Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2) (3 page)

Leaving the hospital should’ve been more exciting than it really was. But as Punk sat on the edge of her bed waiting for her ride, she’d already chewed every bit of the navy blue polish off her nails.

Annie couldn’t make it. Some emergency at Red Cap. And Ella was over in Milton with fucking Dog Boy. So one of the guys from Dirt Track Dogs was coming to get her.

It would be fine. She loved being carted into a stranger’s home without any friends present. It wasn’t weird at all. Nope.

She sighed and checked her phone again. Nothing. They’d discharged her an hour ago, and she was strongly considering having the nurse wheel her to the front door where she could hitch a ride to her own apartment. Never mind the stair thing.

From the hallway, she heard a deep, thrumming voice. “I’m here for Room 436. Is she ready?”

“Yes, sir. She’s already been discharged. She’s free to go.”

Finally
.

Punk took a deep breath. She was not going to be rude to these guys. If it killed her, she was going to be nice. They were helping her. The least she could do was tame her inner bitch. God, some day she was going to have to quit seeing every man as her enemy.

But not today. Today she was just going to pretend there was nothing to be afraid of.

Heavy footsteps, and then the frame of the door was filled with a huge sonofabitch that she recognized. Though she’d never seen him up close before. From a distance, he looked far less substantial. His shoulders had to be twice the size of hers and he was at least a head taller than her 5’ 8”. His hair was pulled back away from his face instead of wrapped in a bandana as it always was at the speedway, and his eyes were a brilliant blue that reminded her of a summer sky.

Holy shit, he was a beautiful piece of human up close.

“Hi,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m Beast.”

“I know.”

His mouth curved on one side which brought her attention to his lips. They were full and looked softer than any man’s lips should look. Especially a man who was Godzilla-fucking- tall and Elephant-fucking-wide.

He looked around the room. “You got the cookies I left?”

Punk raised an eyebrow. “Oh that was you? The note said ‘I’m Sorry’ so I just assumed they were from someone that went by the name Sorry.” Bad joke, but she was nervous and sometimes when she was nervous she just babbled shit.

A single, loud laugh burst from his chest and he stepped into the room. “You’re funny. The nurse said you’re ready to go. Is this all your stuff?”

Punk nodded.

He strolled forward and grabbed her things, standing so close, she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was low and it vibrated across her skin even though they weren’t touching.

She needed him to back up. He was too close. He was in her personal space bubble, granted it was a pretty large bubble.

“Fine,” she snapped. “They let me put my piercings back in so, peachy keen.”

His eyes traveled over her face stopping at each piece of metal. Her brows. Both of them. Her lips, top and bottom. The diamond in her cheek. And then finally her ears.

“Not gonna lie,” he murmured. “Those are hot. But I meant how is your leg? These?” His hand came up to brush her stitches so softly she barely felt it.

Punk jerked her head back. “I’m fine. You don’t need to touch me.”

Who did he think he was?

His brow furrowed and some emotion flashed through his eyes. He almost looked… hurt.

He looked away, shuffling her belongings under his arm. “As long as you’re all right, that’s all I care about.”

Beast started for the door and Punk followed with her crutches, only to be stopped in the hall by a nurse.

“Wait, wait.” She bustled around in a panic. “We have to take you out in the wheelchair. Stay right there, young lady.”

Punk rolled her eyes but appeased the lady. She glanced at Beast and he grinned at her. His smile was contagious because she noticed her own lips curve up in response.

When the nurse returned, Punk settled into the wheelchair that would’ve actually fit someone the size of Beast and let herself be pushed into the elevator, then finally out the front doors.

“I’ll get the truck,” Beast said before rushing off.

She waited awkwardly with the nurse, but he wasn’t gone long. An old beat up truck pulled up to the curb and Beast hopped out to open the passenger side door. Punk used her crutches and hobbled to the truck.

Then hesitated. How the hell was she supposed to get in? The cast was on her right leg so she couldn’t stand on it long enough to climb in. Whose idea was it to send the big guy with the big truck?

“Here,” Beast said, coming up beside her. “Let me have your crutches and then I’ll help you in.”

“I don’t need help,” Punk responded quickly. But then… she really did. Stupid move to shut him down like that.

She blew out a frustrated breath.

“It’s really okay,” he said softly. “It’s what I’m here for.”

She glanced at him. He wasn’t rushing her. He wasn’t acting like she was a bother. He was being as patient as Mother Fucking Theresa. God.

She ignored the way his calm demeanor made her chest all tingly and nodded. “Okay, yes. I… I need some help.”

He took her crutches and placed them in the bed of the truck and then leaned down.

“Put your arm around my neck.”

Punk hesitated, uncomfortable with being so close to a man. Fucking hell, it had been almost ten years and she still couldn’t cope with physical closeness. Not even when it was platonic. Not even when it was simply because she couldn’t get her own ass in a truck.

Enough.

Determined, she wound her arm around his shoulders. Carefully, he slid his own arm behind her knees and lifted her into his powerful arms. She let out a gasp and he went still.

“Did I hurt you?”

She found his eyes and was shocked to see actual fear in them. He desperately didn’t want to hurt her. How… sweet. And refreshing. His concern for her was genuine. How much of it stemmed from his guilt, she wasn’t sure, but this man certainly wasn’t going to harm her.

