Wrecked (Dirty Air Series Book 3)

by Lauren Asher

  “I don’t back down from challenges.” I hold my chin up high. He thinks he can instill fear in me, but I’ve already seen the worst of people. “By all means, good luck trying to make my life hell. I don’t mind the heat.”

  Jax steps out of my way so I can walk toward the kitchen. I fiddle with the hotel’s coffee maker, desperate for something to kick my butt into gear. I’ll need all the help I can get with Jax in an irritable mood first thing in the morning.

  He frowns as he leans against the counter. “Every time I think I’ve said or done something to make you quit, you surprise me by staying. Why is that?”

  “If I quit because you make fun of something I do, then I need to reassess my job. Get over yourself. I’m here for the long game.”

  “That’s my fear with you. Short game, long game, endgame.” His eyes flash with uncharacteristic vulnerability before it disappears as quickly as it came. “I’ll leave you to it then. I need to get ready for our flight.”

  I’m left staring at Jax’s retreating body. Why is he afraid of me?

  Truly, I’m afraid of him. I have no idea how to cope with my attraction toward the one person I can’t and shouldn’t want.

  “Where have you been hiding this for the past few weeks? When you mentioned us going on a private jet, I didn’t expect this.” I stare at Jax’s sleek plane, the black paint gleaming under the morning sun.

  “My dad had to borrow it for work stuff, but we get it for the rest of the season. Don’t get used to it though. One season will fly by and then you’ll be back on commercial airlines with cheap pretzels and screaming kids.” Jax struts the carpet like a catwalk, his Doc Martens thumping against the ground as he twirls.

  “Did you say a bad pun? I’m shocked.” My eyes linger on his butt. I can’t even remember the last time I was this focused on every part of a man. From Jax’s long legs to his muscular thighs, to his corded arms straining from dragging his luggage behind him.

  “My eyes are up here.” Jax snaps his fingers.

  My eyes lift, meeting his hazel ones. “I know. I was checking out the carpet. Black just like your soul, I’m guessing?”

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  Seeing as Jax is the human equivalent of a Rubik’s cube, I was—under absolutely no circumstance—getting it. “My bad. Insinuating you have a soul means you’re redeemable. You’re like my dolls: vacant and cold.”

  He taps his chest with one tattooed finger. “Emphasis on the cold, especially around my heart. You’re lucky I give a shit about my career because if not, you’d be fucked out of a job.”

  I let out a shrill laugh. “No, I wouldn’t. I’d end up working for people who actually want my help instead of an entitled prick who acts like he’s God’s gift to Earth.”

  Okay, maybe I would be out of a job paying double what I usually make. But at least I wouldn’t be a few months from finding my first gray hair.

  “Elena, dear, stop showing your true colors. I’d almost think you have a thing for our back-and-forth. I won’t lie to you though, that type of self-inflicted torture would make for an interesting personality trait.”

  “My personality is begging me to shove a heel up your ass, but I keep it in check. I deal with greater douchebags behind the scenes at press conferences.”

  “Who knew you had such naughty kinks?” Jax laughs at my growl of frustration.

  We walk up the stairs of the plane and greet the pilot. The interior of the plane is creepy. I’m surrounded by black—from the leather chairs to the carpet to the walls. “This is yours?”

  “That’s what my accountant tells me. Why?” Jax deposits himself into one of the captain’s chairs.

  “It’s so…”

  “Depressing?”

  I nod my head. “You’d think something this expensive would be more welcoming.”

  “I like the color.”

  “It’s the equivalent of a flying coffin.”

  Jax scowls at me. “Fitting, seeing as I’m mourning the loss of your career.”

  “A little premature, don’t you think?”

  He shrugs, grabs his headphones from his backpack, and messes around on his phone. I sit on the opposite side of the aisle. Jax remains engrossed in whatever he does, ignoring my presence.

