Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2) by P. Jameson Read Free Book Online Page B

worried he’d go somewhere she wasn’t ready for. It broke his heart that his female couldn’t feel safe near him. It ripped at the core of who he was: a protector, a guardian, a defender.
    If it fucking killed him, he’d make her feel safe.
    “That better?” he rumbled.
    Punk nodded. “It is. It really is. What did you do?”
    He shook his head. “Sometimes a tender touch can go a long way to healing what’s broken.”
    Beast met her gaze. Her eyes were shuttered, holding back emotions he could only guess at.
    “Thank you,” she said stiffly.
    Sharkie whimpered, drawing Beast’s attention to the dog. They’d had a rocky start, but when Beast shifted to his animal form, the dog quickly realized his place. They’d be best buds, him and Sharkie.
    “Somebody missed you,” Beast told Punk.
    She grinned, petting the dog’s head and rubbing her nose against his wet one.
    “Where is everybody?”
    “Down at the track getting things ready for the party,” he answered, still rubbing her leg. He wasn’t healing anymore, he was just desperate not to break their connection.
    “Should we go down there?”
    Beast sighed, staring at her knee, how small it looked in his hands. His shoulders drooped. “Yeah. I just… really fucking like this. I like you .”
    Damn. Stupid thing to say. If he didn’t rein in his mouth, he was going to regret it.
    Shut the fuck up, asshole .
    He shook his head, standing to his feet. “Let’s go. I’m sure they’re wondering where you are by now.”
    Beast reached over to grab her crutches before holding out his hand to help her up. She didn’t take it. She stared at it instead, like she was trying to figure out if it was a trick hand or something. Like if she grabbed it, it’d fall off and she’d be left holding a dismembered hand.
    But he didn’t give up. He let it hang there between them until she decided whether or not she was going to trust him. She already did. He could sense it. She just had to convince herself.
    Seconds passed achingly slow, but finally she put her hand in his. In one swift motion, he pulled her to a stand and helped her get set with the crutches. Outside, she didn’t argue as he helped her into the truck. She didn’t say a word, even when he stalled belting her in. She didn’t need a seatbelt to go down across the property, but he wasn’t giving up an opportunity to be close to her.
    “All set,” he murmured.
    “Thank you, Beast.”
    He met her gaze with a single nod.
    He shut the door and helped Sharkie into the bed of the truck before getting behind the wheel.
    “What’s your real name?” Punk asked when he’d started the engine.
    “Beast is my name.”
    “Your real name,” she said.
    “I don’t know.” He stared out the windshield, but he could feel her eyes on him. “My parents called me Beast. When they died, my past died with them. As far as I know, my real name is Beast.”
    “They called you Beast?”
    “It was… a compliment. I was always big. They were proud they had such a strong young… er, son.”
    Beast heard the rumble of engines through the open window as he navigated the dirt road to the practice area. The boys were already playing. No racing today though. Not with the wreck so fresh in everyone’s memories. One car on the track at a time for now.
    “Wow,” Punk muttered. “What happened to them?”
    He turned to look at her. He hated talking about this, but she was curious. And if she was ever going to be his, she had to know what she was getting into. This was how they grew closer.
    “They died in the fire. In ’94. Same as the rest of the dogs’.”
    “The forest fire? The one that demolished the mountain?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “Shit, I remember that as a kid. Didn’t they evacuate up there?”
    Beast shrugged. “They tried. But people didn’t want to leave their homes. My parents had built a life up there. I guess they couldn’t make themselves go.”
    “But you got out.”
    He nodded,