“A fool, huh?”
Her gaze softens, and she folds her arms, looking so tiny in my sweatshirt, all I want to do is wrap her up and take her home. Instead, I spread my arms wide, and say, “You’ve got me all night, Little Thief.”
She looks me up and down, the same softness in her pretty gaze hitting me right between the ribs. “So, now I’m stealing your evening? Damn. Maybe I really am a thief.”
She has no idea.
My thoughts. My time. My logic. She has a way of taking it all, and for some reason I don’t understand, I’m happy to give it all.
I toss my arm around her, pulling her into my side. Surprisingly, she doesn’t protest. Instead, she melts against me, resting her head against my chest while stealing my warmth.
The roaring of engines grows closer as headlights cut through the abandoned airfield, highlighting cracked pavement, weeds, and cars parked along the edge of the makeshift track, including my own.
“Get ready,” I warn her. “They’re coming up on the turn.”
She sits up a little taller, watching the race unfold in front of us. The smell of burning rubber and fuel permeates the air as a blur of green and black comes into view. It showcases what I already knew. Roman’s sleek black Toyota Supra he built from the ground up battles Ford’s lime-green Jaguar F-Type R Coupe with a V8, while the rest of the racers fight for third place. It’s going to be a close one, too. Tires squealing, the drivers take the turn, the familiar drop and roar of the engines shifting from gear to gear. They push their cars to the limits on the long stretch in front of us, and Ford takes the lead while he has the advantage, knowing Roman’s Supra handles the turns better than his F-Type. As they race past, the air picks up around us, and Violet’s hair turns into a flurry of blonde, tickling my nose.
Her head snaps to her right. She follows the flash of cars until the roaring quiets, their brake lights disappearing aroundthe next turn. Then, the adrenaline from moments ago seems to evaporate, and Violet’s muscles melt back against me.
“Damn,” she murmurs.
I glance down at her.
“I mean, I figured they were fast, but…” She whistles. “That’s insane.”
“You have no idea,” I tell her.
“Do they always race against each other?” she prods. “Roman and Ford?”
“Not always. Racing is more of Ford’s thing. Rome’s more into the building aspect. He only races every once in a while.”
“Well, he killed it,” she says. “Obviously. How fast are they going?”
“Depends,” I answer. “Last time we clocked them, Rome’s car did a quarter mile in twelve point two seconds. And Ford?” I laugh. “He did it in eleven point five.”
Her eyes widen as she tries to wrap her head around the numbers I threw at her, though it’s impossible unless you’re behind the wheel. “So, Ford’s is faster?”
“Only on the straight,” I explain. “Rome’s car handles turns a little better, which makes a track like this fun to race on. Or so they say.” I shake my head again, imagining if the roles were reversed and I was out there with them. “Personally, I think they’re insane for being out there.”
Twisting to face me, Violet gives me a look that makes me feel like I’ve grown a second head. “I’m sorry, aren’t you the guy who legitimately fights forfun?” she quips.
She’s right. From the outside looking in, I seem just as delusional.
With another laugh, I lift a shoulder. “Guess we all have our vices.”
“Mm-hmm,” she agrees.
Little does she know, the more I hang around my Little Thief, the more I want to add her to my list of them.
34
JAGGER
Violet likes Disney movies. She also likes vodka with Red Bull. AsHerculesplays in the background, she forces me to take the test online to see which Disney character I am while we each take turns drinking her beverage. It’s our second one, and I’m pretty sure it has enough vodka to take out an elephant. Warmth spreads through my chest and along my limbs as I answer the last question. “There. Happy now?”
She scoots closer, perched on my couch like a little bird with her feet tucked under her ass, so she can see the results. After the car’s took their second lap during the race, Violet’s stomach grumbled, so I picked up some tacos and drove us back to my place.
“Called it.” She points to the screen, her breath fanning across the side of my face. “You, dear sir, are Li Shang.”
