I scrutinized the outline of his head, the nearly buzzed haircut, and tried to tell if it matched what I could make out earlier behind the tinted windows at the track. I couldn’t be sure… Shit, it’s not like I ever looked at the guy hard enough to know the shape of his damn head.
Besides… “I thought you weren’t welcome at the raceway,” I replied.
According to all the regulars there, Lorhaven used to dominate in every race. Not only was he a good driver, but he had a fat bank account to modify his cars with the top parts—a luxury most people in this town didn’t have.
He’d probably still be dominating if he hadn’t gotten caught betting illegally on the side. And of course, once he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, everyone started questioning if all those wins beneath his tires were honest.
Honor was almost as big in the racing world as winning.
Cheating and stacking the odds in your favor was a total buster move. Hell, a driver could be the dirtiest on the road, but as long as he was honest about it, no one said shit. But the second you started being sleazy and cheating to cross the finish line first, it was game over.
He’d gotten banned from the raceway shortly after, the illegal betting the official reason he was off the asphalt. Unofficially? He was out on his ass because he was a lying bastard.
“Who said I was there?” he asked innocently.
Trent bristled beside me, but I was the one who spoke. “That’s a nice car.” I gestured to the Camaro with my chin. “Looked especially sweet in my rearview.”
“Wait ‘til you see it from behind. Looks even better.”
“If you’re driving, that’s a sight we’ll never see,” Trent remarked.
Lorhaven’s midnight stare snapped to Trent. Arrogance and challenge shone in his face. “Yeah? I’d like to see you win against me.”
Trent drew himself up to his full height and crossed solid arms over his chest. The waves of dislike he emitted were intense. I never really thought of Trent as an intimidating guy, usually because he was too quiet, too laidback. Too quick to smile.
But damn.
He wasn’t smiling now. The way he seemed to glower down at Lorhaven made one wonder if the guy ever cracked his lips in joy.
Trent wasn’t a small guy. He was tall, bulky, and wide. Playing college football for the past four years honed his body, and his physical strength could only be matched by other athletes.
Lorhaven and I were drivers. Racing was a definite sport. Yet racing required more skill than strength. In fact, being a little on the lighter side was an advantage. Less weight in the car.
In short, if I were Lorhaven and Trent was staring me down with his wide pythons on display, even under the coverage of his coat, I wouldn’t be so quick to act like I could kick his ass.
“Name your time and place,” Trent intoned. He was serious, too. He’d get behind the wheel right now, and he’d regret it.
I’d regret it.
As much as it chapped my ass to admit it, Lorhaven would win.
Before they could go too far and either set a date for a race or start throwing punches, I stepped forward, slightly in front of Trent. Hopefully, he’d get the memo to stop being an idiot and shut up.
“You aren’t here to congratulate me. You and I both know it. What do you want?”
Trent and Lorhaven glared at each other another long, silent moment before Lorhaven shifted his eyes away. He gestured at his car and the passenger door popped open.
“You’re wrong,” Lorhaven said as a man came around the Camaro. “I did want to congratulate you. You should enjoy that win. You won’t be getting many more of them at the speedway.”
I decided to bypass his posturing and what would be an arrogant and/or lukewarm introduction. I mean, seriously. The guy liked to stand around and let people know how great he thought he was. I was tired of it.
And it was cold as a room full of ex-girlfriends out here.
“Hey, man,” I said and offered a fist to the newcomer. “Name’s Drew. That was some good driving tonight at the track.”
The newcomer’s eyes flared with surprise over my casual greeting. He was also surprised I’d complimented his driving skills.
Or maybe he was surprised I knew he was the one driving tonight.
After a quick glance in Lorhaven’s direction, he recovered fast and held up his own fist to pound it out. “Thanks. Name’s Arrow.”
Arrow, which was probably not his real name but something he chose for himself, was a kid. Well, okay, he wasn’t a kid, per se. Calling him that only made me feel like an old man. Or maybe it was the fact he seemed like a kid to me that made me feel old.
He couldn’t be more than nineteen, which made him green in my book. He was tall, close to six feet, and skinny as hell. His feet and hands were big, though, which only fed into the fact he was young and had yet to fill in.
Arrow had blond hair, and not the natural blond either. This was a total dye job, bleach blond. It was parted on the side, longer on the right and buzzed short on the left. He was dressed in ripped-up skinny jeans, an oversized black hoodie, and a pair of black high-tops.
He kinda looked like a Justin Bieber wannabe.