Slow Ride: Powertools: Hot Rides, Book #2

by Jayne Rylon

  Wren couldn’t believe he’d slipped that offer in there. She was so stunned, she didn’t even catch his phone number. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask him to repeat it. There was no way she was about to dial him up so they could chat about…what exactly? Where to meet up to fuck? Because surely he couldn’t be interested in more than that.

  Maybe it would make things easier. To be with someone just for the sake of sex and verifying her lady parts still worked like they should. It would be a relief to discover she could find some sort of release with a partner, even if it was temporary and only a physical reaction compared to the profound connection she’d had with her two ex-lovers.

  Wren hesitated too long, though.

  With a sad smile toward her still pen that promised he didn’t hold it against her, Kason asked, “Is that all you need from me then?”

  He was probably suggesting she take down his name and a credit card number or some other professional junk like that. Unfortunately, she didn’t exactly know what they required. She wasn’t really an office worker. Besides, no one could be expected to think straight with Kason Cox standing less than two feet in front of them.

  Quinn and Gavyn would forgive her if she messed up a couple of details.

  Because there were a hell of a lot of other things she could have used from Kason, except she wasn’t going to cross that line. Not with someone she met at work. And especially not with someone who made her body react so strongly for the first time in forever.

  It was too dangerous, no matter how much she wished she could.

  Wren gripped the pen she was holding so hard it broke with a very audible crack.

  Kason grinned, as if daring her to deny he was having some sort of effect. He couldn’t understand the reason behind her attraction and wouldn’t be pleased if he knew she was thinking of someone else. That had to be why he had this significant an impact on her.

  Thinking of Johnny gave her an idea. Before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “Actually. If you don’t mind…”

  “I don’t,” he rushed to reassure her with a wink.

  “Then, yes, there’s one other thing.” She tried to remember her manners, but they were rusty. Hopefully Gavyn or Quinn wouldn’t mind her momentary lapse in professionalism. “Would you autograph something for me quick before you go?”

  “So you do know who I am?” he asked, his smile curving up on one edge. She wished it made him seem conceited or smarmy instead of so damn sexy.

  There was no denying it anyway.

  “You were my boyfriend’s favorite singer.” Wren sounded like she’d chewed on that broken beer bottle from the night she’d danced with Johnny to Kason’s song when she admitted it.

  “Let me guess, because of the gap between my last album and now, he found someone else to sing along with on the radio?” Kason’s smile morphed into a grimace. Then he joked, as if his ego could withstand the blow, “It’s not Taylor Swift, is it?”

  “Actually, no. He’s dead.” Way to be weird and abrasive, Wren.

  It was just that anything more than that was still too hard to even say out loud.

  Devra gasped from somewhere in the back of the room, making Wren aware that they had an audience. Where Devra was, her two guys wouldn’t be far behind. Ollie was probably there too, witnessing this shitshow. Maybe even Gavyn had poked his head out from the stock room to see who had come in.

  Great, that was going to force another conversation she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to have. Definitely not while in the presence of Johnny’s idol. So it would be wise if she scared him off. The sooner, the better.

  “Ah, shit. Sorry. Again.” Kason winced, sliding his sunglasses lower so that she could see the earnestness in his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It comes naturally. As you’ve seen, twice now.”

  At least he owned it. Besides, there was no way he could have known he was wandering into a minefield when he’d attempted to flirt with her.

  Ollie—yep, there he was—cleared his throat and stepped closer. It had been a hell of a long time since Wren had a man to protect her. Even then she hadn’t needed one. Still, it felt kind of nice to have his support anyway.

  Wren wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she laughed a little despite the conflicting emotions threatening to rip her apart. Five years was long enough to be too sad to appreciate all the things she did have even if it meant smiling through her pain. “You couldn’t have known. It’s been years. Anyway…If it’s not too weird, would you mind signing something to him?”

