Chapter 6
SIX
JESSICA
This is a bad idea.
My brother is around somewhere, and I’ll be in big trouble if he sees me here. I tug my skirt down my bare thighs, cursing myself for dressing up. It’s not as if I care about what Kane thinks of me. I didn’t dress up for him.
It’s not that I want him to find me attractive, but I couldn’t show up at the racing circuit in a hoodie and jeans. At least that’s the excuse I tell myself as I tighten my jeans jacket around me.
What am I doing? Appeasing Kane, that’s what. I had no choice but to show up, or he’d go to the cops. That’s a risk I couldn’t take.
I search the rowdy crowds again for any sign of him. His friends are over by their parked sports cars, surrounded by scantily clad women, but there’s no sign of Kane Ravencourt.
“You look lost, pretty girl,” comes a voice near my ear, and I spin around to see a man smiling down at me. He’s drunk by the looks of it. That loose grin of his is too wide, and his glassy eyes are struggling to focus.
I turn to leave, but he curls his fingers around my wrist. “Where are you going?”
His lemony cologne pricks my nose as he pulls me back. I try to shove his chest, but he’s oblivious to my growing distress. His smile grows, and his hand on my lower back creeps dangerously close to my ass. “What’s your name?” he asks, breath laced with alcohol.
“Let me go.” I press hard against his chest again, searching the crowd for Chris or his friends. I don’t want to act like the damsel in distress, but this guy is too drunk and strong to realize that I don’t like this.
“Let her go, Evans.” Kane’s chilling voice turns the blood in my veins to ice. The stranger stumbles with me in his arms, his drunken grin aimed at the silently fuming man standing by a sleek black sports car.
“Ravencourt, my man.” He slips his hand to the curve of my ass and drags his long fingers over my skirt, touching me in a way that makes me want to punch his lights out.
Kane’s cold eyes follow the movement and darken, but the lethal shadow that flashes in their depth is lost on the stranger, who cups a handful, feeling me up despite my protests.
If my brother were here, this guy wouldn’t live to see another day.
But, honestly, the subtle clenching of Kane’s jaw terrifies me more than my brother’s rage.
Kane reminds me of a storm you don’t see coming until it’s too late.
“Awesome race the other day,” the stranger continues, hiccupping. “You left that Falls loser in the dust.”
I shift my hips away from the guy’s growing boner, and Kane locks eyes with me. What I see in the look he gives me is anger, yes, but threaded through with a possessive danger that makes my breath catch.
“I suggest you take your hands off her,” he orders the guy, still looking at me, “or you can wish your lacrosse career goodbye.”
The stranger struggles to focus as he blinks down at my face. He cracks up laughing, and I swallow hard. This drunk fool is asking for trouble.
He turns us toward Kane like he’s presenting a gift. “We can share her.”
Noah and Maverick, having noticed something is off, excuse themselves from their sea of women and make their way over to us.
Kane scoffs as he readjusts his Rolex on his wrist, a subtle move that seems ritualistic more than something done out of fury.
“I don’t share,” he says low.
Everything happens in a blur. One moment, Kane is adjusting his expensive watch with a slight smirk that lacks warmth, while observing the stranger with a chilling calm from beneath his dark lashes.
Next, a sickening snap of bones precedes an agonized, shrill cry that cuts through the thumping bass and growling engines.
“Shit,” Maverick calls out, shoving people out of the way, and Noah cackles behind him.
The man is on his knees, sobbing and cradling his useless arm. “You broke my wrist.”
Kane opens the passenger door without even glancing at the guy. “Get in,” he says to me, and my eyes widen.
“What? No,” I blurt. “I’m not getting in the car with you.”
We’ve attracted a crowd of drunken, rowdy people salivating for a whiff of drama… a hint of juicy gossip to spread like an infectious disease.
I skate my anxious gaze around the strangers, worried someone might recognize me and report to my brother, if he isn’t around already. Shit, I have to get out of here.
“Get in the car, Jessica,” Kane repeats, his tone hard. “I won’t ask again.”
Phone cameras are out now. Fuck my life…
Before I can hesitate or argue, I climb into Kane Ravencourt’s disgustingly sleek car. He shuts the door, and the sound of the hard slam reverberates through my rattling bones like a cell door slamming closed and cementing my fate.
I debate whether to make a run for it while he circles the vehicle. After all, I’m quick on my feet, thanks to years of daily jogs. Running off would be easy.
