Other teams stopped what they were doing to watch. Some shook their heads in disgust. Others made rude gestures. Nobody looked happy to see them.
"I was hoping they wouldn't come back this year," Colby said quietly.
Hank's jaw tightened as the trucks finally parked, taking up twice the space they needed. The music cut off, and the doors opened in synchronized choreography. Six men stepped out, all wearing matching red and black racing suits with a dragon logo embroidered across their backs. They moved with the swagger of men who expected everyone to watch them.
And unfortunately, everyone was.
The team's driver, Marcus Steele, was the last to emerge. He pulled off his sunglasses with practiced flair and surveyed the facility like a king inspecting his domain. His gaze swept across the other teams, lingering just long enough on each one to make it clear he didn't consider any of them competition.
When his eyes landed on Hank, his smile turned predatory.
"Well, well," Marcus called out, his voice carrying across the parking lot. "If it isn't Hank James. Still driving that ancient rust bucket, I see."
Brian's hand clamped down on Hank's shoulder before he could take a step forward.
"Not worth it," Brian murmured. "You know that's what he wants."
Hank forced himself to breathe slowly, to keep his hands relaxed at his sides instead of curled into fists. Brian was right. Marcus thrived on getting under people's skin. Reacting would only make things worse.
"Ignore him," Colby added. "We've got work to do."
But ignoring Team Red Dragon was easier said than done. They set up their pit area with military precision, unloading equipment that looked brand new and expensive. Everything was top-of-the-line, from their tools to their tires to the massive trailer that probably cost more than Hank's entire operation combined.
"How does a team like that even exist?" Colby asked, not bothering to hide his bitterness. "It's like they're playing a different sport."
"Money," Brian said flatly. "Lots and lots of money."
Hank had heard the stories. Team Red Dragon was backed by some tech billionaire who'd decided competitive racing would be a fun hobby. They'd only been on the circuit for two years, but they'd already made a reputation for themselves, and not a good one.
Last year, they'd swept through the regionals and made it all the way to the championship. They'd won by a narrow margin, but there had been whispers. Accusations of tampering with other teams' vehicles. Suspicious mechanical failures during critical races. Nothing proven, nothing concrete, but enough smoke to make everyone suspicious of fire.
The racing federation had investigated and found nothing. Or rather, they'd found nothing they could prove. Team Red Dragon had walked away with their trophy and their reputation intact, at least officially.
Unofficially, everyone knew something had been off.
"You think they'll try the same crap this year?" Brian asked.
"Probably," Hank said. "But we'll be ready this time."
He hoped that was true. Last year, he'd been too focused on his own performance to pay attention to the politics and dirty tricks. This year, he couldn't afford that luxury. Not when so much was riding on this championship.
Across the lot, Marcus was holding court with his team, laughing loudly at something one of them said. When he caught Hank looking, he raised his hand in a mocking salute.
Hank turned away.
"Come on," he said to Brian and Colby. "Let's get back to work. We've got a championship to win, and they're not going to intimidate us out of it."
But as he walked back to Julie, he couldn't shake the weight that had settled in his chest. Team Red Dragon had resources he couldn't match, connections he didn't have, and apparently no qualms about bending or breaking rules to get what they wanted.
His dream of winning the championship, of proving himself, of escaping the shadows of his past, had just gotten a lot more complicated.
Chapter 5
Bree stood on her balcony, coffee mug cradled in both hands, watching the organized chaos unfold below. The racetrack stretched out beyond the hotel grounds, and even from this distance, she could see teams swarming around their vehicles like bees around a hive.
She'd woken to the sound of engines and voices, the peaceful morning she'd imagined shattered before she'd even opened her eyes. When she'd stepped onto the balcony, confused and still half-asleep, she'd realized what Blake had conveniently forgotten to mention.
The Copper Moon Cup was this weekend.
