Fearless Page 11

  "Okay," I said, clapping my hands once as if to say let's get going. "But I might not be able to go that fast at first, not until I get used to it."

  Jax gave a short nod. "That's okay, as long as you remember that the faster you go, the easier it is to ride."

  As he went to get his Shadow out of the trailer, I hopped onto my bike and ran my hands over the clutch and the throttle, trying to recall my muscle memory from the night with Darrel.

  The last time I rode a bike, I had been forced into it because we needed to escape from the Reapers and get to safety. The direness of the situation didn't leave me much room to worry about riding a motorcycle for the first time. Now a wave of doubt swept over me. Would I be able to do it again?

  I looked at Jax as he rolled his bike up, feeling self-doubt written all over my face. This time, the smile he gave me was real—and drop dead gorgeous.

  I smiled back, feeling a surge of confidence spread through my core. If Jax believed in me, the least I could do was believe in myself. I pressed my knees against the slim, aerodynamic body of the bike, liking the way it seemed almost made for me. I took a deep breath and flexed my fingers on the handlebars. It was okay. I wanted this. I'd do my best and have a damn good time doing it, too.

  Jax started his engine, revving it into a thunderous roar.

  "Let's go!" he shouted.

  I exhaled through pursed lips and started up my bike. Here goes nothing.

  Jax took off, heading for gate at the end of the long driveway. I twisted the throttle towards me, and the bike jerked forward with sudden speed.

  The acceleration made me wobble, and I clutched the handlebars, hard.

  I remembered Jax's advice, and twisted the throttle again, pumping more gas into the hungry engine. To my relief, I straightened out immediately, and the motorcycle steadied between my thighs.

  After that, I didn't wobble anymore, and I followed Jax to the highway, proud of how I could handle the bike.

  But as I started to merge onto the busy LA freeway, the cars zoomed by like fighter jets. The late afternoon traffic was faster, meaner, and more intense than the night I drove Jax's bike. I sent up a silent prayer that I wouldn't get squashed.

  Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I concentrated on following Jax. He pulled ahead of me and changed lanes, speeding to pass a slow car. I bit my lip. I didn't want to lose my guide by hanging back.

  Gritting my teeth, I jammed on my throttle. My bike zoomed forward, and I swerved into the left lane. I sailed past the car with a whoosh. Yeah!

  I laughed as I passed another string of cars. "Eat my dust!" I yelled. Adrenaline rushed through my body. I opened up my mouth wide to whoop.

  Something small and black whapped me on the lips. I snapped them shut, startled, then quickly spat a bitter, acrid fragment over my shoulder.

  Something bonked off my head. A whine buzzed in my ear, then faded away.

  I laughed, realizing what it was. Who knew a major hazard of the road would be getting bugs in the face? Normally, I'd be disgusted, but somehow right now I didn't seem to care. It was hard to think about anything bad with the wind in my face and the sun shining down on me.

  I smiled. No wonder Jax loved riding so much.

  Jax coaxed more speed out of his bike, pulling away from me again. As he changed lanes, he cut sharply in front of a white sedan. The driver jammed on his brakes. His angry red face leaned out the window as he swore at Jax.

  My heart beat faster, the adrenaline mixing with a shot of anxiety. What was Jax doing?

  Frowning, I gripped the handlebars tighter and pushed my bike faster, wanting to catch up with him so I could tell him to cool it.

  Jax swerved and cut off another car. The driver honked as he slammed on his brakes.

  Swearing, I urged my bike forward. Several cars still separated us. Are you trying to kill us, Jax?

  Ahead of us, clogged traffic forced Jax to slow down. The cars and trucks on all sides hemmed him in with nowhere to go.

  He slammed his hands on the handlebars. Then he rammed on his throttle, sending his bike to the right. He threaded his way through the tiny space left between the cars boxing him in the lane.

  What I saw next made me gasp.

  He dashed into a narrow gap between an SUV and an eighteen-wheeler that was shrinking as the eighteen-wheeler picked up speed.

  Jax, no!

