There’s a sound … a tapping. My heartrate picks up. I attempt to move, but my wrists are bound in my lap. A thick cable tie chains me to the racing harness that’s clicked in place, locking me to my seat.
‘Shit,’ I breathe, jerking against the binds as everything comes into focus.
I make out the centre console and the dash, along with all the gadgets decorating it. Tachometer. Data monitors. RPM window switch. The smell of oil invades my senses next. The shapes form, and VTEC logos plaster everything, right down to the bucket seat my ass is in. I’m in Erik’s Civic.
I squint, trying to see through the tinted glass. Outside, there are pillars and the ground is stained with the burns of tyres, lit only by the flickering fluorescents. We’re still at the drift track, and my heart sinks when I spot my banged-up Mustang.
‘Ahh, you’re awake.’
I freeze. From the corner of my eye, I see Erik’s form in the driver’s seat beside me. One arm is flopped over the steering wheel, fingers tapping on the dash. I take in his dishevelled brassy hair with its thick stripe of mousy brown regrowth, his pale blue polo tucked into khaki shorts.
‘Good. You had me worried for a second. This won’t work without you.’ He winks. The bruises across his face from the fight a week ago have taken on a yellowish hue. ‘I’m glad you’re okay, skirt.’
Sweeping the interior, I look for an exit. Anything. The doors aren’t locked, but I won’t be getting far while I’m attached to a seatbelt. I need to get out of these ties first. I need to keep him distracted.
‘I’m flattered,’ I seethe.
‘Oh, don’t mistake it for care,’ he corrects. ‘I’m glad you’re okay because you’re needed for my plan.’
The cable tie is only looped through the lap belt. It’s a quick-release system. I could—
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Erik says, his voice low and unpleasant.
I’ve never believed in an eye for an eye or revenge. But now, with Erik here in front of me, knowing he’ll never quit? I could kill him now and sleep like a baby.
‘Why are you doing this? The Mustang’s no good now, it may as well be in pieces.’
‘Not yet. But don’t worry, it will be soon enough. Valuable pieces, too. It may not be worth as much as it would be top-notch, but I’ll take whatever I can get.’
Tears well in my eyes. That car was everything to Pa. To Jace. To me.
‘Why didn’t you just stay away?’
‘Moi?’ He acts shocked. ‘No, mon amie. No, no, no. It isn’t me. It’s you. Why should I stay away from Booker Bay … this is just too much fun. You see, your pesky biker boy has been following me for years. It was fun at first, and I’ve enjoyed tormenting him and his posse. Now, though, I’m getting sick of it. My race meets are taking off, cars are getting easier to steal and I can earn decent cash. So I need a clear run. I can’t afford any more of these disturbances.’
His voice frays the ends of my nerves. I try to wiggle free from the restraints again, but they just get tighter. All I can do is stare as he shifts in his seat and slithers closer, making the hairs on my arms stand up. He comes nose to nose with me, gripping my chin roughly with cold fingers. ‘So, you’re gonna get Edwards to stop.’
He flips the lid of the centre console and pulls out a silver chrome mask. He turns it over in his hands, a wicked grin plastered across his smug face. Then he places the mask over my face.
‘Who would have thought something that looks like it came from the dollar store would scare you so much, skirt? You were really scared in the haunted house. I thought you were going to pass out. These masks aren’t cheap to make, either. Lucky I had a few spare after I dropped that one at the vet. I wanted to see if you’d remember after all these years. Then you had your guy fucking chase me.’ He caressesthe side of my face, the back of his palm gliding along the mask, like he’s placating a child.
So was Erik the one wearing the trench coat we saw running away? But Ryker didn’t chase him … Erik also slipped me the drift address just moments before, and he wasn’t wearing a fucking coat then … why would he put it on and come back? When I say nothing, Erik continues, ‘Now, about your pesky boyfriend—’
‘You brought all this on yourself. You sent them the text messages!’ I accuse him. ‘You murdered Jace! Why?’
Erik tuts, gripping my hair and pulling my head back. ‘See, why’d you have to say something stupid like that? I was gonna let you live. But I can’t have loose ends.’
He removes the mask from my face and the next thing I feel is cold metal pressing into the middle of my forehead. I whimper. He wasn’t tapping his fingers on the dash, he was tapping a gun, and now its muzzle is pressed against my skin. I hold my breath, frozen, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He doesn’t say anything. The next thing out of his mouth is raucous, out-of-control laughter.
When the sick sound dies out, he says, ‘You can thank your biker boyfriend for what happened. If he’d just gotten on his own bike, you’d still have your older brother.’
‘But why?’ I ask, my voice gravelly.
‘The rivalry, of course.’
What the fuck?Jace died because of something so fucking petty. ‘Are you kidding?’ I cry, but I’m quickly silenced when the muzzle of the gun nudges my skin deeper.
‘Well, you see, I had a chance to impress some NBA scouts. But this happened to be the game where we lost by forfeit.’
