“I embarrassed him when I left.” I swallowed down the bile that burned its way up the back of my throat. “He wants to pay me back for that. It’s how people like Caleb operate. You know that as well as I do.”
“Yeah,” he drawled the word out, but still didn’t look at me.
“He knows now, he watched us, he knows the one way to hurt me is to take you away from me. Caleb is smart, his dad is some big shot lawyer. They’ve got a shit ton of money. He’d make it happen.”
He swore an oath and finally looked at me. “He can’t take me away from you, Raelynn. I’m with you, always.”
“Yes, he can,” I whispered. “If you hit him. If you hurt him. He’s not like us, he’ll press charges. He’ll go after you. He’ll make sure you’re taken away from me. He’s smart, he’s conniving.”
Jordan leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I won’t let it happen.”
“How could you stop it?”
When he couldn’t answer me. I opened the door and started to climb out of the truck. “I can’t lose you like that, I can’t. I’ve lost too much, Jordan. I was barely hanging on without you.”
“Raelynn.” He reached for me as I stepped out.
“I can’t, Jordan, I can’t.” I walked away from the truck. I spent the rest of the time in our small pit, curled in a bag chair, as they went through the motions of prerace prep.
Jordan was stoic as he readied the car. Even more
so, once we made it to the staging lanes, the lanes immediately behind the track where only the race cars waited as the track is readied. My brother and Hunter flanked me like soldiers. In a way, I guess they were.
I was cold and numb, both inside and out. Caleb had finally found a way to really hurt me, to break me in a way he never could before. I’d fought to get my life back, only to feel it slip through my grasp again.
Prior to the race, Aiden left me just long enough to go with Jordan over to talk to Eric Marshall. For several long minutes, the three of them talked. When my brother and Jordan walked away, Marshall was grinning.
The way he did, like the cat who got the canary, made me feel…dirty.
When Jordan climbed in the Malibu I kissed his lips and pulled the belts tight across his chest, the same way I’d seen my mom do for my dad hundreds of times. “Don’t look so sad, Raelynn.” He thumbed my bottom lip before pulling on his helmet. “Have faith in
me.”
I couldn’t respond, didn’t know how, so I stepped back silently as Aiden and Vic walked him through his burnout and lined him up on the start line. Of course, I had faith in Jordan, but I knew Caleb too. He was dangerous.
Two seconds later, with a deafening roar, both cars took off down the back end of the track. I didn’t have to watch to know who won. I could hear it in the raucous screams of the fans. Jordan was Arkadia’s favorite son, here he was a legend, their Street King. The stands were packed with local fans who’d watched their hero win.
The celebration in our pit was somber, more so than I’d expected. I was too anxious to celebrate. I kept waiting for the next shoe to drop. For Jordan to make true on his promise to hurt Caleb.
I clung to my faith in Jordan, but I’d seen the flash of what he’d almost become in those dark eyes, the wild boy who held onto a car until it ripped his shoulder apart, the cornered dog ready to attack.
My heart stopped when Eric Marshall idled his race car in front of our stall and called out to Jordan, “Rematch on the street? Double or nothing?” When Jordan didn’t give Marshall the response he wanted, he laughed. “What, the King of the Streets afraid to take it there?”
Jordan spit on the pavement and went back to strapping the Malibu to the trailer. “Vic, tell this little bitch where to go. I’ll race him.” He glanced to where Caleb sat on the golf cart that was towing Marshall. “But get that trash out of my sight.” Jordan jerked his chin toward Caleb. “Or I’ll rearrange his face.”
Eric laughed and gestured for the cart to go and they disappeared into the crowd that had gathered.
It wasn’t over. Sickness churned in my stomach. “Faith.” Jordan stooped down to kiss me. His lips
were warm and reassuring against mine. “Have it.”
I battled with my emotions all the way to the canning factory, where my journey with Jordan had started several months before. Being there made me nauseous, but Jordan had insisted I stay with him and not leave his side. Caleb would be here. Jordan’s only reason to race Eric Marshall again, because Jordan had nothing to prove or gain otherwise.
Everything was playing out in stop motion, as it had the night Devin died.
I had tremendous faith in Jordan. This time, though, my fear of what Caleb could cost me was far greater. My biggest regret in those moments was that I’d shared my secrets with Jordan. If I’d kept them to myself, none of this would be happening.
