I packed up my toolbox and put it in the trunk. Owen slid behind the steering wheel and started up the car, his headlights lighting up Iris and Seb in front of it.
He revved the engine, making Seb jump.
I yanked open the passenger door and dropped into the bucket seat. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Don’t know any other way to be,” he said. “It’s my burden to bear.”
“Yeah, right, you’re really suffering,” I said as he shifted the car into reverse and shot out of the storage unit. He whipped thewheel to the right, barely missing Monarch’s fender, making me cringe, and shifted gears to speed toward the exit.
“Once we’re on the highway, I’m gonna open this fucker up and make sure that nitrous oxide injector worked.”
I placed a hand on the dash as he accelerated well beyond the speed limit, even on residential streets.
“Slow the fuck down before you kill a pedestrian,” I said. “It’s risky to use the nitrous oxide too many times. It’ll put strain on the engine.”
He eased up on the gas pedal a smidge but shot me a glare. “Are you telling me I can’t eventestit?”
Ideally, I’d want to test any repair I made. I’d cut this one too close to the wire, though.
“If you use it now, you risk damaging your car before you ever race.”
He swore and slapped the steering wheel. “What the fuck, man?”
“The system requires a precise fuel-to-nitrous mixture. Even if you’ve got enough fuel to manage that, your engine generates extra heat during a nitrous oxide run.”
“So I could overheat,” he said.
“Yep. Plus, it’s going to strain your engine. You don’t want to prolong that. I did a tune-up to be sure your car could handle the stress, but you don’t want to overdo it.”
“Great,” he said sarcastically.
Owen couldn’t use the nitrous oxide, but that didn’t stop him from flooring the floor pedal on the highway. There was very little traffic on a Thursday night, and he let out a whoop as the needle hit 100 miles per hour.
I laughed, exhilarated by the speed and the wind whipping through the rolled-down windows.
“This is just a taste of what racing is like!” Owen called over the wind noise.
Adrenaline shot through me, and there was no denying I liked the thrill of all that speed. But it wasn’t about controlling the machine for me; it was about creating it.
“This baby is driving smooth as hell,” Owen said as he finally slowed down. “What did you do?”
I grinned. “Just a few tweaks to enhance performance.”
“Fuck, I wish I was gay so I could kiss you,” he joked.
“Then I’d have to kick your ass.”
“You?” Owen chuckled. “Not your boyfriend?”
“He could break you without trying,” I said. “But I’d save him the trouble.”
Owen laughed. “Harsh, man! Harsh.”
It was true, though. I’d never put Flynn in the position of using violence for my sake again. Not after what he’d been through. Not knowing the guilt he still carried.
But I’d happily smack the smirk off Owen’s face if he gave me reason to.
Owen took a few turns down dirt roads, and eventually, we emerged onto a rural blacktop highway that was less traveled. A few cars had parked haphazardly along the shoulders of the road.
