Riley’s phone chose that moment to buzz an incoming text message. She rolled her eyes, but grinned. It had been 24 hours since Soloman ‘lost’ his prize and he’d called and texted her pretty much consistently after giving her a solid eight hours of sleep. She ignored the calls, but occasionally responded to the texts when they didn’t piss her off. Each one was becoming progressively more demanding. This one wasn’t from Soloman, though. She maneuvered herself so she was sitting on top of the bucket.
Wendell: UR in Reaper
Riley’s jaw dropped and she could barely type the words.
Riley: Sparrow Hawk Cup???!!!
Wendell: Got the invite at the shop. Had to sneak it by your stalker tho. Don’t think he saw anything.
It was everything Riley could do to contain the scream of pure excitement that bubbled up inside her. She stomped her feet on the ground and flailed her arms instead, causing her crabby friend to react angrily. She knocked on the side of the bucket. He knocked back. She stifled a laugh. Maybe she should keep the little bastard. He had serious attitude.
Riley: Want details buddy!
Wendell: U get them when I C U for practice. Babe U got work to do if U gonna win this.
Riley sighed. He was right, she’d been too busy with work lately to practice as much as she should be. Some of the guys she was going up against were damn good. Rich dudes that spent their entire lives racing expensive cars. She was a natural talent and she had a trick up her sleeve, but she needed to spend a few days preparing. Honing her timing and working with Wendell on their partnership. He would be in her ear while she raced.
Riley: We’re on lockdown thanks to my not-so-secret admirer. How R we supposed to practice?
Wendell: I’ll think of something. Just be ready to go when I say. K?
Riley: Yeah, NP. Sparrow Hawk, bitch!!!!
Wendell: UR going, Reaper baby!
Riley: No, we’re going!!!
She grinned and looked down at the bucket between her legs. “You ready to go swimming, guy?”
***
Riley pulled her car in for a tire change, glancing surreptitiously around as she climbed out the window of Wendell’s Acura. Wendell had assured her repeatedly that no one had followed them to the track. He’d also purposely chosen a rough, little used, little known track two counties over in a place called Blackbird for Riley to practice on. She still felt exposed. Like Soloman was going to swoop in any second and snatch her away.
Riley had been holed up in her dingy little garage for nearly two days, hiding from Soloman and his men. Wendell had assured her that Soloman had eyes on the shop at all times so she absolutely could not go into work for any reason. The boss man himself had actually gone down to the garage and insisted on the full tour, which Wendell was smart enough to give him. Luckily for Wendell and his acting abilities, Soloman seemed to believe he had no clue where Riley was. Either that, or Soloman was having Wendell followed and waiting to dismember him until after Riley was found.
Wendell had managed to dislodge his tail through a clever exchange of cars and dumb luck. Someone had set fire to another one of Soloman’s vehicles while it was parked outside of Riley’s shop. Wendell had rushed out to help stop the fire, negating the need to keep eyes on him, which is when he’d managed to slip away and meet Riley. He’d driven to Riley’s hidden garage to pick her up in a tow truck with his car and several sets of tires. Now they were holed up in a cheap motel in a small town paying only cash and practicing from dawn until dusk. It’d been nearly two days since their arrival in Blackbird. A total of five since she’d escaped Soloman’s club.
Instead of switching out the tires, Wendell was deep in conversation on his phone, wandering toward the edge of the overgrown track. Riley watched him curiously for a moment and then went to work on the first tire. She hated changing tires. It was her least favourite chore as an auto mechanic, which is why she preferred Wendell do it for her. She wouldn’t get a chance to switch tires during the big race, which is one of the things she and Wendell had been working on. How to preserve tire integrity. Not something she usually cared a lot about when she raced, but the Sparrow Hawk Cup was a much longer race than she was used to.
Just as she finished tightening the last bolt on the first tire, Wendell slammed his hand down on the hood of the car making Riley jump and drop the tire iron. She stared up at him in surprise. Wendell rarely got angry, but he looked absolutely livid. His pale face was flushed red and his blond eyebrows were shoved down over flashing blue eyes.
