Page 25 of Arm Candy Warrior

* * *

After stopping brieflyat Johnny’s suite so I can wash the fight training off me and dress more appropriately, Johnny and I drive to the edge of the next town where apparently there’s a race track. Fields and small houses surround the bleachered structure, and honestly, I can’t imagine why the Crew would be interested in this place. From what I’ve seen, they like to keep their businesses in the Heights.

“I see that look on your face. You’re probably wondering what our interest in this is.”

The roar of dozens of engines pierces the inside of the car. Now I understand why Johnny made sure we brought earplugs. “Yeah, a little,” I say, shouting over the screaming engines.

He grins, looking less Johnny Rocket and more like just plain Johnny. He hands me a pair of the earplugs. “We thought since the fight business has been lucrative for us, we might branch out to other sports.”

“But racing?” I can’t help but cringe. I’m biased, sure, but racing sounds so damn boring compared to fighting. Is there blood involved? What about pure, unadulterated rage?

Johnny shrugs. “We’re just looking into it.” The Crew entity itself is always looking for ways to make money. Honestly, if they weren’t criminals, they’d be damn good businessmen.

Like usual, Magnum parks the car and the three of us head toward the entrance of the track. Magnum’s presence is more unnerving than it’s ever been. When his gaze is on me, my skin pricks, and it’s always on me, so I’m in a constant state of nerves. For someone who wants me to stay out of his business, he seems to take a keen interest in me.

Johnny shows our tickets to the woman scanning them, and then she directs us to one of the boxes that stands high above the actual track. We climb three tiers of seats before we end up in an enclosed, square room, much like the one rising above the fights in the underground warehouse. This one isn’t as fancy though, nor as secluded. Other spectators are already here enjoying the races below, heads together discussing race-type things. Like tires and gas and engines and a bunch of other words that may as well be a foreign language to me.

A man looks up from his perch in the corner. His aging, gray hair around the temples adds a softer edge to a sharp face. The man does a double take when he sees Johnny and then moves toward us. “Sir,” the older gentleman says, shaking Johnny’s hand.

“Mr. Richmond, I take it?”

The guy nods in the affirmative. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

He gives me a pleasant smile and returns to his seat. I watch him go, brows pulling together in confusion. It’s not that he knows Johnny. I’m getting used to that by now. Johnny Rocket may as well be a celebrity for everyone who knows of him whether they’ve even met or not. I’m not getting that same sense in this instance. “Who’s that?”

“The owner,” Johnny clarifies. “My father contacted him to let him know we were going to come look at the place. There’s a rumor going around that he wants to sell.”

“So, you’re thinking it could be like the fight ring? Bets? Attendance? That kind of thing?”

“It’s a possibility.” He glances around the room, lips pulling together. He’s not very impressed with what he sees. “I think we might need to add some sex.”

I drown the urge to roll my eyes. “Like a racing strip club?”

His boom of laughter crinkles his eyes. “No, babe. I was just thinking maybe we could add some staff who were halfway decent looking.”

I shake my head at him.

“Oh, come on. You know sex sells. Why do you think everyone is dying for you to fight?”

I turn away from the cars lapping the track to face him. My hackles are up because if he’s insinuating people want to watch me only for my physique rather than my fighting skills, we’re going to have problems. I blink. “I’m a good fighter.”

“Well, yeah, that. Of course,” he quickly backtracks. “But you have other appeal too.” He runs his finger under the tiny strap of my top. Apparently, when I was at school today, Lynette dropped off a stack of clothes for me and apologized profusely about Glo. I only wish I could have been there to see if I could get a feel for whether Glo was still around or not. And when I say around, I mean breathing. Johnny locks gazes with me. “All the guys want to fuck you, and the girls want to be you.”

I don’t think that’s true. That’s his jealousy rearing its ugly head. “How will you ever stand letting me do it then?” I tease. Pushing his boundaries is fun.

His eyes flare. “Because I know who you’re coming home with at the end of the night, and any guy who touches you has a death wish. I think I’ve made my intentions clear.”

My body heats in response. I can’t help it if I find his possessiveness a turn-on. It’s a science-y thing, not a conscious thought. If I thought too much about it, my body would blaze with feminist outrage, but can’t a girl just want to feel possessed every now and then? Johnny would rip apart anyone who ever tried to hurt me. If they even just thought about it, he’d be there, setting the world on fire because of me. No,forme. The thought is oddly tantalizing.

“Can I get you guys anything?”

Johnny and I stay with our gazes locked before I tear my eyes away from his and blink at the woman who’s punctured my little bubble. She smiles, looking a tad awkward. I see now what Johnny meant about adding a little sex appeal to this place. The uniform seems to just be a pair of overalls with plaid shirts underneath. Not that I’m a proponent of women having to show off for marketing purposes, but a little more of that wouldn’t hurt the place. Maybe like a Hooters for the race track. That is, if Johnny and his father decide racing is even worth it.

Johnny orders us some appetizers and drinks and then asks for a table. When we’re sat in the middle of the room surrounded by giant TV screens, he leans in close. “If you’re looking into purchasing a business, you have to scope the current place out. Is the food good? How do the clientele act? What kind of people are they? This will all go into our decision whether we purchase the place or not. We’ve asked for their financial statements, and that will help, but it’s not quite that easy. If we get our food and it sucks, for example, we’ll know why they don’t do a lot of kitchen business. If there are fights in the stands, we know we’ll have to up security if we buy the place so the regular crowd will know that won’t fly anymore.”

I catch the gleam in his eyes, and my stomach flips. “You like this, don’t you?” I’m slowly piecing together the puzzle that is Johnny Rocket, and I like what I see. Well, most of it anyway. He’s redeemable.

“Regardless of what some people think, I’ve earned my spot in the Crew.” He leans back, a shadow crossing over his face. “I’m young, so I don’t always get the respect I deserve. I’ll have to be better than my father to gain their respect, and I will.”

---