  “I’d be honored.” Kason smiled then, a genuine thing that warmed his whole face and did curious things to her inside. This time in the vicinity of her heart. Huh. “I have an idea.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the man who was obviously his bodyguard. The dude hadn’t moved an inch since he’d come inside, but he’d positioned himself between the door and his client, ready to swing into action if necessary. “Hey, Van, hand me some of those backstage passes the promoter gave us earlier, would you?”

  The serious guy, who still hadn’t said a single word, reached into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and withdrew a rectangular clump of cardstock, rubber-banded together.

  Kason must have noticed her eying the man. “That’s Van. He makes sure none of the hillbillies get too rowdy and shoot me when I sing off-key or some shit.”

  Wren jerked. She imagined his face splattered with crimson like she’d seen Johnny’s so often in her nightmares, blood bubbling out of his neck. She clutched the counter to keep herself upright.

  “Bad joke. Sorry.” Kason accepted a wad of tickets from Van and put them on the counter. He signed one, then scooted the entire pile toward her. “Despite the fact that I seem to say all the wrong things around you, it would be great to see you there. I’ll try to stick to my lyrics, which I actually put a lot of thought into, instead of running my fool mouth. If you don’t already have plans, and it’s not too…difficult…” Of course Kason had to be sensitive to write and sing those romantic songs. Damn him. “I’d really like it if you’d come to my show in Middletown on Friday night.”

  “She’d love to,” Devra said over Wren’s shoulder with a friendly smile that belied the solid jab she delivered to Wren’s spine out of Kason’s view.

  “Bring your friends backstage with you.” Kason looked to Devra, Ollie, and the rest of the small crowd that had gathered. “There will be an after party, too. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Wren swallowed down her bile and terror long enough to let Kason’s easy smile settle her. She was off balance. Her emotions running wild. And she didn’t care for that one fucking bit.

  Not after she’d spent so long getting them under control.

  Kason Cox had waltzed into Hot Rides and erased five years of mourning in an instant. He’d turned her on, scared her, reminded her of good times, insulted her, and made her want to hug him in the span of a few minutes. How the hell could that be possible?

  He was trouble, and she’d be wise to rip up every one of those tickets the moment he was out of sight. All of them except for Johnny’s, of course.

  They sat there on the counter, tempting her.

  “Fair enough.” He tipped his head, making her think of old westerns. Though he wasn’t wearing a fancy hat, he had the makings of a cowboy—a honed body, denim and leather, classic maleness, chivalry, and sex appeal for days. “Either way, I’ll see you when I pick up my bike. I appreciate you giving me a tight turnaround on the proposal since we’re only in town until the end of the week, and I’ve heard you guys know what you’re doing.”

  “Of course.” Wren wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he’d be coming back. She’d make sure to note when his appointment was so she could take a sick day if needed.

  It wasn’t like her to hide.

  Then again, she hadn’t met a man who did what he did since that afternoon when she’d fallen in love at first sight with
a man humming one of Kason Cox’s songs.

  Yep. She was fucked.

  “It was nice to meet you….” He held out his hand. His eyes danced with mischief as he dared her to touch him, even that little bit.

  Not one to back down from a challenge, Wren took it and shook, immediately regretting her impulsive decision. Those sparkles he’d ignited turned to full-on fireworks. They jolted her so badly, the only thing she could do was blurt her name. “Wren. Wren Asbery.”

  “Pretty. Not as pretty as you, though.” He had to be smooth, too, didn’t he?

  “Thanks. I’d better get back to work.” Of course everyone in the room knew that was a whopper since she’d told them she was finished for the day. Theoretically, though, she could scrub the equipment or spend some more time arranging her bay in the garage. Anything but stand there and be caught up in the laser beam of Kason Cox’s all-too-knowing stare.

  “Right.” He stepped away, toward Van—whose smirk did a lot to erase his badass vibe—before Kason spun around. He took two long strides, returning to the counter, selected a pen from the metal can there, and jotted something on one of the backstage passes. “In case you change your mind or feel like…whatever.”

