Reckless (Renegades 1)

“Kevin, get back here. ” The mother’s scolding kick-started the boy into a run. “Kevin, don’t run. ”

Biker Boy ignored the argument, lazily turning the page of his magazine.

The mom slapped down whatever she’d been reading and huffed, clearly short on patience. “Kevin, watch where you’re go—”

The kid looked back over his shoulder toward his mother and slammed right into Biker Boy. The coffee flew onto its side. The lid spit off and liquid shot out, splashing the duffle sitting alongside him.

Lexi gasped and covered her mouth.

Biker Boy dropped his magazine and caught the kid by both arms just before he took a nosedive into the carpet.

“Holy shit,” Lexi murmured. Biker Boy had some quick moves.

Kevin stared up at the man. The boy’s eyes were wide, his face lax in shock. Biker Boy said something to the kid. Kevin nodded. The man’s mouth turned up on one side in a grin, and Lexi’s stomach released a gymnastics team of butterflies.

That grin turned him from fun-to-fantasize-about-sexy to positively magnetic.

He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to Kevin. When the boy reached for it, Biker Boy pulled it back and said something else. The boy nodded again and received what looked like a toy.

Kevin dropped to his knees and pushed a small car back toward his mom. After the woman had offered apologies, Biker Boy evaluated the spill damage. Judging by the look on his face and the frustrated way he shoved clothes around, the result hadn’t been good.

Lexi remembered the words of his friend at the truck: “It’s not a good time for him. ” Then of their long flight ahead and how Biker Boy would have to suffer with that smell, then find a place to wash his clothes. Lexi felt bad for the guy. And he’d been nice to the kid.

When he sat back, staring at his bag with a mixture of irritation and resignation, Lexi chose one of his numbers and texted him using her speech-to-text app.

“If you’re on the flight to New York,” she said into her microphone, the words appearing on her phone’s screen as she spoke, “you’re in luck. I just read a survey that women in that city are most turned on by the scent of coffee. ” It was actually true, so she added, “No joke. ”

She grinned, hoping the note would at least cheer him up a little.

That was her excuse, and she was sticking to it.

Lexi said, “Send. ”

Then pulled out her sketch pad.

Four

Jax’s day was going downhill fast—and it wasn’t even one a. m.

Now he’d have to arrange getting his clothes and bag cleaned when he got to the hotel before he went out to the set. He stared down at his coffee-soaked bag with thoughts of Veronica, the Bond contract, each one of his five stunt guys, his nonstop schedule for the last month…and sighed.

He definitely needed to change something in his life. But when he felt like this, it was hard. All he wanted to do was fall into his old habits. Especially when the woman he’d spotted in Hudson News was sitting nearby.

He’d smelled her first. He’d been reaching for a motocross magazine when her scent—light, floral, sensuous—stirred the air…

Jax’s groin tightened in memory. He wanted to go sit next to her, just to breathe her in. But he knew himself. It wouldn’t stop there. And he was choosing her based solely on his assessment of how she’d filled out her jeans. She was slim, tall, perfectly proportioned. And that ass… If he’d thought Veronica’s backside was perfect, this woman lifted perfection to a new level. Her hips had flared from an ultraslim waist, her ass cheeks high and round beneath sparkling pockets sporting big, jeweled buttons. That was all he’d seen of her, with her back turned toward him, her hair and face hidden by one of those military-style caps with the wide brim that were in style. But it was all he’d had to see to know.

She was showy. She wanted that ass noticed. Which figured. She was the type of woman he’d always gone for—flashy, gorgeous. Just like the passenger in that Ferrari. His heart hammered one extra hard beat. Damn, she had been a serious knockout. Those eyes, so blue. And the way they’d held his, never once leaving his face for Wes’s…as so many women’s did.

His phone chimed with a text message. Jax pulled out of his head and dragged his phone from his jacket pocket while using the few napkins that had survived the spill to wipe at the coffee residue on his boots.

When he sat back and glanced at the message, he frowned.

UNKNOWN: You’re in luck. I just read a survey that women in New York are most turned on by the scent of coffee. No joke.

Jax stared at the message, confused. Then at the identification, showing ‘blocked number’, even more confused. It was really late—or early, depending on how he looked at it—and he’d desperately needed that coffee. His mind spun but couldn’t find traction. His cell number was unlisted. Only his family, his Renegades, his friends, and the women he’d dated had it. Everything related to work went through a separate cell or the office phone. No one who had his phone number had a blocked identity, but those bastards he worked with could hack, rig, and wing anything they got their grimy hands on.

Had to be one of them fucking with him. So typical.