Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2)

by P. Jameson

  With the mating of their alpha, the Dirt Track Dogs find their carefully structured life spinning out of control. After a wreck at the speedway, Beast decides if he wants to remain in control of his temper, he needs to leave town. Leaving his pack could devastate them, but he longs for a mate of his own, and watching his best friend live in mated bliss is pure torture for his wanting wolf. A trip to the hospital to apologize for an accident that wasn’t his fault has him questioning his decision.

  Who knew a night at the track would land Punk in the hospital, out of job, and unable to get where she needs to go. Now she must depend on the man who ran her over until her broken leg heals. With a devastated past, she doesn’t trust easily, but she never expected the Dirt Track Dogs to make her feel so at home in their club. Or for one of them to awaken feelings within her she thought long dead. With his careful touch and unyielding patience, Beast makes her want to have a relationship again. The question is, can she stop thinking of the past long enough to be happy?

  Racing the Beast

  By P. Jameson

  Racing the Beast

  Copyright © 2015 by P. Jameson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database, without prior permission from the author.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead,is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Other books by P. Jameson

  Dirt Track Dogs

  Racing the Alpha (Book 1)

  Racing the Beast (Book 2)

  Racing Home (Coming Soon)

  Ozark Mountain Shifters

  A Mate’s Denial (Book 1)

  A Mate’s Sacrifice (Book 2)

  A Mate’s Revenge (Book 3)

  A Mate’s Submission (Book 4)

  Holiday Novella

  A Mate’s Wish (Amazon)

  Chapter One

  The fence came down. The motherfucking fence came down. None of this was technically his fault, so why did he feel so responsible? Now it was back up, but it wasn’t good enough. Not nearly.

  Beast glared at the cheap-ass bastard in front of him. “You take this piece of shit fence down and get a new one with bigger gauge wire or Dirt Track Dogs is out. We’ll find somewhere else to race, and I don’t think you want that.”

  Waldo, the owner of Cedar Valley Speedway, raised one burly eyebrow before spitting a wad of chewed tobacco to the ground. “That right? What would Drake have to say about that?”

  Drake, Beast’s alpha and the leader of their racing club, would be in full agreement. Though he hadn’t given Beast permission to be giving ultimatums.

  “Considering his woman ended up underneath this shitty fence, something tells me, he’d be on board with better safety measures.”

  The wolf within howled at the idea that he could’ve been responsible for Drake’s mate being hurt. Last weekend’s race had been an utter disaster. A three car pile-up on the oval had sent Beast’s car rolling. It landed on the fence where Drake’s mate was standing with her best friend. A fence that was designed to protect bystanders. A fence that should’ve held.

  Waldo hooked his meaty hands on his barrel waist and shook his head. “Don’t got that kind of money, Beast.”

  Beast struggled to hold in a growl. He had visions of wrapping his hands around the guy’s thick neck and squeezing. Not to kill him. Just enough to let him know he meant business.

  “It’s your job to make sure your patrons are safe,” he ground out. “Find the goddamn money. Or DTD won’t be bringing any in for you. Understand?”

  He didn’t wait for Waldo to answer. He needed to leave before he lost his temper. It had been so long since he’d been pushed that far. More than a decade, and he wasn’t giving it up to Waldo. The asshole would fix the fence, and do it right, or he’d lose the revenue DTD fans brought in. End of story.

  Beast slammed the door of his pickup a little too hard. He ignored the rattle of the old clunker and turned the ignition. He took a deep, calming breath.

  Damn it, he was strung too tight.

  For years, their pack had consisted of five males. Cedar Valley was probably the smallest shifter pack in existence, but Beast liked it that way. He liked that it was simple and easy. There was no mating, no young, no complications. Just living, working, and racing. Enough to keep his mind busy, but not too much responsibility.

  It worked.

  After their packs were decimated in a forest fire twenty years ago, he and his brothers had come together to heal. The goal was to eliminate anything that would get in the way of that process. For Drake and Diz, it was alcohol. For Surge, it was sex. For Blister, it was… well, Blister had needed almost complete solitude. For Beast, it was anything that would raze his temper.

  The solution? No drinks, no sex, no fighting, and they would stick mostly to their piece of land on the edge of town. They made a pact. The pact worked.

  And then she walked into the shop. She happened to be their alpha’s intended mate. She was also, a long lost relative to Blister. She wound up in heat, which had scrambled everyone’s heads… both of them.

  Bam, bang, boom.

  Their pack had a female, and now his cock didn’t feel like a palmer was enough. He wasn’t the only one either. They were all feeling it. Just yesterday, he’d caught Surge in his wolf form, humping away at a houseplant.

  Beast shook his head.

  If he was honest, the biggest problem wasn’t his nearly constant hard-on. It was that his wolf had grown discontent. Seeing Drake and Ella all googly-eyed made him secretly wish he could have the same thing. Someone special to hold hands with. Someone warm to share his bed during cold nights.

  Fuck, he was lonely. And it was the kind of lonely the guys couldn’t fix.