If I’d been stronger, I could have avoided all of
this.
There was a line drawn in the sand between
different types of people. Where we come from, that line is painted yellow and runs over top of where two lanes of concrete meet. It was the only thing that separated Jordan from Caleb, Eric Marshall’s crew from ours. We had at least doubled in size to face the guys from out of town, including Hunter and his crew, too.
The fear of Caleb touching me, being close to me, didn’t exist when I stood beside Jordan. He protected just with his presence, healed me just by standing beside me. He was my anchor.
Faster and faster my heart raced, over and over his voice in my head told me to have faith.
“Don’t even look at her.”
I forced my eyes up from the yellow line at the rumble of Jordan’s voice. Caleb had been staring at me, and I hadn’t even noticed. I was safe beside Jordan.
I squeezed Jordan’s arm to remind him of what we talked about, of how very much I needed him.
“What are your rules?” Eric Marshall’s grin was toothy but not challenging.
Suddenly, something shifted, something changed in the air around us. That line between us was far more fluid than it should have been. Vic glanced to me, momentarily as confused as I was.
Jordan only smiled.
“Flagger uses a flashlight. Roll up to the line, it’s all on the flagger. He’ll show you how he’s going to do the light before you strap in. So, don’t roll up until you’re ready. The crossroad is six hundred and sixty feet, if you want to run a quarter of a mile I can have one set up farther down.” Jordan was all business.
“I can run an eighth, no problem.”
“Put any money on it, Slater?” Caleb was too cocky, too full of himself.
Jordan’s lips peeled back in a feral smile. “Oh yeah. Whatever you’ve got, I’ll collect when we’re done.”
At that, both cars were readied and brought to the line. This wasn’t the usual Saturday night street race. The tension in the air was thick, a pot of built up anger ready to boil over at any given moment.
I wasn’t the only person waiting on the next shoe to drop.
Vic flagged the race, reviewing step by step with Marshall what he would do and how he would do it. Only when Marshall was satisfied, did both crews get to work lining up the cars. I lined Jordan up, his choice. He wanted his eyes on me as long as possible with Caleb around. I wasn’t going to complain about that a bit. As soon as he was ready, I ran to join my brother behind the start line.
When Vic ran back and hit the switch on the flashlight, Jordan didn’t move. Instead, he shut the engine down as the blue Mustang tore up the road. Caleb was among those running down the lane shouting. His excitement was ironic to me, seeing as how he’d never been into racing before.
Like everyone else, I sat in shock as Jordan slowly climbed from the Malibu, tossing his helmet on the seat.
Marshall’s return trip was quick, he let his crew put the car on the trailer and met Jordan where he stood in silence at his car on the start line. Nobody from our crew had moved, we were all too stunned. Jordan hadn’t even tried to leave the start line.
“You ready to collect, Slater?” Marshall had an easy way about him I hadn’t seen before.
“Oh yeah.” The unadulterated hatred in Jordan’s voice gave me pause. This was a setup.
Eric reached around and grabbed Caleb by the back of the neck and pushed him, stumbling, in front of Jordan. Who suddenly wasn’t alone. My brother, Vic, Hunter, Isaac, and several others lined up beside him.
“Hey, man, I can call the cops!” For the first time, as long as I had known him, genuine fear coated Caleb’s face as his eyes searched wildly for an exit.
There wasn’t one.
“I’ll take that.” Aiden snatched the phone from Caleb’s hand and crushed it under his boot. “The thing is, this is an illegal activity. Not even your friends want the cops out here. I’m sure Eric wouldn’t want to lose his car or spend the next ten to twenty behind bars.”
“Nope.” Eric held his hand out to Jordan. I stood in stunned silence, as Jordan handed over every dime he’d won at The Street King Showdown.
I stepped forward to stop him, but Vic was there, in my way, holding me back. I struggled, to no avail. “Vic? What are you doing?”
“You see, there’s something I’d always heard about Eric Marshall.” Jordan moved toward Caleb, his face contorted in barely controlled rage. “Turns out, he can be bought.”
“Money talks.” Marshall laughed and started back to his truck. His friends went with him. Leaving Caleb alone on that painted yellow line in the middle of nowhere.
“So, since nobody is ever going to admit to being here.” Jordan very slowly wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s throat. “Nobody is going to admit to seeing me do this.”