  Hunching over the handlebars, Jax darted past the truck, almost scraping it as he whipped by. With a jerk of his arms, he swerved into the lane in front of the truck and out of sight.

  A sharp clang filled the air, followed by the sound of screeching tires.

  My chest was suddenly tight with fear.

  Oh god. No. Please.

  An opening between the cars appeared on my right, and I swung into it, my eyes wide as I searched for Jax.

  I spotted a rusty blue car pulled over on the side of the road. My stomach squeezed into a hard ball. An accident?

  I slowed down to take a look at the car. The driver stood outside and gazed down at his tire, scratching his head. I glanced at the tire. It was missing a hubcap. I looked up, my eyes roaming the grass alongside the car. I couldn't see a smashed motorcycle anywhere.

  A shaky laugh emerged from my lips, but my eyes were already scouring the highway for Jax. Where was he?

  Up ahead a white delivery van switched lanes, and Jax came into view, riding at a normal speed, in a normal lane.

  I released a breath I didn't even remember holding.

  I gunned my engine, and the spurt of speed brought me close behind Jax. I stared at his back, my heart troubled. What the hell was he thinking?

  As we steered off the highway, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

  We parked outside the club. I snapped off my engine and turned to Jax.

  He sat on his bike, looking elated, as if adrenaline still coursed through his veins. He glanced at me, and his expression sobered up slightly.

  "I can't believe you did that," I said, my voice stunned and my stomach uneasy.

  Reaching out, he gave my arm a gentle stroke. "I had it under control."

  "If just one thing had gone wrong . . ." I shuddered. "Why take that risk?"

  He shook his head. "I didn't plan on it. But lately . . ." he paused, searching for words and coming up short. He gave up and shrugged. "It felt good blowing off some steam."

  I remembered his tense face from before the ride. "Because of the photo shoot?" I hesitated, sensing something deeper. "Or because it's the end of the tour?"

  He got off his bike, not looking at me. "We talked about it in therapy." He hesitated. "Dr. Feinstein . . ." He trailed off, as if he was unsure of what to say next. "He wanted me to find ways to relax. I usually ride my bike for that."

  I dismounted from my bike too, coming around to look up at his face.

  His eyes glittered strangely, and an almost palpable wave of jittery energy radiated from his body. He didn't look relaxed to me. He almost looked high. I didn't know what to make of it.

  I took his hand. "You really scared me," I said simply, fighting back a tear. For a moment, I'd thought that I had lost him.

  His scarred eyebrow waggled. "I thought the thrill might do us both some good. I'm sorry I miscalculated. Let me make it up to you?" He bent me down for an exaggerated, Hollywood-style kiss.

  As usual, my body responded to his touch. Warm waves of pleasure radiated from my core as his lips probed mine. But when he let me up, I poked him in the side. "Letting off steam is one thing, but taking risks like that . . . I don't know how to feel about you doing stuff like that."

  He sighed. "It's nothing to get worried about, Pepper."

  "Just take it easy in the future, will you?" I asked with a weak smile, but part of me wasn't joking at all.

  "You got it." Jax pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. "Shit, we've got to go." He looked at me, his eyes still glittering. "Alright?"

  I nodded, but I couldn't erase the
knot in my stomach as he took my hand. Sky had told me he used to take death-defying risks before he found music, but I thought that was all over now. So what was going on with him?

  Was he trying to kill us? Trying to sabotage our relationship? I didn't know what was going on in Jax's head or how to fix it, but everything was definitely not alright.

  Chapter Thirteen

  TAKE CARE

  Jax's disdain for the photo shoot made me expect it to be lame, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

  We made it just in the nick of time, and only received a short scolding from the photographer, who looked like a slightly plumper Woody Allen. Suddenly, Jax vanished into a flurry of activity and camera flashes. He looked incredible as he posed, taut muscles rippling beneath artfully torn clothing that looked about two seconds from falling off. The shots the photographer was taking wouldn't just be great promotional material, they'd also be tacked up in thousands of dorm rooms and lockers across the country.

