Dirty Looks (Dirt Track Dogs: The Second Lap Book 1)

by Jameson, P.

  Rod raised his hand. “I for one, won’t be linking arms with any of y’all assholes. Let’s just get that straight right here and now.”

  Adam turned to look at him. “Man, are you drunk already? It ain’t even dark yet.”

  With another swig of his beer, he gargled out, “Nope. Jus’ gettin’ started. And ya know, I hold my liquor like a virgin holds his first girl. Tight.”

  Rider snickered.

  “Right,” Adam said dryly before turning his attention back to Aaron.

  “Look, man,” he started. “I’m sorry I cut outta here without telling you guys, okay? I really am. I know it wasn’t right, but my head was fucked up and it stayed that way for nearly a decade. Hell… it’s still fucked up. I just want to come home and be normal again.”

  “Normal.”

  “Yeah. The last time I remember feeling normal was hanging around with you guys.” Before the storm and subsequent flashflood that killed his parents. Before the world crashed down on him like the dirtiest ass mudslide in existence. Before changers became his currency and the monsters from his nightmares became real. “But if a beer or two and shootin’ the breeze for an hour is too much for you then…” Aaron ended with a one shoulder shrug.

  Adam stared hard at him, his gray eyes challenging. Hell, maybe they just needed to punch it out real good like they used to. Take out that frustration in blood and then be done with it. But damn it all, Aaron was tired of fighting.

  Punk brought Adam’s beer and he gritted out a polite thank-you. The bar was filling up for the evening and the extra help was bustling behind the counter taking and filling orders and delivering food while the music cranked louder and the balls on the pool table clattered to life.

  Adam took a long drink, his eyes never leaving Aaron.

  “Naw, man,” he said evenly. “It’s not too much for me. I can drink and shoot the breeze all fucking night.”

  “Well, not all night. You gotta make it home for bedti—” Rider said, but Adam cut him a ruthless glare.

  It was tense. Not surprising. But they were here and they were willing to hear him out. It was a start.

  “Alright then,” Aaron said, holding his beer up. “We all got some catching up to do. To A squared R squared.”

  Rider and Rod raised their drinks, and reluctantly, Adam followed. “Yeah. To that I guess.”

  They all drank, and Rod let out a slurred hoot that could barely be heard over the juke box.

  “Boys are back in tow-ow-owwn.” He sang off key, and to the tune of a completely different song. “Hey, Punk-a-dunk,” he called, “Let’s get some wings over here, whaddaya say?”

  “I say, if you ever call me that again, you’ll find yourself punk-a-dunked right into the toilet bowl head first,” she answered, and then asked, “Original or extra spicy?”

  Rod frowned. “Wait. You talkin’ ‘bout the wings or the toilet?”

  “The wings, asshole.”

  He looked relieved. “Oh. Extra spicy then.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “I’m gonna tip her good,” he said, grinning. “She’s fun.”

  “She’s taken,” Adam snapped, and Rod’s smile faded.

  “Damn, Kennedy. I know that. I don’t go dipping my biscuit into anyone else’s gravy awright? And she ain’t my type anyway. I jus like ‘er. So fuck off.”

  “Not your type, eh?” Rider smirked. “Good thing. Pretty sure Beast would eat a man alive if he looked at her any way other than respectful.”

  Aaron’s head snapped around to gauge Rider’s words. Did he know something about the wolfshifter Aaron didn’t? His hunter habits had him wondering if the Dirt Track Dog mated to Punk was actually dangerous.

  “True that,” Rod agreed. “I’d do the same with my woman. Nobody better be looking at what’s mine with any foul intention, tell ya that right now.”

  Aaron relaxed, realizing they weren’t talking about Beast wolfing out and biting anyone.

  Rod guzzled some more beer. “No siree. I be puttin’ bubble wrap and stuff all around my little woman so no grubby fingers can touch her.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “You gonna feed her puppy chow too and make her drink out of a bowl? You sound like you’re talking about a pet. Or one of those fucking dolls my mama kept in a hutch.”

