Chapter 13 #2
Heather made no mystery of her fondness for Zara. But the final nail in the coffin of their friendship was that Heather didn’t warn Zara off dating Lev. Angela has had a crush on my best friend ever since I can remember, despite Lev never giving her the time of day.
I don’t know if now she’s hanging out with Fox in a misguided attempt to make Lev jealous, but I hate seeing her with that douchebag.
Maybe I should speak to Heather and ask her to say something to her former best friend. For once, she could use her big mouth for good rather than for evil.
My eyes drift to my side, where Zara has pushed her Ducati to take her starting spot.
I meet her gaze, and she nods at me, the corner of her lips lifting in the beginning of a smile.
I can still taste her on my lips. The way she kissed me in the hangar when I called her cute went straight to my cock, and I’ve been fighting a hard-on since then.
She was so mad at me. I hope it’s just because of mine and Lev’s plan to put ourselves between her and that bike. I asked her a few times if she’s mad that I didn’t tell her about the huge mistake I made when I slept with Heather.
Zara has reassured me that she’s fine. That when it happened she wasn’t even back in my life and that I had no obligation to tell her.
I know that’s true, but I feel terrible that she didn’t hear it from me. Even if Heather has always been just a friend and that night was just a moment of mutual foolishness and a misguided way to cope with our grief.
If that mistake had cost me the woman I love, I don’t know what I would have done.
“Racers!” Morelli comes to stand at the finish line, a microphone in his hand. “Are you ready to battle for glory tonight?”
Glory? I suppress an eye roll. What we’re battling for is lining his pockets.
His question is answered by the roar of all the people assembled around the clearing; all the people who came to get a thrill from the speed or to bet their money on the fastest bike.
“The race will begin in five minutes, so this is the last call for any final bets.” Morelli announces. “JJ Smith is tonight’s favorite. Will she secure a victory, or will one of the other racers beat Smith’s Ducati? Girls, give us a little visual reminder of tonight’s stakes.”
Un-fucking-believable.
Two Zetas, Hillary and Carissa if memory serves, carry a blackboard with the rates for each racer written in chalk.
Zara is the favorite, and the return for betting on her crossing the finish line first reflects that fact.
To my surprise, Fox is the second racer deemed most likely to win, followed by me and Lev.
There are four more racers coming from out of town to replace our frat brothers who had been racing at the beginning. This is a definite sign that Morelli is scaling up the entire operation. I think I recognize one from the Super League races, so these new competitors have some racing experience.
Eying up the odds and the payouts on the blackboard, my attention is caught by the last entry.
It isn’t someone lined up on the starting line with us.
The last line says, “Masked rider.”
“What the fuck?” I blurt out. “Are you seriously collecting bets on that bike making an appearance?” I abandon my spot, eating the distance between me and Morelli in a few short strides.
Lev is immediately by my side, and I spot Ares making his way to the starting line, too.
“Of course I am.” Morelli’s ear to ear grin is begging to be wiped out by my fist. “What happened last week added a lot more excitement to the race. People started betting on that mysterious bike coming back, and I would be an idiot not to bank on it. If that bike shows up or not is just the main bet available. There are all sorts of other options.”
He shows me the tablet in his hands.
“Motherfucker, I—” I see red.
I’m gonna kill this piece of shit and then go after his entire family if they dare threaten retaliation.
“Chance, babe.” Zara’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me.
I’m shaking with the effort to contain my fury.
“Morelli,” Ares reaches us right at that moment. “Are you serious? That’s fucked up even for you.” He says after seeing what made me almost lose my shit.
The bastard’s smile widens. “Why? My uncle is pleased with how much money the bets are bringing in. This is just business. I couldn’t care less if that bike shows up or not, but you can bet your ass I’m gonna offer people the option to lose their money betting on it.”
“Betting on Zara getting injured or dying?”
“Calm your fucking tits, asshole.” He snickers, sliding his finger on the screen to show us more betting odds.
“I offer bets on every racer getting injured or dying. Including the mystery bike. Of course, I hope our little champ here ends the race in one piece. She’s definitely a crowd favorite.
” His eyes rove over Zara’s body, and I snap.
“Don’t even look at her, you piece of shit.” I grab the front of his shirt, causing the tablet he was holding to slip out of his hand, hitting the ground.
Strong hands grab me by the shoulders, pulling me back.
“Chance, knock it off.”
I’m surprised when I realized that it wasn’t Morelli’s men but Ares and Lev who pulled me off that fucker.
“Did you see that?” I yell. “He’s encouraging people to bet on Zara getting hit by that bike. That’s fucked up.”
Ares squeezes my shoulder, and it feels oddly comforting. “I know. I thought you wanted Zara to race for you because you think she’s the best. You should protect your assets rather than putting them at risk.” He says to Mason Morelli.
Ares’s objection is met with a sardonic smile.
“I just give the people the entertainment they paid for. After last week, I could double the price of the tickets and the bets? We might make more money in one night than several of my uncle’s businesses make in a month.
