to give you, Kristy. We should take this back to the racetrack.”

“It’s more fun like this,” the woman smiles. “Our new line gives you the best performance in every condition on every road and surface. We want our challenges to reflect that. It doesn’t matter if you don’t typically race on dirt bikes. I know you all have experience on a dirt bike because this is how you started as early teens. It should really be like riding a bike, after all.” she chuckles at her own pun.

Cal barks out a derisive laugh. “I don’t think his problem is the dirt bike or the sand. Am I right, Hunter? I think the problem is that you’re too chicken to race without your mechanics and your fancy equipment. You know too well that if it came down to just the racer’s skills, I would destroy you. Any of you.”

I’ve seen these guys race, and I think Cal is full of shit. All the Hunter brothers—and their friend Levin—are born to race. And this isn’t just my opinion; I started following their races when Dad told me about it. He’s trying to finance his own team for the MotoGP and he’s been watching all the emerging talent for the past couple of years. I don’t get to see him as much as I would like to, but Dad does his best to visit during the off-season.

I watch Atlas Hunter, curious about what kind of reaction he will have to Cal’s provocation. I can see the way his twin Ares is grinding his jaw, his hands curled into fists, itching for another physical confrontation with my ex.

Atlas seems to be the calmer twin and the moment his mind is made up, he smiles. “You’re on, asshole. I can beat you with my eyes closed. Hell, I can beat you with a passenger tied to my back and on one fucking wheel.”

Shit. Maybe Atlas isn’t so calm after all.

“That’s a great idea.” Kristy claps her hands, her eyes wide with excitement. “I know exactly what we should do. Is anyone wearing a belt? I need two, please.”

Two guys in the crowd scramble to take their belts off for the attractive Blue Lighting exec.

“Let’s up the ante,” she smiles at one of her assistants, who’s started filming this entire thing when Kristy proposed the race. “Each of you will take a passenger with you. A girl would be best, because we tend to be lighter than guys, no offense. Your passenger will be secured to you with these belts. You’re going to ride back to back with the belt around your waists. The bridge is your finish line. To win, you need to ride under the bridge first. Any stretches on one wheel will count as a bonus, should you get to the finish line at the same time. Choose your passenger wisely, because she’s going to be like one extension of your body. The winner has to pass under the bridge on one wheel. Bonus points if his companion unbuckles her belt and manages to stay on the bike. If she falls off, you’re eliminated. Unless the other girl falls off too. It’s all about speed and balance. It’s all about skill. Your Blue Light Helmets will keep you safe.”

Chance doesn’t look convinced. “You’re supplying helmets, but what if someone falls off? Aside from the chance of a broken bone, sand is abrasive as fuck.”

Kristy smiles. “You’ll also be given Blue Lightning new protective clothing. We have a new, cutting edge exclusive fabric that’s lightweight and resistant to cuts and abrasions. You can also opt to use knee and elbow protectors.”

Atlas smiles at his girlfriend. “Sounds cool. Do you want to try?”

“No.” Heather shakes her head, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not riding on the back of a dirt bike during an illegal race. Are you fucking insane? My Dad’s a sheriff. This is being filmed. If he sees that, he will kill me. And he’s never going to let me see you again.”

He looks conflicted. “Huh. You’re right. On second thought, I can’t do this. We haven’t cleared this with our new team manager. Technically we’re already under contract, we’re allowed to finish the Super Bike races, but we need their permission to participate in any other event.”

Kristy intervenes. “Hey, we’re a serious company and our challenges are famous around the world. We keep things above board at all times. Before bringing the dirt bikes, I checked the town’s laws. Dirt bikes are allowed on the beach in Bridgeport, as long as beach goers’ safety isn’t compromised. Since it’s nighttime, and we’re the only ones here, we aren’t breaking any laws. Races are allowed as long as there’s no money involved. We’re racing for bragging rights and for a chance at a sponsorship contract. Blue Lightning isn’t endorsing or encouraging any forms of bets or money exchanges connected to this event and isn’t responsible for any such things, should they occur here tonight.”