  “I’ll feed her whatever she likes. But I’m wondering, you drinking asshole juice over there, or what?” Rod asked, squinting. “Cuz your attitude’s shitty.”

  Adam actually grinned. Microscopic, but it was there nonetheless. “Could be why this tastes so bad.” He tipped his head back for another swallow.

  Suddenly, the door to the bar burst open, swinging so hard on its hinges it slammed against the wall with a resounding thwack that stopped all the chatter. In the doorway stood a tall, wiry woman whose expression flickered between anguished and panicked. Her platinum blond hair was piled high on her head in some kind of floppy bun. She wore jeans and a bright peach tube top that at first glance gave the impression she was naked from the waist up.

  “May I have your attention please,” she called loud and clear. “First fella who directs me to the ladies room gets to hold my hand and buy me a drink. And I’m looking for some quick results here, boys, ‘cause… mama’s gotta go. As in capital G capital O, add an exclamation point.” She squirmed, shifting from foot to foot in a pee-pee dance that could rival a toddler’s. “Make that three exclamation points.”

  A dozen male hands pointed toward the back of the bar where a hefty neon sign read Restrooms.

  Her thin shoulders sank in a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank you sweet baby Jesus in a manger.” And then a look of determination hardened her face. Like she was preparing for a treacherous journey and might not make it to the other side. As she picked her way through the crowd muttering, “Gottapee gottapee gottapee,” Aaron imagined Chariots of Fire playing with epic flair.

  She gracefully side-stepped bodies and hopped over booted feet, using a stray chair once when a big guy didn’t move fast enough and she was forced to climb over him, all while holding her hand between her legs like that might help keep her from leaking.

  The entire bar was invested in her struggle because when she finally reached the bathroom door and gave them all a thumbs-up high in the air, the place erupted in a raucous cheer.

  As the noise died down to the normal bar buzz, Aaron turned back to say something to the guys, but stopped with his mouth half open when his gaze landed on the doorway. Four more women stood, each looking oddly out of place in the packed bar. They dressed the part: jeans, tank tops, and fuck-me lips. But something about their eyes, the expression on their face, the way they appeared to be hunting prey instead of a cold brew… it told him they weren’t from around here.

  One stood out from the rest. She remained slightly in front of the others, which implied she was in charge. But she could’ve been buried under a pile of napkins and nutshells that littered the place and he still would have noticed her.

  It was her eyes. They were a pale green, with an otherworldly sparkle he could see all the way across the room. Wide and bright on a heart-shaped face.

  His instincts roared to life inside, urging him to… do something.

  Dark mahogany hair tumbled from her crown and pooled around her shoulders, long strands of it getting caught where her shirt stretched across her tits and even longer pieces that flowed on to dance with her waist. Her full pink lips were pursed in sexy contemplation while she scanned the bar, seemingly oblivious to the gawking patrons.

  “Well, fuck a duck and call me stupid,” Rod murmured. “Look at that.”

  He sounded like he was practically drooling, but Aaron couldn’t pull his eyes away from the brunette to check.

  “I call dibs on… well, fuck… none of ‘em I guess. I’ll be too tossed after I finish these beers.”

  “Stop drinking then,” Adam said, fidgeting like ants were crawling his legs.

  “Can’t.” Rod shook his head. “I made a deal with my
self to wake up with a hangover in the morning. And you know I don’t go back on my word.”

  “Your liver thanks you.”

  “I know right?” He leaned back just enough to pat the lower right side of his abdomen. “I call it tough love.”

  The brunette and her group moved toward the bar, several regulars gladly giving up their stools to accommodate them.

  “Shiiit,” Rider drawled, knocking back the rest of his drink.

  Aaron ripped his gaze away from the woman to see his friend staring darkly at the bar. “What is it?”

  “That’s them.”

  “Who?”

  “The bike team my uncle told me ‘bout. That one right there is wearing a motocross tank.”

  Aaron spotted the one he was referring to. She had long dirty blond hair and oozed confidence. The kind of woman who knew what she wanted and always got it. And then probably ate the man alive like a black widow when she was done.