  He shook his head, taking another deep breath.

  His gaze wandered to the package in the passenger seat. There was one more thing on his to-do list before he could get back to the shop to work on his car.

  Ella’s friend, Punk, was still in the hospital recovering from the injuries he’d inadvertently inflicted. He’d wanted to send her flowers as an apology, but that was “rude” and “impersonal” and “Punk is not a flowers kind of girl” according to Ella.

  “When you run a person over, Beast, flowers are not an acceptable way of saying sorry. Just sayin’.”

  He’d shrugged. “Chicks like flowers.”

  Ella laughed a cackling sound that reminded him of one of Surge’s outbursts. “Punk is not a chick. Call her that though, I dare you.”

  Beast pulled onto the highway headed toward Clark County Community Hospital.

  Driving through the tiny town he’d spent twenty years in, he thought again about leaving. He’d be the first to admit his attitude sucked. He wanted to be happy for Drake and Ella, and part of him truly was. His alpha deserved to be happy, and Ella needed the pack now that she was learning how to be a shifter. But the rest of him was turning into a bitter, annoying prick.

  Why couldn’t he wait patiently for his own mate? Like any sane shifter.

  But he’d been waiting his entire life for her already, and seeing Drake and Ella together just made his wolf more antsy. He’d worked hard over the years, to make himself into something worthy of her, whoever she was. He’d tempered his temper. He’d made a decent living and saved enough to make sure they had everything they’d need when the time came. He’d… kept himself from other females. Though that had been a pack decision.

  Beast gripped the wheel as a shot of pain hit him in the chest.

  What if she didn’t exist? What if he didn’t
have an intended mate, and he was stuck in Cedar Valley watching everyone fall in love and have young.

  He ground his molars together, glaring at the red light and willing it to turn green.

  He’d leave. He’d go away until he found her, that way the guys wouldn’t worry about him. Things were changing in the club, and they knew he was on edge. He owed it to them to take off for a while and get his head straight.

  Parking his truck in the visitor’s parking lot, Beast grabbed the package from the driver’s seat and started for the hospital entrance. He bypassed the front desk sign-in. Ella already told him Punk’s room number.

  In the elevator, he tried to think of what to say to the woman. “Sorry I ran you over” just didn’t seem like the way to go.

  A sharp ding announced he’d reached the correct floor. The doors opened and he stepped out, already searching the sign on the wall directing traffic to the right rooms. But Beast drew up short, his senses suddenly assaulted with an amazing smell.

  Not exactly what he’d expected from a hospital environment.

  He breathed deep pulling air into his lungs until they couldn’t hold anymore.

  What the hell kind of air freshener was that. He’d buy a thousand bottles of that fucker and make everyone in the club use it. It was fresh, but not that fake fresh you got from the crap labeled Ocean Breeze or Clean Linen. It was what he imagined the countryside in Ireland smelled like.

  Beast continued past the nurses’ desk to room 436. As he walked, the scent became stronger and stronger until he realized it was coming from Punk’s room.

  He rapped lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he eased it open, peeking around the side. Slipping into the room, he took another deep breath. Fucking delicious. He almost moaned but managed to put a clamp on it before the sound left his throat.

  Beast froze dead in his tracks as the strangest, most amazing, but equally heart-wrenching realization hit him.

  His chest locked up. Air wouldn’t come. His mouth hung open with shock, but his lungs were shit. His fingers tingled as adrenaline hit him like a punch.

  Oh hell, he was going to faint. If he didn’t take a breath, he was going to pass flat out like a fucking pussy.

  On a gasp, he managed to take in air, but it didn’t help much. The wonderful scent just made him even weaker in the knees. And his… holy hell, his cock wasn’t fainting that was for damn sure.

  With shaking hands, he adjusted his jeans for some extra room.

  Mine. Mine, mine, mine.

  His wolf was going ape-shit inside. In this room, just on the other side of the thin lemon colored curtain, was his intended mate. She’d been here all along and he hadn’t known it. Their paths had never crossed until now. As long as you don’t count what happened Saturday at the race track. But in all the commotion he hadn’t scented her. Hadn’t even laid eyes on her.

  He staggered forward, inching the curtain back to finally get a glimpse of his female.

  Time stood absolutely fucking still, hanging onto that moment like a raindrop that refused to give up his home in the clouds.

  Beast’s heart jumped into his throat leaving his chest aching with emotion.

  He’d imagined his mate many times. Imagined what she might look like, how she might smile. He thought about what kind of personality she’d have. Would she be soft and tender and sweet? Or sassy and smart? Or maybe the best of both? He’d frustrated his wolf, constantly guessing at what she’d be like. He’d always assumed she’d be another shifter, though plenty of wolves had mated humans throughout history. But no, she was a beautiful human with choppy dark hair and the fullest red lips.

  She was the single most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She lay on her side, looking small in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly, her hands tucked under her cheek, knees curled up.

