We stopped in front of a scarlet beauty with hellish red lights setting the undercarriage aglow, and he let out a whistle. The driver was a woman, and for a half second, I thought that appreciation was for the curvy redhead, but he turned to grin at me.
“This one’s it. That car is going to win.”
I turned to stare at it. Sleek, an improved Mustang, I could certainly see the appeal. “What makes ya think so?”
He gave me a smirk that screamed mischief and tugged me closer to the woman who would be driving. She had on a black minidress and a motorcycle jacket, similar to the one I’d seen on him yesterday, and below the cascade of shocking red hair on her back, I could make out the wordsNew Gothenburg.
“Red,” he said quietly behind her, and she spun on the spot, let out a happy yell, and came over to tug him into a hug. The green-eyed monster briefly had a hold of me as he patted her back.
“Damn, kid. After that shit at the clubhouse the night of the Demon massacre, I thought I might not ever see you again. You haven’t been carrying messages lately. You’re not here for King, are you?” She stood back and gripped his arms, and an uncomfortable feeling smacked into me.Hunter knew her.I’d forgotten, somehow, that he had a life outside of the Virtue.
“No, I’m here with Jamie to… to see you race, I think.” He smiled at me, and then she stepped back and let him go.
“You on a mini vacation? By yourself?”
He waffled a hand at her and nodded, and she turned to me, her gaze hard. She eyed me up like she didn’t trust me, which was a huge shift from the way she’d blasted goodwill at Hunter.
“Who’s your man, Hunter?”
“Jamie Shannon,” I answered for him and stuck out my hand, not at all liking the way she seemed to be measuring me and finding me lacking. “I work here in New York. Mostly.”
She snorted and took my hand, pumping it hard. “Red. I own Grounds and Gears, if you’re ever in New Gothenburg.” She pointed to a sticker on her car of a gear plunked into a steaming mug. “You’re a brave one, Jamie.”
“What do ya mean by that?”
She glanced at Hunter then met my eyes again, but I wasn’t sure what she was getting on about. She let me go and stepped back to pat the hood of her car.
“Yes, we’re going to clean up today. Emmy’s out there somewhere. They’re helping me. Say hi if you see them.”
Hunter nodded, and I puzzled over what she’d said, but let it all go as we moved on to look at the last car in line and new people closed in around the small redheaded woman.
“How do ya know her?”
“She’s a Harlot. Our club works with theirs… sometimes.”
That club name surprised me, and I got a bad feeling. I didn’t want Hunter mixed up with them, even if he did ride with the Kings. I’d spoken with their president, Sapphira McKinnon, before, and the Kings’ president as well, to sort out product flowing through their city. They were a rough lot for someone like him.
Calls of “final bids” went up from the bookies all around the cars, like they’d heard an imaginary whistle the rest of us hadn’t. People started leaving the racers to crowd the four or five men I could pick out with their notebooks in the air. Most bookies still did it this way. Easier to burn a book than get rid of all traces of dirty dealings on a piece of tech.
“Where do we want to stand for the race?” Hunter asked, but I had my eyes on a rail-thin man with a bad Van Dyke mustache and a notebook out. Two assistants stationed beside him worked fast and furious, taking money from people and handing back slips of paper.
“Come with me,” I said and made my way to the bookie.
For a minute, we waited our turn. Hunter tickled his fingers against mine, and I almost forgot what we were waiting there for, but in no time at all we were at the front of the line, and Hunter tensed, leaning his shoulder against me. I wasn’t sure what his problem could be.
“Ya wanted Red?” I asked and worked the bag free from my trousers where I’d stuck it earlier and opened it. Inside was twenty grand, in four stacks. I took out two and passed them to the bookie’s assistant. “Ten on Miss Red. For Shannon,” I said, and met the bookie’s eye. “James Shannon. Winnings can be delivered to me at the Exotic Virtue’s office, for the time being.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Shannon. Good to see you again,” the assistant said, but the bookie was too busy scribbling. The money was taken, flipped through, and put into a brown messenger bag, where I’d seen other cash disappearing already. I got back a slip with a string of numbers written on it in a sloppy hand and tucked it into my pocket.
Hunter gripped my arm as we walked away toward the small knoll where people were grouping to get a good vantage point of the track. Far off in the distance thunder rumbled, and the gray clouds were getting closer, but we were still bathed in sunshine.
“Ten? Ten thousand?” he asked.
I patted his back when it seemed he wasn’t breathing, and he gave me a dirty look. “Course. It’s more fun with money.” I shrugged.
Hunter nodded, but his color wasn’t quite right. He was peaky.
I put an arm around his shoulders and held him close as we walked. “This is fun. Ya like the cars. Ya having a good time. What’s wrong?”
