Mostly.
He stopped just outside their line. They’d strung red caution tape in a neat rectangle, stakes hammered into the hard-packed sand. A sign on one post read, “Crew Only”.
Carmen saw him first. Relief washed over her face, quick and unguarded.
“Hank,” she called. “Hey.”
Bree turned. Her eyes widened when she saw him; surprise, a flicker of guilt, then something warmer that hit him square in the chest.
Marcus pivoted lazily, then smiled, all teeth.
“Hank James,” he said. “What a coincidence. I was just getting to know your friend.”
“Yeah,” Hank said. “I saw.”
He kept his gaze on Bree, not Marcus. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face. “Carmen brought me over to see the other side of things.”
“So she could see how a real team operates,” Heidi added.
Up close, Heidi was all sharp angles and shine; glossy black hair, red lipstick, a tank top that showed off toned arms, and a lot of skin. She swung her leg again, the movement deliberate.
Carmen shot her a look. “Heidi.”
“What?” Heidi spread her hands. “It’s true. Some people like vintage. Some people like winning.”
“That must be why you’re here watching us,” Hank said mildly. “Research.”
A few of the Red Dragons’ crew snickered. Marcus’s smile tightened a fraction of an inch.
Bree pressed her lips together, fighting a smile of her own.
“You’re welcome to look around,” Marcus said. “We don’t have anything to hide.”
Except you do, Hank thought, but he didn’t say it. Not yet.
He shifted his weight, the ache in his leg reminding him to keep it short. “Bree, Colby’s got some telemetry he wanted to show you. Thought you might want the data for painting the lines around the track.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Colby had mentioned something like that. He just hadn’t intended to use it as an extraction tool.
Bree hesitated, glancing between him and Carmen. “We were just…”
* * *
“She was just about to come with me,” Carmen said firmly. “We’ve got that thing, remember?”
Heidi rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, you two are so dramatic. We’re not savages. We’re just fast.”
“And loud,” Carmen said. “And one of you almost took my head off with a flying socket ten minutes ago.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” one of the crew muttered.
Bree shifted her sketchbook under her arm. “I appreciate the tour, Heidi. Marcus. But I should go see what Hank and his team are up to.”
Marcus studied her for a second longer than Hank liked. “Suit yourself. The offer stands. You want to ride with a winning team; you know where to find us.”
She smiled, polite and distant. “I’m not here to ride with anyone. I’m just here to paint.”
