Page 6 of Nitro
Kane’s expression didn’t flicker. Nitro’s brows rose the barest fraction, but otherwise, he stayed still, letting the weight of his stare do all the work. Jax just kept scrolling.
“I wasn’t trying to scam you or hide anything criminal. I just needed an alias, and she’s someone I met a few years ago who looked enough like me to make it believable. It was the easiest cover I could think of.”
“Why?” Kane asked.
“Because my mom would never understand this.” I gestured loosely toward the door. “She doesn’t get racing. And shedefinitely wouldn’t like me working with an MC. If she knew I was here, driving for you, she’d lose her mind. So I made sure there’d be nothing tying my name to this world. No way for her to find out by accident.”
“Good call going with a name close to your own,” Jax muttered, turning the tablet so I could see my driver’s license on the screen. “Jana Jennings.”
Kane tapped a finger against the desk, considering. “Is there anything Jax is going to find that I need to worry about?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I have no criminal record, decent credit…never even got a ticket for speeding.”
Nitro snorted. “Find that hard to believe with how you drive.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to race without my mom blowing up my phone every five minutes.” I heaved a deep sigh. “I love her more than anyone in this world, but she’s ridiculously overprotective when it comes to me.”
Kane leaned forward, pressing his forearms on the top of his desk. “Secrets have a way of coming out. She’s bound to find out eventually.”
“I know, but I’m hoping I’ll already have made a name for myself, so maybe she’ll be a little more understanding about why I did all this,” I explained with a shrug.
“Keep driving like last night, and that won’t take long,” Nitro murmured, his compliment making me stand taller.
“She’s telling the truth. No red flags.” Jax handed the tablet to Kane. “She’s squeaky clean compared to most of our underground drivers.”
“Good.” Kane’s eyes narrowed as he warned, “Don’t care what name you wanna use when you drive, but I don’t tolerate lies.”
Relief loosened the knot in my chest, but just a little. “So…does this mean I have a spot?”
Kane nodded. “Welcome to Redline Zero. Don’t make me regret it.”
The words should have felt like victory. Instead, all I felt was the echo of my close call. And the burn of Nitro’s stare.
3
NITRO
Ten days.
That was how long it had been since Jana Jennings rolled onto Kane’s track, smoked my recruits, and lifted her chin like she belonged in our world. A little over a week since I got my first taste of the fire in her green eyes and knew it was gonna fucking ruin me.
She’d won two races since then. Owned them. With precision cornering, razor control, and an instinct for speed that couldn’t be taught.
She didn’t flinch under the weight of being one of the only women on the asphalt. Didn’t crumble when men twice her size tried to squeeze her out of the line. She simply drove harder, faster, and smarter…leaving them to choke on the smoke from her exhaust.
She’d impressed Kane, which wasn’t easy to do. He didn’t hand out respect like candy. He only gave it when it was earned. Same with Axle, who might’ve been quieter about it, but I knew the way he tracked her lap times and filed her performance in that meticulous brain of his. He’d even watched one of her replays twice and only poked at me once about being prickly.
I was impressed too. That wasn’t the problem. The issue was that she was just as quick to shut me down as she was to smoke a turn.
She’d kept me at arm’s length, as if I was a live wire she didn’t trust not to arc.
Which, okay.Fair.
I’d lost interest in casual a long time ago. The itch had gone quiet. Then she took off her helmet at the Shadow Tryout and looked me dead in the face like I was a road hazard she could take at speed…and every fused circuit in me woke up.
In the time she’d been here, she’d managed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. She argued with me in the garage, challenged my calls on safety regs, gave me shit for being too controlling when I told her the line between fast and dead was thinner than a wire.
Sometimes it seemed like she went out of her way to argue with me about track rules, shop etiquette, and tire strategy. But the second heat crept into the argument, she’d peel off with a shrug that made me want to put her up against the nearest flat surface and teach her what it was like to burn. And every time she turned those sharp green eyes on me, hot enough to sear through denim, my control frayed a little more.
