But Zara is stationary at this point, and the pavement is so slippery that the dirt bike loses traction and falls sideways.
The rider clad in black leather hits the wet pavement. The impact is hard enough to knock the wind out of them but not hard enough to cause more than a couple of scratches.
Thank fuck they had the good sense to slow down when they saw that the Ducati wasn’t where they expected it to be.
Ares and I dismount our bikes, running to the wreckage before the mystery rider can get back on their feet.
“Ouch.”
Their pained voice tells me that I was right. I bend over to grab their arm both to help them get up and to keep them from running. Even though I doubt they would go anywhere. Severalcops are running toward us from their posts around various sections of the racetrack.
Ares grabs their other arm. “This was your last race, asshole.” He grunts, tightening his grip when our prisoner struggles against us in the hopes of breaking free.
Chapter 28
Judgement Day
ARES
This is it.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since the worst day of my life two years ago.
“This was your last race, asshole.” I grunt, tightening my hold on them when they shove against me and Lev.
As I look at the person whose actions took away so much from me and my family, I think that this guy doesn’t look like much of a threat after all.
He’s shorter than I expected, and his build is much slighter than I thought it would be.
“Take off your helmet and look in my eyes, man to man. Tell me who put you up to trying to hurt my girlfriend. Explain to me and my family why my brother died.”
He shakes his head. Fucking coward.
“Do you think you have any choice? Lev, make sure he doesn’t run.” I let go of his arm, reaching for the strap securing his helmet under his chin.
“No, please don’t.” He cries when I unfasten the clap.
I hesitate just for a second. That voice. I know that voice.
A curtain of blonde curls tumbles out of the helmet as I lift it off his head. Or should I say, her head?
I wasn’t wrong. I would recognize that voice anywhere. I’ve been hearing for most of my life.
“Heather?” I blink repeatedly, as if the action could change the image my eyes are sending to my brain. “What the fuck? What are you doing here? Is this a prank? This isn’t possible.”
Fuck.
If I weren’t so shocked that I can barely breathe, I’d think right now I sound just like my dad.
“No, it isn’t a prank.” Lev says, his tone as bleak as I feel. “It was always Heather. At least I’m one hundred percent sure it has always been her on the dirt bike. I assume it was her on Fox’s bike in Bridgeport too.”
No, this can’t be true.
“I don’t understand. Why? And how did you know?” The last question is for Lev, and he’s way more forthcoming than Heather.
“I didn’t until a few moments ago. Since the first time the dirt bike came out during the races on campus, something was bothering me. There was something that looked familiar, like some kind of déjà vu. I couldn’t work out what it was; it was torturing me until I saw that dirt bike again today, and I remembered.”
Zara has set her Ducati on its stand and has come to stand by us. Her beautiful face is as grief stricken as I feel deep inside.
