Fearless (Forever 7)

I spotted a rusty blue car pulled over on the side of the road. My stomach squeezed into a hard ball. An accident?

I slowed down to take a look at the car. The driver stood outside and gazed down at his tire, scratching his head. I glanced at the tire. It was missing a hubcap. I looked up, my eyes roaming the grass alongside the car. I couldn't see a smashed motorcycle anywhere.

A shaky laugh emerged from my lips, but my eyes were already scouring the highway for Jax. Where was he?

Up ahead a white delivery van switched lanes, and Jax came into view, riding at a normal speed, in a normal lane.

I released a breath I didn't even remember holding.

I gunned my engine, and the spurt of speed brought me close behind Jax. I stared at his back, my heart troubled. What the hell was he thinking?

As we steered off the highway, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

We parked outside the club. I snapped off my engine and turned to Jax.

He sat on his bike, looking elated, as if adrenaline still coursed through his veins. He glanced at me, and his expression sobered up slightly.

"I can't believe you did that," I said, my voice stunned and my stomach uneasy.

Reaching out, he gave my arm a gentle stroke. "I had it under control."

"If just one thing had gone wrong . . ." I shuddered. "Why take that risk?"

He shook his head. "I didn't plan on it. But lately . . ." he paused, searching for words and coming up short. He gave up and shrugged. "It felt good blowing off some steam."

I remembered his tense face from before the ride. "Because of the photo shoot?" I hesitated, sensing something deeper. "Or because it's the end of the tour?"

He got off his bike, not looking at me. "We talked about it in therapy." He hesitated. "Dr. Feinstein . . ." He trailed off, as if he was unsure of what to say next. "He wanted me to find ways to relax. I usually ride my bike for that."

I dismounted from my bike too, coming around to look up at his face.

His eyes glittered strangely, and an almost palpable wave of jittery energy radiated from his body. He didn't look relaxed to me. He almost looked high. I didn't know what to make of it.

I took his hand. "You really scared me," I said simply, fighting back a tear. For a moment, I'd thought that I had lost him.

His scarred eyebrow waggled. "I thought the thrill might do us both some good. I'm sorry I miscalculated. Let me make it up to you?" He bent me down for an exaggerated, Hollywood-style kiss.

As usual, my body responded to his touch. Warm waves of pleasure radiated from my core as his lips probed mine. But when he let me up, I poked him in the side. "Letting off steam is one thing, but taking risks like that . . . I don't know how to feel about you doing stuff like that."

He sighed. "It's nothing to get worried about, Pepper."

"Just take it easy in the future, will you?" I asked with a weak smile, but part of me wasn't joking at all.

"You got it." Jax pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. "Shit, we've got to go." He looked at me, his eyes still glittering. "Alright?"

I nodded, but I couldn't erase the knot in my stomach as he took my hand. Sky had told me he used to take death-defying risks before he found music, but I thought that was all over now. So what was going on with him?

Was he trying to kill us? Trying to sabotage our relationship? I didn't know what was going on in Jax's head or how to fix it, but everything was definitely not alright.

Chapter Thirteen

TAKE CARE

Jax's disdain for the photo shoot made me expect it to be lame, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

We made it just in the nick of time, and only received a short scolding from the photographer, who looked like a slightly plumper Woody Allen. Suddenly, Jax vanished into a flurry of activity and camera flashes. He looked incredible as he posed, taut muscles rippling beneath artfully torn clothing that looked about two seconds from falling off. The shots the photographer was taking wouldn't just be great promotional material, they'd also be tacked up in thousands of dorm rooms and lockers across the country.

For me, the time crawled to a standstill as I waited in a booth in a corner of the club, my mind returning over and over again to the flash of Jax's motorcycle disappearing from my view. His nonchalant attitude didn't reassure me. On the contrary, I felt more worried about him than ever.

I'd already seen how his moods could get out of control. The thousands of dollars in smashed guitars was proof enough of that. Now Sky's story kept echoing around in my head. Jax had been this way before. What was stopping him from turning to risk-taking again?

In spite of my fears, the trip back was completely uneventful. Anyone seeing Jax on his bike this time around would have thought he was a model rider. There was no trace of the reckless, foolhardy biker who had practically dared a truck to splatter him across I-5. But at some point, he might put himself in danger he couldn't get out of—and I had no idea how I could stop him.

As we boarded the bus, a muffled thumping floated down from the second floor, followed by a rhythmic twang.

I cocked my head to listen. The sound of Chewie's practice pads and Kev's guitar meant that the rest of the band had come back from downtown and wanted to catch up on practice too.

Jax kissed me and headed upstairs to the Fortress of Solitude. Knowing he'd probably be busy practicing for hours, I got out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.

Just call Jen. She'll know what to do. Or at least she'll be able to give you a hell of a pep talk.

I dialed her number. It rang once, and immediately I heard her voice. "This is Jen, I can't come to the phone right now. . ."

Damn it. Really what I wanted to do was talk to Sky, but if she was practicing, I was on my own. Maybe Kristen could help. Even though she'd never met Jax, at least I could air out my worries. She could tell me I was making a big deal over nothing, and then I'd feel better.

But she wasn't there, either—and I didn't feel like pouring out my troubles to voicemail.

Sighing, I headed up to the rooftop deck. If my friends weren't around, I'd have to tell my troubles to a nice stiff drink as the sun set. At least with the band practicing, the deck was all mine.

When I opened the roof door, I blinked in surprise.

A purple mat lay on the deck floor. Sky lay on her stomach, her back arched as she stretched her arms backwards to grasp her ankles. Her face showed signs of strain, but as she caught my eye she gave me a quick smile.

"Oh, sorry," I murmured.

"No, it's okay," she said, sounding a little out of breath. She released her legs and eased them down onto the mat. "I've done enough poses for today."