  For me, the time crawled to a standstill as I waited in a booth in a corner of the club, my mind returning over and over again to the flash of Jax's motorcycle disappearing from my view. His nonchalant attitude didn't reassure me. On the contrary, I felt more worried about him than ever.

  I'd already seen how his moods could get out of control. The thousands of dollars in smashed guitars was proof enough of that. Now Sky's story kept echoing around in my head. Jax had been this way before. What was stopping him from turning to risk-taking again?

  In spite of my fears, the trip back was completely uneventful. Anyone seeing Jax on his bike this time around would have thought he was a model rider. There was no trace of the reckless, foolhardy biker who had practically dared a truck to splatter him across I-5. But at some point, he might put himself in danger he couldn't get out of—and I had no idea how I could stop him.

  As we boarded the bus, a muffled thumping floated down from the second floor, followed by a rhythmic twang.

  I cocked my head to listen. The sound of Chewie's practice pads and Kev's guitar meant that the rest of the band had come back from downtown and wanted to catch up on practice too.

  Jax kissed me and headed upstairs to the Fortress of Solitude. Knowing he'd probably be busy practicing for hours, I got out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.

  Just call Jen. She'll know what to do. Or at least she'll be able to give you a hell of a pep talk.

  I dialed her number. It rang once, and immediately I heard her voice. "This is Jen, I can't come to the phone right now. . ."

  Damn it. Really what I wanted to do was talk to Sky, but if she was practicing, I was on my own. Maybe Kristen could help. Even though she'd never met Jax, at least I could air out my worries. She could tell me I was making a big deal over nothing, and then I'd feel better.

  But she wasn't there, either—and I didn't feel like pouring out my troubles to voicemail.

  Sighing, I headed up to the rooftop deck. If my friends weren't around, I'd have to tell my troubles to a nice stiff drink as the sun set. At least with the band practicing, the deck was all mine.

  When I opened the roof door, I blinked in surprise.

  A purple mat lay on the deck floor. Sky lay on her stomach, her back arched as she stretched her arms backwards to grasp her ankles. Her face showed signs of strain, but as she caught my eye she gave me a quick smile.

  "Oh, sorry," I murmured.

  "No, it's okay," she said, sounding a little out of breath. She released her legs and eased them down onto the mat. "I've done enough poses for today."

  "I thought you were practicing with the guys," I said, smiling a bit at my good fortune. It looked like I'd be able to get this load off my chest after all.

  Sky stood up and stretched, then grabbed a towel that hung from one of the barstools. "Sometimes I'd rather do this than practice. It gets me loose."

  I joined her at the bar. Picking up a bottle of rum, I swished around its contents. "This stuff works better than yoga for that. Care to join me?"

  "Sure," she replied, rubbing the towel over her neck. "But make mine a small one. I've hardly eaten all day."

  As I mixed fruit juice with the rum in two glasses, I snuck a furtive glance at Sky. Even though we were cordial, we didn't have the kind of friendship that allowed for much talk about Jax's inner life. We didn't talk about Jax at all, usually. But she'd known Jax for forever, and if anyone could make sense of Jax's erratic behavior, it was her.

  I handed her the drink. "Here you go," I said, taking a sip of my own while I tried to figure out what to say.

  Sky sat down next to me, the towel draped around her shoulders. "I'm glad you came up," she said, taking a sip from her glass. "Actually, I had a question for you." She paused, looking nervous as she waited for a response.

  I lifted my eyebrow and smiled, even though her hesitation put me on alert. "Go for it," I said.

  She exhaled and shifted on her barstool. "What's going to happen with you and Jax after the end of the tour?"

  The irony of it struck me, and I laughed, even though her question wasn't funny. She gave me a confused look and I hurried to explain. "It's funny you should ask. I wanted to talk to you about Jax too," I said. "I didn't know how to bring it up though."

  "Me either!" Sky said, a relieved smile appearing on her face.

