Scar Read online

  “It was a plausible guess as to what could happen. We can’t follow if this makes it over the border. Just because you’re so dead set on believing everything she says doesn’t mean I am,” I reply, standing from my own chair.

  Jay’s gaze rakes over me, inspecting me. “She gave us the other person responsible for Blake.”

  “I also watched her blow a guy’s brains out with no remorse,” I remind him. Sure, the guy deserved to die anyways but still. There was no hesitation. Scarlet went in with the intention to kill.

  Jay’s fingers brush over his lips, like he’s contemplating something. “I gave you four weeks to be in each other’s space, in that time, did you not talk at all about the past?”

  “The fuck? What were you expecting? That we would sit around braiding each other’s hair, remembering the good ol’ days. I showed up to work and so did she.”

  Jay’s eyes close, and he rubs his temples with his fingers. When he looks at me again, he looks like my father does when he gets angry. “You still don’t know everything. Go find her.”

  I scoff. “I know all I need to. If this backfires, do not come to me about how bad you feel. I warned you, man.”

  Pissed, hungover and looking for a way to work out my own irritation, I hightail it out of there. I can’t go home, and I damn sure as hell am not going to Scarlet’s. I think of the one place I can go to find peace and find myself.

  During the day, Scar is an empty pit and I take my aggression out of the dirt, sailing around the corners, letting the thrill from the ride wash over me. The jump brings me back to life. The adrenaline wakes me up. Revenge is the peace I need to keep going.

  It took a couple of years after Scarlet fucked my life before I got back on a bike again. In a way, I felt like I deserved it, to lose my sponsorship. Being involved in a drug bust once was excusable, but it was still bad publicity, even though I was helping law enforcement. A second time, especially when the evidence was so heavily pinned against me, I didn’t stand a chance. Sam and Dean stopped associating with me after being threatened by AfterHours. I don’t blame them for saving their careers, but I can’t lie and say it didn’t suck. Elias kept up with me when he could, and we still text every now and then, but things were never the same. I ignored my instincts that something was wrong, and kept pushing the girl I loved to want to stay with me, completely ignoring the signs that she was trying to leave. I always convinced her not to go. I let that part of me die until Jay forced me to this track and made me ride.

  After a few hours of riding solo, I stop and take my phone from my pocket. “Yo,” I say down the line, “Spread the word, I’m opening Scar tonight. First come, first serve.” I need a distraction tonight, and fortunately, I know just how to get it.

  Scarlet

  Man child. The mantra I keep repeating over and over in my head the entire time I walk my way farther into the desert, looking for Trent. Of course he ran to his track and called a party for tonight when we’re supposed to be working and setting everything up for the final showdown. I’m getting anxious for this to be over. Despite what Trent thinks, I don’t enjoy the crown I was forced to wear. I want my life back. I want to be safe every day when I wake up. I’ve been living for five years, wondering when I might be caught. For the most part, Jay is good on his end, however minor hiccups like the incident at La Flor can always sneak through. I was able to fix it, but there can always be a next time.

  I keep feeling like Trent is waiting for me to slip up. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything the other night, but he surprised me by shoving his body against mine and his tongue down my throat. I hate that he makes me feel alive and wanted. It’s been driving me nuts for days that he was able to walk away after saying those words, giving me the smallest indication of his true feelings. Trent can say he hates me, but he’s forgetting how much I know him. How alike we are under the surface. God knows I’ve never stopped loving him.

  Tonight I’m determined to shake him up and remind him who he’s dealing with. I’m not the scared girl I once was. I want to trust him, to work with him and to give him exactly what he wants: an end. I know I will never bring back his scholarship or repair what I broke, but I’m hoping he gets closure. This time I am giving myself completely to Trent, even when I know the fallout is not going to be good for me. I caught wind that he opened for business, brooding over what happened between him and Jay at the precinct. I quickly dressed in my own racing pants and threw on a black crop top, before leaving the house set on forcing his hand. One way or another, he needs to listen to me.