“What’s going on?” Riley asked in concern, pushing herself off the ground.
“It’s Treena,” he snapped. His wife.
She figured he’d been talking to his wife. Wendell didn’t actually talk to anyone else over the phone, not even his own mother. He was a text only kind of guy. Riley touched his arm soothingly and asked, “What’s up, Wendell? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, for now she is,” he growled, shoving a hand through his sweat-streaked mop of hair. “Your fucking boyfriend showed up at the house.”
“No!” Riley gasped, covering her mouth and stepping back. Her eyes widened and filled with tears. She shook her head. She should have realized this would happen when Wendell disappeared. She had been so stupid! How could she put Treena and the kids in danger like that?
Riley turned on the spot and headed toward the tow truck, then turned back around and reached for the car, then changed her mind again. “Shit, I should have known! I’m so sorry, Wendell. I have to go back. I’ll do it right now. I’ll go to him, I’ll call off his hunt. I won't let him near your family again.”
Wendell reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her around gently to face him. “Riley, stop.”
She shook her head and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her go. “Wendell, I’ve put your family in danger. I have to go back to him!”
He shook her arm, drawing her attention to him. “No, Riley. Treena’s fine. He didn’t threaten her or anything. Just wanted to know where I was. Treena couldn’t tell him anything because I didn’t tell her. Hell, if anything she feels sorry for the guy. You know how she is, an incurable romantic. She thinks anyone that looks like him, with a past like his must be some kind of tragic soul.”
A bubble of laughter burst out of Riley as she pictured Wendell’s tiny, round wife fawning over the big, bad mob boss, forcing baked goods and sympathy on the man while he grilled her for information. He wouldn't know what hit him. The kids, aged fourteen months and three years would be all over him along with the two cats and two dogs. There was not a shy creature in that household.
“Besides,” Wendell continued, “Treena is first and foremost a huge fan of the Reaper. She would never forgive either of us if you didn’t compete in this race. She has all her splurge money riding on you, babe.”
Riley nodded her head, tears filling her eyes. She grinned up at her best friend. “I don’t know how you convinced that woman to marry you, Wendell, but you are the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Fuck, don't I know it,” he said, grinning back. “She’s about the only wife in the world that would believe I could share a motel room with a woman that looks like you and keep it business only.”
“Yeah,” Riley agreed. “Let’s keep that little fact on the DL because I don't think a certain Mr. Hart is going to see our sharing a room the same way.”
A look of sheer horror crossed Wendell’s ruddy features as though the thought had never crossed his mind before now. “I’m a dead man,” he groaned.
“Yeah, you are,” she laughed. “Can you finish changing the tires before it happens though? I’m so over this.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Is the Reaper actually wringing her hands at the sacred Sparrow Hawk?” Katie asked with a laugh, hugging Riley around the neck with one arm and hanging onto her popcorn for dear life with her other hand. “Don’t let the other participants see that crap or they’ll think you’re some kind of candy ass wuss.”
Riley glared at her best friend and reached for a hand full of popcorn. It was a weird quirk that Katie had to have popcorn for all of Riley’s races. She adored popcorn more than the average person. She would actually go to a movie theatre just to purchase a bag of popcorn and then leave without watching a movie. She pulled a face and snatched the bag away when it looked like Riley would eat more than a few bites. Katie was also viciously protective of her buttery treats.
“I’m not wussing out over here,” Riley defended herself. “I’m wondering where the hell your brother got to with my car. He better be parking it up at the starting line.”
Katie shot her a mischievous look and said, “Not your car though, is it?”
“Hey, bitch,” Riley snatched the popcorn and backed away from her friend. “I earned it! Possession is nine tenths of the law, right?”
“Oh, you want to play it like that?” Katie growled, launching herself at the popcorn. “It’s on!”
“Draw a little more attention to yourselves, ladies,” Wendell snapped, striding toward the two woman as they fake pummeled each other and laughed. “I’m pretty sure only a few of Soloman Hart’s guys haven't noticed you yet.”
