“Then you’re in good company,” Carmen said. “I don’t like the way he looks at anybody.”
Hank watched her expression closely. “He didn’t say anything else?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Bree’s jaw firmed. “He wanted to know if I was with you. I said I was here on my own.”
That stung more than it should have. He nodded anyway. “Probably safer that way.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Safer?”
“He likes to make trouble,” Hank said. “If he thinks there’s a connection he can exploit, he will.”
He didn’t say: He’s already thinking about how to use you. He didn’t need to. Bree wasn’t stupid.
Her fingers tightened on the sketchbook. “I’m not part of this pissing contest.”
“I know.” He bumped her shoulder gently. “But you’re walking through the middle of it, so you’re going to catch some spray.”
Carmen snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
They reached Hank’s pit. Brian looked up, sunglasses pushed on top of his head, gaze flicking from Bree to Hank to Carmen and back like he was cataloging everyone’s emotional state.
“You made friends,” he said.
“Temporary alliances,” Carmen replied. “Don’t get excited.”
“Too late,” Brian said. He offered Bree his chair. “You want a seat?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Bree glanced around, taking in the neatly organized tools, the bike on its stand, the calm rhythm of their work area. Her shoulders eased. “This is… very different.”
“From the circus down there?” Brian grinned. “We aim for less chaos, more control.”
“Chaos is where the accidents happen,” Colby added. He’d set the laptop aside and was checking tire pressures again, his movements efficient. “Respect for the machine, respect for the track. Anything else is asking for trouble.”
Carmen nodded. “That’s what I keep saying. Heidi calls me boring.”
“Boring keeps people alive,” Hank said.
Bree’s gaze drifted past him again, back toward the Red Dragons. Their music had kicked up. One of the crew revved a bike hard, the sound rough and ragged. Another guy tossed a wrench from hand to hand like he was juggling.
Near the edge of their line, a man in a black T-shirt crouched by a frame. He wasn’t part of the noise; he was apart from it. Dark hair cut close, lean build, hands moving with precise efficiency as he adjusted something under the seat. He had headphones in, the big over-ear kind that blocked everything else out.
“Is that Einstein?” Bree asked.
Hank followed her line of sight. “Yeah. Nate Eisen. Nobody calls him that to his face, by the way.”
“He looks… focused,” Bree said.
Focused wasn’t the word Hank would have used. Intense. Controlled. Dangerous in a way Marcus never managed to be.
“Those guys clown around,” Hank said, nodding toward the rest of the crew. “He doesn’t. In the last hour, every time something weird happens around them, he’s been touching the bike.”
Carmen looked toward the hotel, then to Bree. "I'm heading back to my room to change for dinner. I'll see you later?"
Bree nodded, "Sure."
Hank watched Carmen walk toward the hotel, avoiding the direction of the Red Dragons. He shook his head slightly, then turned toward the Red Dragons once more.
Brian folded his arms, watching Einstein. “You still think they cheated last year.”
