Page 25 of Trip

“King and the others will take care of that. Our job is to make sure she is safe while on the track. Speaking of which, where are Sarah and Banks?” I asked, looking around.

“Tearing apart the engine.” Gunner grinned. “My woman couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.”

“Thought you were going to keep her out of this,” Enigma said.

Gunner laughed. “You try telling her no.”

Enigma chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “You’ve got a point, but we can’t ignore the bigger issue here. Sabotage doesn’t come from nowhere. Someone’s playing a dangerous game, and if we don’t figure out who, it won’t just be the engines that go down. It’ll be her career—and maybe more.”

Gunner’s grin slipped a fraction, his gaze turning cold. “Then we’d better hope King pulls a rabbit out of his hat,” he said, his voice edged with steel.

The silence that followed was heavy, each of us lost in our own calculations. Every wrong move felt like a step closer to the edge of a cliff, and the ground beneath us was cracking.

Then, as if on cue, the sound of boots on concrete drew our attention. Sarah stormed in, grease smeared on her cheek, her eyes blazing with the kind of fury that could set the whole garage on fire. Banks trailed behind her, his expression a mask of calm that only barely concealed the storm brewing beneath.

“We’ve got a problem,” Sarah announced, slamming a wrench onto the nearest workbench. “Whoever messed with the engine knew exactly what they were doing.”

“What did you find?” I asked, pushing off the wall as Banks held a small can out to me.

Taking it, I dipped my finger in the can, then rubbed my index and thumb together and cursed, “Motherfucker.”

Gripping the can, I marched straight into Ansel’s office. Ignoring C.C., I slammed the can on Ansel’s desk, and some of the contents spilled over and onto his papers.

“Metal.”

Ansel grabbed the can and, like me before, he stuck his finger inside the can to test the oil himself.

“What?” C.C. gasped, sticking her finger in the can.

Looking at the woman, I said, “Someone put metal shavings in the oil.”

Shaking her head, I watched as her face paled and she slowly backed away.

“I’ve got to call my attorney. Trip, keep me informed,” Ansel said mainly to himself as he gathered his things and quickly left.

Alone with C.C., she just looked at me. Her eyes demanding answers. Answers I didn’t have.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” she whispered, her hands shaking. “Ansel didn’t bring you in just to babysit me, did he? He brought you in to find who is sabotaging the engines.”

Walking over to her, I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her trembling body. “Yes.”

“Am I in danger?”

“I don’t know, C.C.,” I said, my hold tightening around her. “But I’m going to find out.”

A few hours later, I walked into my dad’s old house to find King and the others waiting for me, along with C.C.’s brother Romeo. Looking at me, he asked, “Where is my sister?”

“Dropped her off at home,” I said, slamming the front door shut. “I take it you heard what happened?”

“The whole parish heard, Trip,” King informed. “Cat’s out of the bag now. Gator’s not happy.”

“Good, then maybe we can figure out who this fucker is before they kill someone.”

“Gunner told us what Sarah and Banks found,” Priest said as I opened the fridge and took out a beer. “Gotta say, brother, this shit doesn’t look good.”

“You should have seen her face, man. The second she felt the shavings, she knew. Ansel’s pissed, and I’m talking really pissed. Haven’t seen him that angry since he lost his leg and learned he couldn’t drive anymore. It’s not him.”

“You sure about that?” Scribe asked, looking around the room. “Just because he lost his leg doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of sabotaging his own cars.”

---