  Panic At The Disco’s “Say Amen” is on blast while the crowd grows thicker and thicker. For a split second, I wonder if I will actually be able to find the guy I’m looking for. When I put out my own feelers, I was given two names and told both of them would be at Scar tonight. Jay had been right earlier today. Our next move has to stay on this side of the border. While I don’t doubt my own abilities, I know having a professional driver on hand will come in handy. I need Julio to believe he is safe when he leaves Vegas, so that his takedown by the border is so much more enjoyable.

  My eyes skate across a canary yellow, with blue racing stripes, Nissan Skyline R34 that I was told to look for. I make my way to it, pretending to be checking it out when a young guy steps out of the driver side. I glance over him and realize he can’t be older than eighteen. How he has the credibility my guy raved about, I have no clue. My brow arches as I get closer. “This yours?”

  The corner of his lips lift, and a cocky sheen dances in his eyes. “Are you Scarlet?”

  I nod my head and he inclines his as a show of respect. He may be young, but he’s not stupid. “Did Cougar tell you my terms?”

  He nods. “The race is set and caller knows you’ll be riding.”

  I eye his ripped jeans, the white Henley stretched across his chest, and the red bandana tie across his forehead, keeping his unruly black, curly hair out of his face. His eyes are a crazy shade of gold that offsets his ebony skin tone.

  “How long do we have?” I ask, looking around his vehicle while he stands off to the side watching.

  “Our race is next,” he informs me with a lift of his shoulders. The ease in which he says it, without a worry or question, reinforces that he is a good pick.

  I lean with him, watching the crowd as they pass by. Many of the guys stop to admire the vehicle while many girls stop to admire the driver. I smirk, because he’s so oblivious, not once has he looked away from Scar. A loud commotion takes place over by the finish line and the crowd goes crazy.

  “We’re up,” he leans over and tells me. I walk over to the passenger side and slide in, instantly sinking down in the seat. The inside is lit up in neon blue lights, and J. Cole’s “Work Out” beats gently from the speakers.

  “I know I told Cougar I didn’t need your specifics, but what’s your name?”

  He laughs lightly, white teeth flashing, while maneuvering the car through the crowd to the finish line. “Dax,” he answers.

  “Nice to meet you, Dax,” I reply, while looking out the window, trying to find The Point from where I’m at, hoping to see the lone figure at the top, looking down over his territory.

  We slide up the line and the caller comes over to talk to Dax. I feel the man’s eyes slide to me, before he’s talking into a radio and walking away. He takes two steps before backtracking to our vehicle. “Ah excuse me, miss, what did you say your name was?”

  I smile back, deadly, keeping my gaze bored looking. “I didn’t. You can tell your boss though that it’s Scarlet.”

  The man’s face pales and he walks away faster this time, talking into the radio, his arm flying in all sorts of directions. Dax laughs next to me, but he keeps his eyes on the track, waiting for the flag to drop

  “You ever raced before?”

  “I’ve been around the block,” I inform him, pulling my buckle into place and tightening it.

  “I race best when you don’t talk and when I can cra
nk my music, you okay with that?” he asks and I nod my head. “Cool.”

  Dax cranks his music to the max, my ears almost cringe from the high pitch, and he zones out. I watch in fascination as his fingers flex on the shifter while the other grips the steering wheel. I feel like I’m being watched, and the skin on my arms rises with goosebumps. A secret smile tugs my lips, knowing Trent has eyes on me. My adrenaline spikes when the engine purrs and my seat vibrates from the base.

  “Go,” Dax whispers right before I’m jolted back into my seat, the velocity holding me captive. Dirt and dust fly under our tires, the impact kicking up rocks as we go. I glance at Dax, whose face is granite, his focus entirely on the race. Everything in front of me blurs. I see flashes of red taillights every now and then. The track seems to run on forever, becoming part of the surrounding desert. The sky is a blanket of stars that kisses the land. Butterflies swirl in my stomach with every curve and spin of the tires around me. I can feel the allure of the race, the way it pulls and tightens in my chest. It feels like the race goes on forever while, at the same time, it’s not long enough. We cross the finish line, taking the race, and Dax kicks down a doughnut before we come to a complete stop. The car is bombarded with cheering fans.