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as I tried to organize my thoughts. I wished I could tell her I knew exactly what would happen with me and Jax, but the truth was, I didn't know. I trusted that he meant what he said about staying together, but who knew what could happen to upset our plans?

  "We're going to make it work long distance until he gets back to New York," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "We're committed to making this happen, even though it'll be hard."

  Sky's eyes lit up at my words. "That's great, Riley. You've made such a difference in his life." Her face grew serious again. "I mean it. When he's with you . . . I've never seen him happier. Except for lately, but I'm sure that's nothing."

  I frowned at the last part. "What do you mean?"

  Sky looked embarrassed. "Well, after his collapse, I mean. He gets better, but then he gets worse. For a while I thought nothing could get through to him. But you did it before. I'm sure you'll do it again. It'll just take time."

  I gave her a stiff smile. Though her words were meant to be comforting, they struck at the very heart of my worries. What would happen to Jax after I left? Therapy had improved his mood on the surface, but after what I'd seen today, I couldn't take any comfort in it. Something deeper was clearly at work. What if therapy wasn't really helping? And in a few days, if he took a turn for the worse again, he'd be alone.

  "So do you think he's getting better?" I asked, trying hard not to show anxiety on my face.

  She gave me a curious look. "Don't you?"

  "Yes," I said quickly, fighting back the urge to confess all my worries to her. The thought of just unloading it all was tempting, but gnawing insecurities made me stop. The possibility remained that I'd worked myself up over nothing, and spilling my guts would only worry Sky—and make me look like the world's neediest girlfriend. I could ask what I needed to know without telling her all my fears.

  "Actually, I had a question for you too," I said, careful to keep my voice casual. "When you told me that story about Jax going subway surfing and doing other risky stuff, it made me wonder. What did he look like after he did something like that?"

  Sky paused to think. "Umm . . . high? I think. Like a junkie," she said, laughing. "After a hit."

  Even though the sun warmed the roof, I shivered. I didn't know any drug addicts, but I wasn't naive either. What I'd seen in Jax's strangely excited eyes could be described in just that way.

  Sky broke into my reverie. "Why, is something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

  "Nothing's wrong," I lied, wishing that I could believe my own words. I didn't want to worry her. I didn't even know if Jax would do anything that risky again. I had no real
reason to assume he would. "That story just made me curious, that's all. I'm still trying to get a picture of what Jax was like when he was younger."

  She sighed in relief. "Ah, okay."

  I hesitated, then touched her shoulder. She swiftly brought her head up to look at me. Even if I couldn't tell her everything, I could still use her help, and ask her to do something for me that would make me feel a tiny bit better about leaving.

  "I wanted to ask you something else, too." I hesitated, not sure of how to say it.

  Sky tilted her head, waiting.

  I exhaled. "Could you look after Jax for me while I'm gone? If he starts acting weird again, and I'm not here . . ." I trailed off, not really sure what I wanted Sky to do. If Jax was trying to distance himself from me, who was to say he wouldn't do the same thing to her?

  But she nodded, as if she could read the unsaid message behind my words. "Don't worry. I can be there for him. We may not actually have the same parents, but he's my brother, just as much as Chewie."

  A wave of relief rushed through me. I could count on her, I knew it. I didn't have a sister, but if I did, I would want her to be like Sky.

  "Thank you," I said, the words almost sticking in my throat.

  "It won't be the same without you around," she said, sounding sad. "But we'll be back in New York as soon as we're done cutting our new record."

  "I'll be waiting," I said, managing a wry smile. "Not very patiently, but I'll be waiting."

  Sky laughed. "But before that can happen, we've got to play our last show." She finished the rest of her drink with a gulp. "And that means I should probably do some real practicing."

  She stood up and rolled her yoga mat so that it fit snug under her arm. "It was good talking to you, Riley."

  I waved to her as she left. Alone, I stared down into my almost empty glass as if it had the answers I was still seeking.

  In my heart, I wanted to believe that Jax had found a way to heal. But if he was trying to escape his pain by going back to his old reckless ways, therapy would be nothing but a temporary bandage over a far deeper, older wound.