  I pull out a puzzle box from my bag and place it on the glossy tabletop in front of me. The moment Jax mentioned a private jet, I asked if I could purchase a few things to keep myself entertained over the weeks of flying. He looked at me weird and said to have at it.

  I sort the pieces in groups based on edges versus normal pieces. The task is calming, with me getting lost in the arranging process.

  My body prickles with awareness. I turn to find Jax staring at me, his usual scowl replaced by a small smile. On command, my cheeks flush at his appraisal. He holds my gaze when our eyes meet, trapping me in a temporary hypnosis. It feels like he wants to let me in for a moment, showing me someone different than the one I’ve seen over the past three weeks.

  Something about the way he looks at me entices me to invite him. “Want to join?” I smile as I flash him a puzzle piece.

  He shakes his head, replacing his smile with a frown. “No.”

  My smile flattens. “Okay.” I turn back toward the table, resuming my task.

  “Maybe next week.” He speaks low, making me think I misheard him.

  I say nothing. Maybe next week he gives me a chance, even if it’s in silence while working together. Jax’s mind is nothing like the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in front of me. He’s one I’ll have the hardest time putting together, wondering if it’s worth even trying.

  I spend what feels like hours organizing the pieces by color groups. The stunning photo of hot-air balloons mock me, all happy colors and a bright day. My chest burns at the sight of the breathtaking festival.

  I envy the kind of freedom hot-air balloons have. They’re not bogged down by responsibilities and extra baggage like me.

  I don’t know what pushed me to choose this puzzle. By the end of the flight, I promise myself I’ll go to a hot-air balloon festival. Not because of the beauty or the rarity of it, but because I want it to represent me moving on.

  From my past. From my pain. And from the creeping emptiness threatening my future.

  11

  Elena

  “I’m going out.” Jax walks toward the main door of our Sochi hotel room.

  “Uh, with whom? I thought we were staying in.” I lift from the couch. We agreed to not go out while adjusting to the jet lag after flying from Bahrain to Sochi.

  “You’re staying in. I’m going to hang out with my friends.”

  My eyes scan his face to gauge his seriousness. “You can’t leave without me. We have a deal.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. I want to hang out with my friends, knock back a beer or two, and catch up before our practice rounds tomorrow. It’s not exactly a rager.”

  “What friends?”

  “I can’t believe I have to explain myself like this.” He lets out a deep breath. “Noah, Liam, and Santiago. We plan on staying in this very hotel. If you’re so damn worried about me ruining the image you’ve been working on, don’t be.”

  I sigh. “It’s part of my job to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

  “Well, seeing as my friends all have squeaky clean reps now, I doubt I can muster up too much bad press.”

  “Are you asking for me to trust you?”

  “To want your trust means I’d have to care. And honestly, with you, I could care less.”

  “Couldn’t care less. If you’re going to insult me, make sure you’re being grammatically correct. It tends to pack a bigger punch.”

  Jax turns and grips the handle of the door. His back rises to match his ragged breaths. “You can trust me to not go off to a club or get drunk tonight. I only want a night with my friends. No stress, no girlfriends around them. Just a normal night to forget.”

  �
��Forget what?” I whisper the words.

  “To forget what it feels like to worry every damn day of my bloody life.”

  This feels like the progress I’ve wanted since our first weekend together. It took a month longer than I expected, but the small victory feels worth celebrating.

  “You can always talk to me.”

  Jax looks over his shoulder, hitting me with a withdrawn gaze. “Opening up to you is the last thing I need this season. Be back later.” He opens the door and takes off, the thud of the door matching the throb in my chest.

  I call Elías thirty minutes later because I don’t want to spend my night alone. He comes without any questions, proving time and time again why he’s the best person in this whole organization.

  Two hours and one batch of popcorn later, Elías has erased any worries I had about Jax.

  “Why did you have to pick a chick flick? I may be gay, but I still have manly preferences.”

  “Last week you picked. I didn’t ask to watch the newest Marvel movie, but it’s not like you gave me an option.”