“Fuck!” Riley gasped, springing behind Katie and scanning the immediate area as if expecting Soloman to come stalking toward her out of the bushes.
Wendell pretended to cuff her in the side of the head. “I’m kidding. Haven’t seen any of those guys yet. But that doesn't mean they aren't lurking. Your boyfriend has a pretty long reach. He may not be in the actual circuit, but he had enough influence to get the information he needs. I guarantee either he or one of his people shows up here looking for you.”
“Yeah, I had that thought too,” Riley sighed, scanning the crowd.
She and Katie had been attempting to keep a low profile near one of the beer tents. Riley was wearing a baseball cap over her ponytail and Wendell’s big leather coat over her T-shirt and denim-clad curves. Katie hadn’t gotten the incognito memo. The gorgeous blond was wearing four-inch wedge heels, a red leather mini skirt and a black corset top. So far not a single heterosexual male on the mountain hadn't checked her out.
“Where’s my car at?” Riley asked Wendell anxiously.
He'd driven it to the race overnight, while Katie and Riley had driven a separate vehicle. The people in charge of the Sparrow Hawk Cup had sent them the coordinates for the illegal race exactly twenty-four hours before the start time. Considering some people had to fly in, she had no idea how they were expected to get their cars there in time. Maybe some participants were given more time? She knew a South Korean competitor actually flew his car in. She guessed he must have brought his car into the US ahead of time and then rushed it to the start line when he got his message.
“I parked it at the top of the mountain,” he told her. “It's being babysat by at least a dozen admirers. Next time pick something flashier won't you?”
She grinned up at him. “Hey, at least I got in some mountain practice back home.”
“Uh huh,” he grumbled, picking up a beer and downing half of it. Now that he’d completed his job of getting Riley’s car to the starting point, he needed to relax a bit before the race started. “Some of the guys out there are going to try to drop you off the side of one of these cliffs. They won't play nice like Roadkill.”
Riley snorted, keeping her opinion of Roadkill’s ability to play nice to herself. They spent the next hour chatting nervously with circuit acquaintances while Riley psyched herself up for the race. She nodded to one of the other competitors, but for the most part they stayed out of each other’s way. This wasn’t a friendly race like she was used to. There was a lot of money and prestige riding on this one. She knew some of the guys thought she only got in because of her dad’s reputation and her gender. It looked good for the sponsors to have the daughter of a racing legend in the Sparrow Hawk.
The guys were wrong and she was about to prove it. She was every bit as good as Alan Bancroft had been. Better, even. God rest his soul. An air horn sounded, indicating the drivers were expected at the top of the mountain. Katie lurched into Riley’s arms, spilling popcorn between them.
“Stay safe, bestie!” she sniffed, squeezing Riley tight before releasing her. She turned and hugged Wendell too, then punched him lightly in the arm. “Keep her safe!”
They parted from Katie who headed toward a caravan of race watchers. Wendell led Riley toward a line-up of vehicles headed to the top. A flash of tattoos that looked vaguely familiar caught Riley’s eye. She turned her head and scanned the crowd, but didn't see the face she was looking for. Strange, but she could swear she saw Shank. Why would he be there?
Wendell gave Riley a leg up into the back of a pickup truck with the South Korean contestant and a few other supports heading up to help their drivers. Everyone else was grabbing rides down to various vantage points picked out along the mountainside. Riley caught a glimpse of Katie being lifted into a raised Jeep with a group of other fans. Her precious popcorn was still tucked under an arm.
“Hey, I’m Riley,” Riley yelled over the sound of vehicles taking off up and down the mountain. “How’d you get your car here in time for the race? Wendell and I’ve been wondering.”
The South Korean lifted his lip in a half smile and reached out to shake her hand. “Jun-young,” he replied, moving to sit next to her in the bed of the truck, bracing his back against the bouncing metal rim. “I flew the car out a month ago and kept it in a friend’s garage in L.A. Lucky for me it was within driving distance and we didn’t have to figure out how to fly it again when they sent the directions. You?”
