Chapter three
Rico also liked street racing. Vegas was infamous for big illegal street racing of bikes and cars.
Angel’s contact said he would be at this race and he even had all the information on where it was located.
Tyler popped the address in his phone. It wouldn’t be too hard to find, but it wasn’t supposed to start until after midnight.
Davey and Tyler occupied themselves on the strip with more gambling, good food, and seeing the sights. Then they took in a show afterward. If he’d known hunting down riders would be this much fun, he would have suggested it long ago.
“Turn left at the next light.”
Davey had rented a little car for them to get around in.
It reminded him of one of their first dates.
It had been in Atlanta after the races and after their first fight.
Davey had wanted to do something normal, so he’d rented a car, and they’d driven out to some BBQ joint away from the stadium.
It wasn’t really normal. They were hiding.
They still didn’t want anyone else to know they were seeing each other, and they couldn’t stop seeing each other.
Could barely keep their hands off each other.
Some things never change. He still wanted his hands on Davey all the time.
Marrying him was the best thing that had ever happened in his life.
He’d do it all again in a heartbeat. But at the same time, he was glad they were out now.
They never hid from anyone or anything and they never would again.
He reached over and grabbed Davey’s hand.
Davey squeezed his hand back and smiled.
“Oh, here, here. This is it. Find somewhere to park.” Tyler almost missed it, because he was watching Davey’s face instead of the road. He directed Davey down a side road and a place to park out of the way, but still close enough to walk back to the action.
People lined the streets. Shiny cars were parked around, some classic muscle cars, some fancy new ones with neon lights installed on the undercarriage that lit up like.
..well, Christmas. And people. Everywhere.
For being a secret illegal event, there were tons and tons of people.
“How the hell are we going to find him in this?” Davey asked.
They had been trying to contact him through traditional means and through social media, but Rico ignored every attempt.
This was their last try, and Tyler could tell Davey was frustrated and annoyed.
“Just look for the bikes. Or listen for them. Come on.” He could hear them revving the engines. Tyler would know the braap of a dirt bike anywhere. He heard it in his dreams. He grabbed Davey’s hand again and pulled him toward the noise.
Around the next corner, they spotted the bikes.
Some guy was doing a wheelie in the street.
There were several of what Tyler called crotch rockets going back and forth.
They were fancy and fast, but street legal.
Just past their little bike show, he could see another crew of bikes.
These were 250 motocross bikes. They shouldn’t be riding on pavement, though.
These were dirt bikes. When they got closer, they saw that some of them had street tires on them, slicker without the huge gaping treads of the traditional dirt bike tires.
The riders wore some of the motocross gear, helmet, and boots, but they wore heavier leather pants and jackets.
“This is interesting,” Tyler muttered, wanting to get closer to the bikes to see what kind of set up they had.
“Never heard of Supermotard?” Davey asked.
“What?”
“They go from dirt to pavement to dirt again, all on one track.”
“No freakin’ way!”
“Totally way, Ty.” Davey pointed to a particular rider up ahead. He sat on his bike, feet planted on the road and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. He had dark sunglasses on. At night. His hair was loose and practically danced around his head. “There’s Rico.”
He could have stepped out of some movie. He’d play the hot, desperate, but totally smooth anti-hero. James Dean type in spades. He saw them coming and arched an eyebrow.
Davey let go of Tyler’s hand and stretched it out to Rico. “Rico. You’re a hard man to find. I’m Davey—”
“I know who you are.” His voice purred, just as smooth as his looks. He sounded just a little annoyed, but too cool to admit it.
“Right. I really want to talk with you about racing for Apex.”
“I’m not your typical racer.” He pulled off his sunglasses and tucked the arm into the collar of his shirt.
“I’m aware of that. Apex isn’t your typical team. I mean...” He nodded at Tyler. “We have a girl in the 250s, and—”
He cut Davey off again, this time with an eye roll. “I know who Bolster is, too.”
“Then you know we aren’t traditional.”
Rico ignored Davey and stared at Tyler. “You’re the mechanic?”
This time Tyler rolled his eyes. “You seem to know everything already. Are you going to let us talk offers or not?”
“Mechanic or business partner?” Rico asked.
“Both,” Davey answered. “And more.” He grabbed Tyler’s hand again, but Rico didn’t raise his dark eyebrow this time. He didn’t even flinch.
“Look. I’ve never considered going after sponsorship and all that. I just like the fun of it. The race. You know? I don’t think I’m all that good.”
“Bullshit.” Tyler was pretty damned sure this guy knew exactly how good he was. “Let me look at your bike. What’s this setup?”
