Page 81 of Beautiful Rush
“Really? Where? How?” Her eyes lit up with excitement and that was how I knew it was the perfect solution.
Which was how I ended up in the stands at a dragway in Jersey on a Wednesday night with her family.
“Explain to me why the fuck you thought this was a good idea.” Killian scowled at the staging lanes where Keira was waiting for her turn to race. Every Wednesday the dragway hosted amateur races set up like a test-and-tune night. Cars had to be street legal and drivers had to show their license, registration, and car insurance and there was a special division for muscle cars, so it was perfect for Keira.
“Racing makes her happy,” I said simply.
“You’re a cop,” he growled.
“Your point?”
“My point is that six weeks ago we spent all night in a fucking hospital, not knowing if you were going to survive a gunshot wound. Keira was scared shitless and she was worried about you. She’s been through a lot and so have you. And you think drag racing is the answer?” He gestured at the two cars that zoomed past, the roar of their engines loud as they ate up the quarter-mile track. “I told her that she couldn’t outrun her past and now you decide that she can?” he asked incredulously.
“I understand where you’re coming from. But this isn’t about outrunning her past. This is about living fearlessly.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Connor told Killian.
Killian glared at him.
“The point is that Deacon and Keira are both crazy which makes them perfect for each other,” Ava said, taking a bite of her churro dipped in melted chocolate.
“Thanks,” I said, choosing to take that as a compliment.
“Anytime, Detective McHottie.”
I chuckled at the new nickname Ava had given me. “This is street legal drag racing,” I told Killian.
“Next time we should tailgate,” Eden said.
Ava high-fived her. “We’ll bring mocktails for you.” She elbowed Killian. “Cheer up, Killian. Keira will be fine. Although this DJ leaves something to be desired. Is that country music mixed with heavy metal?”
“Must be drag racing music,” Connor said.
“Drag racing isn’t safe,” Killian said.
“Since when has anyone in this family played it safe?” Eden asked.
Killian let out an exasperated sigh.
“Everyone has to find their own ways to deal with shit,” Connor said. “This is theirs. Respect it.”
“It’s good to see Keira happy,” Eden said, tucking her arm in Killian’s. “She looks more like Keira tonight.”
Eden nailed it. Keira wasn’t built for the slow lane and when she sat around, worrying and letting her fears consume her, she lost that spark inside.
I focused my attention on the black Charger and the girl behind the wheel. She drove around the water box and backed into it so only her back tires got wet then pulled forward just before the starting line and did a burnout. Like a fucking pro. Even through the smoke, I could see her smile.
Nothing like doing a burn-out to make my girl as happy as a kid on Christmas Eve.
“Damn,” Connor said. “That’s impressive.”
The cloud of smoke the Charger emitted, and the machine-gun rumble of her engine revving was pretty impressive.
Keira turned her head, looking for us in the stands. When she spotted us, right down in front, she gave us a big smile and a wave then blew me a kiss. I blew her a kiss right back. Someone snickered. Probably Ava. Keira pulled up to the starting line next to a Mustang Cobra and kept her eyes on the staging lights. Round amber floodlights counted down and then the green light flashed, and she was off like a shot.
Her cheering section was loud and enthusiastic, and the race lasted for all of twenty seconds. It was over so quickly it was a blur and left very little time to worry about what could go wrong.
Keira crossed the finish line, the victor, a half car length in the lead. The Mustang never stood a chance.