I don’t know if she’s saying that just to cover her ass on video, or if her disclaimer has any legal value, but everyone’s attention is on Atlas as he hangs his head.

“I have no doubt that you wouldn’t break the law, Kristy,” he sighs. “But I still need to get written permission from my team manager, and I know there isn’t any point in asking. When we signed the contract, they made it clear that we were allowed to finish the few races left in the Super Bikes League and nothing else. They don’t want to risk losing one of us to an injury. So I’m afraid Ares and I are both out.”

While Heather looks satisfied with her boyfriend’s decision, Cal has every intention of being a total jerk.

“Ha.” He laughs. “First you let your little brother earn your pole position, then you bow out of a little race on the side. I don’t think this has anything to do with your stupid contract. I just think you’re too chicken to race me in a situation where our skills are the only deciding factor.”

Atlas shrugs. “Whatever. I’m not blowing my chances to race with the greatest, just to prove that you’re a fucking loser, Fox. I’ve proven it enough times on the race track, and you’ll eat my dust tomorrow. I just would hate it if that means that we lose our chance to be the face of Blue Lightning’s new helmet.” He says, turning to look at Kristy.

“Maybe we can still have a chance,” Levin intervenes. “You and Ares can’t race, but I don’t have a MotoGP contract to dictate where and when I can race.”

Ares and Atlas both clap Lev’s shoulders. “That’s true. You can represent our team in this challenge. What do you think, Kristy?”

The Blue Lightning exec thinks about it, playing with the ring at the corner of her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess that could work. However, my heart was really set on having one of the Hunter brothers as a contender. Wait a second,” she snaps her fingers, her lips curling into a cunning smile. “I have the solution to our problem. There’s another Hunter brother who isn’t under contract and has already proven himself to be a first class racer today. I think Chance should race. And if you win, those blue eyes would look great on our build boards.”

CHANCE

Excitement courses through my body.

Regular races are fine, but I prefer riding just for fun. This sounds like a lot of fun. “Sure,” I nod. “I’ll race.”

Of course, Cal Fox is already shitting his pants. “Ha. How convenient,” he sneers at Atlas. “You’re sending your little brother to settle your fights again.”

He smirks. “I think the real problem is that you’re scared of getting your ass kicked by my little brother. For the second time in the same day, and on video. Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll kick your ass tomorrow. Tonight it’s Chance’s turn.”

“Cool.” Kristy smiles, satisfied with the outcome. “These are next year’s new helmet designs. Tonight, they just have the classic Blue Lightning logo. Imagine them with your initials on them too. They’re the best technology can offer both for comfort, performance and safety.”

I take the two helmets she offers me. They really are more lightweight than anything I’ve ever worn before, and I love their sleek, aggressive design. If gladiators still existed in this day and age, I bet they would wear something like this.

“Have you decided who are you going to take along for the race?” Kristy asks.

I would like someone used to ride on the back of a fast bike. Being tied together can be a hindrance if they don’t know how to move.

My eyes drift to Heather, but she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Chance. I would, but I mean it. My parents will ground me forever if they see this. Even if Dad isn’t Bridgeport’s sheriff and if we aren’t technically breaking any laws.”

That sucks. Heather isn’t just used to riding on the back of Atlas’s bike, she also knows how to ride, because my brother taught her.

“I’ll do it.” Zara comes forward.

“Sounds good,” I nod. I’m sure she must have ridden on the back of her dad’s bike before.

“Fuck, no!” Fox growls. “You’re my girl. If you’re riding with anyone, it’s gonna be me.”

Zara isn’t easily intimidated. “Get it into your thick head, Cal. We’re over. You’re a loser and I want a front-row seat for when Chance makes you eat his dust. Or should I say sand?”

