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.”
“I know they did,” Hank said quietly. “Proving it is another thing.”
Bree shifted a little closer. “How would someone even cheat at this? I mean, in a way that matters.”
Brian leaned a hip against the trailer. “Hidden nitrous, illegal mapping on the fuel injection, modified injectors, traction control tricks. Stuff that gives a burst of power when you need it.”
“That sounds… complicated,” Bree said.
“Einstein complicated,” Colby added.
Bree watched him for another long moment. The way his fingers moved along the frame. The way he checked the same section twice. The quick glance over his shoulder, like he was making sure nobody was too close. He didn’t see her; he probably didn’t see anything except the machine in front of him.
A little shiver ran through her.
Hank saw it.
“You cold?” he asked.
“A little creeped out,” she admitted. “He’s so still. Everything around him is chaos, and he’s just… zeroed in. It’s like watching a surgeon who doesn’t care what happens to the patient, only that the cut is clean.”
Brian raised his brows. “Remind me not to show you any surgical dramas.”
“It’s not that,” Bree hurried to say. “It’s just a feeling.”
“You should trust those,” Hank said. “They’re usually right.”
She looked up at him. “What’s yours say?”
He thought about lying. About soothing her, telling her everything was fine, that the race was safe, and the worst thing she had to worry about was sunburn.
“They’re desperate to keep winning,” he said instead. “Desperate men take shortcuts.”
Colby blew out a breath. “And shortcuts get people hurt.”