  Adam frowned, his glare cutting into Rider. Damn, the term bitter old man came to mind. “Bike team?”

  “They’ll be there Saturday, at the track.”

  “Wa-wa-wa-wait jus a goddamn minute here,” Rod sputtered. “Waldo’s letting ‘em motocross?”

  “Flat track for now,” Rider explained. “Thinks it’ll bring in fresh business.”

  “Yeah, and they’re hot. So. Babes on bikes? Shit yeah, that’ll draw a crowd. Yer uncle’s a smart bizness man.”

  Aaron glanced back to the bar, his mind swirling with information. What he knew, what his instincts told him, mixing with what Rider had added.

  Just then, Annie came through the kitchen door wiping her hands on a towel and smiling big at the brunette that made his heart pound for more reasons than one. Words were exchanged and then Annie glanced at Punk, her expression pinched.

  Because she’d just learned what Aaron knew the second he’d laid eyes on the women.

  They were shifters.

  Chapter Four

  “What are you drinking?” the small blond who seemed to run things around here asked. But Lexington just stared at her, because she hadn’t answered the question. How could they contact the Dirt Track Dogs?

  “She’ll have a Pink Malibu,” Seraphina said sweetly. “And I’ll take a water if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing.” The woman smiled, and even though Lexington’s question had caught her off guard, her expression was genuine. “Anything for the rest of you?”

  “Nothing,” Ragan murmured.

  “Yep,” Sally said. “Give me some Jack. Straight up.”

  The woman nodded. Annie was her name, and she was supposedly mated to one of the dogs but had yet to confirm it. “Coming right up.”

  There was a bit of bustle at the end of the bar near the restrooms, and then Barb’s voice piped up. “Aw, now. You sly dog. You ain’t playing fair. See, there wasn’t a winner really, since I spotted no fewer than ten lucky hands pointing this direction. But I sure do thank ya kindly.”

  She giggled, and then slid past the beefy hunk-o-manmeat to join them at the bar.

  “Whewy, that was a close one, girls. Hashtag almost oopsie.” She went up on her toes to get a good look at the top shelf offerings. “Y’all order already?”

  “We’re not exactly here to party,” Ragan reminded. “We need to get back to the motel. Mac will be pacing the halls.”

  “Loosen up, mom,” Sally smirked. “It won’t do any harm to have a little fun. Besides…” She scanned the bar like a true huntress, and a sly smile slanted one side of her face. “I see some possibilities that are registering ten-point-oh on the Dick-ter scale.”

  Seraphina frowned, her tiny brows pushing so close together they looked like one. “What’s a Dick-ter scale?”

  “Mmm.” Sally nodded. “It’s my way of measuring how hard a man can make me quake using what’s in his pants. It’s very scientific,” she sniffed.

  Barb snorted.

  Seraphina blinked. “Ahhh. I see. Ten-point-oh. Like an earthquake.”

  “Yeah, see,” Sally continued. “That guy over there by the pool table? He’s maybe… a six. But even science is wrong sometimes. I might get him underneath me, get a nice ride going, only to be flipped on my back, pounded soundly, hair pulled, and then wheeeew…” she fanned her face. “He rocks my world and becomes a ten.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Lexington said wryly.

  Sally grinned. “Earthquakes happen fast, baby.”

  “It’s true,” Barb said, popping a handful of nuts in her mouth. “Blink of an eye. Better watch out, Sally. You might find a rare eleven when you’re not looking.”

  Sally snorted and leaned her elbows on the bar. “There’s no such thing as an eleven.”

  Annie returned with their drinks, adding Barb’s coconut tequila to the mix in a jiffy.

  “Alright, ladies,” she said, looking only a touch uncomfortable. “Can I ask where you’re from?”

  “We’re ramblers,” Ragan answered. “We move around. But we’re here for the race Saturday.”

  “Not for the race,” Lexington said. “We’re here to race.” Needed to clear that up so Annie didn’t mistake them for groupies. Fangirling was all fine and good. There was a time and place for that. But they were here for business.

  Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “You race? All of you?”

