Fearless (Falling For Them #3)

Chapter 1

Trouble

ARES

“How could you?” My voice isn’t loud enough to be heard above the commotion coming from the illegal racetrack, but I know she heard me. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time.”

“Ares, I swear I wanted to tell you.” Her voice breaks. Her eyes well with tears. “I just didn’t know how.”

Fury isn’t the only emotion that takes my breath away right now. But I let it prevail over all the other feelings that are warring in my chest. “It would have been pretty easy.” I bite out. “You open your pretty little mouth and make sure what is coming out isn’t a pile of lies.”

“You’re right.” She murmurs. “I was too scared.”

One single tear slides down her face, and my first instinct is to wipe it away with the pad of my thumb, or even better, kiss it away.

This entire time, I’ve been checking her out for any signs of trauma or injuries that would require medical attention.

All I can see is that her pupils are blown huge, the black covering the green of her irises almost completely. It seems that her helmet and the padding of her racing suit protected her from getting injured despite being thrown off her Ducati.

I don’t even know what to say about that. “Scared of what, Zara? You were on the racetrack in Bridgeport the day Atlas died. If you cared about me, that should have been the first thing you said when you moved into my father’s house.”

“I almost did, Ares. You have to believe me. But when I heard about the motorcycle ban in town and that you were a cop, I chickened out.”

I can understand that, but that doesn’t make me less angry with her.

“You had nothing to fear. Racing in Bridgeport two years ago wasn’t illegal. This here though, tonight? Give me a reason why I shouldn’t arrest you. All of you.” I say, looking at Chance and Lev.

She lowers her gaze. “I can’t. You need to do what you think is right.”

I think about it seriously for a second. If I arrested Zara, my brother and my best friend, I should also arrest all the people involved in racing here tonight.

The truth is that I came here following a hunch. I have no handcuffs with me and no way to take dozens of people into custody. And that’s without counting all the people who were here to watch the race or to place bets on it.

Even if I called for backup from the station, most people would run before my colleagues got here. Especially Fox and Morelli.

What I want is answers about what happened to my brother. I can deal with the rest later.

“What were you doing in Bridgeport? Why the fake name and the secrecy? Why the fuck did you run after the crash?”

She looks straight at me when she answers.

“I’ve always wanted to race. Since I can remember.

But my dad has never taken me seriously, and Mom hates motorcycles just as much as Scott.

She never liked it when my dad took me out on the racetrack with him, and after they divorced, she made it clear that bikes needed to be a thing of the past for me like they were for her.

But racing is in my blood, Ares. I think about it all the time.

Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes me feel closer to my dad, but it’s more than that. It makes me feel alive.”

The crazy thing is that I understand where she’s coming from.

That’s exactly why Atlas and I started racing and why we founded Star Arrows.

“The fake name was just not to get caught by my mom. Two years ago I was a minor, and she would have never let me race. In fact, when someone she knew blew my cover by showing her the Blue Lightning race at the beach, she sent me to boarding school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom so mad.

And the name was just a mashup of my parents’ names.

Smith is Mom’s maiden name, and JJ stands for John Junior.

That’s what my parents called me when I was little and I wanted to be just like my dad. ”

At a different moment, I would find that cute. But I’m still too shocked and angry for that.

“So you qualified for the race in Bridgeport, and then… what happened?”

Zara’s eyes shine with sincerity. “I don’t know. My plan was to win the race and then go back home to Shell Cove with you guys, since Cal and I were over. I hoped to be back without my mom finding out that I had been lying to her about being at Wren’s house all weekend.”

But things were derailed by that other motorcycle. “Who’s the guy who hit Atlas?” I ask her.

“I have no idea, Ares. You have to believe me. That’s why in the end I didn’t say anything to you. That bike came out of nowhere, and I dodged it just in time. I’ve been feeling responsible for what happened to Atlas ever since, because it should have been me.”

Those words hit me harder than if she had slapped me across the face. “Don’t you ever dare say that again.” My tone is harsh, cutting. “It should have been no one.”

Just the idea of something happening to Zara is too much to bear. All I really want is to wrap my arms around her and keep her there, where I can protect her.

But first, I need to know. “Zara, I’ve spent the past two years looking for you.

