“Five! Four!”
His tongue found mine and we kissed open-mouthed and hungry, my hands running over the muscles of his arms. God, I wanted this man. I needed him. Why wouldn’t he let me know that final part of him, the part he hated so much?
He reluctantly released me as the crowd yelled, “Three! Two! One!”
I opened my eyes and turned to look just as Ox roared away in a cloud of tire smoke. Everyone else coughed and turned away but, me being me, I inhaled it like it was nectar. Burnt rubber. Oil and gasoline. And—
I blinked. And then tore away from Carrick and ran to the start line as Ox disappeared into the distance. He caught up to me as I squatted down right where Ox’s bike had been and fingered the ground. “What is it?” he asked.
I wiped the clear liquid off the pavement and put my fingers right under my nose to check I was right. But I knew that smell anywhere. I’d smelled it when we’d been working on Hunter’s bike, checking the oil and the tranny fluid and the—
“Brake fluid,” I croaked in horror. I grabbed Carrick’s wrist. “Someone messed with Ox’s bike!”
34
Carrick
I ran for my bike. Annabelle was smart enough that she didn’t ask to come with me. She knew I’d ride faster on my own. But even going flat-out, could I catch him?
My bike was parked at the side of the road but it had been swallowed up by the crowd. I had to yell and curse at people before they jumped back out of the way. Then I had to start her and get her pointed in the right direction. Come on! COME ON!
I tore off down the mountain road, crossing the start line and whipping past a terrified-looking Annabelle. Her face was begging me: please.
Please don’t let Ox die.
Because that was what was going to happen here. He’d pick up more and more speed going down the mountain, trying to beat his fucking record. And then he’d reach for his brakes and nothing would happen and he’d slam into a tree doing ninety.
My stomach tightened. Not Ox. What had Annabelle called him? A gentle giant. Well, maybe she didn’t know him like I did but he was a far more decent guy than I was. Not Ox. Please not Ox.
I sped around the first corner as fast as I dared. My heart was thundering in my chest. The enormity of what I had to do was just sinking in: Ox was racing, trying to get down the mountain as fast as possible. His bike was more powerful, faster on the straights. And he had a head start. The only way I could catch him was to go suicidally fast on the corners.
I leaned the bike all the way over for the next bend and sped round it doing fifty. The spectators lining the route looked up, astonished, then gave me a cheer.
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I could still smell Ox’s exhaust in the air but he was still out of sight. He can’t be that far ahead, I told myself. Please. Maybe he’s slow this year. Then I rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of him: five turns ahead and going faster than I would have thought possible. “OX!” I yelled, and honked my horn. But I knew he wouldn’t hear me over the bellow of his engine.
He knew the road better than I did, knew every twist and incline. The only way I stood a chance was to take chances he wouldn’t. I twisted the throttle and flew around the next corner at nearly seventy.
I could feel the bike fighting me like a nervous horse: the speed was just too much for the tight bends and downhill grade. And every cell in my body, every hour in the saddle I’d racked up, was screaming at me to slow down!
I sped up.
Each corner was a nerve-shredding, tire-squealing slide, now. Cold sweat was creeping down my neck, soaking my t-shirt. Jesus, this is insane. But I wasn’t going to let him die. Not Ox. I could feel that psycho Volos’s presence looming over the mountain. He’d done this. He was trying to rip our club apart in the most painful way possible, by murdering one of our brothers. No. Not Ox!
Slowly, very slowly, I started to reel him in. I could smell the rubber I was leaving on the road as the bike fought for grip and I was leaning so far over on each bend that my knees almost brushed the asphalt.
Then I cut a corner a little too tight and the wheels hit loose dirt. The handlebars went light and my stomach lurched into my throat. I went sideways towards one of the crash barriers: I’d smack into it, cartwheel and fall a hundred feet down the mountain before I hit anything else—
Then the tires found purchase and I shot forward. And now I was close enough to call to Ox. Panting and shaky, I yelled as hard as I could. “OOOX!”
He turned and, even from that distance, I could feel him frowning. I was messing up his time.
I raised my hand and frantically mimed slashing my throat. “STOP!”