Chapter Nine
Rod tossed in the guest bed trying to fall asleep. Just down the hall was the woman who had him so tangled up he couldn’t rest. He was going to be a zombie in the morning. But he couldn’t hate her for it. No. Not when the sight of her in his clothes, on his bed, was like some kind of perfect drug. The kind that healed and had zero side effects. Not when she’d wrapped around his heart with her story and ambition. Made him want to make sure those dreams came true.
He closed his eyes against the dark, trying to remember ever detail. The sight of her when he’d lifted his eyes from that tray to find her perfectly undone. Damp hair, no makeup. Unbuttoned like he’d never seen her before. His shirt. Yeah, he’d picked that one for a reason. It had a little hole in the chest and maybe he’d hoped to catch a sight of her nipple.
Or maybe it was because it reminded him of the first time he saw her at Red Cap.
Either way, she stole his breath.
He could imagine finding her there, like that, every night. What he wouldn’t give to come home to her day after day. To have that kind of life.
Flopping onto his side, he gave his pillow a good punch. Punishment for being so goddamn uncomfortable. The bastard.
He settled back to the bed and tried his best to blank out his mind. Eyes were getting heavy. Muscles relaxing. Finally. Sweet baby Jesus…
“SNARGHHHH hewww.”
Rod jerked to a sit. What the holy hell was that?
“SNARGGGGHHHH heeewwwwww.”
Snoring? Or a chainsaw. One of the two.
Holy shit.
Someone needed help. Of the nasal variety. Shit, not even Rider snored like that. And Rod would know since he’d spent many a drunken night sleeping off the booze on his buddy’s couch.
“SN-snarghhh HEWWWW.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded into the hallway.
God. That couldn’t be his Seraphina. She was a fucking angel. Angels didn’t sound like 80s-era garbage disposals.
But sure enough, the horrible sound was coming from behind his bedroom door.
Rod stood back, running his fingers over his jaw, lips quirking.
His girl was a snorer. A gold medal one at that. If it were an Olympic sport, she’d kick everyone’s ass. Maybe he’d give her hell for it tomorrow. That would be fun. He never played with Seraphina. The others, yeah. But not her. Not much. He was always too afraid of her mattering.
Well fucking too late for that. She mattered.
Reaching for the door, he eased it open until he could see the bed she slept in. His bed. And damn, snoring or not, she was a sight. She’d kicked off his pants and her long bare legs were sprawled across the tangled covers, the long shirt barely covering what he knew was her bare ass. Her mouth was wide open, cheek smushed against the mattress. Her hair was everywhere, half of it covering her face, the other half lying ratted on the pillow.
She was a mess.
And he’d always liked getting into messes.
Shit, he wanted in that bed with her. Wanted all that mess to be his.
Light flickered from the TV in time with her wall rattling snores, and he looked over to see another sappy romance movie playing. There were plenty of them to choose from. He collected them like some men collect pornos. They made his heart hurt a little less when he was feeling his loneliest. He couldn’t explain it really, and luckily he didn’t have to.
If he liked to live vicariously through fake Hollywood romances, it was nobody’s business but his.
Those who can’t have love, can sure as hell watch other people have it.
Still, if any of his boys found out, they’d give him hell like none other.
Carefully, he pulled the blanket over Seraphina’s legs and slumped into the chair, kicking his feet out. It was better than the lonely guest bed. Even with the loud snoring.
The movie played, and it was one he liked, but he never took his eyes off his vixen. And pretty soon, he was drifting off to sleep.
The last thing he saw was her face, half hair strewn. The last thing he heard was an Olympic medal worthy snore.
And the last thought he had was… mine.
***
Rod eased his Mustang down the dusty driveway that led to the Dirt Track Dogs’ shop. He was on a mission to retrieve Seraphina’s things from Surge. He wanted to spend exactly twelve seconds doing it too. Because he was anxious to get back home.
