Chapter 1
Levi
Staring at the line of colorful trees in the distance brings a peace that’s become harder to come by these days. Abby used to love fall. I never really started to admire its beauty until she was gone.
“Yo Shark! What are you staring at?” Ham, AKA Granger Hamilton, asks. Ham and Deck, Declan “Deck ‘em” Voss, are not only my ride or die best friends, but also my motocross teammates.
“I’m looking at your mom. She’s dancing naked over by those trees.” I taunt.
“Fuck off. No she isn’t...is she?” He asks leaning in closer and squinting his eyes.
“I’m admiring the trees, dumb ass. Abby loved everything about fall.” I sigh.
“I remember. I helped her collect leaves this one time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, it was kind of fun.” He shrugs before falling silent. Then he too stares off into the distance towards the trees.
“I miss her.” I sigh.
“Me too.”
“What are you two jackasses staring at?” Declan asks.
“Ham’s mom is dancing, naked, over by those trees.” I answer.
“Wait, for real?” Deck chirps sounding a bit too intrigued.
“No, you perv!” Ham laughs punching him in the gut.
“Come on, the race is about to start.” I laugh slapping my hands on their shoulders.
“I heard there’s a couple of newbs racing today. They’d better be hungry because they’re about to eat my dust.” Ham boasts.
“Lame.” Deck snorts.
“Gear up.” I bark motioning towards our pile of riding gear strewn about in the corner of the tent.
Making our way down to the track, we all do a final check ensuring our bikes are in prime working condition.
Racing has always made me feel alive, but especially recently. It’s been two years since we lost my little sister, Abby, and racing has been the only thing that’s kept all three of us from spiraling. Well, besides all of the booze, women, and fighting.
Not knowing what really happened to Abby makes getting out of bed every day nearly impossible. But knowing that I have to show up, not just for my own sanity, but for my team’s as well, makes functioning slightly bearable.
“You’re going down, Shark! Straight to the bottom of the ocean!” Ham threatens.
“Is he for real with these stupid ass dad jokes?” I snort glancing at Deck.
“The only thing either of us going down on is your mom, Ham.” Declan replies.
“Quit with the mom slander, okay?!” Has scoffs.
“Then quit acting like you could ever beat me, cowboy.” I chuckle before sliding my helmet over my head.
In unison, we roll our bikes to the starting line then fire up the engines. In typical guardians fashion, none of us pays a lick of attention to the underlings lining up around us.
It’s sort of become common knowledge that at least one of us wins every race. Our skills are unmatched in our division which has made us a force to be reckoned with.
We started calling ourselves the Guardians shortly after Abby died. Then decided to use the name for our racing team after making a vow that none of us would rest until her killer was caught.
The noise and anticipation of nearby revving engines always elicits an eruption of goosebumps out of me. A surge of adrenaline fires through my body like a bolt of lightening as the stench of exhaust invades my senses.
I knock my kick stand back, shifting my bike into position, while waiting for that familiar pop of the gun to signal the start of the race.
A few seconds later, the shot rings out. Tearing up the track, the engine roaring beneath me, once again, rattles my soul back from the dead.
Just as I pull into the lead position, rounding the bend, I’m abruptly cut off by a streak red. It startles the absolute shit out of me. Some fucking bastard cuts so close between me and the corner that I nearly wipe out.
“PRICK!” I shout before gunning the engine to tailgate his ass.
It’s been years since any rider’s been slick enough to sneak up on me like that and this fucker now had my blood boiling.
Declan pulls up by my side balling up a fist and waving it in the bastard’s direction.
That jerk is now in for one hell of a fight when this race is over if he’s got Deck this fired up as well. He must have caused beef with him before the asshole cut me off.
I push the throttle wide open as we head down the strait away, both closing in on the mysterious red bike. Just as my front tire inches closer to his back one, the son of a bitch intentionally fishtails causing me to jerk the handlebars.
I lose control of my bike, hitting the ground so hard that my body rolls four times when my body’s thrown across the dusty track.
“FUCK!” I shout over my ringing ears. Every muscle in my body instantly aches from the impact.
Catching a glimpse of the other racers in the distance, each is closing in on the finish line without me. But due to all of the dust from the crash, it’s impossible to see who took first place.
“Levi, are you okay?” Alex, our mechanic, asks racing to my side. He holds out his hands helping me to my feet.
“Mother fucker! Who the hell was that?!” I shout ripping off my helmet.
“I don’t know, one of the newbs. They’re an independent entry, not associated with a team.” He answers.
The crowd suddenly erupts with a unified roar signaling the end of the race.
Alex maneuvers my bike from the track as I hobble towards the finish line. That’s when is spot Ham doing a literal cartwheel.
“What the fuck happened?!” I shout.
It’s when he starts doing the moon walk that I spot Declan crossing his arms and shaking his head like he has second hand embarrassment.
“Don’t tell me he won?” I say to Deck.
“Damn straight I did, homie! I told you, you’re ALL going down! I just knew this was going to be my day!” Ham boasts.
“Christ.” Declan sighs still shaking his head.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I ask directing my question to my second in command.
This is the first time that Ham has ever beaten either of us. Sure, he’s kicked ass in other races, but it’s usually when Deck and I aren’t competing. But when we’re all three racing, I usually take first and Declan second.
Declan has beaten me a time or two, but that was right after losing Abby. At first, it was because I was too distraught to think straight then I just let him win a few out of pity because he was just as distraught over her as I was.
“That fucking red bike, man. The dickhead cut me off right before he took you out.”
“How’d that asshole place?” I ask.
“Second.” He answers.
“DAMN IT! You didn’t even grab second, Deck?” I sigh.
He snarls and cracks his knuckles shaking his head with embarrassment.
