Reckless (Renegades #1)

by Skye Jordan

  She turned to them, offered a flirtatious smile. “Can we have a minute, boys?”

  The guys wandered back to their gear, muttering to each other, laughing quietly. Everyone except Wes. He crossed his arms and kept grinning like an idiot.

  “You think you’re special,” she asked Wes, “don’t you, Golden Boy?”

  “I know I’m special.” Wes’s grin widened. “Just ask my mama.”

  That pulled a deep, rolling laugh from Rubi. She might mesmerize every other man on the site, but her playfulness was bugging the shit out of Jax.

  “Wes.” Jax pulled his friend’s attention. “Get lost.”

  Wes turned a lazy gaze back on Rubi. “Dinner sometime, beautiful?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Last I heard, you were taken.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “We’re on a break.”

  “Sorry…Wes.” Rubi drew out his name in a voice that he thought would make Wes drop to his knees, but his friend just kept grinning. “I’m not a break kinda girl. Besides, I hear you like sweet. And, handsome”—she lowered her lids—“I’m not the least bit sweet.”

  “If Chamberlin can go from sour to sweet”—Wes drew a business card from his wallet—“I can certainly change my tastes to something on the tangy side.”

  “Are you two done?” Jax straightened, used the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and rested his hands at his hips. “We’ve got work to do here.”

  “Ignore him.” Wes sauntered over to Rubi. “He’s grouchy when he’s not getting any.”

  “Wes,” Jax warned.

  When Rubi ignored Wes’s card, he slid it along the edge of her halter and tucked it beneath the fabric at the curve of her breast. “My tastes are changing as we speak. Besides, I know there’s a lot more sweet beneath that tart surface than you let on. I bet you’d set my taste buds on fire.”

  “You bet your rock-hard ass I would,” Rubi returned.

  Wes started toward the trailer, yelling at the others, “Is it hot out here?”

  He caught the bottle of water one of them threw, uncapped it and, walking backward, grinned at Rubi as he poured the water over his head.

  The guys bust out laughing. And Rubi sputtered a surprised chuckle. “He is a character.”

  Jax shifted on his feet. His fear had transitioned into annoyance. “Rubi, is Lexi okay?”

  She pulled the card from her top and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. When she looked back at Jax, her expression had sobered. Her serious gaze seemed to penetrate him. “Lexi’s a survivor.”

  That wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. That made it sound like she was struggling. He wanted Rubi to tell him that she was great. That him leaving her was the best thing that had ever happened in her life.

  “Why are you here?”

  She pulled a square white envelope from beneath the cross of her arms. “She asked me to deliver this.”

  From five feet away, Jax could see his full name on the envelope. He didn’t like the look of that. Wedding invitations came in envelopes like that.

  They’d only been apart six weeks… She couldn’t have found…

  But then Jax realized he and Lexi had gone from zero to sixty in about the same amount of time, and a spear of anxiety pierced his chest.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice rough.

  “Find out for yourself. Lexi instructed me not to open my big mouth.”

  Jax took the envelope and stared at his name printed in Lexi’s hand.

  “And since she’s the sister I never had and I love her more than anyone,” Rubi said, strolling back toward the Ferrari, “I’m not going to tell you that Lexi deserves stability in her life. I’m not going to tell you that she’s worthy of a guy who can merge all his sides into one unique and outstanding person the way she has.”

  She opened the Ferrari door, holding his gaze. Hers was serious, deep, showing a side of her Jax guessed not many people noticed beneath all her flash and beauty. Showing him the side of her that he guessed Lexi loved so much.

  “I’m not going to tell you to ignore this invitation if that’s not you,” she said. “I’m just going to keep my mouth shut, like I promised. And, by the way, thanks for taking care of that shit photographer.”

  She turned on the sparkle, blew a kiss to Wes, who dramatically acted out getting shot in the heart and fell to the cement to the laughter of the group.

  “What a hottie,” she said, affection and longing softening her voice. “Too bad I don’t go for those mama-lovin’, sun-streaked country boys who adore sweet women.”