He’d been exhausted for work, even if he’d had three hours of the best sleep of his life. But no falling asleep at the mic today. And yeah, it had nothing to do with Tabatha threatening his balls if he pulled that stunt again. This morning was just… different. He was clearer. Less heavy. Like a weight on his chest had been lifted.
He was… sober, he realized.
He parked in front of the shop. It was metal sided with two drive-in bays where the boys worked on their cars and repaired some for the locals. Off to the side was a pile of discarded tires, and above the front door, a sign that read Dirt Track Dogs Racing Club.
Behind that door was the alpha. His friend, and now his leaders of sorts. Because he sure felt like part of this pack, human or not. He just hoped Drake wouldn’t want his balls for taking Seraphina home with him.
Dragging in a deep breath, Rod pulled his wallet from his pocket and slipped the worn sheet of folded notebook paper free from where he kept his bills. A quick scan of his surroundings told him no one was watching. Carefully he unfolded it, slowly because it felt ancient and cursed. Like the secrets it contained could jump out and smack him on the cheek if he didn’t handle with care.
He huffed out a long shaking breath as he stared down at the list.
In his own handwriting at the top, it said, Things I Want Outta Life, and beneath that was a list that could rival Santa’s at Christmas. He’d covered the page front and back sixteen years ago when he’d graduated high school. Most things were trivial. Little wants and wishes that he could really live without. But others seemed crucial. Like he needed them as bad as he needed oxygen.
Be a famous radio personality (hey there, sexy Big Apple)
That one was crossed out in red like all the things he’d given up on. A failure.
Get syndicated so the whole country listens.
Also crossed off.
Buy Ma a new house.
Sorta worked that one out. Built her one… that they had to share, but still.
Own a hot rod (specifically a Mustang Fastback)
Done.
Beat Aaron on the dirt track.
Not quite.
Learn to dance so I can impress chicks.
Nah.
A beautiful wife. One so pretty all the boys are jealous and drooling.
At some point, he’d crossed that out and wrote, A woman who loves me and doesn’t want the world.
“Because I can’t give it to her,” he muttered.
He kept reading.
2-5 kids. Anything between those two numbers.
He swallowed hard, but the pain in his throat didn’t subside. Should’ve red-penned that one a long time ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up on a family yet.
Not yet.
But he also couldn’t picture getting the thing he wanted most. Seraphina and a future with her. Because her future was too important to chance him messing it up.
Like he’d done Tabatha’s.
Carefully, he folded the paper and slipped it back into place. He liked to keep it near his ass. Because then it made sense why his plans got shit on.
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Seraphina’s number.
“Hey, sweets,” he said when she answered, and then froze, his mind going blank at the accidental endearment. Shit.
“Uh… this is Seraphina. Did you dial the wrong number?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
He gripped the steering wheel, pressing his head back into the seat. What was with his tongue lately. It couldn’t be tamed. He just blurted shit out without his brain even knowing it was coming.
“What is it, Rod?” she asked quietly. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure, sure. I’m at DTD getting your bag and then I’ll be on my way. How you doing?”
He heard her sigh through the phone and her voice went light. “Good, we’re doing good.”
“You and Ma getting along?”
“Of course.” She let off a giggle that had his stomach in knots. “Guess what? She’s teaching me how to make her chicken. Can you believe it? She said no one knows her secret ingredient, but she’s going to tell me.”
“But no sharing it with Annie, ya hear?” he heard his Ma call from somewhere beyond the phone.
“Yes. I swear. No sharing with anyone.”
“Well… except for your own children, when the time is right, of course,” his mom added. “We have to keep the recipe honest through future generations of Turners.”
Rod rolled his eyes at the implication that Seraphina would be passing her recipe on to Ma’s grandchildren. But part of him—a huge part—liked the idea so much his stomach tumbled out of control.
Seraphina, barefoot and pregnant with his child…
There wouldn’t be enough bubble wrap in the world for him to wrap her in. He’d go with her to every doctor appointment, just like he did with Ma. He’d turn that spare room into one bomb-ass nursery, race cars everywhere—
“Rod?”