  “Yep,” Barb said, downing her shot.

  “Ahhhh, okay.” She nodded, looking relieved, her smile growing from pleasant to cheerful. “You were asking about the DTD because you need a place to store your cars, right? Or help with tune-ups? Brush downs?”

  Lexington looked away and opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes caught on something that emptied the breath from her lungs. Across the room, a blond haired giant sat at a table with his friends. Even though she could only see him from the waist up, she could tell how muscular he was by the way his gray t-shirt stretched precariously around his thick neck and biceps. His fists were clenched tight on the top of the table while his friends chattered and chugged their drinks. His deep-sea eyes and his hard cut jaw could be the stuff that made females drool except…

  He was… he was glaring at her.

  Lexington glanced away to see if there was anyone else he could be shooting daggers at, but no. It was her. And even as she met his gaze head-on, the behemoth didn’t look away. His full, kissable lips twisted up in a threatening snarl even as his eyes narrowed. Like he was seeking out her vulnerabilities so he could take full advantage of them.

  He was… an enemy.

  For some reason, the information lodged in her chest right above her heart and made it difficult to breathe and impossible to swallow. She’d made an enemy already and she’d only been in Red Cap ten minutes. And it seemed such a damn shame for that enemy to be him. It made her fox sad.

  Lexington forced her gaze away and cleared her throat. “Something like that,” she told Annie. “Do you think you could put us in touch with the alpha?”

  Annie eyed them, her mouth pursed. “Something tells me I could like you. Y’all aren’t trouble are ya?”

  “Naw, honey,” Barb drawled, her gaze scoping the bar. “Not unless you count having fun as trouble.”

  “Yeah, I mean, trouble comes in two categories,” Sally said. “The dance on the pool table while sipping whiskey kind, and the eat your face off kind.”

  “We’re the first kind,” Seraphina clarified, nodding.

  Annie gave a short laugh that cut off when she glanced past Lexington’s shoulder. But there was only a second to wonder what had the female pausing. Lexington’s fox became acutely aware of the presence behind her. She shivered and tensed, trying to tamp down her animal’s excitement, but her vixen was doing the prancy-dance all over her insides like she was about to take a header into a foxhole.

  “There a problem here?” The voice was low and quiet, but not smooth. It was jagged, hot lava over serrated rocks. The big blond who’d been glaring at her pushed his way between her and Barb, leanin
g sideways against the counter. His stance implied he was trying to defend what was behind the bar. Specifically Annie.

  “Ex-skeeee-use you,” Barb said, tossing him a dirty look he didn’t see.

  He glared down at Lexington in a way that made her fox want to cower. Which was odd because she wasn’t typically submissive. Most especially not to a human. And her senses told her that’s exactly what he was. She scented no animal on him. Just clean skin, and some kind of woodsy cologne that made her want to lick him.

  “There’s no problem, Aaron,” Annie said with a sweet smile that was obviously covering clenched teeth.

  He ignored her and narrowed his eyes on Lexington. “What do you want?”

  She cleared her throat—twice—before she felt confident her voice wouldn’t come out all wispy.

  “That’s a broad question. Can you narrow it down? What do I want this minute? Or out of life? Or what do I want to do for the weekend? What do I want to eat? Or…” She took a breath, shrugging one shoulder. “The possibilities are endless really.”

  His eyebrows pulled back and that was the first time she’d seen anything other than a scowl on his face. The temporary change had her tummy squirming with all kinds of new feelings. His eyes roamed curiously all over her face and then he ground out, “Why are you here?”

  Lexington took a sip of her drink for fortification.

  “Again, a very broad question. Why am I here in this town? Or in this bar? Or for a more existential meaning, why am I on this planet? Why am I among the seven billion people who populate earth? Well, actually, that one’s easy. See, when two people love each other, they come together and do a special dance. And if they’re lucky, that dance makes a baby. Nine months later, bam, Lexington meets the world.” She ended with another swallow, and heard Sally snickering to her right.

  For the first time, Aaron glanced away, his jaw ticking with the beat of her heart. “What do you want with my sister?”