  Beast let his eyes roam her face. She was pierced in several places but the metal had been removed. Her nose was dotted with freckles that spread across her high cheekbones. Purple and green bruises flared under her eyes. Just under the blunt cut bangs, her forehead held a line of ugly black stitches. Another matching set was at the corner of her left eye.

  His. She was his. His mate.

  His heart cracked wide open, standing there. She could have every single thing inside it. Every piece of him he’d been saving for so many years. All the love he had to offer. All the hope for a future. It was hers to take.

  He inched forward until he could reach out and touch her. Carefully, his finger brushed over her cheek. So pretty.

  Tears fell from his eyes and landed on her blue hospital gown, but he couldn’t make them stop. Couldn’t find it in him to be ashamed of them.

  Tenderly, he touched the stitches at the corner of her eye. He’d done this to her. It was an accident, but it ripped him to shreds knowing he could’ve killed her. He wanted to scoop her out of that horrible bed and carry her out of here. He’d take her home and use their mating bond to heal all the physical damage he’d done. Then he’d confess everything to her. What he was. What she was. How he’d dreamed of her for so many years he couldn’t imagine living without her. He’d promise to take care of her, protect her… love her.

  He could love her. He was halfway there already, just knowing she was the one.

  Beast watched the skin heal beneath her stitches, and jerked his hand back.

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to do that. Not here in the hospital where doctors might notice.

  He brushed the tears away so he could think. He tried to remember everything Ella had ever said about Punk. She was no nonsense. A reliable friend. Sarcastic. Blunt. She wouldn’t give a shit about flowers.

  His eyes landed on the package he’d dropped by the bed. Bending, he picked it up and set it on the table beside her bed before bringing his attention back to his mate.

  Realization hit him and it almost made him laugh out loud.

  She would never go for any of that sappy stuff he wanted to say. In fact, she’d probably freak the fuck out and run away. Then he’d have to chase her. Which would be fun if she wasn’t scared. He never wanted her to be scared of him.

  No, he needed to win his mate first. Win her heart and then her mind would follow.

  Beast took several deep breaths, wanting desperately to retain her scent. He’d need it tonight, knowing she was here alone and he couldn’t be with her like he should be.

  Walking out that hospital room door was torture, but as he started his truck and turned onto the highway, his heart felt lighter. His female was close, and he had a purpose now. He was going to be everything she needed. He was going to be the best mate he could be, and when it was all said and done, she’d accept him.

  She had to.

  Chapter Two

  It was happening again. The stupid fucking dream that she could never run away from no matter how many years had passed since the… incident. Being stuck in this goddamn hospital didn’t help things. It just brought it all rushing back like it was yesterday.

  She’d spent eight weeks in one of these beds after a fucking piece of shit decided to beat her to a pulp and use her battered body to get off. Eight weeks recovering physically. A lifetime recovering mentally.

  It would never be over. She knew this. But there were times when the nightmare didn’t come. Long stretches of existence where she wasn’t reminded that there were genuine assholes in the world.

  But today…

  The dream was always an out of body experience, which she used to be thankful for. But now, she recognized it was just as horrible to watch yourself get beaten and raped as it was for you to actually experience it. She knew because she’d done it. Not only in her dreams, but in that wonderful video footage that sent her attacker to prison.

  Although it was the single hardest thing she’d done in her life, watching it had gone a long ways to helping her heal. Finding out the fucker had been shivved in prison had taken her even farther.

  She closed her eyes to the scene before her, but that
was the thing, it never helped. She could see it whether her virtual dream eyes were closed or not. That’s how dreams worked, the fuckers. Things that should be real weren’t and things that shouldn’t be, were.

  Punk blinked again, still in the throes of the nightmare. Tears streamed down her face and she shook at the horror she was forced to witness once again. It would be over soon. She just had to endure it a little longer.

  But bet your ass she wasn’t going to do it with her eyes open. Even if it didn’t mute the scene before her, at least she wasn’t a willing participant in this dream. She’d squeeze her eyes closed as long as she needed to.

  She crossed her arms around her middle, holding herself because no one else could. Even if there was someone around, she wouldn’t let them touch her. She didn’t want anything like that ever again.

  Punk shivered. They were getting to the worst of it. Shit, if she could knock herself the fuck out she’d do it. Whatever it took to escape.

  Contemplating new ways to make the dream stop, she was thrown a curveball when everything went black. Like she’d been tossed into a soundless pictureless void, she heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing.

  Except for a light pressure against her cheek. It was so tender it hurt. A vicious sob ripped past her throat but there was nobody there to hear it. Not even her. She could feel it, but there was no sound.

  She kept deathly still, praying to the God her Nana always talked about, that the darkness would stay. Please, please, she begged silently.

  The pressure moved to the corner of her eye where her stitches were. The darkness touched her so softly. Almost like she was revered. Like she was special. A treasure. The idea soothed the wounds inside her heart, but it also hurt. It threatened to crash through the steel wall she’d constructed around her emotions. The one she’d so carefully built through sheer will to live without fear. The darkness made her want to run headlong into it without any thought to how it could hurt her.