Chapter Four
Revel
“Dude, she fucking kissed you?”
Sayshen’s voice cuts through the garage the second I walk in.
I stop just inside the bay with my helmet under my arm and look over at him.
He’s standing by the workbench with his phone in his hand, the group chat still open on the screen.
Talon is beside one of the bikes, Echo is on her stool with a wrench in her hand, and Draygon is leaning against the tool chest.
All of them are staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You kissed Cece and didn’t tell us?” Sayshen says, like I’ve personally offended him.
“I did tell you.”
“Nah man, you dropped it in the chat this morning and disappeared.”
“I was fucking riding.”
“That is not an excuse.”
Talon wipes his hands on a rag and looks at Sayshen. “Shit, at least he was smart enough not to ride and text. More than I can say for you, bro.”
Then he turns and whips the rag at my head.
I catch it before it hits me.
“However,” he adds, pointing at me, “that is important group intel, and we should’ve been informed the second it happened.”
“Yeah, well, I had other shit going on.” I smirk and snap the rag back at him before setting my helmet on the workbench.
Echo points her wrench at me. “Clearly.”
“You all need fucking lives.”
“We have lives,” Sayshen says. “This is part of them now. We’re all tuned in to the Speed Demons telenovela.”
“I thought you were about to fucking die when you did that shit, I’m not gonna lie,” I say, unzipping my leathers and peeling the top half down around my waist.
Draygon folds his arms. “Okay, but did she actually kiss you, or are you making it sound better than it was?”
I grin. “Oh, she fucking kissed me.”
“First?” Talon asks.
“Yeah.”
That gets all of them going again.
Sayshen throws his free hand in the air. “She kissed you first?”
“She grabbed my shirt and pulled me in, but that’s all you’re getting. I’m not kissing and telling.”
“Bit fucking late for that,” Echo says. “Still rude as hell to keep the good details to yourself.”
She turns back to the bike in front of her, one hand braced against the frame while she adjusts the rear suspension with the other. Her laptop sits open on the rolling cart beside her, covered in graphs and numbers from the last test run.
Sayshen moves closer. “Okay, but what happened after?”
“I kissed her back.”
“No shit.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Details.”
I lean against the bench and pull out my phone.
Still no reply from Cece.
“She kissed me, I kissed her back, then she told me it never fucking happened.”
“That sounds more like her.”
Thorne’s voice comes from the side door.
I look over as he walks in with Reign behind him. Reign pulls his earbuds out while both of them carry coffees, slowing when they see everyone crowded around me instead of working.
Reign glances between us. “What happened?”
“Cece kissed Revel,” Sayshen says immediately.
Reign looks at me, then at everyone else. “And nobody told me?”
“That’s what we’re mad about,” Sayshen says.
“I put it in the damn chat.” I slide my phone back into my pocket and look around at all of them. “Since when is my romantic life everybody’s fucking business anyway?”
Thorne takes a slow drink of his coffee and looks me over. “Since you’ve spent the last week banging on about her like a proper lovesick prick, mate.”
“I have not.”
“You have,” he says, deadpan. “It’s been tragic to watch.”
Echo snorts without looking up from the bike. “He’s right.”
Thorne jerks his chin toward my pocket. “And now you’re standing there checking your mobile every thirty seconds like she’s binned you off already.”
“She hasn’t binned me off.”
“Not yet.”
The main garage door rattles as it rolls the rest of the way open.
Andre walks in carrying a clipboard under one arm, sunglasses pushed onto his head. He makes it three steps before taking in all of us standing around, Thorne still beside Echo, Sayshen eating, and not one bike moving.
“Morning,” he says. “Nice to see everyone’s working so fucking hard.”
“We were discussing team morale,” I tell him.
Andre looks at Thorne and Echo. “That what we’re calling it now?”
Thorne picks up his coffee. “Keeps the crew happy.”
“It’ll keep you slow if you don’t get your ass outside.” Andre glances at the clock, then around the garage. “You’ve got a race next weekend, and none of you are fast enough to spend the morning fucking around.”
“I’m fast enough,” I say.
He points the clipboard at me. “You went through a fence three weeks ago.”
“The fence was in a bad spot.”
“It was outside of the fucking track.”
“Exactly.”
Andre doesn’t even bother answering that. He turns toward Talon instead. “Get the warmers off and take the BMW M 1000 RR out first. That thing tops out around one-ninety-five, so I want clean laps, not you two trying to fucking kill each other before the tires are hot.”
Talon nods toward me. “He started it.”
“The fuck I did. I barely made it through the door before you nosy assholes jumped me.”
Andre points toward the track. “Save the bullshit for later. Both of you, outside,” he adds before turning his attention to Echo, who’s already wiping her hands on a rag.