  “You can’t compare Marvel to whatever this is. No self-respecting woman should take back a man who hooks up with her sister. She should have some class. Listen to a Taylor Swift song, meet a new man, and move on.” Elías dramatically lays his head on my lap.

  “Easier said than done.”

  “If I could, I’d be on the next dating app, no questions asked. No one would dare swipe left on me. Have you seen my cheekbones? Those suckers could make a straight man want me.”

  We both laugh as he shows off said bone structure I’m slightly jealous of.

  He taps his chin. “What if I quit F1, become an influencer, and then we travel the world together? Let’s be honest, I’d probably get a ton of views and you could manage me like Kris Jenner. Be my momager, please?”

  I laugh obnoxiously.

  “Now you two are fucking out in the open? Can I ever catch a break from you both?” Jax’s irritated voice surprises me.

  My head snaps toward him, flashing a bright smile to combat his mood. “You missed the best part! Elías does this magical thing with his tongue despite me having literally all my clothes on.”

  “She’s joking. We were watching a movie. Relax.” Elías puts a healthy space of distance between us.

  “Whatever. You guys are weird as fuck.” Jax enters his room and shuts the door.

  Elías cringes. “Whoops. Looks like Mr. Grumpy is back at it again.”

  I tuck my legs under me. “You’d think after a couple of beers he’d relax a bit. I don’t get why he keeps thinking we’re hooking up.”

  “There’s no use denying you’re a babe and I’m hot. It’s not a shock he’d jump to conclusions about us.”

  I laugh. “He doesn’t need to be a jerk about it. It’s one thing to be annoyed, but it’s another to voice his dislike every time he sees us.”

  “The reasoning is simple.”

  “What do you mean?” I whisper in case Jax can hear us.

  “He’s got the hots for you.”

  “If by hots, you mean a burning desire to have me disappear, then yes he does.”

  “Nope. Have you not noticed how he checks you out across the garage? JaxAttack may say one thing, but his dick doesn’t agree. I think it makes him even grumpier because he wants what he can’t have.”

  My eyebrows raise. “And you know this how?”

  “I recognize someone walking with a boner when I see them. It’s a rather awkward experience, with him wobbling away when you bend over to check out my car.”

  I cover my mouth to muffle my laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I know it’s a shock, but Britain’s Most Ineligible Bachelor has a thing for you.”

  “It’s a shock because he acts like an asshole too often for me to find him endearing.”

  “But the real question is do you find him sexy? Now that’s something I wouldn’t mind exploring.” Elías waggles his brows.

  “I think nice guys are sexy.”

  “Snore. Boring.” He pretends to nod off.

  I shove his shoulders. “Who said they were boring?”

  “Me! I had to sit next to them for multiple dinners.”

  “Really, what was wrong with them?” I cross my arms.

  “Juan was sweet but a sucky lay based on all your stories. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance against you in the bedroom. Your alpha needs couldn’t be met, let alone satisfied. And Pablo needed to get his head out of his ass and move out of his parents’ house. Even flowers and chocolate lose their appeal when it comes out of a twenty-five-year-old’s allowance from his parents. Miguel—sweet Americanized Miguel—was amazing at the time; I’ll give you that. Except he was a momma’s boy who dumped you because she didn’t approve of a woman from Mexico City. She treated you like you snorted cocaine to make it through the day.”

  “To be fair, Miguel’s family was sheltered.”

  “From what? Common sense?”

  A hysterical laugh erupts out of me. “Okay, thanks for a reminder as to why you didn’t approve of any of my boyfriends.”

  “I’m only trying to tell you that Jax might like you, so he probably struggles with that. Maybe that’s why he’s extra mean to you.”

  “Well, that’s not a good enough reason to be a jerk. At least not for me. I’m not into the grumpy guy is mean to the girl he really likes plot. It’s a bit overused and dated for my taste.”

  “But think of how fun it would be if you gave in. I’m sweating here thinking about it.”

