But the urge to put him in his place sends something hot and electric buzzing beneath my skin. The challenge is too good to turn down. Why not let her brother learn the hard way that I’ll fight for his sister?
And come out on top every time.
“If I win, you stay out of my way. Jessica is mine.”
Uncertainty flickers through his gaze, but he locks it down and smooths his face into something hard and unreadable. “Deal. Let’s race.”
I lock eyes with Malice as Chris heads for his parked car. The bass from half a dozen sound systems drowns out shouted bets and trash talk. It’s a busy night. Perfect for a race.
Malice lifts his chin slightly, the left side of his mouth quirking. He’s enjoying every minute of this. The guy is probably sporting a boner.
I’ve yet to see him rattled by anything. From what I can tell, he’s the lazy cat among his group of friends.
Cash grabs my shoulder and steers me away from the girls. We weave through the crowd toward my car.
“Give him hell,” Cash says when I slide into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t need to tell me twice. No one is keeping me from Jessica.
Men like her brother race for money and pride. I have no need for either. I’m usually here for the thrill, but now I have something to lose for the first time.
Something to fight for.
And if he can’t see that a cause is a man’s sharpest weapon, then he’s a fool.
“See you on the other end.” Cash shuts my door. Claps the roof.
Chris waits for me at the start line as I roll up beside his Chevrolet Camaro. His windows aren’t blacked out like mine, so I can see the fierce concentration on his face as he stares down the abandoned industrial strip ahead. A train yard looms nearby, silent and haunted, its rusty steel tracks catching the light when cars tear past. Across the road, an old warehouse squats behind a chain-link fence.
Heat radiates off our engines in shimmering waves as we wait. Chris glances my way and revs his engine. He can’t see me through the tinted windows, but I know he’s trying to psyche me out. It won’t work.
Once I deliver his humiliating defeat, I’m going to find my little thief and claim my reward. And just to spite Chris, I’m going to fuck her extra hard tonight and leave her dripping with cum.
A leggy redhead in a gold string bikini top, leather hot pants, and over-the-knee black boots saunters up to take her spot. I recognize her from the other week, when she climbed out of Cash’s Dodge Viper and wiped the corner of her lipstick-smeared mouth with her thumb. But that wasn’t the end of her.
The following morning, I left my bedroom to find Cash banging her against the staircase banister, still fully clothed, high off his fucking head. They’d stumbled in minutes earlier after partying all night. She was wearing the same stiletto boots then.
I sigh. My brother needs to get his shit together before something really bad happens. Fucking his way through half the town won’t silence his demons. It’ll only make them louder.
Ahead, the stretch of asphalt looks dark and empty, the start line scarred with skid marks. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been in this position, the engine growling like a vicious beast with every rev. I have no doubt Chris could beat me one day, despite his old car. He’s skilled enough. What he lacksis discipline. But he won’t win today. He’s too emotional, and success requires a certain ruthlessness.
A cold detachment.
Bathed in headlights, the girl shakes her chest, her huge breasts wobbling like two jelly cakes.
Just get on with it. I don’t have all day to measure dicks with my girl’s brother.
The leather bites into my hand as I tighten my grip. Any second now, she’ll raise her hand or wave her lace panties in the air, just like the girl did earlier when Maverick raced.
The headlights flood her pale thighs as she lifts her hand above her head. My focus zeroes in on the darkness in the distance, the finish line. This moment, before her hand falls, is sacred. My heart kicks hard against my ribs, but I’m calm.
Calmer than I’ve ever been.
Everything fades away except the finish line. It’s just me, my car and the open road.
A beat later, her hand falls, and we shoot forward in an instant. The front end lifts a fraction before slamming back down. I upshift, and the car jerks forward, bullet-fast. Headlights stretch into lines as they slice through the darkness.
Chris keeps pace, bumper to bumper. He’s not giving me an inch, and I smile because I love a challenge. What’s the point of racing if I don’t have to fight for it?Fight for her.
“Come on. Show me what you’ve got,” I say, glancing sideways at his car.
