Page 2 of Racer

“I did.” I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly cold. “Fat lot of good that did me.”

“Then tell me. I’m listening.”

“I think something was off.” My throat burned. “Which doesn’t make any sense. I went over every inch of that car before I went to bed the night before the race. But I heard the way it hit when he zoomed past me on the last lap. Next thing I knew, he was spinning out like he had no control of the car, then he slammed into the barrier. They’re saying it was bad shift timing or oversteering.”

The silence stretched, thick with my rage over what happened to Mason.

Kane finally said, “You think someone tampered with it.”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but I can’t come up with another explanation.” My eyes burned. “He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. Not in a million years.”

“I believe you.”

That stopped me cold. All I could do was blink before I mumbled, “You…what?”

“Can’t give you a hell of a lot right now, but there’ve been other crashes recently that caught my attention. Didn’t know those drivers very well, though. Axle’s wreck erased any doubts I had. Something’s going on. Not sure what yet.”

A hollow relief fluttered in my chest. As much as knowing that Kane believed I wasn’t responsible for the crash helped, my brother was still in a coma.

“I know Axle is all the blood family you have left, but you’re not alone in this. I will always have your back and his. So will the rest of the club.”

“Let me help you find out who did this,” I pleaded. “I know what to look for.”

“No.”

The single word hit me hard.

“You’re not getting dragged into this any deeper. Your brother would fucking shoot me if I let anything happen to you.”

“You better hope he wakes up and tries,” I muttered.

“Emily.”

“No,” I snapped, tears prickling my eyes. “He’s all I have, Kane. Someone tried to erase him. And ruin his name while they were at it. I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but you have my word they’re not gonna get away with this,” he vowed, his eyes filled with determination. “I need you to stay out of it, though.”

I dropped my gaze and nodded. “Okay. But can I at least take a look at his car?”

Kane hesitated, then nodded, filling me with relief. He didn’t say anything else. Just got to his feet, rounded the bed, gave my shoulder one last squeeze, then looked at my brother one more time and left.

After the door clicked shut behind him, I picked up Mason’s hand again and squeezed.

“I lied,” I whispered. “I’m not staying out of it.”

My voice shook, but the promise didn’t.

“I’m going to find who did this to you. I’m going to clear your name, no matter what it takes.”

1

RACER

The air inside the garage attached to the Iron Rogues MC’s clubhouse was thick and warm. April in Old Bridge, Tennessee, was always unpredictable, but I didn’t mind. Other than when I was on the track, this was my favorite space—me, my bike, and the hum of steel under pressure.

I had my head buried under the frame of my old ’79 Triumph Bonneville, one arm jammed up against the manifold, the other balancing a wrench as I adjusted the throttle body. Sweat trickled down my spine, and there was a streak of grease across my cheek from where I’d scratched an itch without thinking.

The bike was a piece of art, rough and unforgiving—like most of the brothers who called this club family.

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