“You take a bet, you take a risk. That’s how it works,” Madden said, moving forward to block Kazimir’s path so he was standing between him and the racer. “Plus, didn’t you hear the announcement beforehand? The racer who was meant to be here couldn’t make it. Nate stood in for him so there’d still be a show. We were upfront with the whole audience. It’s not our fault you were too busy doing…?”
He'd been on the phone with Zane, listening to his excuses as to why he couldn’t meet up with Kaz tonight like they’d planned. Not that he could tell Madden that, considering Zane and he worked for the same annoyingly pretentious Imperial Prince.
The Satellite, who followed Baikal Void, and the Retinue, who orbited Kelevra Diar, were tentative…friends? Of a sort? They got along mainly because they had to, though some were closer than others. It wasn’t a secret that sometimes Kazimir and Zane fooled around, but the details behind their strange on-again, off-again relationship were strictly confidential. Not even Baikal knew about them, and Kaz planned on keeping it that way.
“Whatever,” he snapped, shoving Madden away from him. “Still doesn’t change anything. How could you let someone with no skills participate in a race like this?”
There were tiers to the races: Elite, League, Mid, and Rookie. Kazimir had been betting on a League race, meaning he’d expected better than he’d gotten. The race itself was meant to be between two well-known racers, Flash and Pandaveer. Only, now he was being told the latter had apparently never shown.
“Guy doesn’t even deserve to race Rookie,” Kazimir added, even though that was hardly the truth. He could probably lead in Mid races, in fact, had carried his own pretty well against Flash up until the final stretch even. But Kaz was pissed off and when he got this way, facts weren’t important, only striking the hardest blow was.
“You think it’s so easy?” the racer snapped back. “You do it next time then, hotshot.”
“Excuse you?” Kazimir took a step forward but Madden blocked him again with a strong hand at the center of his chest.
“Back off, Kaz. And Nate,” he shot over his shoulder at the racer, “really not helping, man.”
“Why should I help soothe some loser’s ego?” Nate glared down his nose at Kaz.
At first glance, the racer didn’t look out of place here, but then, they were currently standing in a boathouse, made ofwood with low lighting, no matter how decked out it happened to be. Nothing too fancy. Upon closer inspection, the worn boots and the goldenrod and black plaid button-up he wore under his expensive jacket gave away that he wasn’t from the same kind of money as his present company.
He had nice hair, though; whoever his barber was, they deserved a raise. The dark chocolate locks were windswept and appeared messy in that way that was always done on purpose. It was cut short in the back, practically buzzed. Two diamond studs were set in each of his ears, but there didn’t appear to be any other piercings. He’d be hot if he weren’t such a prick.
Strike that. He was totally hot despite that fact. If Kaz had been feeling any other sort of way at the moment, he’d most likely switch gears and seduce him instead. He’d never caved for dick before, though, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“He’s just upset about losing,” Madden said to the racer then. “Nate isn’t exactly pleased about the outcome either, by the way. He did his best.”
“Doesn’t look like he needs money,” Nate countered. “He placed a bet and lost. Shit happens. Get over it.”
Murder was off the table, he reminded himself.
He couldn’t afford to draw attention right now.
Whim would be pissed.
“I’m going to snap that pretty neck of yours and shove your head up your ass,” Kazimir growled. Screw the underboss.He’dget over it.
“Nate, let’s finish this conversation later,” Madden said, holding his ground when Kaz tried to get past him a second time. “Seriously, stop.”
“Not until his blood has coated my hands.” No one spoke to Kazimir like that and got away with it. Not even pretty racers who looked like they worked out. The two of them were probably around the same build, but Kaz had a couple of inches on himand Brumal training under his belt, which was something he doubted the other guy could claim.
“He’s not joking,” Madden warned Nate. “He’s crazy enough he really will hit you.”
“I was ten seconds behind!” Nate stated, clearly frustrated. “It’s not like I lost by a landslide.”
“You still lost,” Kaz growled.
“Hey, what are you doing?” a new voice had Kaz stilling and Madden sighing in relief. Flix, another member of the Satellite, entered from the back of the building, taking in the three of them with a quirked brow. “Wow, a party, and not a single one of you invited me? Some friends.” He walked right up to Nate and tossed an arm around the guy's shoulders. “Tough luck out there, my dude. You’ll get him next time.”
Mydude?
“You know him?” Kazimir took in the racer a second time. He didn’t look like Flix’s usual type, and even though they were standing close and the racer allowed the continued contact, he was still stiff and glaring daggers Kaz’s way. Didn’t seem like anything romantic was going on between the two of them.
Which was good, because murder was one thing, but killing his friend’s lover was a total no-no. Even a person like him had lines they refused to cross, and that was one of them.
“Do you know how much he just cost me?” Kaz stated.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Madden filled him in.