  “Well?” he asks, tilting his head at me.

  I grin. “I’ll see you in Vegas,” I tell him, before extending my business card with a date and time written on the back. He nods and pockets it.

  I climb out, the crowd parting for me, before swarming back around. Dax drives slowly back to his starting point, taking the people with him. I’m so caught up in the antics around me that when my arm is grabbed in a brutal grip, I jump.

  “Are you crazy?” Trent growls, his face a millimeter from mine, so close I can smell the mint of his gum and the faint musk of his body wash. I’m about to open my mouth and argue with him, but he’s already half-carrying, half-propelling me through the rest of the crowd, and back toward where the walking path of The Point starts.

  “Stop dragging me.” I yank down on my arm, hard. Trent stops, turning to look at me. Jaw locked, he bends down suddenly, and hooks his hands over my waist, before tossing me over his shoulder.

  “Trent!” I call his name, my fists balling against his back. I feel a quick swat on my ass, and I push myself up. “Ow! Fuck you.”

  He keeps walking until we get to the other side of The Point, away from the spectators, his car parked in the distance before he starts to lower me to the ground.

  The minute my feet touch the ground, I use both hands to push him away from me. “What the hell? What’s wrong with you?”

  “With me?” he clips out, getting back in my face. “You could have killed yourself. Do you know how many people were gunning for you both, knowing Daxton had a chick riding with him? That is not how we do things here. Everyone assumed you were his girl, and the best way to beat him would have been to try and take out your side.”

  “No one even made it close to us,” I grit back, my eyes blazing. How dare he think I wouldn’t be able to handle myself or that I would pick a driver who didn’t know what he was doing?

  “Only because Shepard knows what the fuck he’s doing. Anyone else, and you’d be dead, if not both of you.”

  My chest rises and falls, while my eyes rake over him from head to toe. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. His hard chest is encased in an all-black t-shirt, hidden underneath a black riding jacket. Destroyed jeans hang low on his hips. Trent’s eyes are wild when they meet mine and I see a flicker of concern that makes my heart beat wildly in my rib cage. The adrenaline is still riding me hard, which is why I don’t even think twice before launching myself at him. My arms wind around his neck, right as his head dips down, my lips landing on his. On my tiptoes, I push myself into his body, fingers running over his hair, and hold him to me. I kiss him like I’m starving. Like he’s my favorite dessert that I’ve been deprived of for years. My teeth tug and pull at his bottom lip, before sucking it into my mouth, loving the taste of him. A moan escapes me when his tongue slides out to battle with mine, twisting and pushing.

  I let my hands slide down over his cheeks, and lower to his chest, where his heart beats against my palms, before I grip his jacket and yank it down his arms. Trent shakes free, before bringing his hands back and settling them on my waist. His finger graze over the bare flesh below my crop top. The material around my waist loosens, and Trent’s hand slides in, fingers tracing over the material of my panties. I feel a frantic pull to be as close as I can to him. My hands grip the ends of his t-shirt and yank it upwards, baring his chest. His hands fall away while he grips the back and pulls it off over his head. My mouth waters when he steps back. Trent has filled out more over our years apart. His muscles are bigger, harder, and covered everywhere in tattoos. I want to drag my tongue over every line and design until I know the meaning of each one. My eyes dart up to meet his, and I can see the same hunger as my own. I push my pants down and step out of them. My skin heats under his gaze, making me feel bold enough to shed my top as well, until I’m naked in front of him, under the star-filled sky, in the desert heat, just the two of us in the clearing.

