“No, his cap is pulled too low. Could be anyone. But he’s done this before,” she adds. “He’s fast. Confident.”
“What’re we gonna do?” Lane asks, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“You guys? Nothing. This isn’t on-brand for the Campus Drivers,” Amy says, her sideswipe catching Lane off guard.
I glance at her. I knowexactlywho that low blow was aimed at.
Though I can feel Lane’s eyes on me, I keep mine locked on Firebird.
“I’ll give Bright a call,” RJ muses. “This only happened today. We still have a shot at tracking it down.”
“Who’s Bright?” I ask.
“You don’t need to know.”
RJ doesn’t look up, so I don’t push it. I don’t care how he does it—all I care about is getting my Dodge back in one piece.
“Wait.” Amy’s voice rings out, and RJ pauses.
Slowly, we all look over at Firebird.
“No.” RJ frowns. “I know what you’re thinking, but let me handle this, Amy.”
“Wait,” she says again, staring him straight in the eye.
“Come on…” RJ shakes his head. “Let’s try keeping this low-key for now. Maybe it has nothing to do with that.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Just give me a minute before you wheel Bright in—just a minute to find out what’s coming up in the next few days. Draw their attention, and we’re screwed.”
“Sure you want to get involved?”
Don leans over to whisper in my ear. “What the hell is going on?”
“No fucking idea.”
Amy eyeballs us before turning back to RJ. “I’m sure.”
Fishing her phone out of her back pocket, she drifts off down tothe back of the shop. She’s too far away for me to make out what she’s saying, but I can’t help watching her pace back and forth.
“What’s she doing?” I ask RJ.
“Just trust her.” He shrugs. “If anyone can dig up the dirt, it’s her.” He sneaks a look at me. “I know about Worthington, by the way, and I know things are shitty between you two. But it looks like she still cares about helping you out—and believe me when I say that Amy’s help is pretty much priceless.”
He shoots me a hard look, and I feel almost guilty for lashing out at her the other day.
“What is he even talking about?” Lane wants to know.
When I don’t answer, Adam goes in hard.
“What’s going on with Firebird, man?”
RJ at least has the decency to look apologetic. “Damn. I thought you’d told them.”
“Didn’t get around to it. And anyway—now’s not the time.”
I drain the last of my beer, and when I look back up, Amy is standing over me.
“Okay, so those two options you mentioned? It’s not Bright. Which means the car got stolen by an option two,” she says flatly.