But I stay put because the tinted windows hide me from the bustling crowds. It’s safer in the car than out there, among the thick throngs. If anyone from the Falls sees me with Ravencourt, the son of one of the founding fathers, I’ll be in big trouble.
We never hang out with the elite in the Heights outside of supplying them with drugs or mowing their fucking lawns.
Kane slides in behind the wheel and shuts the door. The woodsy cologne he wears mingles with the scent of fresh leather and something else… something clean, a hint of fresh laundry detergent.
He makes sure my seatbelt is fastened, and I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face before he sits back and revs the engine. The seat rumbles beneath my bare legs like a growling beast, the vibrations settling between my thighs.
I gasp.
Kane knows exactly what he’s doing.
The crowd parts for the car while I study the sleek leather interior. Kane seems to read my thoughts and says, “You’re looking at three million dollars of hand-built power. Only five hundred exist in the world.”
I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head with a scoff. “You just can’t help it, can you?”
He glances at me. “Can’t help what?”
“Acting like a privileged asshole. Maybe your family’s money impressed all the other women you’ve fucked in here.” I throw a disgusted look around the car. “But it doesn’t work on me.”
“No?” He doesn’t sound bothered in the slightest by my critique.
If anything, a small smile lifts his lips.
“Is that so? You don’t care about money?
” His gaze drops to my bare thighs, and heat settles between my legs when his attention lingers.
“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t open those pretty legs if I offered you three million dollars for an hour of your time? ”
My lips part in surprise. “You prick!”
What a rude question. Why would he even say something like that?
I look away from him, not yet ready to admit the uncomfortable truth. Three million dollars would change my family’s life… or anyone’s, really. That much money would cover my mother’s treatment and secure our future.
No, I refuse to let a spoiled brat like Kane Ravencourt get under my skin like this. I’ll never take money from him.
He seems to take pity on me and changes the subject. “If the car’s worth doesn’t impress you, how about this? It’ll hit sixty in two seconds flat and keep pulling until we’re doing two-sixty.”
My brows knit in confusion when his words slowly register, and I look up to see that we are at the starting line.
“Shit.” I startle upright, looking past Kane to see none other than my brother’s red car next to us. My eyes saucer, and I duck down.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This is not good.
A look of confusion crosses Kane’s face when he notes the impossible position that I’ve gotten myself into, half lying in the seat, with my feet on the dashboard.
“What are you doing?” he questions.
“He can’t see me.”
“Who can’t see you?”
I jab a finger at the car beside us, and Kane turns his head with a look of mild puzzlement on his face.
“That’s my brother,” I whisper-hiss as if Chris can hear me.
“Your brother?”
“Yes, my fucking brother. So you can call off this race right now.”
Amusement flashes in Kane’s eyes, and he looks back down at me. “You can’t be in that position when the race starts.”
“Hello?! He’ll see me.”
Okay, this is uncomfortable. My chin is tucked into my chest, and I’m sure I am almost folded in half.
“Come on… he can’t see you.” Kane pulls me up with surprising strength. “The windows are tinted.”
“Please,” I plead, giving him my best doe eyes. “You have to pull out of this race. My brother can’t afford to lose.”
One of his dark brows shoots up. “Well, then he’ll have to beat me, won’t he?”
“Are you stupid?!” I gesture almost frantically around the sleek interior of his car, and the sorry state of my brother’s vehicle. “You’re driving this… this…”
“Bugatti Chiron.”
“Yes, that. And my brother is driving a Chevrolet Camaro.”
“Don’t judge the car before you know what’s under the hood.”
“It’s from the 90s,” I all but shout, and Kane almost smiles. Almost. However, his attention gets distracted by a girl walking past in frayed cut-offs with her ass cheeks hanging out.
I’m taken aback by Kane’s reaction to her at first, but then I realize what’s going on, and I begin to object loudly. This can’t be happening. I need to get out of this car now.
Unfortunately, it’s already too late. The woman drops the bandana, and the blood drains from my face. I’ve never raced or experienced one. Chris was always the protective older brother and wouldn’t let me in the car when he competed.
Kane slams on the gas, and my stomach lurches as the car tears forward. The acceleration punches through my gut, flipping it inside out like a sudden roller coaster drop. I can’t decide if I’m terrified or alive in a way I’ve never been before. Maybe both.
To his credit, Chris keeps up at first. Or so I think, until it becomes obvious that Kane is toying with him. I try to look past Kane to see where Chris is, but every upshift forces me back into the seat all over again.