Page 20 of Lost Trust

The blonde hanging off his arm doesn’t seem to notice—or care—that his attention has suddenly found another woman.

Blaze pulls his sunglasses down his nose. “Don’t think we’ve met.”

Jovie gives him a polite smile. “Sure we have.”

“Right.” His grin turns predatory. “You’re the sexy new therapist on the circuit.”

Blaze looks her up and down like he’s got all damn day.

“That’s right. Axle’s got good taste. Unlike some people,” I say, my patience evaporating.

He glances at me and then back at Jovie. “Oh, so she’s your brother’s girl. Not yours. Makes more sense.”

The blonde giggles against his shoulder.

I shake my head.

Complete fucking asshole.

Finally, our rented F-150 turns into the entrance. Axle pulls it up to the curb, and I reach for my bag.

Blaze calls after me. “Hey, Royce!”

I stop, but don’t turn around.

“Make sure you wear your seat belt.”

I glance over my shoulder, and he flashes that smug smile.

“With the way you’ve been riding lately, might be safer. I’d hate to hear you fell out of the truck too.” He laughs. “Just kidding, buddy.”

I stare at him for a long second.

Then I smile.

Not because he’s funny. Because, one day, when my shoulder is healed, I’m going to wipe that fucking grin off his face in the arena.

“See you at the next one, Blaze,” I say as a black SUV stops in front of him and he climbs in with his buckle bunny and his oversize ego.

The truck window slides down, and Axle calls, “Throw the bags in, Royce, and let’s go. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

Jovie nudges one of the suitcases with her boot. “You want me to get that?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Royce.”

“I said, I’ve got it.”

She raises both hands. “Okay.”

I grab the biggest suitcase.

The second I try to lift it, my shoulder gives out.

It just … fails.

The suitcase slips out of my grip and hits the pavement with a heavy thud.