She smiled, eyes stinging in the best way.
“I think we've got one,” she said. “Maybe more than one.”
“Good,” Hank said, settling deeper into the pillows and pulling her close. “Because I am not done writing it with you.”
For the first time since Bryn’s death, Bree believed that might be true.
And that belief, fragile and fierce, felt like its own kind of victory.
Chapter 14
Hank sat in a plastic chair that had seen better days, trying not to bounce his knee.
The conference room at race control, which was in the back of a garage near the water, smelled like burnt coffee, dry-erase marker, and the faint lingering tang of race fuel that seemed to seep into everything at Copper Moon. A wall-mounted TV looped slow-motion highlights of the Cup finish on mute; his own number flashed past every few seconds, which was surreal in this setting.
Across the table, Mac, the head tech inspector, flipped through a stack of forms. Beside him sat a woman from series operations with a tablet, a man in a sponsor golf shirt whose smile never quite reached his eyes, and Sergeant Diaz from Copper Moon PD.
On Hank’s side of the table, Brian slouched with deceptive ease, arms folded, while Colby sat very straight, hands laced, gaze sharp.
“Let’s pick this up,” Mac said, tapping the top sheet. “We’ve documented the equipment found on Marcus Stoke’s primary bike and taken statements from his crew. I’d like to get yours on record now.”
Hank nodded. “Sure.”
Mac clicked his pen. “Walk us through when you first suspected the Red Dragons might be running something illegal.”
Hank thought about Bree, sketchbook clutched to her chest, eyes wide and certain as she described Einstein’s hands closing around a dull silver cylinder. His gut tightened.
“I’ve been around racing my whole life,” he said. “You hear things. The Dragons have always pushed the gray areas. Aggressive mapping, borderline fuel mixes. This weekend, some of their speed did not line up with what I was feeling on my own bike or what I was seeing from other top guys. I talked with Brian and Colby, and we decided it was worth asking tech to give them a closer look.”
Mac’s gaze searched his face. “On what grounds?”
“Pattern of behavior,” Hank said. “How they treated access to the bike. The way Einstein worked. It felt like they were guarding something. I couldn’t ignore it and still sleep at night.”
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. It was the version that protected the woman upstairs, who had already risked more than he liked.
Brian chimed in. “We didn’t point fingers and walk away. Colby came to you, Mac. Respectfully. All we asked was that you run the book on them, like you ran it on us.”
Mac’s mouth twitched. “Appreciated. For the record, Copper Moon Performance’s bike passed with flying colors.”
The sponsor rep cleared his throat. “We’re not here to re-litigate the Stoke situation.” His tone was smooth, but it still made Hank’s hackles rise. “Our concern is the integrity of the series moving forward. We can’t afford a narrative that this is a den of cheaters.”
Diaz rested her forearms on the table, expression calm and unbothered. “You can’t afford bikes exploding under riders either. Let’s keep perspective.”
The man’s jaw worked, but he shut up.
Diaz turned her attention to Hank. “From what my officers heard in the paddock, there was a previous… altercation between you and Marcus. Any chance this was personal?”
Hank held her gaze. “Marcus tried to run me wide in practice and nearly put me into the wall. He plays dirty on the track. I don’t like that. But I didn’t ask tech to strip his bike because of a grudge. I did it because I saw enough off-notes to know the song was wrong. And what difference does it make if it's personal? They were trying to cheat. Doesn’t make it okay because I don't like Marcus.”
Mac grunted. “That hidden bottle wasn’t a home game hack. Whoever plumbed it in knew exactly what they were doing. Clean install. Proper routing. Right materials. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I might’ve missed it too.”
Brian made a disgusted sound. “So you’re saying there’s a professional business in the ‘make your bike into a rolling grenade’ field.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mac said. “Back when I worked Supercross, we had a guy doing illegal ECU flashes on three continents before we shut him down.”
The operations woman swiped on her tablet. “Our preliminary assessment is that the nitrous system was fitted off-site by a specialist, not installed by Einstein alone. He doesn’t have the background for that level of work.”
Diaz nodded. “We picked him up on charges related to the illegal equipment, but he’s already out on bail. His lawyer is claiming he was following marching orders and didn’t know the full extent of the risk. Heidi Renner’s calling this a smear campaign. Their sponsors are… concerned.”
