That was all Bree needed.
“I think I will,” she said. “Fresh air. And quieter company.”
Carmen looped a strand of hair behind her ear. “Totally understand. Want me to walk you out?”
Bree almost said yes, but the instinct hit hard and fast: Don’t.
Carmen loved her sister fiercely. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt Bree, but loyalty was loyalty. If she knew Bree had seen something suspicious, even the smallest detail, she’d have to choose a side — and it wouldn’t be Bree’s.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Bree said lightly. “Just need a breather.”
Carmen nodded and looked relieved that she wasn’t abandoning Heidi in the middle of her meltdown. “Okay. Text me if you want company.”
“I will,” Bree lied gently.
She eased away from the thrumming chaos, drifting backward until the Red Dragons’ pit fell behind her. The music diminished. The voices dropped to murmurs. By the time she reached the open space between trailers, she could finally think.
Her pulse still thrummed like a hummingbird under her ribs.
She didn’t fully understand what she’d seen, but she knew — with the same certainty she knew color theory and line weight — that something had been hidden, wired, disguised.
Hank would know the difference between equipment and something meant to tilt the odds.
And he would take her seriously.
She angled toward his pit, scanning instinctively for his height, his shoulders, the way he moved. He wasn’t there yet; only Brian and Colby worked quietly at the bench, the air calm and controlled.
Bree paused several steps away, letting her breath settle. She didn’t want the panic in her voice when she talked to Hank. She wanted clarity and wanted him to hear the detail, not her fear.
Her heartbeat finally slowed. Just enough.
Across the pits, someone revved an engine, and someone else shouted. Bree barely registered it. The hidden cylinder and the twitch of the gauge when Einstein pressed the horn consumed her thoughts.
This time, when she looked toward Hank’s pit, she saw movement.
Hank. Tall. Focused. Eyes scanning automatically for her even before he saw her.
And when he did see her, he started toward her without hesitation.
Relief flooded her so fast her knees almost gave out.
She tightened her grip on the sketchbook and met him halfway.
“Hank,” she said, keeping her voice steady by sheer force of will. “I need to tell you something.”
And she knew, with complete certainty, he was the only person she could trust with it.
Chapter 11
Hank came out of the riders’ meeting with a headache starting behind his right eye.
Gearing charts, fuel windows, last-minute schedule changes; they all rolled through his brain in tight formation. The late light off the water bounced off the trailers, sharp enough that he had to squint as he stepped back into the pits.
Noise wrapped around him; engines coughing and clearing their throats, an air gun barking in short bursts, Brian’s laugh carrying over the clatter for a second before it got swallowed up again.
He checked his phone out of habit.
No new messages from Bree.