If your girl is as good a racer as I think she is, she’s going to be just fine.
By the way,” he says when one of his men hands him back the tablet he just dropped.
“You damaged my tablet. I’m gonna add the price of the replacement to your debt.
Now, before I decide that you’re not worth the air you breathe, get your ass on that bike and give people the entertainment they paid for. Good luck, Zara.”
I struggle against Ares and Lev’s hold, but they force me to walk back to the starting line.
“You should have let me kick his ass.” I spit out, shaking them off. “He isn’t worthy of even saying her name.”
“You’re right.” Ares’s scowl matches my own. “But there’s nothing we can do right now without making things worse for all of us.”
I can’t believe he’s just gonna take Morelli’s shit. “Maybe you were right. Maybe we should say fuck this, and go to the sheriff. If we refuse to race right now, what can he do? He can’t kill us in front of all these people.”
My brother lowers his voice, speaking loud enough that only we can hear him with the music and the noise of the crowd.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. See those guys over there?
” He points to a few men in black clothes.
“Those guys work for Morelli, and I can guarantee you that they’re packing.
Even if they didn’t shoot us in front of everyone, you know we would have a target painted on our backs.
Let’s try to get through tonight’s race in one piece and then we’ll end this. One way or another.”
I know Ares and Lev are planning something to get us out of this mess with Lev’s parents, even though they didn’t give me any details.
“Fine. I don’t like it, though.” I bite out.
“Neither do I,” Ares agrees. “Just stick to the plan. Protect Zara and be careful. Like we said, our advantage is that now we’re on the lookout for trouble. If that bike shows up, we won’t be as surprised as the other times.”
I nod, putting my helmet on and sitting on my bike while I wait for everyone but Angela to walk away from the starting line.
Morelli thinks he’s untouchable, but just the thought that he hurt Zara makes it really hard to watch him as he gives orders and acts like he owns us all.
He’s lucky I don’t want to put Zara in more danger by giving him what he deserves.
Angela is standing right in front of us, her silk scarf held high, ready to drop to start the race.
The noise of all the other bikes invades my ears, and I start mine.
My MTT 420-RR comes to life underneath me, and I force every other thought out of my mind. Usually I race to win; tonight my mission is to make sure that nothing happens to Zara.
We go even before the scarf hits the cracked asphalt of the disused road. The makeshift racetrack is uneven, with the odd pothole here and there.
The awareness that the dangerous conditions of this road would anger my father even more than the fact that we’re breaking the law he fought so hard for hits me as I spot Zara on my left side.
Lev is on her other side, and we’re already ahead of all the other bikes.
If I wanted to, I could win this race. My bike has a top speed of 273 mph. The Rolls Royce Allison Turbine engine uses the most cutting-edge technology available in racing today.
Lev’s Damon Hypersoft’s top speed is a mere 200 mph and Zara’s Ducati Panigale V4 R has a similar top speed at 199 mph.
I know the top speed of your motorcycle is only one variable in the equation, but this bike was Atlas’s pride and joy.
He didn’t even let Ares ride it. I was the only one allowed on it because my brother thought I had incredible raw talent.
He used to say that if hockey hadn’t been what I spent all my energy on, I could have become a motorcycle legend.
That’s why I accepted filling in for him to qualify for the race that ended up being his last. I felt important.
Racing was the only thing that made him treat me like I was important. Like I was part of the special bond he seems to share only with his twin.
I wish I had said no that day.
If I hadn’t qualified for him, Atlas would be here. We wouldn’t be in this shitty situation.
This is all my fault. I’m responsible for brother’s death, and for every other shitty thing that has happened after.
Dad wouldn’t have run for mayor, and he wouldn’t have banned motorcycles in Star Cove.
Fox wouldn’t have come back looking for retribution, and he wouldn’t have teamed up with Morelli.
Zara wouldn’t have been on Mason Morelli’s radar.
My eyes keep darting to check for Zara’s Ducati as our three bikes have gained ground against the others. I spot Fox’s Beamer in my mirror; he has no way of overtaking us no matter what.
Maybe Zara winning this race will appease Morelli enough to give us time to figure out our next move.
We’re almost at the curve where the racetrack narrows before the final stretch; there’s no way that our three bikes can negotiate this curve at the same time.
I think it’s best to let Zara pass first, so it’s easier to watch over her.
I’m not going at my full speed so I can accelerate and catch up with her for the final part as soon as we’re past the curve.
It happens in the blink of an eye.
A dirt bike appears from nowhere, cutting onto the racetrack from one side of road, where high grass provided an ideal hide spot.
The person riding it is clad in black leather, with a full black helmet covering his whole face.
The dirt bike is barreling toward Zara, and I… freeze.
“Atlas! Atlas, no!” Someone is yelling louder than the noise of the motorcycles that are coming past me.
I realize that I stopped right after the curve and that the voice yelling my brother’s name is my own.