The Oath Keepers got here just in time to get the other bikers out of the way before my employees, and the other racers showed up. That would’ve been a big mess had any of them noticed an unconscious man lying around. Hopefully, no other trouble comes our way. I can’t be up front to keep any other Iron Fists from getting in tonight since I plan on racing.
I can, however, warn my crew to keep a look out for them, but I won’t have them turn the Iron Fists away. I’d be too afraid for their safety. Those one-percenters don’t mix well with being told no, and I refuse to be the cause of them getting hurt, or worse, killed. My own safety is one thing; I’m more than capable of defending myself. My employees, however, are just normal everyday people with families at home.
The only way I knew to wait at the back door with the other biker for help was because Viking sent me a text letting me know Mercenary was on his way. I can’t believe the stubborn man didn’t listen to his president. I told that guy to take control of his brother. I won’t let a man dictate whether I race or not. I know Mercenary will put up a fuss when he sees me line up on the track tonight. I don’t need the distraction or any of the other racers witnessing me allow a man to have a say around here. They have to know I run this show.
On the plus side of these idiots scoping out The Pit or whatever they were doing, it was a decent distraction. Viking said Mercenary was not pleased hearing I’d called, so the unconscious guys took his focus off me for the time being. I have no idea what the Oath Keepers are doing with all these unwanted bikers they’re taking off my hands, and I want it to stay that way. The less I know, the better. I’ve never been a snitch, but like I said, the less I’m aware of, the easier not to slip up.
Ace steps up beside me. “All drivers are ready. They listened to your suggestion and didn’t bring their race vehicle on the property until thirty minutes ago, and I’ve had someone watching them all in case one of the drivers needs to leave for a minute or whatever.”
“Good, thank you.”
“I didn’t like the last race any more than you. I don’t want you hurt, Chevy.”
Smiling gratefully, I nudge his shoulder like I would if he were an older brother. He’s always reminded me of what it’d be like to have one. “All right, let’s get started. The sooner we can erase the last race from their minds, the better.” I nod toward the stands, and he agrees.
“I’ll signal the music.”
“And I’ll line up.”
I quickly peer around and hightail it to my ivory painted nineteen sixty-eight Dodge Charger RT. It’s been a few weeks since I drove him and it’s his turn to have a little fun on the track. Mercenary’s distracted and hasn’t had a chance to dig into me again about racing tonight. Not that I’d listen to him if he tried—he doesn’t own me and never will. The man will learn that I do whatever the fuck I want to.
“Flower” by Moby begins to play through The Pit speakers, and a smile takes over. I haven’t heard this song in forever, and I love to race to it. There’s something about the beat; it’s made to be listened to in a fast car.
I slide into the matching buttery soft leather seats—the beautiful chiffon color complementing the beast of a car and slide the key in the ignition. My stomach flutters excitedly as I twist the key and he thunders to life. He sounds like a grouchy old bastard pissed off for being woken up. No worries, he’ll be purring like a kitten once I give him a little gas.
Pushing the link’d button, the stereo inside syncs to the speakers blaring through the dome. At the roar of my engine, Mercenary’s gaze pins on me, and boy does he look furious. I send him a little wave with my fingers and romp on the gas. The car fishtails before straightening for the line. It’s been too long since I drove him. He seems a bit angry with me.
“It’s okay, baby,” I soothe and rub my hand along the ebony dash. Yes, I talk to my vehicles. Anyone in their right mind who loves their cars speaks to them.
The other three vehicles I’ll be going against roll up, lining up around my spot. My car rumbles, just waiting to be set free to whip some ass. The song changes, and right on cue, the passenger door swings open, a large body sliding in. I’m so focused on the sound of my engine and exhaust, gearing up for my race that it takes a moment to grasp that he’s right next to me.
My mouth drops open. “What the hell? You can’t be in here!” I yell as the engines around me drown out the music. I’m racing against some experienced fuckers, and I don’t need Mercenary distracting me right now.
He whips the belt across his chest. “Bullshit. You want to race when it’s not fucking safe, then I’m riding with you.”
“You’re like two hundred fucking pounds, man, get out!” I yell, pissed and glare at his stone cold blue eyes. The smoke slowly creeps up, surrounding the vehicles and cocooning us as various racers smoke out their tires.
My foot presses on the gas, my engine roaring in response as the car shakes, wanting to be let loose. It’s to warm the engine up, and it also helps play a part in psyching out my opponents. They know I race to win, no matter what I drive, but Mercenary is adding unnecessary weight to my ride. It’s one of the reasons I don’t have a massive sound system in my car. I do without big speakers, and in return, my car weighs less than the others.
“I’m not moving, so if you want to win, I suggest you pay attention.”
“I’m so kicking your ass for this shit,” I swear as the song changes to ‘Zombies’ by The Cranberries and the race begins.
I let up the brake, and the car’s so powerful the front end lifts off the ground. All of my cars do, and I freaking love the feeling of immense horsepower at my fingertips. Mercenary’s arms shoot out with a curse, one holding the dash, the other gripping the oh shit handle like it’s life or death for him. An evil smile takes over as we slam back to the ground and the Charger shoots forward as if the devil’s nipping at its heels.
My rear tires squeal even though I already ran the set of rubber earlier and Mercenary shouts, “How is this legal?”
I scream at the distraction. “Shut the fuck up, cupcake!” I shift gears and swerve to the right, blocking the clown coming up behind me. I have to concentrate. It’s the main reason I always win—not the car, but because I pay attention, I don’t get sidetracked. I’m sure he growls in response, but I shut everything out and race. There’s five grand on the line, and I don’t plan on losing it.
We head around the last turn, and one of the cars bumps my rear end. I swerve, nearly losing control, but keep my cool as I sail over the finish line. As we pull to a stop, I leap out of my car and fly for the other driver.
He’s just climbing out when I lay into him. My fist flies at his face in spite of his carelessness. We have rules in place to keep drivers as safe as possible. It’s already dangerous enough driving at that speed on an enclosed track around so many people, but this asshole wants to rub me? “You hit my damn car!” I yell and throw another punch.
He reciprocates with a punch of his own. He has enough muscle behind it, I see stars for a moment, and then I hear a roar. I’m thrown to the side as two hundred pounds of pissed off alpha makes ground beef of the dude’s face that just hit me. I stand there, shocked as I witness why the guy I’ve come to push around without a second thought is called Mercenary. The man wails into the other guy with such speed and strength the asshole’s knocked out within moments of it even beginning.
Odin and Torch hurry to him, each grabbing for the mammoth of a man, taking hits in the midst of pulling him off the unconscious body below him. They eventually wrestle him off, but it’s no easy feat. Breathing deeply, I stare, wide-eyed. Mercenary could’ve easily killed the other driver.
I lost my temper, and he fed off of it, going ballistic. The man is raw power, ready to dole out punishment. It makes me think that when I flipped him before, that he touched me with kid gloves. The animal in front of me could’ve killed me that day if he’d wanted to. Instead, he pulled my hair and stared at me like he wanted to fuck me. Jesus Holy Wow Christ.