Supercharged Love(27)
The Mustang hits the back panel as he comes out of the turn behind me and I feel the back of the Subaru start to fishtail. Gripping the wheel, I fight to control it while accelerating in a bid to get away from him. The road curves downhill and I need to keep him from overtaking me, but as we come out of the turn at the bottom of the hill, he edges past me into the lead. Fuck. Now, I’m playing catch up. I can’t let him win; I need to get back in the lead. The next two turns are tight, and I take them way too fast. The tires of the Subaru screech as I pull out of the second one, and my backend swings wide, as I fight to get the car under control. It’s my turn to ride his bumper as we slide into the next turn and once I pull out of it I drop down, ready to floor it as soon as I get the chance.
Only one turn is left and then it’s a straight road; not long before the finish line but enough for me to overtake. I follow him into the last corner, but he fucks up his line, and it gives me the opening I need. As I come out of the turn, I pull out from behind him and accelerate. I am almost clear of him when he clips my bumper again. Undeterred, I press down harder on the gas, through the entrance to the farm and over the finish line. I skid to a halt, spraying up a large cloud of dirt and gravel. Fucking hell. I won. My head bows to rest against the steering wheel while I take deep breaths, drawing oxygen deep into my lungs, letting it sink in that I’ve actually won.
Adrenaline is still rushing through my veins, but my pounding heart begins to slow as I watch the other racers cross the finish line. The Mustang has already crossed the finish line in second place, but I grin when I see Ryder finish third, followed by the driver of the BMW. When Ryder pulls to a halt beside me, I climb out of my car and walk over to the Chevelle, the back bumper is hanging off and the back panel is dented. Ryder joins me and we walk around to the back, surveying the damage.
“Well done.” Ryder grins widely at me and holds out his hand. When I take it, he tugs on my hand, pulling me into a hug, and slaps me hard on the back. “Seriously. Well done, man. You drove amazing out there.”
“Thanks.” My smile grows as it begins to sink in. “What happened to you?” I nod at his Chevelle.
“The BMW clipped me when I was overtaking it and ripped it off.” He shrugs; we both know it could have been a hell of a lot worse. “That was the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever done,” he says wide-eyed, and I laugh in agreement.
“Tell me about it.” I wish I’d listened to Leigh’s warnings or least given them some serious consideration. Speaking of Leigh … a small spark of hope ignites in my chest as my eyes scan the small crowd to see if she turned up, but she didn’t.
“Give me a hand?” He nods toward the bumper, and we both ease it off before putting it in the back of his car.
Ryder and I move over to the Subaru to check out how much damage there is, but it’s minimal. Certainly, a lot less than there could have been. The race organizer walks over, an exaggerated swagger to his step, accompanied by the driver of the Mustang. They stop in front of us and Gus counts out my winnings minus his cut. Ryder and I edge closer together so we are standing shoulder to shoulder.
“Congrats.” Gus shakes my hand, sizing me up, and I don’t like the look in his eyes. It’s not just him; the whole place makes me feel uneasy. I just want to take my winnings and get the hell out of there. Now. The Mustang driver glares at me, pissed that I won but shit happens. Nevertheless, I don’t want to hang around and wait to see if he’ll offer me any congratulations.
“Anytime you want to race, you come see me.” Gus nods at me, but when I don’t respond, he shrugs before walking away, which is our cue to leave. Maybe I’ve turned soft, but there is no way in hell I’m racing the Gauntlet again. Once was enough.
“Come on. Let's get out of here” I jerk my head at Ryder, and we move toward our cars. I stuff my money in my pocket and climb into my battered Subaru. Before I can start the engine, Ryder leans through the open window.
“Three Monkeys? Celebratory drink? On me.” He winks and a grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. I’m buzzing, and although I don’t want to hang around here any longer and risk getting into a fight—probably with the driver of the Mustang—I’m not ready to go home just yet.
“Lead the way.” I nod in agreement; Ryder slaps me on the shoulder and jogs over to his Chevelle. Gus looks over as I start up the Subaru, its loud growl catching his attention. I meet his penetrating stare and I lift two fingers off the steering wheel in acknowledgment. The small dip of his head is his only response, but the way he continues to stare sends a chill down my spine and a feeling of dread spreads through my bones. We need to get out of here and hope we don’t cross paths with him anytime soon. Ryder starts up the Chevelle and bangs the side of my car. Ryder leads the way, speeding along the dark back roads as we put more distance between us and the Gauntlet.