“Same,” she said with a grin. “So fucking glad it’s not raining either. Luck seems to be with us.”
He nodded and studied her face under the shade of her baseball cap. “No shit. You ready for this?”
She was about to respond with her usual show of blasé arrogance when one of the other competitors pulled up alongside and started shouting something stupid about Asian drivers. Riley immediately stood up and gave him the finger. She recognized the guy as one of the circuit jocks with more money than brains. He’d practically been born in a race car.
“Shut the fuck up, Digger, you racist piece of shit. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t qualify,” she yelled angrily.
The big blond asshole grinned and gave Riley a once over. “Whose dick did you suck to get in, Reaper? We all know you didn’t race your way into Sparrow. This is for the big boys.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she growled, preparing to launch herself off the side of the truck and into the open window of his Humvee.
Jun-young stood up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back down until they were sitting in the bed of the truck again. Wendell put a restraining hand on her shoulder and gave her a stern shake of his head. Finally, she settled down and crossed her arms.
Turning to Jun-young who had settled back down beside her, she shot him a grimace with some teeth. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Going to shove my car up that fucker’s ass!”
He laughed and put a loose arm around her shoulders. “Good girl. You show these assholes.”
The group in the back of the truck relaxed and talked cars for the rest of the ride to the top, doing their best to ignore the tension and shit talk surrounding them. They arrived at the top a few minutes later. Riley jumped out of the truck, wished her new friend luck and made her way over to her car with Wendell.
The Koenigsegg Regera gleamed gorgeous red in the sunlight, waiting patiently for her new mistress to race her to the bottom of the mountain. Another air horn sounded, indicating five minutes to race time. Riley unzipped the leather jacket and handed the coat and cap to Wendell. He took them and set her up with an earpiece, which they immediately tested.
Her heart began pounding as she watched the other race teams prepping. Most cars had more than two people, except for her and Jun-young who caught her eye and winked at her across the
hood of his shiny blue and silver Nissan GT-R. He stood with a tall and lanky clean-cut kid that was talking a mile a minute and giving his driver instructions.
Wendell was doing the same for Riley, but seemed to be obsessing over just one thing. “Just promise me you'll stay the fuck away from cliff edges. I don't even care where you place in this damn race. I just want you to survive it. I mean look at the way Digger keeps giving you the stink-eye. Fucker has it in for you. And this damn car is dangerous, never mind where you got it from. It’s death on wheels, babe.”
She nodded, absently scanning the area for Digger. She didn’t really care about him. He kept most of his worth in his pants. Or so he thought. She could work with that kind of idiocy. Then her eyes landed on the second to last person she wanted to see at the race. Roman Valdez. He was looking around like he was ready to spit nails. He must have spotted the car by now, which meant he was looking for someone. With a gasp, she grabbed hold of Wendell and shoved him away from her.
“What the f…!” Wendell began, but she cut him off.
“Go, Wendell!” Riley gasped. “Roman is here! You need to hide, now! I can’t hide the fucking car, but I can lock myself in until the race starts.”
She didn’t have to say it twice, Wendell took off at a run, putting as much distance between himself and a woman who, at that particular moment, posed a whole lot of danger to his health. Riley unlocked the car and lifted the handle, taking a moment to marvel at the smooth opening of the door, before sliding into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door shut and locked it.
She waited breathlessly for Roman to make his way over. There was absolutely no missing the incredibly beautiful car she had stolen from his boss two weeks ago. She was absolutely fucked. The air horn blew for a third time, indicating the drivers should take their prearranged places at the starting line.
Turning the ignition, Riley enjoyed the aggressively refined bark of the unparalleled engine before putting the vehicle in gear and pulling it around to her place in the starting lineup. She didn’t see Roman anywhere now in the crowd of people lining up to wave the seven drivers off the starting line. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension and closed her eyes, counting down the seconds until the race started.
Driven by Desire Page 9