Page 14 of Austin

I peer up at Bryce for a second before reading the next line.

ONE DEAD AFTER UNDERGROUND STREET RACING STUNT

My mouth is dry as I read through the email from one of our editors. It seems that, after the police showed up last night and the mob dissipated, a driver plowed his car headfirst into a freeway underpass as he tried to get away.

I look at the name of the victim—Tyler Renshaw.

My stomach drops, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Last time I saw the guy, I was screaming at him for shining the light and giving us a false start race. Now, he’s fucking dead because he was just trying to get home.

I try to control my emotions as I look back at Bryce. He doesn’t seem to be affected by my reaction to the article.

“Turn your phone on. I bet Gregg’s been trying to get ahold of you all morning.” He stands behind his desk, resting his palms on the table, towering over me. “Our own newspaper is running with that as their lead story tomorrow. They just sent that to me from their morning rundown meeting. You gonna try telling me you had nothing to do with what happened last night?”

It takes me a minute to gather my thoughts, but I finally choke out, “I’ll make an anonymous donation to his family and make sure they’re taken care of. They shouldn’t have to be financially burdened in their time of grief.”

“I told you, the racing has to stop!” He paces his office. “This is the kind of thing that’s going to cause us to lose our company.”

Mom was a smart woman when she willed her shares to us and not father. Her only mistake was stipulating that, if we were convicted of a crime before we turned thirty-five, those shares would be given to our father for him to decide our future in the company.

We were teenagers when she had her will rewritten. She knew the troubles young men with money could find themselves in and wanted a way to keep us on the straight and narrow should we ever find ourselves in positions of power at a young age.

What she didn’t know was that her good-for-nothing husband would remarry and to a vindictive woman who held no pride or heritage in this company.

“It will never happen.”

He leans forward, his hands splayed on the desk, dramatically holding his weight up, as he seethes, “Stop teetering on the edge of losing everything she worked for. Everything I’m working to keep!”

I slam my fist onto the desk, seriously wishing it were Bryce’s face. There are a million fucking things I want to say—about racing, about my own love for this company that I don’t even want to work at, about how much I miss her—but he doesn’t want to hear any of it.

I point to the paper. “That crash happened on the way to the freeway. It had nothing to do with the race.”

“That’s not how the mayor of Oakland sees it. He’s calling for a citywide manhunt for the men who orchestrate these races. That’s you, Austin. You and Gregg are in deep shit. I can’t help Gregg, but I sure as shit have to make sure you stay out of this. The mayor wants the street racing to stop, and so do I. Who knows you were there last night?”

“No one,” I say quickly and then halt.

The vision of a beautiful brunette with hazel eyes and a quick mouth comes into memory.

She knows I was there.

He must see my hesitation because he growls, “Who?”

“I said, no one.” I grind my teeth.

The last thing I need is him tracking down this girl just to prove his point that I’m careless. Plus, I don’t want her involved. It’s bad enough that dick Beckett brought her to the race and gave her up like a chump. If she’s brought into this, she’ll only be ensnared in Sexton family drama, full of hush-money payouts.

Not that I should care about her. She was a royal pain in my ass. I had to beg multiple times to get back in the damn car when she’d rather walk up and down the crime-ridden streets of Oakland by herself at night.

She might have seen my face, but judging from her reaction, she had no idea who I was. She’s probably forgotten what I look like already anyway.

I’m about to open my mouth and tell Bryce he needs to mind his own goddamn business when his office door opens, and the room suddenly fills with the overpowering aroma of peaches. Normally the smell stems bad memories through my body, but for the first time other things are coming to mind.

A woman’s voice says from behind me, “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Bryce waves the woman in. “Come in. Now’s as good a time as any. Just please knock next time. I was finishing up a conversation with my brother. Austin, meet my new assistant … I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”

I laugh out loud at the level of pompousness my brother has reached.

“Well, my brother might not have the decency to remember your name, but I …” I turn around to shake hands with his new assistant and come face-to-face with her.