Fox might be slow as fuck on the tarmac, but he moves faster than I would have given him credit for. He lunges forward and grabs Zara’s arm, just like he did earlier.

But this time Zara must have been expecting it, because she leans into his touch just enough to get closer and slaps his face with a deafening sound.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Cal. I mean it.”

“You little bitch,” Fox seethes, rubbing his cheek. “Fine. It’s your fucking loss. Who wants to help me teach this bunch of kids what riding is all about?” he bellows.

One of the girls, who arrived with the Blue Lightning team, volunteers. “I’ll ride with you.” She offers. “I’m loving the rivalry between you guys. It’s exciting. And I want a front-row seat for the race. Or shall I say backseat, since I’ll be sitting behind you?”

I noticed that she’s been eye-fucking Fox since Kristy and her team arrived. “I don’t know about that,” I bite out. “There’s a potential contract on the table for the winner, and you work for Kristy. Shouldn’t Blue Lightning be impartial?”

Kristy shrugs it off. “Lori isn’t employed by Blue Lightning. She’s just an influencer who follows our challenges. Anyway, I’m going to be close to the action and I’ll make sure no one does anything that isn’t allowed. We want to see your skills. We aren’t interested in anything else.”

Fine. I don’t trust Fox as far as I can throw him. “What are the rules, other than riding under the bridge first to win? Are we allowed any contact when we overtake each other?” I ask.

“You can cut in front of your opponent to overtake him, but no deliberate contact aimed to cause damage or injury.” She says.

So pretty much the same rules of the Super Bikes League.

Atlas, Ares, Lev and Heather surround us as I check out the dirt bike I’ll be riding for this challenge.

It looks pretty standard to me, no crazy modifications or anything different from what I’m used to.

Kristy was right that we all started on dirt bikes.

As it is, that’s how my brothers got passionate about motorcycles and riding in the first place. Dad got them dirt bikes for their eighth birthday, so they could ride them on the stretch of private beach right behind our house.

I’m just two years younger than them, so I learned how to ride from the twins. Riding on sand is something that comes naturally to all of us, like second nature.

I look at Zara as she dons her Blue Lightning helmet. She also put on a black, long-sleeved jacket, but has declined to wear the protective leggings Kristy offered her, as well as any of the pads with the Blue Lightning logo. I better make sure she doesn’t fall off my bike.

“I assume you’ve ridden on the back of a bike before?”

“Since I was old enough to hold on to my dad’s back,” she nods. “Even before then, to be honest. But that was on his cruiser. He put a seat for me on the back of his Harley.”

I can’t help but smile at her. “Cool. I was just trying to understand if I have to worry about balance.”

Her lips curl up in a little smirk, her green eyes brighter under the light of the bonfire. “Just worry about taking Cal down as many notches as you can. I can’t believe I wasted so much time with such an asshole.”

Zara is hot. I noticed that the second I saw her, pinned against Fox’s RV.

But now that I have the chance to really look at her without looking like a creep?

She’s perfect. Long, dark hair, big, bright green eyes. I wonder if her pouty lips feel as soft as they look. Her figure is petite and yet curvy in all the right places. Zara has gorgeous, big tits, a thin waist, and her hips flare out to give her a perfect hourglass figure.

She isn’t tall. I tower over her by almost a foot, but her legs look long and toned.

“Hey,” I lower my voice to make sure no one else can hear us. “Don’t worry about undoing the belt at the end. It sounds too reckless. We can beat Fox even without that.”

Zara winks at me. “Trust me, Chance, I’ve got this. I’m going to see how you ride and decide on the moment. I can’t go back home with a broken bone anyway, or my mom will know I wasn’t sleeping over at my best friend’s house this weekend.”

We wait for Kristy’s team to install some lights that remind me of what I’ve seen our town’s local TV network use when they come to interview us after a hockey game.

The difference is that these are cordless, so much easier to transport; which I guess is a plus when you organize impromptu challenges like the one I’m about to take part in all over the country.