Shit. His thoughts stopped like a record scratch.
He couldn’t be thinking like that. He was no good as a father. No good as a husband. He was a good son and an amazing drunk. That was all.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Pecan pie,” Seraphina repeated. “She’s showing me how to do that too. She said it’s your favorite. That right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
His voice came out rough, and he cleared his throat to help.
If his vixen didn’t sound so happy, he’d be angry. Ma was setting them all up for disappointment. Seraphina the most. Because nothing had really changed. He was still shit for her. Wanting her as hard as he did was bad enough, but life was still life, and his was no good to share with any woman. Especially one as sweet as his.
Too bad his fucking heart didn’t seem to care about that.
“Good,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He closed his eyes, picturing it.
Mine.
You wish, bastard.
“See you when you get home.”
Her words swirled in his mind as he hung up and stepped out of the car.
Closing in on the door of the shop, he noticed Adam’s truck parked haphazardly at the back of the lot. Not like him to spend his lunch break hanging out with the Dogs. In fact, Adam didn’t do much hanging at all. Not since his world fell apart four years ago. The loss of his wife, Karly, had been a blow to them all. But it had damn near ruined Adam.
Frowning, Rod yanked the door open and stepped inside, stopping short at the group gathered there.
Lexington and Aaron. Alpha Drake. The Dogs… Beast, Blister, Surge, and Diz… were all circled around Adam where he stood in his work uniform, talking fast and low.
“They rode into town this morning looking like hell on wheels. Three big ass motherfuckers in leather and chains, driving Harleys. Parked it at Red Cap. Still there, as far as I know. The whole damn town is talking about ‘em. Fresh meat for the locals. Anyway, there you have it.”
Rod felt new anger rise in him. Maxim. The fox was here for Seraphina. And he’d brought two others.
Didn’t matter. Rod was going to fuck him up. And the Dogs could have the other two.
No one was hurting their Vixens.
“Good job,” Drake clipped. “Blister, call Annie and let her and Punk know to be careful with these males until we get down there to have a chat.”
Blister nodded and stalked to the back office.
“Now, I’m out,” Adam said. “I don’t want nothing to do with this, you understand? I did my part, did what you asked. Now I’m done. Don’t want any trouble. Me and Megan will be keeping our distance from now on. From all of you.” Adam pegged Rod with a hard stare.
The hell?
“Adam, come on,” Aaron spoke up. “We wouldn’t let anything happen to you or your daughter. We’re family.”
“No.” Adam practically shook. “She’s my family. The rest of you… I don’t even recognize anymore. I want out, you hear me? I can’t do this… this… fucking supernatural shit. It’s not right. And if that means pulling away from everyone I know, then fine. I’m done. I don’t need friends. I don’t need anything.”
Rod couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And it was the last pebble holding back the dam on his anger. He’d had enough.
“Bulllllshit, you scared-ass piece of shriveled up ballsack!” He marched forward. He was going to hit his friend. He needed it. They both needed it. But Adam especially.
He’d been an asshole since the Vixens rode into town. Since longer than that. And sure, he’d been through shit. They all had. But enough was enough.
He pulled back his fist and Adam went stiff, ready to clash, but fucking Aaron stepped in between them, bodying up to Rod and shoving him backward.
“Fucking move, asshole.”
“Cool it. We’re all running hot right now—”
“Fuck that,” Adam snapped. “Let’s do this. You wanna bust something. Make you feel better. Do it, hot shot. Then you can go get drunk after I fuck your face up.”
“Errrgh,” Rod pushed forward, shoving Aaron hard to get him out of the way.
The Dogs gave them space. But Aaron grabbed him around the waist before he could reach Adam.
“You wanna run? You want out?” Rod couldn’t believe it. His best fucking friend was turning his back on them.
“It’s not my fight,” Adam roared.
“When did that ever matter? When one of us hurts, we all do. When one of us fights, we all do. You’ve lost yourself, man.”
