Page 1 of War

Chapter 1

I leaned across the middle console to push open the passenger door. Mud caked the outside of the raised pickup truck I drove.

My mouth twisted into a grin under my racing helmet as I asked the brunette woman outside the door, “You sure you wanna ride with me?”

She could join me or not. Sure, it'd be more fun with a partner but I was going out either way.

The woman blushed, but nodded. “Please.”

Yes. I gestured her in and settled back into the driver's seat.

She stepped onto the running boards and climbed into the truck cab, slamming the door behind her.

I handed her a helmet. “My name’s Zion. Wear this and buckle yourself in. The ‘oh shit’ handle is above your head.”

She smiled hesitantly. “Okay.”

This woman's friend had talked her into this. The other woman rode with the other guide, my best friend and co-worker Eric. She hadn't been sold on the idea, especially being without her friend for her ride.

The woman strapped on the helmet and secured her harness.

“You good?” I asked her.

She nodded, timid but excited. “Yes, sir.”

I checked her protective gear. When I was satisfied she was properly secured in, I trailed a knuckle down her cheek and winked at her.

“Don't worry. We're going to have fun,” I reassured her.

Shyly, she smiled.

My gaze trailed over her. She wore a pink sundress and strappy sandals. Not at all appropriate clothing for mudding — if we got stuck, she was SOL — but she looked delicious. I’d betshe’d look amazing with that dress bunched around her waist and her hips in my hands as I pounded her from behind.

I bit my lower lip, the ball of my side-labret piercing jutting forward as I did. The woman was hot, even if she was a little shy.

Wonder if she’d let me fuck her before she left.

I licked my lips and couldn't help but notice the interest she conveyed when she met my gaze and licked hers, too.

I grinned. Oh yeah. I'd get a taste of her. Sure thing.

Ladies — and sometimes guys when the mood was right; personality attracted me, not gender — loved my bad-boy look. Pierced eyebrow, pierced lip, and tattoos from neck to toe. My looks screamed irresponsibility — my past lays loved it because they could say they caught the bad-boy. Sex was always one-and-done, though. I never went back for seconds.

My tattooed hands, flaming skulls on the back of each that trailed down into finger bones, gripped the steering wheel. I smiled wickedly. “Hold on, gorgeous.”

Her hand gripped the door rest.

My grey eyes checked the rearview mirror, and I turned my head to look at the side mirrors. All clear.

I focused back on the dirt road and pushed the gas pedal. The truck surged forward until at the start line, where I abruptly pressed the brake and came to a sudden stop beside a reinforced black Jeep Wrangler. The vehicle was also coated with mud.

Eric nodded at me from his spot in the driver's seat, his long brown hair pulled out of the way in a ponytail and helmet secured around his head. He wore our uniform, a one-piece racing jumpsuit that fit over our clothes.

I held the brake in and revved the engine. Eric's responding rev competed with mine. I grinned.

Before us, a pole-mounted traffic light flashed red. The muddy, pot-hole riddled track stretched beyond it.

“Hold onto the ‘oh shit' handle, honey,” I said as I focused on the light. “And have fun,” I added.

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