“Like hell,” Lorhaven growled. “You cheated.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, deadly. “Because I didn’t cheat using your particular rules?”
Everyone went silent.
You weren’t supposed to challenge Lorhaven on his own turf in his own race. But that’s why I was invited, wasn’t it? Maybe some people were tired of him getting away with all his bullshit.
I reached for the fat stack of cash, but Lorhaven lunged forward and shoved me back. My body tensed and something in me snapped.
Apparently, the race didn’t help blow away some of the tension inside me; it only made it worse.
“Careful,” Lorhaven intoned. “Your bodyguard isn’t here to protect you tonight.”
The mention of Trent did it.
I surged forward in a running leap, fist extended, and plowed it into his face. We both went down, and I went to hit him again, but he rolled and pinned me beneath him. He leaned back, drawing back his fist to hammer it down, and I twisted, rolling beneath him, causing him to lose his balance. I shoved him back and jumped up at the same time he did.
“Stop!” a familiar voice yelled, and Joey rushed between us, her hair flying everywhere.
“Get back in the car,” I growled, rolling my neck.
Lorhaven’s chest heaved as he dabbed at his lip.
“Hey, that’s Joey G.,” someone called out. “She’s a pro racer. That’s Gamble’s daughter!”
Lorhaven forgot all about his lip and stared at Joey. “You brought a goddam pro to an indie race!” he roared.
Time to go.
I turned and plucked the money out of the organizer’s hands and started for the Mustang. “C’mon!” I yelled to Joey.
Halfway to the car, Lorhaven called out, “Cheater. She the one who taught you how to do all those fancy moves?”
I stopped and turned back.
I was not a cheater.
“That driving tonight was all mine. But if it makes your loss easier to take, then sure. You got beat by not only me, but a girl. One who happens to be a pro.”
Lorhaven’s nostrils flared.
I slammed into the Mustang and revved the engine.
“What the hell was that!” Joey demanded the second I tore down the street.
“Lorhaven’s kind of bitter about the pros,” I replied.
“A little?” she pressed.
“Okay, maybe a lot. And since I just beat him for the second time, his street cred is even more shot to hell. Add that to you being here to witness, and well…”
“He’s following us!” she yelled just as the back of the Fastback was rammed from behind.
“Son of a bitch!” I roared and laid on the gas.
Behind him was the black Camaro, no doubt driven by Arrow.
“What’s he want?” she asked, turning back around.
“His money back? My face under his fist?” I guessed.
The back was knocked into again.
“Fuck!” I roared. “He better not mess up my car!”
“Get the GPS, darlin’. I need some directions. We need to lose these assholes.”
She didn’t cry or fret or freak out. She calmly picked up the GPS and started hitting buttons. Seconds later, she was directing me like she’d been a right-seater all her life.
I managed to keep ahead of them so he couldn’t do any more damage to my car, but we weren’t losing them. The longer it went on, the more pissed off I knew Lorhaven was getting.
Not only did I win, fair and square, and bring a pro to the race, but now I was making it impossible for him to catch me.
I wasn’t the kind of guy to run from a fight, but I knew when it was a losing battle. I wasn’t about to let him catch up, because my car would suffer. And yeah, maybe my face.
But worse yet, I had Joey with me. Ron Gamble’s daughter. Getting into a street fight would probably not get me on his good side.
“There’s a tunnel up ahead,” she said. “Shut all the lights off and pull to the shoulder. He’s so pissed and going so fast, they’ll bypass us before they realize.”
“Good call,” I said.
The second my car was swallowed by the pitch-black tunnel (Hey, we were on the back roads of some small Maryland town. There weren’t street lamps in here.), I shut off the lights and hit the brakes. I prayed the entire time I was pulling to the side that I didn’t overextend and hit the damn wall.
Not even seconds after I came to a complete stop, the road was illuminated and two cars barreled past. I held my breath, waiting for the headlights to reflect off the side, but we stayed just out of reach.
“I like your brain,” I told Joey when they were gone and I was able to start up the car again. Just for good measure, I left the lights off until we were out of the tunnel. Even then, I only turned on the fog lights. I needed something to see by, but these were dimmer and wouldn’t be as noticeable from far away, say if they started looking in their rearview.
About a mile up the road, Joey said, “Turn here.”
I did and pulled onto a new stretch of road. I flipped the headlights back on and sped up. About a quarter of a mile down, she pointed to what looked like a bar on the side of the road. “Here. Pull around back.”