Page 29 of Racer

The taller one smirked like a cocky asshole who truly believed he could intimidate me.

Fucking morons.

“Just thought we’d offer a little friendly advice,” he sneered.

“Friendly?” I raised a brow. “Sure you fuckers know what that word means?”

The shorter, stocky one spit on the pavement and stepped closer. “Throw the next race.”

I chuckled. Couldn’t help it. The fucking balls on these guys. “That your advice?”

“Yeah,” the tall one said, stepping beside him now. “You’ve been drawing too much attention. Winning too much. You keep that up, and the wrong people are gonna get real twitchy. We’ve got the winners picked, and you ain’t one of ’em.”

“I’ll sleep better knowing Dez Franklin’s crew is worried about my lap times,” I said, pushing off the car with a lazy stretch. “Tell your boss I don’t take requests.”

“Should reconsider,” the stocky one muttered. “You don’t wanna end up like the last guy who said no.”

Something in his voice changed. He sounded a little too satisfied and oddly specific.

Something crawled up my spine, and every part of me stilled.

“Yeah?” I tilted my head. “And who was that?”

He grinned, showing off stained and crooked teeth. “Pretty boy driver. Probably would’ve been a star. But he thought he could play hero, and now he’s gonna wake up in the ICU.” He snickered, and my trigger finger twitched. “If he wakes up at all.”

Son of a fucking bitch.

They were talking about Axle.

I straightened to my full height, which was a few inches taller than either of them. Then I took a slow step forward, keeping a tight rein on my rage, only letting them see a hint of it in my eyes.

“You just made a hell of a mistake,” I said, my voice dark and deadly.

Both of them looked confused as I closed the distance and got in their faces, my expression flat and lethal, gun in hand, hanging at my side.

“Made one hell of a screwup, boy,” I grunted. “Now I know for sure who the fuck put my woman’s brother in that coma.” Shaking my head in mock disappointment, I casually racked the slide on my Glock. “Rookie move with a death wish.”

They tensed, their eyes sliding down to the barrel glinting in the moonlight. I let the silence stretch just long enough for them to feel the threat coiling around every word. Then I shrugged and muttered, “You assholes aren’t worth the cleanup,” before I pointed my gun at the tall one. Mentally grinning, I used the mag release, chuckling when he dropped his shoulders in visible relief. I racked the slide again, and the bullet in the chamber popped into my hand before I pulled the slide one more time. Then I turned and got into the car, flashing a grin as I cranked the engine.

“Tell your boss I’ll be real disappointed if he doesn’t come himself next time,” I called over the roar of the Chevelle. “Been a while since I put someone in the dirt for fun.” I turned up the AC and smirked as I wiped sweat from my brow. “Suppose there are a couple of benefits to living in this fiery level of hell. Alligators make disappearing a body a lot more interesting.”

I peeled out and left them standing in a cloud of dust and burnt rubber. By the time I got back to the garage, my jaw was tight enough to crack and my pulse was thundering. The need to cause someone soul-deep pain vibrated through my body.

Only one person was gonna be able to give me peace. I needed to get back to the clubhouse. I needed my woman.

The only thing that had kept me from turning those two bastards into pavement stains was knowing she was safe and waiting for me.

I swapped the Chevelle for my Harley, then gunned the engine and let the wind cut through the heat like a blade.

When I rolled up, the compound buzzed with post-race energy. Inside, the lounge was packed with Redline Kings watching the earlier broadcast of the NHRA Pro Stock Motorcycle race on the big screen.

Kane was sprawled on one of the leather couches, a beer in hand and his boots on the table. His arm was around Emily, who was curled up beside him with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, a faint smile playing on her lips.

My hand nearly went for my gun again, but I reminded myself that Kane and Edge saw her as a sister. It didn’t help much, just enough to keep me from putting him in a closed casket.

I walked over to them and growled, “Unless you can ride without hands, take them off my woman.”

Kane smirked but removed his arm.

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