I follow her instructions, shooting Amy a sideways glance as I fumble in the compartment.
“Should I be worried? This is giving army vibes. What does it do?”
“It’s just backup, that’s all. Hand me the mic and make it so he can’t see what’s going on.”
I watch as she brings the mic to her lips.
“Hitman, here on the starting line.West loop.All clear—for now, anyway. Stay on standby. Over.”
A series of muffled barks come spitting out of the receiver, and Istare at her. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, Amy finds a new way to blow my freaking mind.Now what?
She drops the handset in my lap, and a yelp breaks out somewhere above me. I turn to look at the commotion. There’s a guy standing square in front of the two cars, a stereo propped on his shoulder. He cranks up the volume, grinding his hips, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
“Who the hell is that?”
“That’d be the starter.”
“For real? Where are the half-naked girls? Disgrace, dude!”
“Mind shutting the hell up? You’re throwing me off.” Amy frowns.
She has a point. I’ve got a way of cracking jokes when I’m stressed—call it nervous energy.
The Dodge starts revving, and the Pontiac echoes in kind, Amy’s knuckles blanching as she grips and releases the steering wheel. I sneak a glance at her. She’s staring straight ahead, eyes unblinking.
I’m adjusting my helmet, when the starter guy lowers the stereo down in front of him, and my heart skips a beat.
Here we go. Here we fucking go.
I snap the strap into place, and my pulse is wild, my teeth chattering in my head, when suddenly he lifts the boom box over his head and adrenaline goes coursing through my body as Firebird slams her foot down on the accelerator.
The screeching tires are deafening, the crowd running wild, the night sky filling with shrieks and screams. The two cars go streaming down the track side by side, and I gnaw on my cheek as my Dodge drifts dangerously close to the Pontiac.
My eyes widen, locked so hard on my baby it feels like I’m about to bust a vein. Our wing mirrors are in brushing distance. One wrong move, and the Dodge is toast. I don’t care how this race ends, who wins, or what the stakes are—once we’re done here, that guy is history.
“Shit, watch out!”
“Shut up! I’m gonna let him pull ahead—quit your whining.”
“You get this is more important than actual life itself, right?”
I watch as the Dodge roars ahead of us, and my gut twists. Seeing this loser gain ground like that sickens me to my core, and Amy’s picking up on it loud and clear.
“Don’t worry. Let him think he’s winning, and he’ll ease up. These guys are all the same. Just when he’s relaxed… that’s when I’ll screw him hard.”
Interesting.
I nod, only half convinced. I’m not going to feel okay until I see him trailing in the dust—ideally, clutching his nose.
Tyler hammers down on the horn, once and then a second time.
I glance nervously at Amy. “Why is he— Fuck! Stay clear!”
A souped-up pickup comes reversing out of an alleyway, its tail suddenly looming before us, and when Firebird yanks us to the right, my mind is blown. She’s got the reflexes of a goddess.
“Motherfucker!” she barks, pulling up alongside Tyler.
“You think that was him? How’d he pull that off on such short notice?”