  She blinked at him.

  Did whatever mean a quickie in some Middletown hotel? Probably, if she was up for it. Which she definitely was not. Dinner? Long talks about nothing late at night? Nah. A man like Kason Cox wasn’t the conversational sort.

  He was a man of action.

  Kason did that nod thing again, then he was striding out the door.

  Van muttered, “You’re rusty, Cox.”

  Then he was cracking up as his boss, and apparently his friend, punched him in the shoulder. Not that the tap would do any harm to the bodyguard. Kason’s poor knuckles were in greater danger.

  Wren stayed planted there, staring as the guys piled into a sleek black truck with dark tinted windows then drove away. She could still smell Kason and hear the rich tone of his voice in her mind.

  Devra charged her, squealing, and threw her arms around Wren. “Damn, girl! He’s fine. You’re going to that concert and you’re taking me with you, right?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for the two of you to go alone,” Ollie grumbled.

  “Volunteering to chaperone, buddy?” Trevon asked with a grin as he threw his arm around their garagemate to ease the sting of the truth. “I don’t think you’d like that any better.”

  Devra reached for the tickets and counted them out. There were enough for all of the Hot Rides, including Gavyn and his wife Amber, plus some of the Hot Rods, to have a night out if they wanted.

  Did Wren want to?

  Hell yes.

  Would she?

  Hell no.

  “You should go, Devra. Take whoever you want.” She carefully tucked Johnny’s backstage pass into her pocket, then pressed the rest of the tickets into her friend’s hands. “They’re yours.”

  Ollie winced. “Hey, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You obviously liked the guy… Go.”

  “Thanks.” Wren tried to smile through the confusion of emotions slamming into her now that the sparkles were fading and only the painful things were left behind. “You didn’t change my mind, though. I just…I can’t.”

  That last bit came out as a whisper. Wren knew she only had a few moments to escape before making a spectacle of herself in front of her new friends. So she said, “Excuse me.”

  Then she dashed through the break room to the bathroom, slammed the door, used her boot to shut the toilet lid, then slumped onto it, burying her face in her hands. She began to shake all over and tears leaked through her fingers.

  It turned out that despite what she’d thought, she hadn’t cried them all out yet.

  Damn it.

  6

  A few minutes later, a soft knock came on the steel door of the bathroom, startling Wren. She furiously swiped the moisture from her cheeks before patting her face dry with her sleeves. Bawling in the bathroom wasn’t going to help her reputation as a badass welding bitch.

  Fortunately, when Wren unlocked the door it was Devra who peeked in sheepishly. “Do you want me to go away and forget I saw any of that?”

  Because she asked, Wren knew it wasn’t necessary. It was new and fresh to have someone, especially a female friend, she could open up to about some of these things in her past that had been weighing her down for far too long. “No. Would you sit and talk with me for a minute?”

  “Of course. But come on out of the bathroom, okay? I don’t know you that well…yet. And let’s be honest. The guys aren’t always the neatest.” Devra wrinkled her nose, succeeding in making Wren laugh, which was a miracle in itself.

  Wren blew her nose on a scratchy brown paper towel before emerging into the break room. Devra rushed to her side. Before Wren realized what she was about to do, she’d wrapped her arms around Wren and squeezed. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

  Was she, though? Not really. Not in the sharp and unbearable way she had in the past when something reminded her of Johnny or Jordan and the time they hadn’t gotten to spend with each other. It was more of a dull ache that throbbed deep in her chest now, somewhere in the area her heart had once occupied.

  She ran her fingers over the autographed backstage pass and smiled, remembering Johnny dancing in only his underwear, softly singing along out of key as he cooked breakfast for the three of them after one of their wild nights together.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

  Wren waved Devra off. The woman had endured enough of her own issues recently. Wren had been front and center when her shit hit the fan, so it only seemed fair that Devra knew about Wren’s past, too. Especially since Jordan had been involved in Quinn, Trevon, and Devra’s mess and had actually done a decent thing to help them out.

