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Isaiah’s competition hits the second staging line. The yellow lights flash down and right; as the light turns green, my car lurches with a power I never believed possible, lifting the front wheels. Isaiah rushes forward, with the Camaro following less than a second behind. Both cars fly by me, with Isaiah easily in the lead.
Come on, come on, come on. . . Yes! Isaiah crosses the finish line first. I lower my head and suck in a breath. Thank You, God, for keeping him safe.
“Did you hear me?” asks Zach.
“Um. . . ” This is awkward. “No. Sorry. ”
“I said that I want to race against you. ”
The red lights of my car glow in the distance as Isaiah leaves the track. My body automatically angles toward the exit, as if a gravitational pull exists between Isaiah and me. “I’ll tell Isaiah. ”
“No, Rachel. ” Zach places a hand on my arm and his unwanted touch feels foreign against my skin. “I want to race you when you drive your car. ”
I move my arm, pretending to itch my shoulder. “I won’t be racing. ”
“Why?”
“Because. . . ” I don’t know how to explain in a way that doesn’t make me appear weak.
“Because Isaiah’s one of those guys that doesn’t think that a girl should be behind a wheel. ”
I huff. “No, he’s not. ”
“I’ve got money. ” Zach smirks. “And I hear he needs it. Tell him I’ll race, but only against you. He knows my stakes. ”
Something deep inside of me shifts, and it’s not the good type of stirring.
“And Rachel?” Zach begins to slowly walk backward. “If you were my girl, I’d let you race. ”
“He’s not like that,” I say, but Zach already turned his back to me and is too far away to hear.
“He’s not,” I repeat. At least I don’t think he is.
Isaiah permitted Logan to drive his car without seeing how he would do behind the wheel. Yes, I messed up once, but why hasn’t Isaiah granted me another chance?
Maybe because he’s discovered my secret. Maybe he already knows that I’m weak.
Chapter 41
Isaiah
HITTING EIGHTY-NINE, I SHIFT DOWN and slam my hand onto the steering wheel. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about!”
The surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins makes me feel like I’m flying high without the loss of control that drugs or alcohol brings. This is the only time I feel truly alive. I turn left at the end of the drag strip and pause for my competition to catch up: a Nova with sweet upgrades.
This is my last race for the night and damn, I feel good. My competition, a guy ten years older than me, shakes his head as he gets out of the car with a hundred in his hand. “I should have smoked you, kid. What’s under my hood is ten times what you’ve got. ”
He’s right. His upgrades should have kicked my ass. I take the money and resist the urge to kiss it. “Good race, man. ”
“Your reaction time at the light is insane,” he says. “I want a rematch Friday night. ”
My luck must be changing. “Bring cash and I’ll race you all night. ”
We share a short nod, and I drive Rachel’s car to where Logan and Rachel wait for me. I’ve won every race tonight. After getting his feet wet, Logan won more than he lost, bringing money to the table.
In the darkness, Rachel shines as bright as the sun. Her hair a halo framing her face, her eyes stars. “That was awesome!”
In two easy strides, I reach her, weave my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. My angel is so light she practically floats. “Isaiah! You’re crazy!”