“Let me help you guys,” Ares offers as we sit back to back on the dirt bike. “Is this ok? We don’t want the belt so tight that it impedes your movements, but if it’s too loose, it’s gonna throw off your balance.”

“You can give it just slightly more slack,” Zara suggests. “Don’t worry, I’ll help to keep us balanced. But I don’t want to be too much of a dead weight whenever Chance is on just one wheel.”

Right. That makes sense. “Are you ready?” I ask, turning my head just enough to make eye contact with Zara.

She nods, just as Kristy stands between us and Fox’s bike.

“Racers, turn your engines on,” she yells. “I’ll start you off. You can start when I let go of this bandanna.”

She lifts the red bandanna that was tied to one of the belt loops of her black leather pants.

“Ready, steady… GO!”

I peel off the starting line the second the bandanna leaves her fingers.

The noise on the beach is suddenly deafening between the cheering and shouting of the crowd and the noise of our bikes.

I look ahead, the stone bridge still a little distance away.

There’s some tension to the belt around my waist. I can feel that Zara is sitting very close to my back, keeping herself balanced enough that I can try to lift the front wheel.

I give her a warning by revving the engine twice and lift the front of the bike.

My abs tense up as I work to keep my balance, and I still feel her back against mine.

Good. If she falls, it’s game over.

I was so focused on trying this stunt that I didn’t see what Fox was up to.

We had a strong start, and he was slightly behind, but we’re now neck to neck.

I’m running in a straight line for the most part, but Fox is zig zagging all over the place, spraying sand everywhere.

He’s probably trying to distract me, but the joke’s on him. I’m used to dodging defensemen on the ice all the time and my focus is my secret weapon.

This is the key to win this thing; focus on the finish line, ignore my opponent and trust that Zara won’t make us fall off. She’s been doing an amazing job so far. She moves with me as if we’d been riding together forever.

An image flashes in front of my eyes as I go onto my back wheel again. If we’re so in sync riding a bike, how would we be naked? Would our bodies know each other’s rhythm just as well?

“Ha. Fucker!” Fox cuts in front of me just as I’m bringing my front wheel back down.

It’s down to sheer luck that I don’t fall, ending the race in shame for me and my brothers.

We’re three quarters of the way. The tall arches of the old bridge look closer and closer.

The motherfucker hasn’t done anything but being a pain in my ass, making noise and sending sand flying everywhere so far.

Technically, getting under the bridge first means winning, but Kristy wanted to see some stunts to judge our skills.

Maybe Fox is saving his stunts for the end, waiting until he’s in the lead before doing anything more than riding toward the finish line.

I know I’m right when his front wheel begins going up.

That’s when I give it my all, using every ounce of speed my bike can unleash.

By the time he’s back on both wheels, we’re neck and neck and this is everyone’s game.

“What the?—”

The tension in the belt securing Zara to me lessens.

Fuck. She’s undone the belt. We had agreed not to try that, it’s too risky.

If she falls off, it’s game over, but if she manages to stay on? It’s victory.

I can’t feel the belt around my waist anymore, but I can still feel Zara’s back against mine. She’s still on the bike, and the bridge is fast approaching. The bike feels stable, so I don’t think Zara is going to fall. We’ve got this. We’re going to fucking win.

The second I finish that thought, something changes.

I feel her weight shifting. She’s still behind me, but her back is no longer touching mine. What the fuck?

My eyes dart between the mirrors fitted on the handlebars, and I can’t believe my fucking eyes.

Zara has managed to turn around, and she’s standing up, with her feet planted on the tiny portion of the seat she was occupying until a few seconds ago.

“Whoo Hoo!” she yells, spinning the belt that was tying us together above her head like a lasso. She’s so loud, I can hear her over the noise of the engines and the now slightly distant cheering of the crowd.

She looks so hot and fierce, standing on the back of my bike.