For JJ Smith. That’s why I joined the sheriff's department. JJ Smith was clearly the target of that stray bike. And it just happened again tonight. The person who killed Atlas wanted to kill JJ Smith. Who knew about your alias?”

She doesn’t even think about it. “No one.”

I shake my head. “That’s impossible. How did you even bring a bike to Bridgeport two years ago?”

“One of my oldest friends, DJ, helped me. He’s a mechanic. He helped me restore one of my dad’s old bikes and then helped me take it to Bridgeport for the race. It was an old Aprilia, nothing comparable to this Ducati my dad gave me for my eighteenth birthday.”

I consider her words. “Could your friend be involved in the attack?”

“No.” She gasps. “DJ would never do anything to hurt me.”

That’s debatable. I’m not going to take anything for granted until I speak to this old friend.

“What about the girl who was with you tonight?”

“That’s Wren, DJ’s sister. She’s been my best friend since Mom moved us to Shell Cove after the divorce. DJ and Wren are like siblings to me. They would never do anything to hurt me.”

We’ll see about that. It’s obvious that someone has had their sights on Zara or JJ Smith this entire time.

What I need to do first is to establish if they knew that Zara and JJ are the same person. And once I do that, look at who could be the mysterious rider. It has to be someone who was at Bridgeport two years ago.

There is only one person who fits the description and who had a motive to hurt Zara since that fateful day.

That person is Calvin Fox, Zara’s ex-boyfriend.

Everything points to him. First off, Zara dumped him, giving him a reason to bear a grudge. Then there’s the fact that the attacker used one of Fox’s team spare bikes in Bridgeport. And finally, who is behind the organization of these illegal races? Fox, it's always Fox.

The only other people who were there both two years ago and tonight are Chance and Lev, but it’s obvious that neither of them would ever do anything to hurt Zara other than by being two dumbasses.

And even if I thought that the target might have been JJ, the attacker didn’t know his real identity, Chance and Lev would never go after a competitor in that way. I know them too well.

And yet, here they are. Involved in this shitshow and mixed up with Fox and Morelli.

I silence the voice in my head.

I have no idea why those two idiots got involved in the races, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk about it once we get home.

“I should fucking arrest all of you.” I bite out, scowling at each of them. “But I have bigger problems to deal with right now.”

Like finding a way to catch Fox in the act. It’s obvious he didn’t do this in person since he was on his own bike, thirty seconds behind like the slowpoke he’s always been. I need to know which one of his cronies did this, and I’ll have the person who caused Atlas’s death.

My duty would be to call reinforcements from the sheriff’s station and arrest everyone. But I already know that if I want answers to the question that has kept me up at night for two years, I can’t do that.

Zara stays rooted to her spot, her green eyes intent on me.

“Ares, wait.” She pleads.

Until I know that Zara is safe under our parents’ roof, I can’t focus on anything else.

“What the fuck are you all still doing here?” I bark. “Get out of here. Go home before I change my mind and take you to the station.”

“Not so fast.”

My first instinct upon hearing Fox’s voice is to lunge at him and do the world a favor by ending his miserable existence.

But doing that would be suicide right now, when Morelli and his men are right behind him.

Zara

My stomach is all tied up in knots.

Ares and I were already on shaky ground after he walked in on me with Chance and Lev earlier on.

But this might be the final nail in the coffin of our relationship.

The look on his face when my leather jacket rode up, and he saw the CAL tattoo on my lower back is something that will stay burned in my memory forever.

I’m no stranger to disappointing the people I love.

My parents can definitely attest to that. Mom has had to deal with my rebellious streak since day one, and Dad… I’m not the son he wanted.

The fact that I have more skills on a motorcycle than a lot of men who ride professionally doesn’t matter.

Motorcycle racing is a world that still buys into old sexist stereotypes.

To make it as a woman in racing is still a million times harder than if you were born with a cock between your legs.

And while my father might love me, he’s always seen my desire to follow in his footsteps as cute.

That’s why I wanted to race using an alias, to show him and the world that women can be just as skilled, just as badass as men.

Whether it’s on two wheels or in any other field.

If I could win races, Dad would have to take me seriously one day, right?