  Rubi slid into her sports car, slipped on sunglasses, and turned over the engine.

  Jax didn’t move as she roared from the cement canal, and thought about the photograph that had changed everything. He’d hired a private investigator who had gotten to the bottom of it within the twelve hours he’d promised Lexi. Hardly compensation for all the trouble and stress he’d caused her, but all he’d been able to do, other than getting the hell out of her life.

  Wes turned from watching the car go and settled his gaze on Jax. One look and he turned toward the guys. “I think it’s lunchtime.” Then yelled toward the bridge. “Troy, get your ass down here. We’re eating out today.”

  A loud whoop sounded behind Jax, followed by the shrill grind of Troy sliding down his cable. The rest of the team loaded into nearby trucks, arguing over where they’d eat.

  Wes strolled up to Jax and looked down at the invitation. “Let me just tell you now, if that’s for Lexi’s wedding, I quit.”

  Jax scowled up at Wes.

  “You’ve been hell to live with, dude.” Wes gave him a pitying half grin. “I won’t be able to stand you.”

  “You’re not all joy and sunshine yourself,” Jax said to Wes’s back as he headed toward one of the trucks.

  Wes flipped him off.

  Jax waited until the guys were on the road to pull off his gloves and open the envelope. His dirty hands turned the pristine cream envelope gray and left a streak across the torn flap. He couldn’t help but feel like that symbolized how opposite they were—Lexi all light and promise, Jax all grunge and shadow.

  Jax took a deep breath and slid the card inside halfway out.

  You are cordially invited to

  The Luxe Couture Bridal Show

  Jax released the air he’d been holding. The tension left his body, and he bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees again.

  He closed his eyes and swore at the relief coursing through him. Jax struggled to get his air back, then pulled the card the rest of the way out of the envelope. His hand was shaking.

  The invitation gave the date in less than a week, the time, the location, and allowed him to bring a guest.

  As if.

  At the bottom, Lexi had handwritten a note.

  If you come, come as you are.

  Twenty-Six

  “Lexi.”

  Lexi stopped fussing with a strand of lace that wouldn’t fall right on the dress worn by the fifth model, Kylie, and looked toward Rubi’s voice. She stood near one of the makeup tables in the LaCroix section backstage at the Luxe Couture Bridal Show. On one side of the space, makeup tables with mirrors and lights lined the wall. On the other stood small dressing spaces separated by black drapes, each with the model’s assigned gowns and accessories and a dressing assistant standing by.

  Rubi gestured to the hairpiece she was helping a stylist place in another model’s hair.

  Lexi squinted, assessing. “Nice, thank you.”

  The young woman in the chair stood and started toward her dressing area.

  The models lined up along the space, all lace and sparkle, tulle and satin.

  “No,” Lexi said, “Carly goes before Stephanie.”

  The girls changed positions in the lineup. Lexi moved to the front of the line. The third model, a stunning sixteen-year-old who looked twenty-five at the moment in professional makeup, sparkles in her hair, and a ten-thousand-dollar cou
ture wedding gown, turned toward her with a serious expression.

  Lexi scanned the dress, adjusted the fall of one shoulder, pulled the lace taut over her abdomen. “Happy brides, okay?”

  The girl broke into a gorgeous, nearly authentic smile. Lexi breathed out and shook her head. “Stunning.”

  The smile reached the girl’s bright blue eyes.

  She went down the line, inspecting each girl. By the time she reached Rubi putting the final touches of makeup on the last model, Lexi pressed a hand to her stomach.

  “I want to puke,” she murmured.

  “I’m almost done here. I’ll go see if I can find him.”

  “I don’t know if I want to know whether or not he’s here.”

  “Your choice, but I have to know.” Rubi called to another makeup artist messing with the collar of the lead model’s dress. “Doug, take over here. I’ll be right back.”

  Doug rushed over and took the finishing powder and brush from Rubi’s hands, then back to the front of the line, prepared to douse any shining surface.