“We got three sponsor bikes dropped off this morning. Two Ducati Panigale V4 Rs and a BMW M 1000 RR. I need you to check the forks before anyone touches them. The front end on one of the Ducati’s felt too soft when they unloaded it, and the BMW’s sitting uneven.”
Echo frowns and looks toward the covered bikes lined up near the far bay. “They came set up like that?”
“Apparently.”
“That’s fucking comforting.”
“I want the suspension checked, the ride height measured, and every setting written down before anyone takes them near the track.”
Andre turns toward the rest of us and points at the doors with his clipboard. “The rest of you idiots, get out there. Twenty laps, timed. Lowest lap time gets to skip tomorrow’s conditioning session.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
Sayshen lowers his coffee. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
“You don’t stand a fucking chance, you’re hungover,” Talon says.
“Still faster than you.”
“Prove it,” he adds, grabbing his suit from the rack with a cocky grin.
Andre claps the clipboard against his palm. “Save it for the track. Echo, finish up here and join them when you’re done.”
“I won’t be long,” she says, tossing the rag onto her cart.
Talon heads for the tire warmers while Reign downs the rest of his coffee and drops the cup into the bin. Sayshen mutters something about winning through adversity but starts toward his bike anyway.
Thorne hangs back long enough to lean toward Echo again, but she plants a greasy palm against his crisp white tee before he can kiss her.
“Track.”
He laughs, catches her wrist, and kisses the inside of it instead. “Bossy little thing.”
“Move, Thorne.”
He backs away with a grin and heads for the doors. “See you out there, love.”
I grab my helmet from the bench and walk past him towards my locker. “That was embarrassing.”
“Says the mug checking his phone again.”
I glance down at the screen in my hand.
Still nothing from Cece, but I grin anyway and slide it into my locker. “She’ll answer.”
Thorne pulls on his gloves and gives me a knowing look. “Course she will, mate. Any minute now.”
His tone says the complete opposite.
The garage is loud behind us, music playing near Echo’s toolbox while tools hit metal and engines warm up across the bays. Tires are stacked against the wall, spare fairings hang overhead, and setup sheets are clipped beside every bike.
Same shit we do before every race.
Everyone gets louder, Andre gets more pissed off, and Echo threatens to kill anyone who touches a setting after she’s finished with it. Next weekend’s packed with practice, qualifying, and races, but none of that is new.
The waiting is the part I hate.
The days before the race when everything is ready, but we still have to test it again. And again. Then stand around pretending we aren’t counting down until the lights go out.
I grab my gloves and head toward my bike while Thorne moves toward his. Talon and Reign are already pulling off their tire warmers, and Sayshen is bent over his tank with one hand pressed to his forehead.
I stop beside him and give him a once-over. “Looking sharp.”
“Fuck off.”
“How the fuck did you even ride home that drunk?”
“I wasn’t drunk when I rode home.” He pushes his sunglasses up. “It was after me, Talon, and Bex got back. We kept the party going.”
I glance over at Talon, who suddenly looks real busy with his gloves. “Yeah? Kept it going how?”
Sayshen smirks. “Drank more. Did other shit. Didn’t sleep.”
“Got it.”
“You sure you’re good to ride, or should we strap a bucket to the front of your bike?”
He turns his head slowly, glaring at me through his sunglasses before pulling them off and tossing them onto the workbench. “I’m beating your time now just for that,” he says, dragging his helmet down over his head.
I grin and clap him on the shoulder. “There he is.”
“Fucker.”
Andre’s voice comes through my earpiece before I’ve even swung onto the bike.
“Comms check.”
“Unfortunately, I can hear you,” I say.
Andre ignores me. “Talon?”
“Good.”
“Reign?”
“Clear.”
“Thorne?”
“Yeah, mate.”
“Sayshen?”
There’s a pause.
Then, “The inside of my helmet is too loud.”
Talon laughs over the comms. “That’s your brain trying to escape.”
“Shut up.”
I grin and settle onto the bike, planting both feet while the engine idles beneath me. The sound rolls through my chest, familiar enough to settle everything else.
Andre keeps talking while we line up near the pit exit.
“Twenty laps. All timed. I want clean braking, no stupid passes, and no one treating lap one like qualifying.”
“Who would do that?” I ask.
“You.”
“Unfair.”
“You nearly took Talon’s front wheel off last week.”
“He left the door open.”
“There was no fucking door,” Talon says.
“There was enough room.”
Andre’s voice comes back sharper. “Can everyone shut the fuck up for ten seconds?”
Nobody says anything.
Seven seconds pass.
Sayshen clears his throat. “Are we counting these ten seconds, or—”
“Go.”
The pit light changes.