  “Scar,” he rasps out, and I feel it. I feel his longing from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. I can hear the uncertainty twisted in there as well. If we cross this line tonight, it’s something I can’t turn back from tomorrow or brush off as a mistake. This is Trent and Scarlet, and I want Trent to love me. Reaching out, I unbutton his jeans and push them down his hips, raising my brow when I see that he’s wearing nothing underneath. His hands grip my shoulders while I hold his gaze, before kneeling before him. I hear his intake of breath while my hand strokes his length, admiring these changes too. He’s longer, harder, the veins angry looking while angled right at my face. I tentatively reach out with my tongue and trace a pattern over the silky shaft down to the tip. Trent lets out a groan and I fight back a smile, before sliding his perfect dick between my lips. I run my tongue over the smooth head, opening a little wider to take him deeper.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles above me, while his hands reach down to tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough that my scalp stings, but it’s not unpleasant. Giving him pleasure is turning me on. I continue to suck, finding a rhythm that works. Trent’s hips flex and move while he fucks my face and I love it. Tears gather on my eyelids when he goes so deep that I almost can’t breathe, but I don’t stop him. If anything, it just makes me grip him tighter.

  “Scar,” he says in warning, and starts to pull his hips away, but I don’t let him. My nails dig into his thigh and I hollow my cheeks, sucking him back in. Trent groans low in his throat, the sound almost animalistic while he pumps three more times before coming down the back of my throat.

  He comes out of my mouth with a pop, and I use my fingers to wipe my lips. My chest is heaving, sucking down air, and Trent is just as out of sorts as I am. “Lie down and open your legs,” he rasps out, his voice like gravel. I follow his direction, and lie back on our pile of discarded clothes. I watch as he steps out of his jeans and prowls toward me, as if he’s ready to feast and I’m his meal. Trent settles his body between my legs, and props himself up on his forearms. Our eyes meet, and for the first time since I’ve been back, his gaze is soft and warm. I can see heat dancing in the ocean blue depths and I want to bathe in it. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I bring his head down to mine, my lips grazing his and kissing lightly. He lets me for a few seconds before taking over the kiss. Trent’s lips are brutal against mine, forcing my head backwards, until I arch against him. His tongue dips in and out until I squirm beneath him, trying to get as close as possible. Trent kisses over my jaw and down my neck, sucking the skin beneath my ear where I’m most sensitive, until I’m gasping and panting. He moves lower, tongue and lips caressing my skin while he palms my breasts in his giant hands. My hips buck against him when he sucks a nipple between his lips, rolling it around and biting lightly before releasing it with a pop
and moving to the next one.

  My eyes glaze over from how good it feels. Heat pools and an ache forms between my legs. I whimper out loud and feel Trent smile against my skin. I should be annoyed, but I’m not. I just want him anyway I can get him. He reaches down and his fingers glide against my pussy lips that are already slippery. Trent slides a thick finger inside me and my back bows off the ground. He pumps a few times before adding a second finger, and I gasp against his lips. I want more. I want to feel full of him, to have every part of him in me and around me.

  “Trent,” I plead against his lips between kisses. He rests his head against mine, while he reaches between us and lines his dick up with my entrance before pushing in. The sudden intrusion steals my breath away. Even though my body is prepared, it still needs to stretch to accommodate him. A flush covers my chest and tinges my cheeks. I refuse to acknowledge out loud that I haven’t been with anyone else but Trent. The day I left him and betrayed him was also the last day I let myself and my body be loved by anyone. I couldn’t do it. Not when I already belonged to another man heart, body and soul.

  “Fuck, you’re tight, babe,” he groans against my neck, his eyes flashing up to mine. Whatever he sees in my gaze causes him to freeze. “No way,” he says and starts to pull away.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg, using my legs to push him back in, forcing him fully inside me. It only takes a little longer to adjust before I relax completely. It hurts less than losing my virginity but is still a little uncomfortable.

  Trent’s eyes turn dark, and he starts a punishing rhythm, pulling out as far as he can before slamming his hips back into me. It pushes my back into the ground until I can feel the little rocks in the sand dig into my back. Every thrust of his hips hits the hidden spot inside me, and my eyes roll back. Trent keeps going, filling me, until my legs are shaking around his waist and my nails are dragging down his back. I chant his name, while he breathes hard, his face buried in my neck. I hold him to me, lifting my hips to meet his. The tension builds until I can’t take it anymore and I cry out to the night sky, when I finally find my release.