Jax started his engine, revving it into a thunderous roar.

"Let's go!" he shouted.

I exhaled through pursed lips and started up my bike. Here goes nothing.

Jax took off, heading for gate at the end of the long driveway. I twisted the throttle towards me, and the bike jerked forward with sudden speed.

The acceleration made me wobble, and I clutched the handlebars, hard.

I remembered Jax's advice, and twisted the throttle again, pumping more gas into the hungry engine. To my relief, I straightened out immediately, and the motorcycle steadied between my thighs.

After that, I didn't wobble anymore, and I followed Jax to the highway, proud of how I could handle the bike.

But as I started to merge onto the busy LA freeway, the cars zoomed by like fighter jets. The late afternoon traffic was faster, meaner, and more intense than the night I drove Jax's bike. I sent up a silent prayer that I wouldn't get squashed.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I concentrated on following Jax. He pulled ahead of me and changed lanes, speeding to pass a slow car. I bit my lip. I didn't want to lose my guide by hanging back.

Gritting my teeth, I jammed on my throttle. My bike zoomed forward, and I swerved into the left lane. I sailed past the car with a whoosh. Yeah!

I laughed as I passed another string of cars. "Eat my dust!" I yelled. Adrenaline rushed through my body. I opened up my mouth wide to whoop.

Something small and black whapped me on the lips. I snapped them shut, startled, then quickly spat a bitter, acrid fragment over my shoulder.

Something bonked off my head. A whine buzzed in my ear, then faded away.

I laughed, realizing what it was. Who knew a major hazard of the road would be getting bugs in the face? Normally, I'd be disgusted, but somehow right now I didn't seem to care. It was hard to think about anything bad with the wind in my face and the sun shining down on me.

I smiled. No wonder Jax loved riding so much.

Jax coaxed more speed out of his bike, pulling away from me again. As he changed lanes, he cut sharply in front of a white sedan. The driver jammed on his brakes. His angry red face leaned out the window as he swore at Jax.

My heart beat faster, the adrenaline mixing with a shot of anxiety. What was Jax doing?

Frowning, I gripped the handlebars tighter and pushed my bike faster, wanting to catch up with him so I could tell him to cool it.

Jax swerved and cut off another car. The driver honked as he slammed on his brakes.

Swearing, I urged my bike forward. Several cars still separated us. Are you trying to kill us, Jax?

Ahead of us, clogged traffic forced Jax to slow down. The cars and trucks on all sides hemmed him in with nowhere to go.

He slammed his hands on the handlebars. Then he rammed on his throttle, sending his bike to the right. He threaded his way through the tiny space left between the cars boxing him in the lane.

What I saw next made me gasp.

He dashed into a narrow gap between an SUV and an eighteen-wheeler that was shrinking as the eighteen-wheeler picked up speed.

Jax, no!

Hunching over the handlebars, Jax darted past the truck, almost scraping it as he whipped by. With a jerk of his arms, he swerved into the lane in front of the truck and out of sight.

A sharp clang filled the air, followed by the sound of screeching tires.

My chest was suddenly tight with fear.

Oh god. No. Please.

An opening between the cars appeared on my right, and I swung into it, my eyes wide as I searched for Jax.

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.