  Lexi ignored Rubi as she turned out of the room. “Focus,” she reminded herself. “This is your career.”

  But Lexi already knew she couldn’t change anything now. All the plans and props were in motion. The dresses made. The choreography decided. The models rehearsed. She’d made this decision weeks ago.

  Now it was all or nothing.

  Now, Lexi just had to let go, the way Jax had taught her to let go.

  As the applause out front died down and the announcer started speaking again, Lexi turned on autopilot. She shut down all peripheral thought, focused on the moment, and moved to the front of the line.

  She put a hand on Naomi’s arm, smiled at the eighteen-year-old beauty and said, “Happy brides. Best day of your life. Cloud nine.”

  Naomi beamed. Her dark skin sparkled with glitter, mouth painted the same color as the girl’s crimson leather gloves.

  The music cued, and Lexi squeezed Naomi’s arm. “Go, sweetheart.”

  Jax wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d expected, even though his best Armani suit jacket was too tight and his suit pants too loose. His stunt work had honed his body over the past few years. But beyond the discomfort of wearing a suit, he had to admit he was enjoying himself. As much as a man preparing to grovel could enjoy himself.

  He’d come early to make sure he’d gotten the best seat in the huge showplace and sat front row along the middle of the runway. The designs were amazing, the women—though he knew they were just girls—stunning, the music great, the mood around him all shock and awe, the room dark but for spotlights and sparkles.

  Lexi’s line hadn’t shown yet, and he’d already been there over an hour. He sneered to himself when the announcer introduced the line of the designer whose father had hired the photographer to stalk Lexi. The father was now dealing with a lawsuit. Jax didn’t give a rat’s ass whether he won or not; he was sending a message. One which had worked, if the fact that he hadn’t received any more nastygrams against himself or Lexi was any indication. And a recent call to Martina Galliano confirmed she hadn’t received any more communications either.

  As the designer of the last line came out to acknowledge the crowd, Jax shifted in his seat and curled the program into a tube. Lexi’s line was next. And last. A grand finale of sorts, which pleased Jax to ridiculous levels.

  The applause died down, and the announcer climbed the few stairs to the runway. Dressed in a tux, the middle-aged man addressed the crowd.

  “We have a special two-part finale for you today, ladies and gentlemen. Lexi LaCroix has been a bright spot on the industry’s radar for some years now, and this is her fifth year at Luxe Couture Bridal Show. To celebrate her anniversary, Miss LaCroix has put together a brand-new design line we’ll be seeing for the first time here tonight, so get your cameras…and order forms…ready.”

  The man paused as light laughter drifted through the crowd.

  “Known for her exquisite artistry in bridal gowns, Miss LaCroix incorporates character and femininity into all her design, whether created with timeless elegance or modern flair, and has even been called by some in the business an up-and-coming Oscar de la Renta.

  “As an innovator in the bridal gown industry, Miss LaCroix delights us with surprises season after season. Tonight is no different.” The announcer ended with a flourishing gesture toward the runway just before taking the stairs to the floor. “Regal elegance with passion from Lexi LaCroix.”

  Dramatic, upbeat music filled the air, and Jax clapped crazily as the lights went out and the spotlight brightened on the entrance to the runway, designed as an ornate Roman archway painted in gold glitter. When the first model appeared, the applause died and the flashes began.

  Jax marveled at the uniqueness of the designs, the flowing beauty of the dresses, the sparkle and shine on each and every dress. Each model, regardless of dress style, wore elbow-length crimson gloves, definitely adding flare to the designs. It might just be Jax’s twisted imagination, but the gloves almost seemed like an erotic touch.

  And after watching all the other designs pass by, he could see pieces of Lexi in every one of these. Her subtle richness, her unique character, her endless dedication to understated class. There might not be any doubt that he was partial, but he found Lexi’s designs far and away the most stunning, the most elegant, the most distinct.

