JALYNN

I wish I could laugh at the ridiculousness of this guy as I watch him fumble with his hat and the hood of his oversize sweatshirt. 

This whole Eminem, 8 Mile routine has got to end because his need for being incognito is freaking me out. Either he just got a bad haircut or he’s on America’s Most Wanted list … and I’m not gonna stick around to find out.

Pushing myself away from the car, I walk as fast as I can down the sidewalk. My heart is beating a million miles a minute as my breath desperately tries to keep up with its erratic rate.

“Get back in the car,” he shouts.

I quicken my pace. “I’m not getting back into that death trap.” 

How the hell did I get into this mess? Oh, that’s right. Beckett. How dare he not fight for me! He gave up and allowed this guy to practically throw me in his car. 

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and tap on the Uber app. I don’t know where I am, but thankfully, GPS does. Based on the amount of graffiti on the sides of the buildings and the man I just passed, smoking from a questionable-looking pipe, I can only assume we’re in the ghetto. 

And, as it turns out, I’m not getting reception in the outskirts of Oakland.

“Damn it,” I curse as the little icon roams in a circle, trying to connect me to a driver. I raise my hand in the air as if that will miraculously connect me to a signal.

Heavy footsteps jog after me, followed by Falcon’s deep voice in my ear. “I’ll bring you home. I’ll drive the speed limit. Just get in the goddamn car.” 

He’s gritting his teeth through his words, but they don’t scare me. I grew up, hearing anger from a man every day, and his seemingly aggressive tone doesn’t do shit to persuade me in his direction.

“With you?” I adamantly shake my head and continue my pace. “I don’t even know who you are. All I know is, you go by the name ‘Falcon.’”

I hear him snicker beside me. “Did you just use air quotes?” 

My feet halt on the ground. When I turn to him, he stops, too. His body is stern, except for the smirk he has on his lips, the only portion of his face I can clearly see. 

I cross my arms and lean back. “Are you laughing at me?”

He lifts his fingers and makes air quotes as he says, “‘Maybe.’” 

“Ugh!” I throw up my hands and continue walking, my legs trembling as I wrap my arms around my body to control the blast of coldness rushing through me.

I jump when he charges forward, blocking my path.

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline rush. That’s why you’re shaking.” 

I look up at his tall six foot two figure. I’m no slouch, but his presence is the type that would make most people feel small.

Most people.

Not me.

“I’m just cold.”

“Sweetheart, it might be the Bay Area, but look around. There’s no fog tonight.” The deep baritone of his voice sends a chill up my spine.

“Says the guy wearing a sweatshirt,” I counter.

He takes a step closer. “I bet your fingers are tingling in a way you’ve never felt.” His words make me stretch them out in defiance. “And you have to keep straightening your posture because you feel like, if you don’t, you might trip and fall from the shakes.” He leans in even further. His breath is hot on my skin. “You keep rubbing your arms like you’re cold, but really, it’s the blood flow rushing back in.”

I hold up my hands in protest. “You can just stop right there.” 

“Because you know I’m right?” 

He grins, and it makes me want to smack him.

“No, because I don’t want to hear your voice anymore. But I want to see your face.” 

“No.” He takes two steps back. 

“Are you a felon? Only serial killers hide their faces as much as you do. And don’t tell me it’s because of the street racing because no one else was being so secretive.”

I point to his car that’s sitting on the dirty gray street like it has a neon sign above it that says, Steal me.

Oh my God.

“Did you steal that car?” 

His jaw twitches. “Baby, I don’t need to steal a thing.”

His use of the word baby is purely condescending and laced with a cockiness that can only come from having money. 

“If you’re so well off, then you can afford to wear something that fits.” I nod to his black sweatshirt. “You look ridiculous.” 

“You wore khakis to a street race. Let’s not discuss fashion choices right now.” 

“Oh, so you’d prefer the bimbos in leather?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Instead, I’m stuck here with you, so will you get back in the fucking car because, regardless of what you’re wearing, you’re live bait out here? You think you’re scared of me? Sweetheart, I’m a hero compared to the nightmares you’d encounter out here.”

He holds out his hand to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was genuinely concerned for my safety. Damn it, he’s right, and I hate it. I can’t give in that easily though.

I stand my ground, leaning back on my heels and crossing my arms in defiance. “Show me your face.”

He lets out a groan and punches into the air while turning around and yelling under his breath, “You exasperating woman.” 

