Page 69 of Midnight Racers

“Ready?” he asked, returning from his car.

I nodded once, unable to speak. He didn’t say anything further, merely giving me one of his intense looks that said so much more than any words ever could. He continued to fill the back of his car until all that was left was me and Pixie. She didn’t want to go into the carrier and I knew how she felt—as if we were homeless and adrift. This had been my refuge from the world, the one place I had felt safe.

Someone had stolen that from me.

Flynn lifted Pixie and she glared at me from over his shoulder as he took her to the carrier. He talked to her in that low growl that made my stomach tighten, and I saw her rubbing her head against his neck. My damn cat was getting the affection I craved.

“We’re out of time,” Flynn said on his way past me with the pet carrier.

I checked all the doors and windows, closing the door to each room as I left. It didn’t feel like home anymore, just a place that housed all my possessions. At the last moment, I ran upstairs and grabbed an external hard drive that contained all my original research before I uploaded it all to cloud storage. It had my scans and doodles from years ago that showed all my initial thoughts about engines.

I shoved it into my bag with other bits and pieces of personal items I had put in there earlier as I walked through the house. The wooden front door slammed behind me with an auditable bang that almost made me jump. Every plant in this garden had been put there by me, every season accounted for to ensure maximum pollen for the bumblebees and butterflies that visited.

Flynn sat inside the car, and if anyone was watching, they would believe he was pissed at me right now. Heck, it was what I thought by watching him. I slid into the seat beside him, putting my handbag at my feet.

“We need to go,” he said. “I have a bad feeling about all this shit.”

Two black cars were parked at the side of the road as we drove away and my hand instinctively went out to grab his. “Flynn,” I whispered, panic rising inside me.

“This might be a bad time to ask this,” he said. “But who did you leave your designs to in your will?”

“What?” My voice came out in a screech. “When is it a good time?”

He shot me a quick glance. “Logically, if you won’t give them the designs while you’re alive, then—” He left the rest unsaid.

“People wouldn’t kill for an engine design,” I proclaimed, trying not to think about those two black cars.

“People kill for a lot less than that,” Flynn replied grimly. “Life is cheap in a world of greed and manipulation.”

“My old will left everything to do with cars and designs to Dad and Dale equally. I changed it about seven months ago when Dale pissed me off. It leaves everything to Mum to do with as she sees fit.” My brain finally caught up. “Oh shit! Have I put Mum in danger?”

“Not until they read the will,” Flynn said, his eyes constantly moving to the rear-view mirror. “One of them is following us. They probably want to know where you’re staying.”

“We need to go to the police, Flynn. We need to tell them everything that happened, including the dead men.”

His laugh was harsh. “That isn’t going to happen, Charlotte. There’s a reason you’re staying in my house and sleeping in my bed. Not one fucker would be stupid enough to try and get to you there.” He let out a deep sigh. “I wish we had left Pixie at home.”

“Why?” I asked, frantically checking the black car behind us in the wing mirror. “What do they do to cats?”

The car accelerated as Flynn began to take his rally driving role from the track to the road. He shifted the car down a gear to allow him to take the corners of the winding road faster. The black car behind us kept pace.

It being behind us wasn’t a coincidence.

“I’m going to have to lose them,” he said. “I don’t know where the other car is. He could have gone to loop around and cut us off.”

“Cut us off,” I echoed, unable to process what was happening.

It was a scene from a nightmare, something from a film that I wanted to put back there. I crept lower in my seat, my eyes never once leaving the wing mirror. His fingers finding mine broke my attention.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes met mine for a brief second before they returned to the road, but there was a reassurance in those green depths that help settle the butterflies currently doing summersaults in my stomach.

“And who is going to protect you?”

His grin showed his dimples. “This is my life. I work hard and I race fast. Welcome to life in the fast lane, baby.”

At a time like this, I shouldn’t be smiling, but Flynn always knew how to see inside me and find what I needed, including his constant need to use humour in every situation. Even the deadly ones with unknown enemies chasing us.

“Asshole,” I muttered, and his grin grew bigger.

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