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CHAPTER TWENTY
*Brodi “Bro” - Tail Gunner*
Time stood still during that short ride. In those five minutes, it felt like the sun set and never rose again. When Vee wobbled to help Lace, my extremities went numb and vision blackened at the edges. There is nothing more fucking terrifying than thinking your passenger is about to topple, but I learned today that watching it almost happen from an outside perspective and being powerless to help is worse. When she fought to remove her helmet, mine suddenly became too restrictive. As I watched her shoulders shudder from failed attempts at getting oxygen through the attack, my lungs constricted.
As soon as Vee pulled off and I knew she was safe, my own anxiety needed a release; the moment I dismounted and removed my helmet, it flared. I want to get back on my bike, ride, and stunt, not be here in the middle of all this fucking madness. Body shaking, feet switching, neck sweating under my gaiter, I spin around and pop open the emergency kit to dig for my prescription ADHD meds kept hidden under all the kit-obligatory drugs.
My hands tremble as I struggle to pop open the cap while simultaneously trying to block out all the pandemonium around me. Just as I clench the bottle in a tight fist to throw the damn thing because my jittery fingers will not fucking open it, small arms wrap around my waist from behind and pry the bottle from my hand. I whip around, my breaths coming in fast and choppy.
Lace places her hand against my chest, encourages me to lean back on my bike for support, steps between my legs, and easily removes the cap between our bodies. Her determined, glossy-brown eyes as they lock on mine is too much; unable to handle the weight of looking into them, my focus drops from her face to the pill bottle between us.
All the sounds around us muffle as Lace grabs my wrist, flattens my palm, and dumps several pills into my hand — several too many.
She lifts my palm as though to bring it to my mouth, but she brings it to hers instead, tongue flattening and collecting every single one. In my manic state and with her pressed against me, I have nearly zero reaction time. When a single tear drips out of her eyes, down the length of her pert nose, and replaces the pills in my palm, then I react. Too late. My hand darts up to her jaw, fingers digging deep into her cheeks to pop her lips open.
Coming to my damn senses, I lift my other hand and scoop a finger into her mouth. She… fucking sucks on it, her watery eyes twinkling and tongue vibrating with a quiet chuckle. Her small hand wraps around my wrist, and she yanks my damp finger out of her mouth, then quickly tips a couple more pills into my palm again. My nerves go from frustrated to needy seeing them in my hand, knowing these ones must be for me.
Eyelashes fanning upward again, she cradles the pills, quickly caps the bottle, and tosses it into the open kit. Then she plucks up one pill, deposits it in my mouth and slips the second one between her lips. Pinching the pill between her front teeth, she cups both of my cheeks, draws my face down to hers, rubs her nose lightly along mine, and coaxes my tongue out to slip between her teeth and claim the pill. When the chalky bitterness swaps to my mouth, she loops our tongues together, and I spiral in a completely different way — one that no pill can fix. My cock swells against the zipper of my riding pants, and her sweet little body rubs against the hard bulge.
The placebo effect from having just taken the pills — knowing they will kick in soon — is just enough to give me clarity. Plus, her touch, and being with her, tends to do that anyway. She knows that and often goes from being the used one to doing the using, in more ways than one.
Not this time, though; my hand shoots up to her jaw again, fingers digging into her soft flesh. Breaking the kiss, I roughly jostle her face. “What else have you taken today?” I demand. She shrugs. “I need to know, Lace,” I growl out. As the fucking medic, I need to know dammit!
Lace levels me with a killer glare, her nostrils popping out slightly, then spins on her heels. Her spiky heels click against the parking lot pavement as she storms off toward the vendors.
Completely unequipped to deal with her like some of the other guys are, my focus darts around for backup. Naturally starting at the top of the food chain, I spot Kal plugging in his bike at one of the complimentary electric charging stations.
A stifling energy buzzes and heats the left side of my body. My attention jerks sideways. Chaz approaches me, less one helmet and gaiter, his long hair flat on top but crimped everywhere else.
“Need to plug in?” he asks, tilting his head toward the charging station I had just been eyeballing.
I inhale a deep breath of exhaust-dense air through my nose. Nostrils sucking inward to lessen the burn from the pollution, I shake my head. “Charged at the condo last night.”
Chaz casts his focus to my hands, catching me in the act of cracking each finger knuckle one by one with my thumbs, again and again. He raises an eyebrow. “The fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, grinding out under his breath as he slaps me hard enough between the shoulder blades that it forces me to leave my bike and start walking the short distance from the endo kiss lineup area to our booth.
“Lace is gonna overdose, Cash. I have no idea what all she is on, but she just slammed back at least a whole day’s worth of my addies.” Revealing that aloud makes a weight heavier than the bulkiest hog at this event press in on my chest. My hand darts up to grip the center of my jacket as Chaz flings his attention her direction.
He speeds up, but someone barges between us, causing him to heave forward and nearly lose footing. His hand darts out, keyed up enough to not care if a civilian is who caused him to nearly bust his nose.
Thankfully — or not — the culprit is Vee. Chaz misses, and Vee gets away, angling a narrowed glance at us over his shoulder as he jogs up to Lace and makes her succumb to a forced handhold.
Then Baylor stalks past us and takes the opposite side to bracket her. Zane appears next, situating himself directly behind her in case she tries to drop back and dart that way.
When Lace realizes what is going on, she tries to jerk away from Vee, but he only grips her tighter. Her head swivels toward him and mouth moves, lips pinching tightly together at the end. Vee scowls at her, and his jaw ticks as he grinds out something through clenched teeth.
“Looks like they have it handled,” Chaz affirms. “Now tell me what happened last night,” he insists, rolling the tension out of his shoulders and darting a few casual glances around to make sure no one is within earshot.
When I still refuse to answer, anxiety twisting my tongue and clamping my lips together, Chaz finally loses his patience. He spins around, comes to a dead halt in front of me, and shoves me backward. “As your superior, I am demanding, not asking. If any retribution goes down, let it be on me. I have known Lace for a long goddamn time and have never seen her this out of control, even at her worst before Coty helped her get clean. For most people grief from loss does not translate like that.” He aggressively thrusts a thumb over his shoulder. “Not in the first couple of days at least. I get that her dad was your hit and there is a vow of silence in play, but clearly, she somehow knows anyway. Give me answers. Do not fucking test me right now, Bro.”
My eyes strain wide, panic clutching at me again, gaze flicking everywhere other than on Chaz, and my teeth gnashing closed so tight it makes my jaw twinge. Chaz gets in my face, the hot air from his nose blasting against the top of mine, and grips the lapel of my jacket. “I may not be Prez, but I still fucking own you. You would do well to remember that right now. Shape the fuck up, and use your words.” He pat-slaps my cheek a few times, knowing damn well nothing fires me up more than someone treating me like a psych patient.
My tongue finally untwists, but not how I want it to. “Got any blow on you? I need a bump,” I gasp out. Shifting from foot to foot, I pick at a piece of dry skin on my lip with my teeth.
Chaz huffs and shakes his head in disbelief, but he still unzips the top of his riding suit and digs some out.
My entire body vibrates as he steps in closer to block what we are doing from potential eyes. Chaz takes out the key to his bike, uses it to scoop up just enough for a small hit, and shoves the bag back into his riding suit. I immediately dip my head down and inhale the white powder.
“Better?” He slaps me on the shoulder and returns the key to his pocket.