  Here at Hot Rides—and Hot Rods, too—there would be no judgment. None of them had led easy lives. All of them had overcome loss, and failures, and terrible odds to be there.

  “It’s fine. It’s old news.” Wren pulled out one of the metal folding chairs and plopped onto it. “What do you want to know?”

  “What you told that man, the singer, is it true?” Devra perched on the chair opposite Wren, leaning in close. “You lost someone you were seeing?”

  Wren nodded.

  “I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is when someone you love passes away.” Devra reached out and took Wren’s hand, almost certainly thinking of her own father, who had been murdered. Wren squeezed Devra’s hand in return. “I know this is dumb, but for some reason, I thought Agent Mikalski…”

  “Jordan.” Wren tried not to snarl his name. That traitor. How could he ever have loved her if he’d simply walked away? She never could have chosen to leave him, not even after Johnny…

  “Yeah. Well, I sort of thought he was the man who’d broken your heart and the reason you keep yourself so…isolated.” Devra winced when she said it, but it was the truth.

  “He did. He is. Partly.” Wren looked away then. She might be making some progress, but it was still hard. Nearly impossible to express how deeply she had been scarred by loving and losing.

  “You were in a polyamorous relationship, too. Weren’t you?” Devra asked. “Quinn told me that you once told Jordan it was okay to be frank in front of the Hot Rods gang because they were like you two. That’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

  Wren nodded. “I was lucky enough to find a pair of guys I thought were perfect for me. Just like you actually have.”

  “So what happened?” Devra bit her lower lip. “You know that’s my worst fear. Ever since they tried to deport me. When I thought I’d never see Trevon and Quinn again… It was…”

  Devra might be the only person who truly could understand Wren and her suffering. So she said, “Johnny and Jordan were partners at ICE. Both agents. One time, Johnny didn’t make it home, and Jordan…”

  She shrugged.

  Truth was, she didn’t know what the fuck
his problem had been because he hadn’t told her. Was it Johnny’s death he couldn’t handle? Or was it that he’d only been with her to get closer to Johnny? He’d cut her to the bone with his betrayal and it still had the power to level her. “After Johnny died, he came home for one parting fuck. But that was it. He didn’t even have the balls to admit he was leaving me. Said he was going to the store. I guess he had a really big list of shit to buy since it’s been five years and he hasn’t come home yet.”

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Devra stood up then, slapping her palms on the table. “That asshole! That’s not the kind of man I thought he was at all. Should I knee him in the nuts for you next time I see him?”

  Behind Devra, her guys and Ollie were peering into the break room nervously.

  “Uh, at the risk of getting our balls smashed too, can we come in?” Ollie asked.

  Wren rolled her eyes and waved them in. There was no use hiding anything around here. She understood that when you had the kind of relationship Trevon, Quinn, and Devra shared—the kind she thought she’d had once—there could be no secrets. They might as well hear about her situation direct from her.

  “Everything okay in here?” Quinn asked.

  Wren nodded yes as Devra shook her head no.

  Trevon propped himself up, half-sitting with one booted foot planted on the floor and the back of his opposite thigh resting on the table. Quinn came around the other side and took Devra’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “It turns out Agent Mikalski isn’t the saint I thought.” Devra seemed legitimately angry on Wren’s behalf. It hadn’t been her intention to turn these people against Jordan. He’d only done good things for them.

  “Who is, really?” Wren asked, her shoulders slumping further. “It just happens that the one time Jordan decided not to live up to his standards of perfection, I was the one who paid the price.”

  “You’re defending him?” Devra stared at her with wide eyes.

  Wren supposed that’s what true love was. Even now, she couldn’t hate him. Be angry with him? Absolutely. Hate? Never.