I tap my foot as I wait for him to do as he was told. A car playing obnoxiously loud music slows down at the sight of the Camaro. It inches by before taking off.

After staring at it drive away, he turns his attention back to me, probably wondering when I’ll give up this game of chicken.

Little does he know, I never lose.

Seeing he’s not going to oblige me, I continue my walk away from him, holding up my phone again in search of some damn reception. 

“Fine!” I hear him call out behind me.

I turn as he places a hand on his hood.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I should just leave you here. Alone.” 

He bows his head as he pulls the fabric back, removing his hat and shaking out his brown hair. It’s sticking up a bit where he has a cowlick, and the way it falls on his forehead is kind of endearing. It’s not long per se, but it has just enough length to become unruly when not styled.

He straightens his back and squarely looks at me, showing me his face. And damn if it’s not one of the best-looking faces I’ve ever seen—a square jaw with a five o’clock shadow accenting sharp cheekbones and a straight nose. His brows are dark and arched to follow the curve of almond-shaped eyes. And, when he looks back at me through thick lashes, it’s the dark blue eyes that make my breath hitch. 

He must notice my reaction because he squints at me, questioning my thoughts. 

I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders back at him before giving them a shrug and saying in my most nonchalant voice, “If I had a face like yours, I’d cover it up, too.” 

Instead of being insulted, he just stares. His head tilts a touch, appraising me. It’s like he thinks I’m lying. About what, I don’t know.

As I make my way back to his car, a group of men turn a corner behind him. They’re a full block away, and by the way they’re looking at his car, I don’t think they’ll be stopping to simply chat about the gas mileage.

I open the door and secure myself in the passenger seat. 

“About time,” he says out loud as he struts back to his side and gets in.

He cranks the engine and quickly releases the clutch, roaring the exhaust as we drive away. The sound vibrates through my body. When I get a good look at the guys who are glaring back at us, my stomach turns. That wasn’t my smartest moment, and I’m glad he gave in so fast. 

“What’s your address?” he asks bluntly. 

“Take me back to the race.” 

“Beckett’s not there. Fucker took off as soon as the sirens blared, and if he stayed, the cops took him in. Wouldn’t matter either way because he’s never coming back — I won the race. Besides, what do you care? He gave you up, remember?” He tsks, tsks and then shows me a devilish smirk. “Here’s a thought; let’s go back to his place.” 

I clench my jaw at the thought. “Oh, so now, you want to look like the big badass who not only beat him, but also stole his girl?” 

“No, I like the term knight in shining armor better. You know, the guy who swoops in to save the girl from the big, bad wolf.” 

“I think you’re getting your fairy tales and nursery rhymes mixed up. Your mouth is as big as your ego.” 

“Better to eat you with, my dear.”

He’s toying with me, and I can’t decipher if he’s always like this or just trying to make me squirm, which I am … but not in the frightened way.

Whatever the case might be, I need to get home. “I live in the Mission, on the corner of Sixteenth and Valencia.”

He seems to know where it is because he just nods and slightly sits back.

We drive in silence. His eyes are focused on the road, as if he’s appreciating every curve like that of a beautiful woman’s body. We’re on the side streets of a seedy part of town, yet his eyes widen in anticipation as he makes each turn.

When he hops onto the freeway toward the Bay Bridge, it’s like his soul had been set free, and he leans back fully, enjoying the freedom of the open road.

He must feel my stare because he turns his head and raises a questioning brow.

“Did you expect me to recognize you?” I ask. 

He swallows as he considers my question. “Well, yeah. I’m kind of famous.” 

Okay, so he’s not a serial killer, but he can’t be that famous because I’m looking right at him, and I still have no clue who he is. “Like Justin Bieber famous?” 

“I should have left you with the fucking meth heads.” He pulls at the collar of his sweatshirt.

I’m warm, and I’m in a short-sleeved shirt. He must be stifling. 

“Just take it off. Clearly, you don’t need it anymore. I’ve already seen your famous face.” I don’t use air quotes, but I say it as if I did.

He lets out a long groan and then concedes. With one hand on the steering wheel, he holds the other arm out toward me. It takes a second too long for me to see that he wants me to help him get undressed.

Mentally noting the oddness of the situation, I tug on his sleeve, and he pulls his arm in toward himself. He switches hands, and we repeat the process before he lifts the sweatshirt over his head and tosses it into the backseat.

