Unofficially, everyone knew something had been off.
"You think they'll try the same crap this year?" Brian asked.
"Probably," Hank said. "But we'll be ready this time."
He hoped that was true. Last year, he'd been too focused on his own performance to pay attention to the politics and dirty tricks. This year, he couldn't afford that luxury. Not when so much was riding on this championship.
Across the lot, Marcus was holding court with his team, laughing loudly at something one of them said. When he caught Hank looking, he raised his hand in a mocking salute.
Hank turned away.
"Come on," he said to Brian and Colby. "Let's get back to work. We've got a championship to win, and they're not going to intimidate us out of it."
But as he walked back to Julie, he couldn't shake the weight that had settled in his chest. Team Red Dragon had resources he couldn't match, connections he didn't have, and apparently no qualms about bending or breaking rules to get what they wanted.
His dream of winning the championship, of proving himself, of escaping the shadows of his past, had just gotten a lot more complicated.
Chapter 5
Bree stood on her balcony, coffee mug cradled in both hands, watching the organized chaos unfold below. The racetrack stretched out beyond the hotel grounds, and even from this distance, she could see teams swarming around their vehicles like bees around a hive.
She'd woken to the sound of engines and voices, the peaceful morning she'd imagined shattered before she'd even opened her eyes. When she'd stepped onto the balcony, confused and still half-asleep, she'd realized what Blake had conveniently forgotten to mention.
The Copper Moon Cup was this weekend.
Her quiet retreat had turned into the epicenter of what appeared to be a major racing event, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.
A flash of movement caught her eye. Three men stood around a vintage motorcycle, their body language speaking of easy camaraderie and shared purpose. Even from here, she recognized the tallest one. The set of his shoulders, the way he moved with deliberate economy, the dark hair that needed a trim.
Hank.
Her stomach did an unexpected flip.
She'd thought about him more than she cared to admit since yesterday. The quiet intensity in his eyes when he'd made sure she was okay. The careful way he'd responded to her.
Now she watched him crouch beside the motorcycle, running his hand along something she couldn't see from this distance. One of his friends, the one with the ball cap, said something that made the other laugh, but Hank just shook his head, focused entirely on the bike.
She should go inside. Stop staring at a man she'd met once, briefly, under embarrassing circumstances. She had coffee to drink, breakfast to eat, and a day to plan that didn't involve watching strangers work.
Except he wasn't quite a stranger anymore, was he?
Bree took a sip of coffee, annoyed with herself. She'd come here to heal, to find the peace Bryn had always described when she talked about Copper Moon. She hadn't come here to develop an inconvenient fascination with a man who probably hadn't thought about her once since yesterday.
Hank straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans, and said something to his friends. They nodded, and all three turned toward a convoy of black trucks that had just pulled into the lot. Even from her balcony, Bree could feel the shift in atmosphere. The playful energy around Hank's team vanished, replaced by something harder.
Tense.
The new team piled out of their trucks with theatrical precision, all matching uniforms and swagger. The leader, a man with dark hair and sunglasses despite the early hour, surveyed the lot like he owned it.
When his gaze landed on Hank, Bree's hands tightened on her mug.
She couldn't hear what was said, but she saw Hank's friend grab his shoulder, saw the careful way Hank kept his hands loose at his sides. The other team's leader said something else, laughed, and turned away.
Hank stood there for a moment, his jaw tight, before his friends pulled him back toward their bike.
Bree's chest ached with an emotion she couldn't quite name. Something about the way Hank had held himself, controlled and contained, reminded her of the way he'd been yesterday. Careful. Guarded. Like a man who'd learned the hard way not to let people see too much.
Her stomach growled, loud enough to break through her thoughts. She glanced at her watch and realized she'd been standing here for nearly thirty minutes, watching Hank work and ignoring her own needs.