But if I accepted that following my dreams meant disappointing the people I love, I was never prepared for the look in Ares’s gray eyes when he lifted my helmet off my head.

I should have told him everything about that day in Bridgeport when I saw him again. All the reasons why I chickened out are nothing but excuses.

For as hard as it is to admit, Ares has every reason to be mad at me for lying.

“Ares, wait.” I plead.

“What the fuck are you all still doing here?” He barks. “Get out of here. Go home before I change my mind and take you to the station.”

I can’t. I have a horrible feeling that if I go before he hears me out about my reasons for doing this, our relationship will never recover.

“Not so fast.”

I take an instinctive step back when Cal’s dark, calculating gaze sweeps over me.

Mason Morelli and his men are right behind him, and I know that there’s no way out of here until I hear what they want.

“I’ll be damned if my little cocktease groupie of the past isn’t full of surprises.”

The way he’s looking at me causes a shiver to work its way down my spine.

I feel unsafe. Dirty.

Two years ago I mistook that feeling for excitement and attraction, but now I know better.

I stare him down, not letting him intimidate me.

Cal might be taller and bigger than me, but we both know that on the racetrack he’s always going to eat my dust.

“What’s up, Zara?” he smirks, leaning closer to whisper into my ear but speaking loudly enough for everyone around us to hear him. “Did the cat get your tongue? If I remember correctly, that tongue could do some pretty fun things in my trailer after a race.”

I take another step back when he tries to grab my arm, but he never gets to make contact because Ares yanks him back.

“Touch her and I’m gonna fucking kill you, Fox.”

Rather than pick a fight like I expected, Cal crosses his arms over his chest, his lips curled in a cruel smirk.

“Interesting reaction, Officer Hunter. I see you haven’t lost that irritating knight in shining armor syndrome, huh?

Does this mean that our little Zara here picked you over your little brother and your friend?

Or is she hopping from one bed to the other?

I’ve heard her mother married your father.

I guess you rich people like to keep things in the family. ”

Ares’s fists are clenched tight, ready to strike. “Say one more fucking word about Zara or about my family and find out what happens. This is your last warning, fuckhead.”

Cal’s smirk widens. “Nah, it’s not worth it. She is not worth it. I’m not here to cause trouble. Besides, I understand why just the sight of me pisses you off. I’d feel the same way if I were you.”

My stepbrother takes the bait. “What the fuck are you talking about, Fox?”

“It must be jarring to see my name stamped just above her ass every time you fuck her from behind, that’s all.”

Before Ares can even react to my ex’s disgusting comment, Lev jumps in, hitting Cal square in the face. “You’re a dead motherfucker!”

Chance and Ares grab Lev, pulling him away from Cal.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lev grunts, struggling to get free from his best friends’ hold. “You should be helping me kick his ass, not save this fucking waste of space.”

Lev is usually the levelheaded one of my guys, and seeing him react this way is shocking. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t find it sexy, though.

“Are you ok?” I ask him when he finally breaks free from Ares and Chance’s hold.

“I’m fine, Zee.” He wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry, I just—no one gets to talk about you that way.”

His eyes go from Cal to Ares, and I know he’s talking about the harsh words Ares had for me earlier when he caught me with him and Chance.

“Thank you for defending my honor,” I whisper. “But I don’t want you to get into fights because of me.”

“Well, well.” Mason Morelli’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he approaches us, flanked by two of his men. “The famous JJ Smith is a girl. Color me impressed.”

If Cal is a lowlife, Mason is next level trouble.

His family owns several restaurants in California, but their business dealings in Star Cove don’t end there.

Everyone knows that his uncle didn’t make his fortune by legitimate means and his father is the biggest distributor of illegal substances on the East Coast.

So Mason makes Cal look like a playground bully in comparison.

“Let’s get your bike back to the hangar,” Mason offers. “And let’s talk.”

Ares intervenes. “Do whatever the fuck you want with the Ducati, but leave Zara alone. Come on, we’re going home.” He says to me.

“Not so fast.” Morelli’s smile vanishes as more of his men appear from nowhere, surrounding us. “JJ, or whatever your name is, owes me money. And unless you have four hundred grand hidden somewhere, we need to work out a payment plan.”