“What time do we have to be at the track?”
“Twenty minutes,” I said, glancing at the clock on the microwave. “I hope you’re ready to race.”
He snorted. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“Nope. I need you a part of the crowd.”
A sly smirk spread across his face. “What if I beat you? Don’t you think it’ll look odd if Bennett hires the second best?”
I slapped him on the shoulder and winked. “You’re not gonna beat me, smartass. Even if you ride as dirty as you want. We both know I’m better than you.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
I packed some waters and a few snacks to get us through the day, handing Micah a bag of his own. If Richard was having tryouts, that meant there’d be a shit ton of people hoping to get a spot on his racing team. Unfortunately, we had to make the process look legit, even though my place was secured.
“Think you still got what it takes?” Micah asked.
“Fuck if I know, man. I guess we’ll see when we get there.” My stomach was in knots and not because of riding. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled until I found our superior’s number with the FBI, and pressed send. He always answered within two rings.
“I thought you were on vacation,” Kincaid greeted.
I wished I was. “There’s been a change of plans. I’m in Franklin, North Carolina right now with Perry. We’re investigating a murder and other illegal activities involving the racing team I was on years ago. I have a feeling more shit’s about to go down.”
I could hear papers scrambling around in the background. “Who ordered this?”
Micah perked up, clearly hearing Kincaid’s demanding tone. “I did,” I said.
“Why the hell would you do that without consulting me first?”
I could see Levi’s face in my mind, how eager he was when I’d first started riding with him. I owed it to him to figure out what happened, even if I did get reprimanded. “The man who was killed was a good friend of mine. I have to find who did it before more of my loved ones are involved. I’m going undercover as myself, as a racer for Bennett Racing.”
“So this is personal,” he said.
My teeth clenched. “Yes. I need to do this, sir.”
The line went quiet, before I heard him sigh. I was fully prepared to get suspended. “Then do it,” Kincaid murmured. “I’m sorry you lost a friend, and I understand you want to find the killer. I would want to do the same thing.”
Eyes wide, I turned to Micah. “So we’re good to pursue this?”
“For now, but if something comes up, I’ll need you back here. I can’t have you getting paralyzed like you did the last time you tried to race.”
“That’s the thing, Kincaid. It’s looking like my accident was anything but. I owe it to myself to find out who fucked me over.”
“Yeah, I suppose you do,” he agreed. “Keep me updated with your progress.”
“Will do,” I said, then hung up. Looking to Micah, I smirked. “You ready to do this shit?” We had a plan in place, now we just had to execute it.
Micah rubbed his hands together. “I was born ready.”
Kassidy
I’d barely slept the past several nights, and last night had been no different. My eyes felt like sand had been ground into them, and my mind was foggy. All I could see were images of Levi and Logan swirling through my brain. Why the hell did he have to show up now, after all these years? I thought for sure he’d try to come see me, but he didn’t. A week had passed, and nothing. It wasn’t like I would return the conversation anyway, but it was kind of a smack in the face. It was stupid to think he’d changed after all these years.
I was on my way over to my father and Angela’s house, so I could catch him before tryouts. With our recent reputation for disaster, I’d be surprised if potential riders showed up at all. The garage door was closed, but their front entrance was unlocked.
I opened it slowly, peeking my head inside. “Dad?” I tiptoed inside, not sure if Angela was still sleeping. “Dad, you here?”
A set of pots clanged together from the kitchen, and I heard Angela’s voice. “He’s not here, sweetie. Why don’t I make us some breakfast before you head over to the track?”
“Sounds great.” My stomach growled and it was probably because I hadn’t eaten much in the last few days.
I turned the corner and Angela was already at the stove, scrambling eggs. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun and she had on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. She was my stepmother and I loved her, but she was nothing like my mother. My mom was down to earth and never cared much about fashionable clothes. Angela always wanted to take me shopping and to get my hair done.
“I can’t believe we’re already having tryouts. It feels too soon,” I grumbled, taking a seat the table.