Chapter 6 Amy
I’m so fucked.
The buzz around me is palpable—hands grab my shoulders, shaking me as they congratulate me on my tour de force at the finish line. But instead of sharing in the general euphoria, my insides are Jell-O.
There are plenty of guys around me, but I only see one.
What the hell is Lewis Conley doing here?
My heart is pummeling in my chest, my mind racing.
I need to get out of here. Despite the throng clamoring between us, there’s no doubt as to what that Campus Driver is thinking.
He shoots me an icy stare, and I know I should just turn away—pretend I don’t care, pretend I haven’t noticed him looking at me like he wants to kill me.
I can’t, though. I can’t look away. The flames from the nearby fire are flickering in his brown eyes, and I’m hooked.
Why did I have to go and take off the fucking helmet?
“That right there, Amy? That was gold. For a minute I thought you were screwed, but you made it work. You were incredible.”
“Thanks, RJ,” I stammer, my eyes still glued to Lewis.
He still hasn’t budged, which is stressing me out even more.
I’m wound tight as a bowstring. He’s preparing his attack, I can sense it—and the truth is I’m in no state to take him on.
Every muscle in my body is stiff and heavy, as if I’m standing in quicksand, and he’s doing that thing again—tapping into my nervous system, sucking me dry, leaving me weak and empty and defenseless.
If only the asshole weren’t so fucking hot!
“Want a drink?” RJ asks, pointing to a crate of beers.
I eye the bottles, imagining what would happen if I just launched one at Lewis Conley’s forehead. Maybe I’d get lucky—hit him in whatever part of the brain stores memories. If I could somehow erase everything he’s seen over the past hour…
“I’m good,” I say, backing up toward my car.
“You guys should go ahead and celebrate without me. I’m exhausted.
” I smile. “Plus, I’m guessing Raven will be releasing her drone trackers right about now.
We both know what’ll happen if she finds me here.
” I shudder at the thought. “I should head back.”
“Sounds good. I’ll count up the winnings and we’ll check in tomorrow,” RJ says. “I haven’t told the others yet, by the way—you sure about this?”
I nod. “Never been surer.”
I head over to my car, doing my best to look casual, when Lewis comes back in my line of sight. When he realizes I’m about to duck out, he makes a beeline for me, shoving some guy out of the way and striding across the track. Fuck fuck fuck. I was hoping to slip away unnoticed.
Lucky for me, I’m faster than my mentor. I’m already strapped into my seat and gearing into first when his palm slams against my rear window.
Too late, Conley.
My tires spin, and I shoot off into the night without a backward glance.
I realize that was a dumb move—and, yes, I’ll have to see him again at some point.
But right here, right now, I just need to get the hell out of here.
The truth is that ever since I met him, my decision-making skills have been shitty, to say the least. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins.
It always does when I race. The energy keeps on flowing for hours afterward.
But with Lewis thrown into the mix like that, I’m practically on the verge of a heart attack.
I crank up the music to drown my thoughts, hit the gas, and by the time I pull up to the garage, I’ve leveled out. I slide open the shop doors and park before slipping out of the Aston.
So fucking annoying. That’s twice now that Lewis has barged into my playground and caught me off guard. Except this time, it’s really bad. If there was one place I really, really could’ve done without seeing him, it was back there at the race.
There’s no way RJ would have invited him—I guess I just got unlucky. Life can be such a bitch sometimes. And the fucking look in his eyes… yeah. There’s no way I’ll be a Campus Driver now. Not after today. And if he rats me out to the dean, I’m well and truly screwed.
I lean against the car and drop my head between my arms, panting. I’ve got the weekend to figure out how to save my sorry ass.
“Hitman, huh?” a voice says from behind me. “Great name.”
Oh, fuck no!
I leap back and instinctively raise my guard.
Hidden in a dark corner like a damn psychopath, Lewis is leaning against the compressor.
“Surprise,” he deadpans.
I lower my fists and school my voice. “That was fast.”
“Like I said… Google Maps isn’t all that. You might be a racer, Amy Hitman, but trust me on this one—I know these streets like the back of my hand.”
The way he said “racer” just then… He practically spat it at me.
He’s angry. And I wasn’t expecting him to tailgate me home, which means I haven’t had time to get my story straight—which fucking sucks.