“Where is he?” I growl.
“So...there’s no great job, Ham! Way to go, Ham! We’re so proud of you, Ham?!” Ham scoffs crossing his arms.
“Sure, nice work, numb nuts. Now, help us find that red bike.” I reply.
He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically like the little attention whore that he is. His efforts won’t go unacknowledged, we’ll celebrate his victory later once we get our revenge, or at least a name if the bastard who almost killed me.
We search the sidelines, stands, and garage for him but all come up empty handed.
“Maybe he’ll have the balls to show up next weekend.” Ham suggests.
“I’ll break his fucking neck.” Deck grits out.
“I call first dibs on the prick.” I snarl making it clear that this guy is my problem to deal with.
After the race, we make our way over to our favorite spot, The Rig. I suppose a celebration for Ham’s win is in order. Lord knows, if we don’t make a big deal over his first major achievement, we’ll never hear the end of it.
The Rig is a local dive bar located just a few miles from the track. It’s kind of become a home away from home for the local racers. Our team practically lives especially since we lost Abby. Besides, it’s kind of the only place to go out in this podunk town.
“Monster Energy was there today looking to sponsor a team.” Declan sighs as he sets a bucket of beer in center of the table.
“Tell me you’re fucking with us.” I snap.
“Nope, Angel just told me.”
Angel is the bartender who seems to knows everyone’s business in this town.
“How the hell did she know?” I ask.
“She said the scout was in here having dinner right after the race.”
“Did she say if they were interested in anyone?” Ham asks.
Deck and I both start to laugh. Of course, the one race that we get fucked over, Ham ends up looking like the superstar. A real fucking company finally shows up looking to sponsor a team and I end up crashing. What shit luck.
“Nah, she didn’t say.” He answers falling into his seat.
“You boys look like you could use a few shots.” A female voice says from behind me. Our heads whip around noticing a very voluptuous blonde woman standing just over my shoulder.
Her outfit is a bit much for a shithole like this place and it makes her stand out like a sore thumb. Dawning stiletto heels, a pair of tight pink leather pants, and a low cut white fuzzy sweater, she looks more like a Barbie than a townie.
Everything about her comes across as fake, from her lips to her spray tan. Well, almost everything. The Louis Vuitton bag draped over her arm surely isn’t.
“Always, ma’am. We’ve never been known to turn down a shot from a beautiful lady. I’m Ham...er...Granger Hamilton, I mean.” Ham stutters as he darts to his feet like an eager puppy. Quickly, he pulls a chair from the next table offering her a seat.
“Well then...I’m Heather.” She grins dropping her ass into the seat directly next to mine.
“I’m Levi Sharpton, ma’am.” I say giving her a nod.
“Declan Voss.” Deck grunts not seeming impressed with her presence.
“I saw the race today.” She smiles as she flags down the waitress.
“What can I get you?” Holly asks.
“A bottle of Don Julio tequila please... with 4 glasses.” Heather answers.
“Um, sorry. We don’t carry that brand.” Holly replies wincing.
“In case you haven’t noticed we’re in a dive bar.” Deck snorts shaking his head.
“Then a bottle of whatever top shelf tequila you do have.” Heather snidely replies.
Holly makes her way back over to the bar.
“Top shelf, huh?” I question.
“Only the finest for my potential clients.” Heather grins. In sync, we all three straighten in our seats.
“I’m with Fox racing.” Heather clarifies.
Holly sets the bottle and glasses down in the middle of the table then starts to walk away.
“Can we get a few appetizer platters as well?” Heather asks over her shoulder.
We glance at each other as anticipation builds between us.
“Fox, huh?” I ask trying to act as nonchalant as possible.
“Yes, we’ve had our eye on Team Guardians for quite some time now. Especially, you.” She replies giving me a flirty smirk.
Declan snags the bottle first and starts pouring out shots.
“So you saw me win today, right?” Ham excitedly chimes in.
“I did. Nice work.”
She congratulates him but keeps her gaze on me.
“Hell yeah it was.” He laughs.
“You got lucky, asshat.” Declan chuckles.
“Language.” I snap reminding him to keep things professional.
“It’s okay, I prefer men with a dirty mouth.” Heather swoons. Suddenly, I feel her hand fall on my knee underneath the table.
“We’re a team. None of us will sign anything as solo riders. It’s all or nothing with us.” I inform her. We made a pact when we started racing to never split up.
Heather licks her lips, takes a shot of the tequila, then glances between us.
“That’s not a problem. We have room for all of you.” She says before her teeth catch her bottom lip.
Then she leans forward resting her voluptuous chest on the table almost like an offering she’s using to convince us. Then she says, “the more the merrier” with a flirty wink.
Ham shifts in his seat letting out a choked cough as he stares at her chest. It’s no secret that he’s the biggest breast man on the planet. He’s in absolute hog heaven right about now.
I glance over at Declan. He’s leaning back in his seat staring at Heather like he wants to throw her down a flight of stairs. He’s always been an excellent judge of character. I’d trust his body language over anyone.
“We have stipulations.” I reply.
“Of course you do. Just know that we can offer you whatever you want.” She says eyeing me like I’m a free surf and turf buffet.
“Monster was already here scouting as well.” I add.
She sighs rolling her eyes. “I saw them. Their rep and I know each other.”
“I bet you do.” Ham snorts.
“We want you, bad. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to sign with us.” She offers.
“We’ll need some time to think it over. Then we’ll get back to you with our terms.” I say.
“Hey! Whoever has that bright yellow bike outside...someone’s fucking with it.” A townie suddenly shouts out across the bar. His gaze is intensely locked on the front window of the bar.
“FUCK!” I shout springing to my feet as a bolt of panic rips through me. He’s talking about MY BIKE
