Page 5 of Trip

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I admitted. “But if he’s reaching out to me, that means he’s desperate. And desperate men make dangerous decisions.”

King tapped his fingers on the table, his expression darkening. “Desperate or not, if someone’s tampering with those engines, it’s more than just Ansel’s reputation on the line. It’s lives.”

The room fell into a tense silence, and for a moment, no one spoke. Finally, King stood, his towering presence commandingattention. “Trip, you’re not doing this one alone. Gunner, I’m gonna need to bring Sarah in on this. She’s the best damn mechanic around besides Trip. If there’s foul play, she will get to the bottom of it. But make no mistake, I want eyes on Ansel’s team and everything they’re doing. No one steps near those cars without us knowing.”

Gunner shook his head. “Sorry, King, but Sarah’s out.”

“Why?”

Gunner grinned, looking over at Priest. “Sarah wanted to wait and tell you and Phoebe at Christmas, but in light of everything, I guess now is the time. Sarah’s pregnant.”

Priest gasped. “Are you sure?”

“It’s the truth, Priest.” George smirked. “I did the test myself. In eight months, you and Phoebe will be parents.”

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he whispered as the room congratulated him. “Don’t tell Phoebe. Let it be a surprise.”

“She probably already knows. Woman’s been reading the cards as if her life depends on it.” Gunner laughed.

“Nope.” Scribe smirked. “I hid them from her.”

“Is that why she’s been on a tear for the last few days?” Enigma asked. “She ripped into me yesterday, accusing me of throwing them away.”

Sitting there, I looked at King, only to find him staring back at me. I knew he hated asking me, but I understood. I was the only one who could do this. Hell, I could take that engine apart blindfolded and put it back together again. There was no one else with the knowledge or expertise. Add in my past relationship with Ansel, and I was the only one who could get the fucker talking.

I just didn’t know if I could do it.

It had been years since I’d been around the circuit, let alone behind the wheel of a car. There was a reason I only rode motorcycles now.

Getting up from my seat, I ignored the happy chatter of my brothers and left church, needing some air. I barely made it outside when I felt King walk up behind me.

“You can say no.”

“I already did.”

King stepped in front of me and said, “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care about the cars, the adrenaline, or the life of this driver, I will call Ansel back and tell him to fuck off.”

“King, I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car in years.”

He reached into his cut and threw a set of car keys at me.

Staring at the keys in my hand, King added, “Been holding on to those for a long time, brother. I know you told me to trash it, but I couldn’t. Damn thing is a work of art.”

I dared not move as my hand shook.

“I know the past haunts you, brother, but it’s time to let go.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Only way to find out is to get behind the wheel and drive,” King said, walking away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if digging into this mess was worth the risk. I had been out of the game for years, and Ansel’s shadow haunted me. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that the truth had a way of coming out, no matter how deep someone tried to bury it.

Walking over to the garage storage, I opened the bay door and watched as the lights flickered on. There, parked in the middle of the bay with a cover protecting it, was my car. Stepping forward, I reached for the cover and removed it, letting it fall to the ground as I stared at the mint condition, fully restored, metallic midnight blue 1962 Shelby Cobra.

The sight of the Cobra unleashed a flood of memories, both exhilarating and tormenting. I ran my fingers along the sleek curve of the hood, the metallic midnight blue catching the dim garage light and shimmering like a ghost of my former self. Thiscar wasn’t just a machine; it was a chapter of my life I had buried deep, a symbol of glory and guilt intertwined.

As I slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar leather felt like a second skin. My hands gripped the wheel, trembling at first, but then steadying as if the muscle memory had waited patiently all these years for this reunion. The key hovered near the ignition, hesitating like a diver on the edge of a cliff.

With a deep breath, I turned it.

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