A sigh of comfort escapes his lips while I choke back a gasp at some seriously strong arms.

Great. I’m turned on by the jerk. Just what I need in my life. 

“Like what you see?” he says.

I have to clench my jaw to fight my body’s reaction.

I give my head a little shake as my eyes fall to the Foo Fighters T-shirt he’s wearing.

“I’m a huge Dave Grohl fan,” I say, trying to find some type of normalcy for the reminder of the drive. 

He leans forward and taps his iPhone. His speakers roar to life with the opening chords of “Everlong” by the Foo Fighters. This is one of my favorite songs but only when it’s played acoustically, which is what he just happened to put on.

Figures.

“You have good taste in music,” I say nonchalantly as I sit back in my seat. 

His lips tilt up in a slight grin. “Only this version though. Did you hear it when they played it on Howard Stern?” 

I hate that he knows that. I don’t want him to be someone I have common interests with. He’s the prick who pushed me into his car. I need to remember that, but I’ve never met someone who knew the history of the acoustic version.

In any other situation, I would be totally turned on and excited to open the conversation about other music trivia, but I bite my lip and only respond with, “Yeah.” 

As it turns out, we have a lot of the same music tastes. Our iTunes accounts could be synonymous, and we listen in ease as we sail toward the city. The bright lights of San Francisco against the blackness of the bay draw closer with every song.

We pull up to a stoplight, my house just blocks away. I look out the passenger window as I drum my fingers along my thigh, feeling the measured beats echo through me. The darkness of the night outside my window mixed with the interior lights of the car makes it easy to see my refection.

And not just mine.

I can see him chancing casual glances my way. His gaze focuses on my fingers tapping my skin and then moves straight up to the side of my face.

He’s looking at me.

Taking me in.

It’s unnerving to know someone is watching you when you don’t want to turn to acknowledge it.

“Do I at least get your name?” I ask as a way to break the spell.

In the glass, I watch as his mouth opens and then closes.

“Do I get yours?”

I turn to him in surprise, realizing I never gave him my name either.

He drops his gaze and refocuses back on the road. “I guess we’ll just leave it at that. Names don’t matter because I never plan on seeing you again,” he says.

I fight the unwelcome sting his words leave in my eyes and point to the corner nearest my building. “Here is fine.” 

“I’m not leaving you on some street corner.” 

“And I’m not showing you where I really live.” 

He forcefully breathes out his nose and shakes his head. “Okay then. Here you are. I’ll see you around, Pyle.” 

“Pyle? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Seems pretty fitting, considering how you got into my car in the first place.” 

I take in a sharp, insulted breath. With a clench of my jaw and a grunt, I swing my door open and jolt out on wobbly feet. “Thanks for the ride, ‘Falcon.’” 

You can sure as shit believe I threw in some air quotes. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” Eva dramatically holds out two hands as she takes in the story I just told her.

My purse and keys are in Beckett’s car, so I had to wake her up in order to get into our apartment.

“You raced in Falcon’s car? No one—and I mean, no one—has ever been in that car, let alone for a race.” 

Now, it’s my turn to act completely shocked. “How do you know about Falcon?”

Eva and I have been friends for years and roommates for the last two. While her ability to know everything about everyone astonishes me, I wasn’t quite prepared for her to be well versed in the world of underground street racing.

“Remember that guy, Russell, I dated for, like, six weeks last summer? He used to go to those races. That Falcon guy is a legend.” 

My eyes roll so far up into my forehead, I think they might freeze there. “I’m so sick of hearing about how he’s some god. That’s all Beckett kept talking about on the ride to that stupid race. Why is everyone obsessed with some douche in a Camaro?”

She climbs on my bed and sits on her knees, excited to tell me what she knows. “He’s so secretive about everything. Only a few people even know who he really is. I hear talk that he might be a famous actor or a politician’s son or something.” 

“He’s not anyone I recognized.”

“You saw him?” she yells in disbelief. “No one has ever fully seen him. He hides under that hat and hood, so you can only get glimpses of his face.”

I pull my eyebrows together at how absurd that sounds. “Yeah. I demanded he take his ridiculous LUNATIC hat off, and I saw him clear as day.” 

The bed shakes as she bounces up and down, eager for the info. “So, who is he?” 

“I don’t know. Some prick who demanded I get in his car and threatened my life with his driving.” 