Rico smiled and grabbed one of the handlebars as he threw his leg over the seat, dismounting. “Look here.” He pointed out the adjustments he’d made. The front brake was bigger and the suspension was lower than a typical dirt bike set up.
“You race that moto-tard thing?”
“What?”
Davey laughed. “He means Supermotard.”
“Ah...no. That’s big in Europe, though. Maybe someday. I like the idea of it. Jumps and flat track dirt along with pavement in the same race. Hell yeah.”
Tyler touched Rico’s shoulder and smiled at the excitement flashing in Rico’s eyes. “I’m not surprised.”
After that, they talked bikes, and Rico let Tyler ride his bike, but he wouldn’t let Davey ride—wouldn’t let Davey touch it.
Tyler laughed at that. He rode the bike up the street and back, but not very fast. He’d never driven a dirt bike on pavement before.
“She rides smooth...” Tyler handed the bike back over to Rico.
His hand accidentally brushed over Rico’s in the process.
“She’s smooth as hell. Right. But, that’s street. When I change her tires out, she tears up the dirt track.” He laughed, and it sounded full of life, fun, and a tad bit of mischief. He could see Rico getting into all kinds of trouble. Tyler couldn’t help smiling at his energy.
“So, no chance of me riding it?” Davey was practically pouting.
Rico scoffed. “No way.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Not the way I’ve seen you ride.”
Davey opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. Rico and Tyler both laughed. “So, hey...if I did sign with you guys. And I’m not saying I am, but if I did. Does Tyler come with that package?”
Davey’s face turned red. “What?”
“I mean as the mechanic. I have to have someone I trust working on my machine or I’m out.”
Tyler laughed, and Davey relaxed some. “Yes, of course. He’s our head mechanic. He oversees everything.”
“No. I mean I only want his hands on the bike.” He jabbed his thumb toward Tyler.
That feeling was incredible. The trust Rico seemed to already have in him was amazing.
He glanced over at Davey. The look on his face said he wasn’t so sure about Rico’s intentions.
Jealous a little? Maybe he was. Maybe he should be.
Tyler cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. “I think we can arrange that.” Rico shook his hand but glared at Davey.
“I’ll think about it, then.” He winked at Tyler.
Davey reached in his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Call us. Either way. Please.”
He flicked the card in his fingers with a serious scowl on his face for a moment before smiling again and tucking the card into his back pocket.
Some guy with a clipboard came up to Rico just then and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re up in twenty, Rico. Over there.” He pointed to where a few other guys with bikes were lining up.
“Alright man.” Rico nodded and then looked back to Tyler. “You gonna watch me race?”
“Of course. That’s why we’re here.” Tyler returned his smile.
He felt Davey’s hand touch him at the small of his back. “We’ll go find somewhere we can see better.” He started tugging Tyler away. He heard Rico laugh just as he kick-started his bike.
Tyler shook his head. “Jealous?”
“No.”
Tyler shot him an accusing glare.
“Shut up.” Davey turned to lead them off and bumped into someone wearing a leather jacket. He had short brown hair that curled a tad over his temples and greenish-brown eyes and—Cole Lindt.
“McAllister.”
But it was Tyler that stepped forward, placing half his body in front of Davey. “Cole.” Cole didn’t shift or move. He didn’t look at Tyler. He simply stared at Davey with an odd look on his face that Tyler couldn’t decipher. “What do you want?” Tyler practically growled at him.
“Want? To watch the fucking races, Whitmore.”
“McAllister,” Tyler spat at him.
“What?” Cole looked at him with confusion.
“It’s McAllister. We got married. My name is Tyler McAllister.”
“You can do that?” The asshole looked so perplexed, Tyler wanted to punch him in the face.
Davey stepped up before anything else could happen.
“We’re all here for the race. So, let’s just go watch it.
” He stuck his hand out for Cole to shake.
Always the peacemaker, but Tyler didn’t want him touching Davey, even for a handshake.
He couldn’t contain his growling. Davey shook Cole’s hand and then put his arm around Tyler’s shoulders.
“Hey,” Cole huffed. “I’m not giving you shit. I don’t want trouble. I said that before. Not at events and not here. Okay?”
“It’s fine.” Davey nudged Tyler farther away from Cole. “Enjoy the race.” He nodded to Cole and pulled Tyler away from the street.
Tyler wanted to crane his neck to watch Cole as they walked away, but he didn’t. He let Davey lead him to the side. “He’s still an asshole.”
“Yeah, but he’s not like Parker. He’s been tamed.”
“So you say.”
“We’re not starting shit with Cole, Ty. I mean it. All that shit is buried. Let’s leave it that way.”
Tyler rolled his eyes and huffed out, “Fine.”
“I think he’s changed more than you think.”
“Huh? Whatever.”