Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Scrubbing my palms down my face, I heaved a deep sigh. “I still want to help. There are things I can do from the pit that a driver can’t.”
He shook his head, already stepping back. “Just let Racer handle it.”
“Kane—” I started, but he was already walking away, shoulders tight and done with the conversation.
My fists clenched at my sides.
I hated being sidelined while some cocky out-of-town racer with fast hands and a flirty smile got handed the keys to the whole damn situation.
I was the one who’d been here from the beginning. Who knew these cars inside and out. Whose brother was lying in a hospital bed, barely hanging on.
I wanted to help find the people responsible for his crash more than anything, but Kane was my boss. And Mason’s club president. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d be okay with me pushing my way into the situation, so I would just need to be sneaky about it behind the scenes. Sometimes you had to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, and I’d take the heat down the line if it came to that.
I stormed back toward one of the Chevelles, grabbing my tablet and tools like they were weapons instead of diagnostics gear.
Of course his road name was Racer. His club brothers might as well have called him Adrenaline McFlashy.
He was probably one of those golden boys who looked good behind the wheel, flashed a grin for the cameras, and didn’t know jack about the machines he drove. Guys like that pushed too hard, burned through clutches, and blamed the crew when something snapped.
And now Kane had given him my brother’s spot in our world.
I dropped to one knee beside the car, popping off the panel that gave me access to the rear suspension mount. I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until the ratchet slipped on the bolt and scraped across my knuckles.
“Careful.” The low voice came from behind me.
Twisting around, I glared at him. “What do you want?”
Racer crouched next to me, hands on his knees as he peered into the cavity I’d just exposed. “That bracket looks off. See the weld?”
I opened my mouth to snap something sarcastic, but I paused when I noticed how closely he was looking at the part in question. Turning back around, I flicked my gaze down, following his line of sight.
Damn. He was right.
One of the mounting brackets had the faintest hairline crack near the weld. Not visible at first glance, but enough that, under race stress, it could’ve snapped and launched the driver into a wall or another car.
“You have a good eye,” I muttered, brushing my fingers over the fault line.
He didn’t gloat. Just angled in a little closer. “Mind if I take a look at something?”
I huffed but scooted over slightly.
Racer leaned in and ran a fingertip along the bolt housing on the opposite side. Then he pulled a small flashlight from his back pocket and clicked it on.
“There.” He pointed. “That scoring? Looks like someone used the wrong torque setting. Or maybe they just wanted it to look that way.”
I blinked, then nudged him to the side so I could see better. Sure enough, there was a shallow ring on the metal, inconsistent with our tools.
My mouth went dry.
Someone had tampered with that bolt. Subtly enough that it could’ve passed inspections. But if the bracket failed mid-race…
Crap.
“You might’ve just saved someone’s life,” I said quietly.
Racer met my gaze for the first time in a way that felt real instead of flirtatious. “That’s the idea.”
I sat back on my heels, blowing out a breath. “Guess Kane brought in the right guy after all.”
His mouth quirked into a half smile, but he didn’t say anything.
And just like that, Racer wasn’t the enemy anymore.
Kane headed back toward us, a grim set to his jaw that told me whatever conversation he’d just had hadn’t gone how he wanted. His expression only grew stonier when I pointed out what we found on the Chevelle.
I straightened. “Kane, listen—”
“She should be in on this,” Racer cut in before I could finish.
I blinked, surprised he beat me to it.
He didn’t look away from Kane. “She knows these cars. She’s sharp. And if someone’s slipping past her, it means they’re damn good. You want this asshole caught? You need her eyes on the rides.”
Kane exhaled through his nose, clearly weighing his decision. Then he gave a curt nod. “Fine. But you help me keep an eye on Emily. Nothing better fucking happen to her. Understood?”
“It won’t,” Racer growled. “I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
Kane pointed at him. “You better not, or it’ll be your ass. No matter what Fox will want as payback.”
After growing up with an overprotective brother and another overprotective almost-brother, I knew better than to waste my breath saying I could take care of myself. Neither of them would listen.