Having minutes like these, alone and without someone breathing down my neck, are lacking these days. I may be one step closer to winning the ten-K, but I can’t help feeling like things are about to get worse.
Shit is about to shift again.
I ease the Nova back toward the starting line, earning a raised hand from the guy driving the Supra in a silent expression ofgood race.
I don’t believe him.
My trust issues go up. I expect something to blow up. But all I hear are shouts of excitement and the next set of cars lining up to begin their set.
Talk to Hot Rod. Do not take what he says lightly.
I make quick work of parking my car and popping the hood. A few masked men—The Nameless—surround the thing like a pit crew as my car door is opened for me next.
Tall, blue jeans, and a light green shirt, muscled up as fuck.
“You don’t have to do all this,” I say as I get out of the car, not bothering to look into a face I can’t see behind the white mask. “I can manage.”
“Never said you couldn’t, Astor.”
Levi.
My eyes bulge before I quickly correct myself. Moving forward, I close the distance, but nottooclose or it’d look weird.
“What are you doing here?” I mutter while someone else rips through the street behind me to warm up their tires. “You shouldn’t?—”
“You didn’t think I’d miss your coronation, did you?”
My face skews because he knows, for one, it’s not anymore. And, two, yes, it’s awesome to have him here, but how the hell does someonenotnotice it’s him?
You didn’t.
Yeah, well, I didn’t gaze into his fucking eyes either.
Relaxing my features, it’s pointless to argue. I’m not going to say I hate the idea of him being exactly where he’s meant to be. I’m also not going to insinuate it’s not dangerous either.
That’s all we seem to do.
“You racin’ tonight?” I ask, closing the car door and stepping down the backend for Levi to follow and us to not be eavesdropped on.
“You lendin’ me back my car?”
I smile, turning on my heels to face him again. “Can’t. My best friend would have my ass if I allowed another man to sit in his car.”
“I think he’d do more than that,” Levi emits, his voice this naturally sexy-ass octave that peppers goosebumps along my skin. “I think he’d fuckin’ run him over with it.”
“Wouldn’t want to scratch the paint.”
“Didn’tyoudo that not too long ago?”
I pin my narrowed eyes on him, but they hold no more than aha, ha, fuck youexpression. “I got carried away by its power. Plus, I saw someone I had to settle a score with.”
Levi palms the top of Dad’s car and blocks me from the view of The Nameless, something that would scream red flags if I were part of the babysitting squad.
These men have been up my ass since the whole Matteo jumping me and losing the baby thing. Someone is going to come over here in a minute and see what’s up.
“And how’s that score doing?”
I try not to shift my weight, but I swallow my nervousness anyway. “You mean the ex-shithead?”