  I roll my eyes, getting up from the couch. “You need to go. I’ve had enough of this intervention.”

  Elías walks to the door and steps out into the empty hallway. He flashes me a lopsided grin. “Face it. Maybe you need to try one round with a naughty boy to realize what you’ve been missing.”

  “Says the guy who is sweeter than a bottle of ponche. Good night and sweet dreams.”

  “A true friend would wish for me to have naughty dreams. The naughtier the better.”

  I giggle as I shut the door. Naughty dreams might be good for orgasms, but bad for the heart. Hate to break it to Elías, but Jax Kingston is not what the doctor ordered.

  Based on Jax’s recent history on the track, I didn’t expect him to land on the podium every race this season. My eyes stay glued to him as he exits his race car after placing second for the Sochi Grand Prix.

  The cocky man did it. He got between Noah and Santiago, which alone is a huge accomplishment compared to his laid-back approach last year.

  “Damn, why can’t he suck this year? I order you to stop helping him. Honestly, I can’t handle this level of betrayal from my best friend.” Elías tugs me into a hug. His sweaty race suit presses against me.

  “Ay Dios, ¡para! You smell disgusting.” I wrinkle my nose and gag.

  “This is the smell of labor and love. You wouldn’t understand with your recent plush lifestyle of private jets and fancy hotel rooms.”

  “You caught me. There’s absolutely no work required when dealing with your teammate all day, every day.” I stick out my tongue at him.

  “Elena, I need you to help me with something.” Jax’s prickly voice catches our attention.

  “Duty calls.” I throw my hands to the side and do a twirl in my heels before walking away from Elías.

  “You needed me?” I stop in front of Jax.

  “Follow me. I’ve got shit to do before we fly out tonight and I don’t have time to sit around while you flirt with Cruz.”

  “Alllll right.” I drag out the words. One would think after placing on a podium, Jax would be in better spirits.

  I was wrong. So very wrong.

  I follow Jax through the empty McCoy halls to his private suite. Somehow, a month around him helped me build resilience to his attitude. My days include a morning reminder of how I’m not here to play nice, followed by wishing my coffee was something of the alcoholic variety.

  “If you plan on sleep
ing with him, at least give me a warning. I want to stay away from you both when shit hits the fan.”

  I stop in my tracks and laugh up to the ceiling. “Why are you jealous? It’s not like you try to hang out with me.”

  He grimaces. “This has nothing to do with jealousy.”

  “Weird because for some odd reason your words sound an awful lot like it.”

  His race sneakers squeak against the tile floor as he eats up the space between us. Everything about him draws me in despite our contrasting personalities. We’re like two magnets. With a flip, we’re polar opposites, but if he stopped being an ass, I have a feeling we’d click into place.

  “Jealousy means I have to like you, or at the very least want you.” His darkening eyes trail down my body, failing to match his words.

  He intoxicates my brain with a simple glance and a curl of his lip. Some wires in my brain must be crossed if I’m attracted to his level of assholery.

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “How so?”

  I lean in closer, giving him a good look down my blouse. How can I give a damn about modesty when I’m trying to prove a point? I’m done dealing with his attitude for the week. “You may dislike having me around, but I have a theory it has more to do with you wanting me than you hating my help. You can’t help craving something more and it scares you.”

  Okay, my last sentence is a hunch influenced by Elías, but a plausible hunch, nonetheless.

  “Cravings are for weak people.” His eyes remain on my chest.

  The heat of his gaze acts like invisible fingers tracing across my skin. I ignore the goosebumps left behind. “You’re right. Cravings are for the weak who don’t have the balls to chase after what they want.”

  Flirting with disaster has a look, and this is it. The flash in his eyes should warn me away. Instead, I stay rooted to the floor, unmoving as he leans in. Everything stops around me as his lips lightly trail the curve of my neck. Hot air escapes his mouth, causing me to shiver at our nearness.