Page 99 of Midnight Racers

He shrugged and I saw the arrogant asshole who cared for no one. “She should have just handed her drawings over. They would never have given her a second look.”

“What drawings are we talking about specifically?” Jordan queried, coming to sit calmly at the table.

“She’d wanted to break into the IndyCar circuit and came up with some designs. Charlie showed them to someone who realised their potential. They’re worth a lot of money to the right team.” Dale turned his contemptuous gaze to me. “This is all her own fault.”

His arrogance was astounding, even though I thought I’d seen some asswipes in my life. “Who?” I demanded. “Who has marked her?”

He turned, walked over to the wall, and stood with his back to it. “Fuck off. My debt has been transferred to Charlotte and those designs are the payment. The deal has been struck and there’s nothing any of us can do to change it.”

I really doubted that. “Is his phone downloaded?” I asked.

Declan knew what that meant. If the information I needed was on it, this asshole was a walking corpse, and I didn’t care who he was related to. He left the room and came in a few seconds later. “They’re just finishing now.”

“You have two options,” I informed Dale. “You can give me the information I want and we can pretend this never happened. Or you can continue to be an asshole, and I beat the information out of you.”

Jordan had been typing on his phone. “No need. Ash has just accessed Dale’s financial records. His accounts got a health surge earlier today from a Martin Thompson. Apparently, he is one of the race officials who invests heavily in new technologies.”

Dale’s mouth fell open and his attention spun to Jordan. “Who the fuck do you think you are going into people’s accounts?”

Jordan’s smile belonged on the cover of a magazine. “Sorry, have we not been introduced? Jordan Berkeley, I’m Flynn’s business partner and friend.”

“Which means,” I took over, “that you are no longer of any use.”

Dale glared at me. “I know you have the hots for my sister. She won’t be happy when I tell her about this event today.”

Jordan laughed and it sounded creepy even to me. “He really did get hit by the dumb branch when he fell out of the family tree. Charlotte will never know, because you and the fuckwit over there will never exist beyond this room.”

The reality of his situation finally began to set in because fear flashed in his eyes. “You can’t do this.”

“I think you’ll find I can and we will,” I said, taking a step forward. “For every time you humiliated her, I will seek vengeance on her behalf. For what you stole from her, I will destroy every part of you. For almost killing my unborn child, I will make sure you make it to Hell.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head, but the time for forgiveness was long past.

I was the judge, jury, and executioner for his crimes.

Dale tried to escape, he tried to plead for his pathetic existence, but the image of Charlotte in that car covered in blood remained strong in my head. The memory of her being hoisted up the side of that bank and into the ambulance strengthened me as I broke his bones and bruised his flesh. He was her brother, but he hadn’t cared when he passed his debts onto her for evil men to take from her by any means.

What none of them ever expected was for a man like me to fall in love with Charlotte. She had been my redemption, and now I became her assassin. I finally snapped his neck and threw him on the floor.

Jordan calmly walked over and put a bullet into Craig’s head. “I have a meeting to attend this evening. We have the location for this Martin person, and have just enough time to pay him a visit.” Jordan straightened his jacket and moved toward the door. He glared at Dale’s body. “Asshole, he could have been among the great drivers people remember for decades. He came from racing royalty.”

“Looks like they’ll just have to put up with peasants like me.” I grinned at his serious expression.

“There is nothing wrong with my ancestry,” Jordan snapped and walked out the door.

“Yes, Your Grace,” I mocked.

He spun around and rolled his eyes at me. “Technically, it’s My Lord.”

“Of course it is,” I replied. “You would never be anything less than God.”

“I’m glad you appreciate my greatness,” Jordan called over his shoulder. “It can be tiresome explaining my elevated status to minions.”

I slapped the back of his head as I walked past him and received a dark chuckle in reply. He had always been a maniac with a God complex. He could retain his lofty title, and I would continue to be the Devil.

***

Since Jordan was a complete control freak who refused to give up the steering wheel of his car to a superior driver, I sat and searched for information on this Martin guy. I recognised him from his picture as the official who came over when Dale and I had had our argument at the last race. That fact was interesting since normally the officials tended to steer clear from trouble between the drivers. I had been too distracted that day to notice.

---