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

the one who mentioned showmanship.”
    Punk laughed, catching Beast’s attention. She’d moved closer to the grill.
    “That smells great,” she told Surge before turning her gaze to Beast. “You gonna beat my girl? That was some wicked-ass driving out there.”
    His lazy grin curved his lips as he lifted a finger to tap her nose to remind her of their earlier bunny conversation.
    “You bet I will. Watch this.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek before he could even think about the repercussions.
    Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.
    He didn’t look at her as he pulled back and stalked off to start Diz’s car.

Chapter Seven
    Punk froze. The sensation of Beast’s lips on her skin was like fire on a glacier. It threatened to melt her down until there was nothing left. Nothing left of her resistance. Of horrible ancient memories. Of her loneliness.
    He pulled back, turning quickly and making his way to the car at the edge of the track. She watched him the whole way, aware of the silence around her.
    Fuck him, leaving her like that to answer to everyone.
    “What the hell, woman?” Surge teased. “I guess that didn’t call for a ball buster? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
    “Shut up,” she muttered, turning to face them.
    But no one was staring at her. They were blatantly not staring at her. Whatever. If they wanted to ignore it, she would too.
    Ella and Dog Boy were twisted together like some freaky human pretzel. Annie was stirring a bowl of something. Potato salad? Diz had his eyes on the track.
    There was someone missing.
    “Where’s Blister?”
    Annie’s head jerked around. She looked anxious to hear the answer to Punk’s question. But that was Annie. If she invited you to a party, she took it personally when you didn’t show up.
    “He’s around,” Drake said. “He’ll probably show up later.”
    Punk watched Annie’s shoulders relax, and crutched over to talk to her.
    “Hey. Tell me the truth. Does my nose move when I talk?”
    Annie squinted, staring at Punk’s nose. “Do it again.”
    Punk rolled her eyes. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious .”
    “Oh, hey. You’re right, it does. It’s kinda cute actually. Like a little baby bunny.” Annie grinned.
    “Are you shitting me right now?”
    “No! It really does go up and down. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.”
    Surge did something to the grill causing it to roar. “Shit. Diz, hand me that plate.”
    Punk watched him handle the food, moving things around on the grill to make room for more. The flames sprouted from the burner, but he didn’t flinch when they grew. He calmly moved the food until it was out of the way of the direct fire.
    He didn’t show any sign that he’d lived through the trauma of a fire. How did he manage it? Maybe he was all pretty on the outside but still a raging mess inside.
    Like her. By all appearances she was strong, but like Beast said, she was still so frightened. Her heart and soul were still held prisoner.
    Punk narrowed her eyes on Surge, noticing something that sent chills down her spine.
    “Hey.”
    “Yeah,” he said, distracted.
    “What happened to your wounds?”
    He laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”
    Diz turned away from the track, interested in the conversation.
    “Your wounds,” she snapped. “The ones I gave you just hours ago. The broken nose. The black eyes. Sound familiar? You should be limping right now. Not standing here cooking food like you’re at one hundred percent.”
    He gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “I’m tough. What can I say. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
    Punk narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”
    Annie turned to them, frowning. “What are you talking about? Did you hit him?” she asked, horrified.
    Punk adjusted her crutches so she could stand taller. “Just a little.”
    “Punk!” Annie’s hands flew to her hips. Damn. That was never a good thing. She was all sweet and shit, but if you made her mad she was like a rabid little fury.
    “