Free Clutched (Wild Riders) by Elizabeth Lee Page A

Nora said, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. “She might be a motocross rider, but she's still a girl and whether you like it or not she has feelings.”
    I let out a huff and rolled my eyes at the both of them as I walked away. They were supposed to be there to help me not make me question my entire coaching style. Feelings? I had zero time for feelings. Even if I had any of them for Chayse, neither of us could afford to acknowledge them on or off the track.

Chapter 10 – Chayse
    N ow don't get me wrong, I loved a party as much as the next girl—maybe even more than the next girl—but the one I was currently being forced to attend was not my cup of tea. The upper crust of Throttled were congratulating themselves on their investments over champagne. Not at all what I imagined when Nick said we were having a meet and greet. I imagined down to earth motocross riders who had a little extra cash to throw around. Nope. Not these guys. They were oil heirs and white collar big wigs that probably didn't know the first thing about a dirt bike.
    The one that did—the founder of Throttled Energy—took off after a quick “hello, how are you?” I'd heard about the illusive Donovan Murray, but tonight was the first time I'd actually saw him. Briefly, but still. I almost didn't recognize him in his suit and tie. He was more of a board shorts and flip flops kind of guy.
    He was famous for taking his love of extreme sports to the limit. He rode anything with wheels, jumped off the highest peaks and buildings, and had traveled the world several times over. He was a legend. I was looking forward to officially meeting him when I learned that he'd already taken off in his private helicopter and headed back to his compound. Chalk that up on the list of disappointments that the night was handing out like escort tickets on the Vegas strip.
    I had to give Robert and Marjorie credit for transforming the Main Hall, which was usually littered with rough and rowdy riders, into a sophisticated venue. Cocktail tables were scattered around with beautiful floral centerpieces on each. The lighting was soft and the jazz music lofting through the air set the mood for all the schmoozing I was expected to do.
    As for the rest of the riders, they were standing around looking about as comfortable as a whore in church. Link was fighting with his neck tie and commiserating with the rest of the hooligans that would have much rather been on two wheels. I, on the other hand, couldn't commiserate with them. Not with Nick leading me around the place like a show pony. Hell, I couldn't even have a damn drink. Nick reminded me that I was only nineteen and that it would look bad if a minor was drinking. I wanted to tell him that I'd been sneaking booze since I'd learned what it was and could handle my alcohol just fine. It would have been nice to at least take the edge off of this monotony, but I supposed it would be even better of an idea to not ruffle any feathers.
    “This is Chayse McCade,” he said on more than one occasion. “Throttled's newest investment.”
    Their newest investment thankfully still had a little black cocktail dress in the back of her trailer. I'd worked as a hostess in a fancy Italian restaurant for about five minutes before I decided I wasn't exactly hostess material. I'd put a few curls in my hair and thrown on some mascara before pulling on a pair of black ankle boots.
    “We can't wait to see you ride,” one of the investors said. I think Nick had introduced him as Harrison Turnbold. It was impossible to keep all the names in my head. I'd met nearly everyone in the room. “We've heard from Nick here that you're quite fast.”
    “I try to be,” I said, plastering on a fake smile. “That's kind of the whole idea, right?” The old man's eyes lit up with laughter as he nodded in agreement.
    “You win, we win,” he said. “How is your training going? Didn't we hire a coach for you?”
    Before I had a chance to