Adam spit in response, his fists flexing. And Aaron was still barnacled around Rod’s waist or he would have knocked the sneer right off his friend’s face.
“The Vixens are part of us. Maybe the best part. They need us. And I’ve seen the way you look at Barb. You want her, but you’ll just leave her to the foxes like it’s nothing, right? King of denial, you. How long are you going to pretend you really don’t need anything?”
“Look who’s talking, you hypocritical ass.”
Adam lunged for Rod, but this time Beast wrapped him up. “I was voting for a double smackdown, personally, but I can’t let you at him yet. Boy’s saying good shit.”
Rod barely heard him. His ears were roaring with fury.
“I’ve always been there for you. Always. When you cried so hard over Karly’s death you couldn’t breathe, I was fucking there. When you walked around in a daze for seven months and couldn’t even change Megan’s diaper, I was fucking there. Say what you want about everyone else, anyone else, but I was always there! Now, when I need you, when it matters to me, when someone I love is in danger, you can’t be fucking bothered? Well, fuck you, Adam. Fuck. You.”
There. He said it. All of it. The truth.
If he couldn’t count on his friends, who the fuck could he count on.
Adam’s face changed, all the anger sucked out of his expression in a blink. The room went still. Was everyone holding their breath? Was he?
“You love Seraphina?”
Was that the only part Adam heard? Because there was so much more, and Rod wanted to know in case he needed to repeat it.
No, forget it. Adam wasn’t worth it, and he needed to get back to Seraphina.
Rod twisted out of Aaron’s grasp.
“Forget it, man. I don’t need you. We don’t need you. How’s that for a twist? I’m going to take care of the fucker threatening my girl, and you can go to hell.”
He stalked for the door, and Surge was waiting there with Seraphina’s suitcase. He held it out to Rod, the handle hooked around his pinky finger.
“Thanks,” he muttered, and maybe he was saying thanks for so much more than just the bag.
“No big thang, human. No big thang.”
Rod pushed past him.
“By the way, your balls are showing. They just so huge, they can’t be ignored. It’s okay. Some of us bear that burden. Just make sure they’re on full display when you go up against that fox, ya hear?”
Rod turned back to the wolf, making him a promise.
“Balls out? Yeah, I can do that. It’s my specialty.”
He hurried to his car, thinking only of getting back to his vixen now that the man hunting her was so close. But when he reached it, a familiar dark-haired female was leaning against the driver’s side door. And she didn’t move when he ignored her and went for the door handle.
“Not so fast, human.”
She was small. He could take her. Probably. If she didn’t shift into a hissing bobcat first and shred him.
She was kinda sweet though, so she’d probably let him take her instead and have her mate, Diz, annihilate him afterward.
“I’m in a hurry, Destiny.”
She was a shifter with psychic powers. An Elder, they called them. Not because they were old but because they were wise. Or supposed to be anyway. He had his doubts.
“I know,” she answered cryptically, and Rod wondered if all future-seeing people were that cliché. Like, did they have to put so much weight on those two words? Of course they know. They’re psychic. It’s practically a given.
“Well, then. Scoot.”
She didn’t move.
“I just wanted to tell you something before you go.”
An eerie chill rolled up his spine at her words.
“Today, fate is going to give you everything you want, and teach you how to fight for the one thing you refuse to fight for.”
Rod frowned. Did she watch him read his list? Has she gotten close enough to read it without him knowing?
“What does that mean?”
Destiny smiled, and it looked sad. “They all ask me that. The worst part of this gig is I can’t tell them. So I’ll do what I always do. Repeat myself.”
“No. You explain. It’s cruel not to.”
She sighed.
“Today, Rod Turner, fate is going to give you everything you want. And not only that. It’s going to teach you how to fight. Fight so hard. For the one thing you refuse to fight for.”
“That’s it?”
She pushed off the car and went to walk past him, stopping at his shoulder.
“Fight hard, human. It’s worth it.”