Page 38 of Heartbreaker

I tell myself this fear is all in my head.

Still, I can’t get my hands to even attempt the move. Instead, I just get air and land with a hard bounce on the other side.

“Hell yeah, that was sick!” Lana cheers.

“Wasn’t what I wanted,” I say, trying not to get annoyed.

“Who cares what you wanted? It was sick. You got like, twenty feet with that one.” I shake my head because it most definitely was not twenty feet, but I appreciate her kindness. Instead, I circle the track again, then line up.

Again, I tell myself it’s all fine.

Again, I floor it, the engine roaring in the empty arena.

Again, I don’t do a front flip. I do manage a backflip.

“Holy shit, that was hot,” she says, and I laugh. “Now I need to nail that myself.”

“It’s not hard at all, just gotta get enough traction and height,” I say, and I’m relieved that neither of us brings up the fact that it wasn’t the trick I was aiming for. Instead, I circle the track a few times. She’s as quiet as I am, but as I line up the trick, she speaks again.

“You’ve got it, baby. Nothing bad can happen. Not when I’m here,” she murmurs. Something about it settles in my chest, chasing away the spot of darkness that’s been sitting there for weeks. It makes no sense, since I know logically Lana can’t actually do anything to prevent disaster, but I find myself believing it all the same.

Then I hit the gas, zooming up, up, up and over the ramp. I slam it into a wheelie as I go, not hesitating for a moment as I picture her pretty face, her proud smile, and it happens.

I flip.

My heart stops while I’m in the air, the blood rushing in my ears, but I hear it all the same.

“OH, MY GOD!”

Lana shrieks with utter excitement right before I bounce down into the compacted dirt.

“HOLY SHIT! ROME, YOU DID IT!”

“HELL YEAH!” I shout, my hand coming down on the steering wheel as my heart races. I slow the truck and bring it to a stop, already taking off my helmet and working to get out before it’s even completely off. Lana is racing down the stairs as I hop out, her golden hair trailing behind her. I pump my fist in her direction as I run toward her, and she jumps over the railing with no hesitation, knowing I’ll catch her. When I do, she peppers kisses over my face,

“Rome! You did it! You did it! Oh my god, that was so fucking cool!” I back her into the wall with my body, her legs wrapped around my waist as I capture her in a deep kiss. The adrenaline from tackling my fear, from landing the trick, still rushes through my veins, but quickly morphs into something else altogether—need and desire that only the woman in my arms can sate.

TWENTY

Primary Suspect list for sabotage based on current intel:

Tyler

Jordan

Oliver

Phil

Courtney

Kevin

TWENTY-ONE

The second I left for my date with Rome, Demi texted me to take advantage of the opportunity to get closer to him. I don’t think she meant to do that by letting his tongue get intimately acquainted with my molars or his hands with my ass, but knowing Demi, she wouldn’t disapprove. And right now, the voice in my head that normally speaks with common sense and logic is suspiciously quiet.

But the niggling conflict of having Rome on my suspect list has dissipated, at least. While a part of me is pretty sure he’s been off the list for some time, the logical side has kept him on it, since we had no concrete evidence to the contrary. But after he opened up about what got him here, his past, and his desperate need not to simply get back to Indy, but to earn his way back, I know in my gut he’s not doing this just to throw a temper tantrum.