  Two dozen gowns, probably more, had shown already. Gowns that had all been created by Lexi’s own hands. He might not have had the right, but he was still so incredibly proud of her. And also humbled by the reality that she’d gone on to put all this together even after he’d put her through the stress of a hidden relationship and then leaving her on the spur of the moment.

  Lexi was indeed a survivor.

  Jax couldn’t keep the smile from his face. Couldn’t drag his gaze from the dresses, each more stunning than the next.

  When the model at the end of the runway turned and headed back toward the arch and another model didn’t appear, Jax knew they’d reached the end of the show. He crushed the program in his hands, brimming with anticipation for the sight of Lexi.

  Instead of disappearing through the arch, the last model made a sharp turn back toward the runway. The music changed in tandem, signaling not the end of the show, but the beginning of the second act, which the announcer had alluded to.

  The model’s movement changed, her steps far more deliberate and pronounced. No longer was she smooth and cool, but sharp and intense, mirroring the music. Then another model came out behind her, and another behind her.

  Models streamed onto the runway with accentuated charisma and started…

  Stripping.

  The audience gasped. Murmured.

  Little by little, the models tore away their dresses to reveal various garments underneath. A traditional, formal gown became a chic dinner dress, then a nightclub dress. Each design fell apart into different pieces, and once Jax recovered from the shock, he realized what Lexi had done—created several dresses within one.

  “Genius,” he murmured.

  But then even more pieces came off and bits of crimson began to show. Red bras. Red garters. Red panties. Red corsets. Red teddies. More gasps erupted around Jax, immediately followed by a burst of insane applause. Within moments, every model paraded along the runway wearing searingly sexy crimson lingerie and dragging their stunning white haute couture gowns behind them along the floor. And Jax thought the applause would bring the roof down.

  Whistles, cheers, shouts poured from the audience as the models returned to the entry arch and lined up along either side of the runway. Once they were all in formation, the models turned toward the opening and joined in the applause.

  Everyone in the audience stood, the cheering so loud it rattled Jax’s eardrums as they waited for Lexi to appear.

  Twenty-Seven

  Backstage, Lexi covered her mouth with both hands and started crying.

  Rubi bounced on her toes beside Le
xi, clapping and screaming to be heard over the applause, “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you?” She squeezed Lexi’s arm. “Good-bye Galliano! Hello LaCroix. Girl, you don’t need anyone now. It’s all about you.”

  Lexi couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head. She’d dreamt of this moment. Of the ear-shattering applause, the standing ovation, the recognition, the validation. And now she was too overwhelmed to move.

  Rubi grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the runway. When she tried to let go of Lexi’s hand and push her toward the audience, Lexi held tight.

  “I couldn’t have done this without you.” Lexi pulled her into step beside her.

  The ham ate it up, strolling down the runway like the elegant model she was, beaming, holding Lexi’s hand. Lexi waved to the cheering audience, bowed, continued crying, unable to stop and not giving a damn.

  Rubi pulled her to a stop at the middle of the runway, leaned close, and said, “First row, directly on your right.”

  Lexi gasped, suddenly terrified to look and see Jax standing there. She’d hoped he would come. Prayed he would come. But a big part of her didn’t believe he would come.

  “You do your part,” Rubi said. “The girls know theirs.” Rubi released Lexi’s hand and stepped back, giving her the spotlight.

  But now that she was here and Jax was right there, she was terrified.

  Risk. Jax is all about risk. And letting go.

  And both had led her here. Despite whether he still wanted Lexi as a lover or not, she knew he deserved that recognition.

  She bowed to the audience again, mouthing thank-yous. Then she took a deep breath and turned right, searching for a black leather jacket. But every male in the row wore a suit. Trepidation snuck in. Maybe Rubi was wrong. Maybe she’d just seen someone who looked like Jax.

  She skimmed the faces and passed over Jax’s before halting and scanning back.

  Yes, he was there. Dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and crimson tie—as if choreographed. His hair was shorter, combed off his face in a sophisticated style. He looked so incredibly handsome, Lexi’s head went light.