“Stop it.” She hits my shoulder and then tosses her long black hair over her own. “You needed to be manhandled like that; don’t deny it.” 

I let out a little groan at her. She’s right. I might have been scared while it was happening, but no matter how much I try to fight it, tonight was definitely the most exciting night of my life. 

I close my eyes tight, only to relish the rush of sitting in that car, waiting for the flick of a flashlight to determine my fate. 

When it went off, it was wild.

Terrifying and awakening. 

My stomach dropped as Falcon took us from zero to sixty in what felt like a second, making my body ripple with fear. I gripped the seat, digging my fingernails into the worn leather. Every second had me praying for my life, yet when it was over, I had an odd sensation of loss. I’ve never been so terrified with so much adrenaline rushing through me. Everything in my body was on fire. 

Yet, when he stopped, all I could think of was how to get out as soon as possible. 

I’m a walking contradiction, and I blame Falcon.

My phone vibrates from my back pocket, making me open my eyes and pull it out. Beckett’s face fills the screen. Eva is staring at me with raised brows while pulling her hair back in a ponytail as I answer the call. 

“Seriously, Beckett? I could be dead in a ditch by now,” I say as soon as I hit Accept.

“Where are you?” His voice is laced with concern. Too bad he’s about an hour too late. 

“Not in a ditch.” 

His breath is ragged on the other end. “I shouldn’t have let him take you.” 

“That’s the understatement of the year.” 

“He only pulled that shit to prove a point. If I fought for you, it would have gotten ugly. Better for him to think you’re just some girl I hook up with ’cause, if he knew who you really were, he might have done much more than make you go for a drive. It was the right thing to do.” 

“No, Beckett. Making sure I was safe with you would have been the right thing to do.” 

“It was probably for the best. If you were on the sidelines, I wouldn’t have been able to get to you when the cops came.” 

“I should have been with you!” I yell, pulling my hair at the base of my scalp. “God, why did you let that prick boss you around like that? The way you had talked shit about him behind his back had me believing he was your bitch, not the other way around.” 

“Way to kick a man when he’s down, Jay.” 

“Way to bail on me, Beck.”

Eva whistles through her teeth at my tone. Even though I’m royally pissed at him, I know he doesn’t need my grief right now. Beckett has so much going on in his life, and these races give him a reprieve. After the spectacle that happened tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if Falcon dismissed him from ever racing again. 

I can hear Beckett breathing loudly on the other end.

“I fucked up. I know. I just … I make the wrong decisions.” 

His downtrodden attitude hits me right in the gut. It’s from the way he grew up, always being told he wasn’t enough. Beckett goes from being on top of the world to beating himself up in seconds.

“You’re just trying to find your way. We all are.” I sigh, slumping on my bed in defeat.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re on the road to success. Are you ready for your new job tomorrow?”

“No.” I let out a soft laugh.

I only got the call on the way to tonight’s race that I was hired for an executive assistant position. That’s what you get when you work with a temp agency. Jobs in print media are hard to come by these days, and I’ll take whatever I can get.

“I’m not ready, but I will be. You should know that about me by now.” 

“That a girl. So, you’re okay?” His question sounds more like, Are we okay? 

“Yeah. Eva was home, so she let me in. I need my bag, so you owe me breakfast tomorrow. Early. I don’t want to be late on my first day,” I demand. 

“Deal,” he says. “And kiss the Latina princess for me. I owe her for taking care of you tonight.”

I wink at Eva, who is listening in on the conversation. The three of us say our good nights before I hang up the phone and plug it into the charger on my nightstand.

Eva slides off the bed as I pull down my covers. “He leaves you in the hands of a stranger, and you forgive him on the first apology?”

“I have to,” I sigh as I start to remove my pants, getting my pajamas on. “You know the hell our dad put him through. I’m all he’s got.” 

She gives a nod in understanding. “You’re too good.” She walks to the door and leans on the frame, her head tilted to the side. “Do you think you’ll see Falcon again?” 

I tug my shirt over my head. “Most definitely not.” 

“Too bad. I bet he’s a great lover.”

I pause, confused. “Now, why in the world would you think that?”

Her lips spread wide as her brows rise and fall wickedly. “Don’t lie. You think so, too.”

I pick up a pillow and throw it toward the doorframe as she walks away. It’s easier than telling her she’s most likely right.