“I’ve been here for five whole minutes,” he continues, scuffing the ground with his heel. “Which is weird, because I could’ve sworn I saw you racing back there. For a second, I was actually worried you were a real driver. Looks like I have nothing to worry about.”
Fuck straightening up my story. Say that word one more time like that, and I will shove my fist down your throat, buddy.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I took a detour or two. See, I wasn’t expecting you to stalk me.”
He shrugs. “I was hoping to talk earlier, but seems like me throwing myself at your car window wasn’t clear enough.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s what that thumping sound was? I thought I’d just hit a raccoon. Really shook me up.”
He moves toward me, and my heart is skipping a beat with every step he takes. My legs are trembling—leftover adrenaline from the race, no doubt.
I consider running inside and locking myself in, but if he follows me to the apartment, he might wake Raven and clue her in. Quick math—my sister is far more dangerous than he is. I scrap the idea.
Guess we’re doing this.
To suppress the version of myself who usually runs whenever he’s around, I climb onto the hood of the Aston, prop myself up on my elbows, and look at him with bored detachment.
RJ would kill me if he saw this, but at this point, whatever.
Lewis’s eyes narrow as he takes me in, his gaze drifting from my face to my toes.
He’s never looked at me like that before. Something inside me flickers.
“So, what can I do you for?” I ask.
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to refocus. “What the hell was that back there?”
I stare him down. He’s still got that Cardinals cap pulled tight over his head, his gaze dark, his fists stuffed into his hoodie pocket. Fuck me, he’s so hot when he’s mad.
“Just hanging with friends,” I say breezily. “Showing them around, you know?”
I shouldn’t troll him, I know. But what can I say? It’s my defense mechanism kicking in.
“Cut the crap, Firebird. You’re digging yourself a hole.”
I bristle. “Excuse me? You show up unannounced and basically jump me—what were you expecting? Big, fuzzy energy?”
“Yeah, you must feel so threatened right now…”
“No,” I correct. “If I felt threatened, you’d be dealing with a broken leg, Conley.”
We’re staring each other down hard. I ball my fists tighter.
“So, when were you planning on telling me?” he asks.
I pretend to think. “I usually wait until, like, the third date before I bring up my hobbies. They say it’s good to keep a little mystery, you know?”
His jaw ticks. “A hobby would be like crocheting, Amy! Tearing doughnuts at a hundred miles an hour in the middle of fucking nowhere isn’t.”
“Crocheting?” I laugh. “Wow, I had no idea you were into crafts. You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“That’s it, yeah. Keep treating this like a joke. What are you playing at, exactly?” He frowns. “I’ve seen you drive twice, and it was pathetic. You went the fucking wrong way down a one-way street just this afternoon. So how come I find you the very same night illegally racing on public roads?”
Urgh. Is my lousy performance going to haunt me for the rest of my life? He sure does get a kick out of goading me about the stalling thing. If only he knew I kept fucking up because of him… God, he pisses me off.
And you know what? Screw this guy! I just won the race tonight—can’t he relax for a second? Maybe hit me with a “Good job, Amy,” or “Amazing skills, Amy”?
“So that’s what this is really about, then,” I say slowly. “Isn’t it? You should be happy I’m actually better than you thought. Think of all the hours of training you’ll be saving.”
He snickers. “Wait a minute—you think you’ll still be training?
Amy, do you have any idea how much time I wasted on you?
Not to mention how high-risk that was for the business?
” He shakes his head. “Why am I even asking you? Of course you fucking don’t.
You’re so far from Campus Driver material, it’s out of this world.
I told you about the dean—I warned you he’s got hard-core rules we need to live and work by,” he continues.
“And you don’t even give a shit. I told you a million times we have a brand image, and you’re out there casually running illegal races, for fuck’s sake.
I’ve got better things to do than train a girl who has zero respect for our reputation! ”
Oh, okay—you like your punches head-on, huh?
“What about your reputation, sweetie?” I snarl. “Don’t you screw, like, every other passenger you pick up? And now you’re gonna get all high-and-mighty with me?” I laugh. “And by the way, what were you doing at the race tonight?”
“Okay… So, first, I don’t screw anybody on the job,” he cuts in. “And second, I thought we were going to some random party. It’s not my fault Dwayne ambushed me!”
Aha! So that’s how that happened. Gee, thanks, Dwayne. Whoever the fuck you are, I hope you burn in hell.
“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to get into cars with strange men?” I eyeball him.