Jesus, fuck.

I don’t have time to gawk at how ballsy our new friend is though, because the bridge is coming into view. For being a bridge that ships would pass under on their way to the old port Bridgeport got its name from, these bridges are surprisingly low.

Maybe the sea level was much lower before, when this bridge was under water, maybe the ships that came into this port weren’t huge transatlantic ships, since Bridgeport was never a huge commercial hub and the tourist era of this town started just over two decades ago.

Whatever the reason for building such ridiculously low bridges, the arches aren’t tall enough for me to pass under them, with Zara standing on the back of my bike.

“Zara!” I yell, hoping she can hear me. “Sit the fuck down.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was so fucking stunned by what she just did that I didn’t realize how dangerous this was. I’m seconds away from the bridge. Even if I stop now, she might fall off and break her fucking neck.

Fuck, that’s it. I’m going to seriously hurt her, or kill her, because I was too focused on the race and on gawking at her to slow down or stop in time.

The thought barely crosses my mind that she flops back down behind me a split second before we go under the bridge.

I come to a stop, skidding a little and spraying sand just like our opponent was doing before.

My feet touch the ground as I kick the stand and turn to look at her.

We’re both breathing hard, our chests rising up and down with the rush of adrenaline from what we just did.

I vaguely notice Fox finishing his race, passing under the arch next to ours. I don’t even see the third rider, the guy who was filming us with one single camera.

She takes her helmet off as she dismounts the bike with remarkable grace.

I pull her closer without even thinking, ripping my helmet off. My hands are around her thin waist, our eyes are locked together. Zara’s are so green and full of barely contained excitement.

“What the fuck did you just do?” I ask, my eyes going down her petite and yet curvy body, checking that she’s still in one piece.

A little grin curls one side of her lips. “I just won us the race.”

She’s right, but I still can’t believe it. “You could have gotten yourself killed. I thought you wouldn’t make it under the bridge. It was too late to stop by the time I realized you were standing there. How the fuck were you standing on the back of my bike without falling off?” I ask all those questions in rapid succession, too breathless to slow down.

Her grin widens. “I used to stand on the back of my dad’s bike all the time as a kid. Granted, he wasn’t going that fast, and it was his cruiser at first. Dad thought it was cool, and we used to do a couple of laps with me standing behind him like this. When my mom saw me doing it, she put an end to me riding behind him. She enrolled me in a gymnastics class instead. She thought it was safer.”

We both laugh. “What you did was just crazy.”

Her smile fades. Our gazes are locked together again. “Don’t be mad, Chance. I knew what I was doing.”

“I’m not mad.” I reassure her. “I’m just shocked and I can’t stop thinking about doing something I’ve wanted to do since I saw you earlier.”

“What’s that?” she asks, sounding just as breathless as I am.

I’m all out of words.

My lips crush hers and fuck, they’re as soft as I thought they would be.

I wait just a second for her reaction.

She kisses me back, pressing her lips harder against mine.

That’s all the permission I needed to trace the seam of those soft lips with the tip of my tongue.

Zara allows me in, and I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss like this one before.

It’s fast, furious, intense.

It’s a clash of lips and tongues, teeth nipping and teasing as my hands tangle into her dark hair to keep her closer.

She tastes like mint and sugar, danger and rash decisions.

My hands leave her hair, descending back to her waist. I press her closer against my body until there’s no space between us.

Her arms surround my neck and she kisses me harder.

My body reacts with a myriad of sparks collecting at the base of my spine, and I’m rock hard in my jeans.

I grab her ass, my fingers sliding under the hem of her short skirt.

Zara hooks one leg around my hip and I lift her against me, my cock throbbing with need when her thighs are wrapped around my hips.

I forgot that we aren’t alone.

Kristy’s voice brings us back to Earth and we part reluctantly.

“We have a winner! That was insane! Have you and your girlfriend done a stunt like that one before?”