Page 39 of Racer

My mouth dried out, and a lump caught in my throat that I’d never admit to having. Not even under torture.

“Fox—” I started.

“Don’t say it,” he muttered, grin stretching. “I remember your bullshit speech. Still think you’re too smart to fall?”

I looked up and shot him a glare.

He laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what I thought. So smart you’re carrying around that crazy-eyed look Maverick had when Molly told him she was late.”

“Fuck off.”

He just chuckled and walked off, tossing one last look over his shoulder. “She’s yours. Let everyone know it.”

Everyone would fucking know it. My fingers slid over the leather, the stitching, the claim.

Mine.

I gripped the vest tighter and started toward the office Kane had given me when I first arrived. When I got there, I turned toward the big window just as movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Through the big glass pane that overlooked the adjacent bay, I saw her.

Every other thought vanished.

She stood just inside the open rolling door of the private work area. Her blond hair was twisted up, a few tendrils curling down around her neck. The moonlight spilled across her skin like liquid silver, casting her in a soft glow, outlining every curve beneath the tight tank top she wore—low and clinging to her tits.Her cutoffs hugged her hips like a second skin. Her long legs were bare, golden from the sun, gleaming faintly in the garage lights.

And she was talking to Gauge.

Motherfucker was standing too close. Too casual. His posture relaxed in that easy way that made my knuckles itch.

My pulse turned into a snarl, and my vision tinted red.

I dropped the vest on the desk and stalked out of the office without a word, each step deliberate, lethal, burning with cold fury. My boots echoed on the concrete floor, but neither of them turned until I slammed my palm against the metal bay door control. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and both of them flinched as the door rolled down behind me with a metallic rattle and a heavy thud, cutting us off from the rest of the garage.

Gauge started to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.

“You have five seconds to walk away,” I growled, my voice low and flat.

He looked between us, eyebrows lifting, but he wasn’t stupid. One look at my face, and he backed off, raising both hands as if I were ready to shoot him.

Because I was holding a fucking gun on him.

He hesitated, then wisely decided he didn’t want to test me. He gave Emily a stiff nod and ducked under the bay door before it fully sealed.

I lowered the gun and set it on a work cart before I turned toward her.

Her arms were crossed, brow lifted, not cowed in the slightest. “That was unnecessary.”

As I ate up the distance between us, she took one step back, then another, until her shoulders hit the wall. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a challenge.

“You’re practically naked,” I rasped, one palm braced beside her head, caging her in. “And letting some other man breathe your air. You think my reaction was unnecessary?”

Her mouth parted in indignation. “Naked? Are you kidding me?”

“You’re not wearing a fucking bra.”

“It’s built in!”

“Don’t give a fuck,” I growled. “Easy access.”

Then I yanked the neckline of her tank down with one hand.

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