Page 32 of Furious
Almost.
Because if I think about the night I spent with Chance and Lev? Nothing can really compare to the way they made me feel.
Speed is in my blood, though, and I missed the power of a bike between my thighs. There are very few things like the feeling of freedom that riding gives me.
The two things seem to contradict each other, but riding a motorcycle is a heady combination between freedom and control.
Power.
That’s the exact feeling.
Especially when you leave all your competitors behind you, eating your literal dust.
I almost didn’t make it. I got distracted when Chance veered off the road. My dad taught me to always focus on the racetrack, never let your attention wander off the road ahead of you.
But it’s Chance we’re talking about. If he had gotten hurt, I would have stopped. Even if that had meant blowing my cover.
Once I saw him riding into the tall grass, I knew he would be fine. I crossed the finish line, but of course I couldn’t stop like I wanted to.
I kept riding toward the spot where David, Wren’s older brother, was waiting for me with his truck.
Isn’t it funny that my high school bestie and Cal have a brother with the same name? The only difference is that David hates when people shorten his name to Dave. He also hates being called David because it’s a common name and there was always at least one boy with his same name in every class at school. Since his middle name is John—another doozy—he goes by DJ.
“How did you do?” he asks. “No, don’t tell me. You kicked ass or you wouldn’t smile like that.”
I slap his hand in a high-five, but we don’t have time to celebrate.
We load my dad’s old Ducati Panigale V4 R in the back of DJ’s beat up Chevy truck and cover it with tarp. The roads are mostly empty this time at night, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“Zara, we need to talk.” DJ turns to look at me as he stops at a red light just past a gas station at the edge of town.
“Uh oh.” I giggle, adrenaline still coursing through me from the race. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” He sighs. “It’s just… this is too risky. I didn’t mind bringing your bike to local races two years ago. I was more than happy to keep your dad’s bike safe for you while you were at boarding school. Fuck knows she’s a great bike and I’m emotionally attached to it after I helped you fix it and fine tune it again to put her in racing condition. If you want me to keep it in my garage for a little longer, I can do that. But if you want to race in Star Cove again, I’m out.”
I don’t blame him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sighs, putting the truck back into drive as the light turns green. “If you want to race anywhere else, I’m your man. But if you get caught here…”
“You have too much to lose.” I finish for him. “I know. You’re finally about to open your own mechanic shop in Shell Cove. You can’t afford to get in trouble with the law.”
He looks relieved. “I’m glad you understand. Why did you want to race tonight, anyway? Your situation isn’t that different from mine. You’re going to a great school, you live in a mansion and once you graduate, your mom won’t be able to stop you from racing if that’s what you want. Why risk everything in an illegal race?”
It’s hard to explain. “Because going to school isn’t what I really want. Or at least, not just going to school.”
“I thought you wanted to design motorcycles for a living one day.” DJ says.
“I do. But I also want to race. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Two years ago, you helped me race in Bridgeport, but everything went wrong. I had to keep it a secret anyway because Mom was against it and my dad wouldn’t even talk to her to try to convince her to let me race.”
DJ takes the old coastal road headed to my new home. It’s the long way around town, but after they built a new freeway that surrounds Star Cove connecting her to the Interstate, the old road sees way less traffic. “So what? You’re trying to prove a point?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m eighteen now, so technically they couldn’t tell me what to do, but…”
He understands. “Racing takes money and resources that you don’t have. And you still depend on your parents financially until you’re in school.”
“Unless I win cash prizes.”
DJ cautions me. “In street races? What if you get caught?”
