Page 44 of Midnight Racers

“Dale is starting to lose his shit out there,” Jordan said in my headset.

“You think?” I took the next turn.

“It’s as well his rage isn’t connected to his engine or it would have exploded by now,” Jordan replied.

I refused to consider looking back in my rear-view mirror, using my wing mirrors to see what side he tried to overtake me on. I countered his every move, all my years of evasion on the roads meaning that the car moved as an extension of me. In a fight, you needed to be aware of everything around you. The weapon you used was a part of you, moving without thought or determination. This car was the same. I didn’t need to plan my route or anticipate the next bend since I had spent time learning this track. Everything was instinctive, the car following my every command.

We were on the penultimate lap when the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. You did not spend half of your life working in my profession without developing an awareness that went beyond the physical.

Dale raced up behind me, his car weaving from side to side to try and get around me.

“Watch your six,” Jordan warned.

“Yeah, I see him,” I muttered.

He lurched forward and I braced myself for the impact I knew I couldn’t avoid. I hit my brakes to ensure Dale got a harder hit than he expected. In my head, I heard his scream of rage. Someone needed to teach the asshole a lesson.

My car jolted forward when his car connected with mine, the high speeds we were driving at making the cars swerve. It took everything in me to stop my car from flipping, angling the car into the tailspin instead of trying to come out of it. I crunched the gearbox down through the gears and hit my accelerator to take me out of the spiral. The back end of my car hit Dale and flipped him through the air to the grass area at the side of the track.

The car that had been in third place sped past me but I didn’t care as long as the dick currently sitting in the car on its roof didn’t win. I slammed the car into first gear and took off again to finish the race instead of walking over and pummelling his sanctimonious face.

My entire crew surrounded me as I got out of my car, but Jordan was in the background starting a row with James Jones. He saw what happened out there and Dale’s team should have tried to reign him in. They knew what his history was like just like everyone else who attended these practice races.

The guy was as mercurial as the weather, his temper making him unpredictable and dangerous.

“You okay?” Charlotte asked, her eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“All good. Not my first dent. Hopefully it hasn’t damaged the car too much,” I replied.

“Cars I can mend, bones are a different matter,” she chastised me.

I flashed her an apologetic smile to cover the adrenalin that was still coursing through my veins demanding an outlet. “Yeah, but you just fixed the suspension.”

She rolled her eyes at me but didn’t reply.

“Looks like Jordan is about to start the next world war,” Joshua said, grabbing my arm. “He’s about to go nuclear.”

“Any other problems?” I asked.

Declan handed me his phone which had the CCTV of our factory open. Our guys had two men on their knees with their hands secured behind their backs. I nodded once, and passed him his phone back.

Stupid fuckers. By the time Jordan was through with them, he’d need another pair of boots and they’d never be seen again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at out there?” I heard an angry voice behind me and turned to find an irate Dale stomping toward me emanating waves of incandescent rage.

“Hello, Dale. Sorry your little plot didn’t go to plan out there. Next time you decide to rear end someone, try a different method.”

“Fuck you! I’ll get you thrown out of the British Touring Car Championship for this,” Dale said with venom.

“Good luck with that since I was in front of you and we have cameras on our cars recording all angles.” I flashed the grin that I knew drove enemies crazy. “I’ll get the guys to pull up the footage so we can watch your ridiculous attempt at trying to take me out.”

“Listen here—” he snapped, but I had heard enough.

I grabbed him by the front of his racing outfit and flung him against the side of my car. “No thanks, I’m done listening to you. Come near me or any of my team again and I will personally visit a world of pain and suffering on you that will make you wish you were dead.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.” He tried to shrug me off.

My team had formed a barrier behind me so I knew that no one would see me. My knee came up to knock his testicles into his body cavity. “I don’t issue idle threats, Dale,” I hissed into his ear. “Take this as your one warning. Stay away.” I released him and took a step back.

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