Jordan’s face was stone, though not in anger. It was the mask he wore when he didn’t want anyone, even me, to know what he was thinking. I’d seen it in the shop earlier, when he’d said he didn’t regret our relationship.
“Last I talked to him—” Vic took a drag off a cigarette. “He said he had Joe Hance tuning on his car for him.”
Jordan flinched, before narrowing his eyes. He hadn’t been a fan of Hance for as long as I could remember.
“Wait, wasn’t it Hance that used to beat the crap out of Devin?” I chewed on my bottom lip. Hance had always been something of a bully.
“Yup.” Aiden sneered. “Jordan put a stop to it.
Devin’s being a dick about this.”
Jordan shrugged, as if it was no big deal, successfully ending that line of conversation. Nobody dared push him.
We didn’t talk about it again, as we were soon in line at the track gates. I’d forgotten how popular the weekend of SKS was. Throngs of people already gathered inside the track. Through the gate, the throng parted to let us through. Jordan easily guided the truck and open car hauler through the people, cars, trucks, and trailers.
The excitement in the air was electric. It wasn’t often just anyone could watch the Kings of the Street go at it.
I helped Vic unload the Malibu while Aiden and Jordan went to the drivers’ meeting. The electric sizzle around us was infectious. We moved in a hurried rhythm. Vic’s smile bright and genuine for the first time since we’d left my house.
The crowd thinned, spectators finding their seats or positions along the start line. Around me the roar of high revving, high priced race engines sang to the beat of my heart. Through the barely controlled chaos, a tall familiar form made his way toward us.
Jordan’s eyes were alive with the calm before the storm. Behind his calculated demeanor was a driver ready to run, a guy with race fuel in his veins who would accept nothing short of winning.
“We’re staging now,” he said more to Vic than me. The noise level was so loud we hadn’t been able to hear the call over the loud speakers.
I prepped Jordan’s chutes while the guys did everything else. I’d done these a thousand times, for my dad, for Aiden, and even for Jordan.
“So, your lady isn’t around just to look pretty, I take it?” The voice was unfamiliar, not surprising considering Street King Showdown brought in all kinds. In an area where street racing was a way of life, every no-prep, grudge racer wanted to pit themselves against the best we had to offer. And that was Jordan.
At first Jordan didn’t respond, he tilted his chin up and cut his eyes at the intruder beneath the rim of his hat. The newcomer was tall and thin. Jordan unfolded himself from the crouch he’d been in, making the guy look downright scrawny. Jordan had him by a few inches in height and triple that in the width of his shoulders.
This guy had balls, as he didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
I didn’t like it. Not that I worried about Jordan, I’d say he had the advantage on the track and in a fight. Something about this guy made me uneasy.
“Eric Marshall.” The scrawny-ballsy guy stuck his hand out. Jordan didn’t immediately shake it. “I had to come over and meet the myth that is Jordan Slater.”
“You’ve done that.”
“Yeah, I was more impressed with the girl.”
Jordan snarled, but Aiden stepped in between them quickly. I’d seen Eric Marshall’s type before, being the sort of guy to stir up trouble wasn’t enough. He wanted to do it and get noticed too.
Ambitious as well as being a jerk.
It seemed like he was trying to use Jordan to make a name for himself in the racing scene. “Big guy’s got a temper.” Eric Marshall laughed. “Better shelve it before you line up beside me!”
“Grab a lane, bitch, anytime…anywhere.” Anger rolled off Jordan in violent waves.
“Oh, I will, soon enough.”
“And he’ll smoke your ass. You’ll still be a nobody, who has to introduce himself with both names.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Jordan wasn’t the only person Eric Marshall had pissed off.
“Step off.” Vic was with us now, too. “We’ll line up soon enough.”
Knowing he was outnumbered, Eric Marshall turned on his heel.
“Chump!” Jordan called after him.
“Yup and we ain’t got time for it.” Aiden nodded in agreement. “Let’s get this beast to the staging lanes.” Vic led the way with Aiden and me following behind the car. I was nervous. This wasn’t drag racing at the track for points, with qualifying stages each round, pitting the fastest time against the slowest for the races. No, SKS was a true no-prep. There were no qualifying rounds, no surface prepping. You got one shot each time you lined up. Win or go home.
Jordan took his first shot flawlessly, sending one of Hunter’s crew home packing.
After that we watched the rest of the first-round races. Eric Marshall won by a hair against an old-school grudge guy in a Vega.
Devin made it past the first round, as well. Not that I could celebrate.
When Hunter lined up, shouts for bets and cheers rang out across the lanes behind me. On the light from the old-school flagger, Hunter’s truck shot off like a rocket. It was as easy a win as Jordan’s.
I was surprised to turn around and find Jordan counting money he’d won.
“You bet on Hunter?” I laughed incredulously.
Jordan winked, I really shouldn’t have been surprised. “He’s wicked fast, baby girl, there’s only one time I’d bet against him.” With one arm tucked under my butt, he pulled me up to his chest. A shiver ran through me as his teeth nipped my bottom lip. “Okay, maybe I can think of two times.”
He kissed me, open mouthed and with a furor I hadn’t expected. It took my breath away. Had he not held me against his chest, I might have hit the ground.
“Wow.” I breathed with arousal as I slid down his body.
“Come on, I’ve got the drivers’ meeting for the second round.” The grin on his face spoke volumes. Telling me the race wasn’t the only thing that turned him on.