“For you, sure,” Bree said. “What’s up?”
Carmen glanced toward the elevator, then back. “Heidi’s having a moment. A loud, dramatic, potentially wardrobe-related moment. I could use a sane person with eyes who isn’t invested in making Marcus look like a god.”
Bree blinked. “That’s a very specific request.”
“It really is.” Carmen sighed. “She wants a neutral opinion on the suit designs, and I’m apparently biased because I don’t worship at the Red Dragon altar.”
You mean you don’t drool over men who almost decapitate you with loose tools?” Bree asked.
Carmen snorted. “Exactly. Please come. You’ll be my excuse to escape if it goes nuclear. I’ll owe you.”
Bree thought of Hank’s text, of the warning stitched inside the concern. Stick with Brian or Colby. The pits. Needs guarding.
She’d promised.
“Give me thirty seconds,” she said.
Carmen nodded and leaned against the doorframe while Bree grabbed her sketchbook and a light hoodie. As she slid her phone into her back pocket, the image of Einstein’s bowed head and busy hands flitted through her mind, paired with Hank’s quiet certainty that something about the Red Dragons wasn’t right.
Maybe seeing them up close wasn’t the worst idea.
They walked together down the hallway and took the stairs instead of the elevator. The stairwell smelled faintly of concrete dust and salt air. Carmen moved like someone who’d spent years assessing exits and angles, her hand brushing the railing, her gaze tracking automatically to each landing.
“You sure you’re okay being down there?” Carmen asked as they pushed through the ground-floor door into the lobby. “The pits are loud and full of testosterone.”
“I survived dealing with Marcus,” Bree said. “I think I can handle some engine noise.”
Carmen’s mouth twisted. “It’s not the engines I worry about.”
Outside, the late afternoon sun had mellowed, leaving Copper Moon in that soft between-light that painters loved. Long shadows stretched from the trailers and tents; everything looked edged in gold. The crowd that had packed the boardwalk earlier had thinned a little, some people drifting up toward the hotel, others toward their respective hotels.
The pits were still busy.
Engines sounded from different corners, sharply distinct notes like voices in a choir. Wrenches clinked. An air gun rattled in short bursts. The tang of fuel layered over salt and sunscreen.
Carmen wove through the maze of trailers with the ease of someone who’d done it a dozen times. Bree stayed tight to her side, careful not to cross any painted lines without invitation, aware of how many strangers’ eyes tracked new movement on autopilot.
They passed Hank’s pit. Julie sat on her stand like a coiled spring, gleaming. Colby was hunched over the laptop again, Brian nowhere in sight.
Bree’s stride hitched.
Carmen noticed. “Want to stop?” she asked quietly.
“In a minute,” Bree said. “If I see him now, I’ll be tempted to stay. You said Heidi needed you.”
Carmen made a noncommittal sound. “Heidi thinks she needs everyone.”
The Red Dragons’ setup came into view a moment later. Their hauler loomed behind the pits, glossy black with a stylized red dragon curling along the side. The logo wrapped around the back doors, teeth bared, eyes narrowed.
Music pumped from speakers set on the tailgate of a pickup, some pounding rock song with a driving beat. Two girls in crop tops and cutoffs leaned against the truck, talking to one of the younger crew members, who puffed up visibly with every laugh he earned.
Closer to the bikes, the mood was less playful.
Heidi stood in the center of the taped-off area, holding a glossy red-and-black leather suit up to her body as if she were in a fitting room that had lost its walls. Her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp, and the words coming out of her mouth sounded like they’d been honed on glass.
“It’s wrong,” she snapped. “The lines are wrong, the shoulders are too wide, and if Marcus leans in the way he rides, the colors are going to warp. It’ll look like a cheap knockoff on camera.”
The man she was chewing out wore a polo shirt with a small manufacturer logo at the collar and carried a tablet. He looked sweaty and miserable.