Punk relaxed. He wasn’t going to hurt her. The knowledge was comforting. No, it was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. A weight she’d been carrying for too long.

“No,” she murmured, still staring into his worried eyes. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“You sure?” He squeezed her body closer to his and she could feel the hard muscle beneath his t-shirt.

Punk nodded.

Beast stared, his breath coming faster. His gaze fell to her parted lips and lingered there. He looked at her like he was trying to understand something. Like she confused him. And like he didn’t want to do something wrong.

There was something different about him. He wasn’t like any other man she’d come across. Working in the bar, she was around all sorts of men. Drunk men. Sober men. Asshole men. Decent men. Men who needed another hole in the head. Men who were just trying to make it. Men who wanted things from her. Men who didn’t. But this man… this man she didn’t even really know… he showed so much care for her and her well-being it almost scared her.

“Truck.” Her breathless reminder floated between them.

His eyes didn’t move from her lips. “Did you know when you talk, your nose moves up and down like a bunny’s. It’s incredibly cute.”

“What the hell? It does not.”

He grinned. “Just did it again. It’s distracting I tell you.”

Punk rolled her eyes, fighting a grin. “Put me in the truck and let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Carefully, he set her in the passenger seat and slowly pulled back. He adjusted her cast so her leg was mostly straight.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Great. Thanks.”

He found her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Before she could reach for her seatbelt, he grabbed it, pulling it around her torso and buckling it.

“There,” he murmured, and then stepped back and closed the door.

The drive to the club was mostly a quiet one. Punk stared out the window watching the scenery pass by in lush shades of green. Cedar Valley was beautiful in its own quaint way. Though she’d wanted to leave many times, she never had because she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. This was her home.

“The guys are very excited to meet you,” Beast said, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned to stare at his profile. He’d used two dreadlocks to pull the whole bunch into a sort-of ponytail. They weren’t extremely long, but past his shoulders. Pulled back away from his face like that, they were hot as hell. She’d never considered herself a fan of dreads, but on Beast they were natural. She couldn’t imagine what he’d look like without them.

“Ella talks about you all the time. And they’re all itching to make sure you’re okay. I think Surge nearly went off the deep end finding you under that fence like that. He’s nearly sworn off racing. Too dangerous he says. And he won’t even talk to me.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Punk shook her head, staring at the lines on the road in front of them. “It was an accident. Sure, I was hurt, but it wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I’ve been hurt on purpose and this is a whole different thing. They can’t be mad at you.”

Beast was silent, but the air in the cab changed, thickened with tension.

Punk glanced at him. His fingers white-knuckled the steering wheel and his jaw was set so hard it looked like it was chiseled from stone.

“Who hurt you?” He forced the words between clenched teeth.

Holy shit. He was furious. He’d gone from lighthearted to livid in a matter of seconds. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t as good-natured as she’d assumed.

“It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it.”

“
Who
, Punk? Tell me now.”

She whipped her head around. “
Excuse
me. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Beast opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. She crossed her arms and went back to staring out the window.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke the silence that stretched between them. His tone was a fraction calmer, but still not what it was at the hospital. “I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you. In fact, it makes me murderous.”

Punk stared, trying to read him. “Why do you care so much?”

His gaze flicked to hers for a split second and then back to the road. “I just do.”

Right. So, that was a man-like response if she’d ever heard one.

Beast pulled into the Dirt Track Dogs parking lot, and then around to the back of the garage where he continued down a small driveway.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about murdering the bastard who hurt me. He’s already gone. He didn’t make it long in prison.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to divulge that bit of information. Maybe to appease him? So he wouldn’t worry? Didn’t matter now. It was out of her mouth, no taking it back.

Beast parked the truck in front of a smallish house and cut the engine. Then he just sat there, fiddling with the keys and staring at the steering wheel. She gave him time to work out whatever was going through his head.

“Good,” he said finally. “I’m glad the fucker’s dead. Mostly I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’ve been safe for a while now. I’m good. Really.”

Beast nodded and opened his door without another word. He walked around the back, retrieving her crutches and opening the passenger side door while she unbuckled. But before she could start to scoot out, he invaded her space again. He didn’t touch her but he made sure she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Whether you know it or not, whether you want it or not, you have friends here. You’re one of us now, and DTD protects what’s ours.”

She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t need that. I don’t need protection.”

As he stared at her his eyes softened. A slow, adoring grin slid into place causing Punk’s heart to flutter like some fairy on crack.

“Your nose,” he murmured. “So fucking cute.”

Her hand flew up to cover it.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside before the others come looking for you.”

She slid out of the truck and onto the crutches without Beast’s help, although he was hovering over her like a mother bird over her chick. Geez.

She followed him up the two steps and onto the porch. He opened the door for her. Inside, she found herself directly in the large open living area.

Two guys sat on the couch watching a football game. One of them jumped to his feet faster than should be humanly possible.

“Oh shit,” he muttered. “Here, lemme help you.”

He rushed over to the door.

“No, no. I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

He ignored her. “Here let me carry you to the couch so you don’t have to use your crutches. Those things can’t be good for anything. You won’t need ‘em here. Just call out and one of us’ll come and help you.”