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He stopped at a few tables to talk to racers he’d meet and fans that remembered him from his racing days. It made him long for those days, days that were filled with laughter and hope. Days that were attached to dreams for a promising future. Shrugging off the melancholy, he stepped out from the restaurant. His luck couldn’t get any better. Mal and Dan were heading into that very restaurant. “Mal, Dan. Where’s River?”

Dan shook Riot’s hand. “Hotel, thinking of how she could have changed the outcome.”

Mal stared at her husband as if he had grown an extra head in the last few seconds. “Why are you talking to him?”

He squeezed his wife’s shoulder, wanting her temper to stay buttoned up. “He’s asking.”

Riot always liked Mal and Dan, River’s guard dogs. She smiled at the two, bickering like old women. “Listen guys, you might want to find a different place to eat. It’s the Laurel and Archer party happening inside.”

“Thanks,” Mal grumbled. “Room 1029.” Shoving a room key into his hand, she moved past him, hoping her husband followed. River could kill her tomorrow.

Riot wasn’t wasting time. He headed straight back to the hotel.

***

She stared at the ceiling. The only light in the room came from the window. River ran the track in her head like she did after every race. Her head hurt like someone had hit her over the head with a bowling ball. From what Mal told her, she had bounced a few times. She was damn lucky that she hadn’t broken anything. She did have deep tissue bruising and a hairline fracture in her wrist along with her damn ankle. That would keep her off the track for a few weeks.

River needed to figure out how to stretch her money. Trust funds and insurance money didn’t go far when you had to pay for bikes using cash. River knew this because she had been turned down countless times when trying to get a line of credit. Seems having no credit was considered worse than having bad credit.

She had tried in vain to get a loan years ago when she wanted to buy the ranch. That had been years before the accident. After she had used the money from Cypress’s life insurance to put the down payment on her home. When she bought it, it was a rundown ranch house with a pool that had seen better days. It took months to kill all the tadpoles that were in the green algae-filled pool.

Her trust fund had been a lot less than she thought it would be—by thousands. Turned out her mom had lied about when she could have access and used most of the money herself. She bought three bikes with what was left, and she still had them.

During the two years in between the insurance and the trust, she had hustled her ass off with DD Racing, making sure she had big sponsors and small ones. She had to go outside the circle they normally ran in due to her pissy attitude for about a year after Cypress’s death and her breakup with Riot. Also, Laurel Canyon Racing had inserted itself everywhere, blocking River almost every step of the way.

Maybe she would start getting in Laurel Canyon’s way at every turn. Hell, first she had to get the bike up and running.

The sound of the door opening made her lean up on her elbows. Riot stepped into view and stared at her through the soft light. He had always been the dark to her light. The glow from under the door silhouetted him, making him look dangerous. She laid back down, simply not caring anymore. There were too many other things to worry about besides Johnny “Riot” Meniere being in her hotel room.

Clicking on the light, Riot stood and stared at those beautiful eyes he had dreamt about every night. “I came to see how you’re feeling.”

“Hate to disappoint you and Laurel, but I’ll live.” She closed her eyes as Riot flipped on the light. “Could you turn that off? My head’s killing me.”

He kept talking to her as he moved to get a better look. “Do you have a concussion along with the other injuries?”

“NO! A headache. Are you fucking deaf?”

“Still the same JoJo.” Roar of a cougar, teeth of a kitten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re hurting, you’re scared, and you’re upset. Which means you’re gonna be a brat.”

“Won’t your girlfriend be looking for you?”

“Let’s stay focused on you. Okay? Have you been rubbed down?”

“No, and you aren’t doing it for me.”

Riot laid on the bed next to her on his side, running a finger along her arm. “You used to love my hands on you.”

“I don’t even remember what they felt like.”

“Liar.” He laughed, rolling away. “Where’s your bag?”

“Riot… Johnny, can we not play games tonight. My head’s killing me, I’m hungry, my bike’s smashed, I lost my contract, and I have to figure out things.” She couldn’t handle him being nice to her. He had almost destroyed her the night before just by touching her for a second. What would happen if he had his hands all over her?

She sounded miserable, in every sense of the way. He found her bag. Digging in it, he found the cream for muscle aches and a few lidocaine patches. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and stepped back in the room. He tossed the tube of cream and the towel on the bed, then picked up the phone and called room service.

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