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the cars, working the crowd as the
engines revved. His mouth was moving, but Mia couldn’t really make out what he
was saying anymore, as the cars and people competed for who could be the
loudest. With a grand gesture, the MC pointed at the Corvette and the
bystanders went wild. But when he pointed at the Bugatti a few seconds later,
they went absolutely nuts.
    “Ridiculous,” Mia said as she kicked a pinecone. “Why the
fuck did I agree to this?”
    Even as she bitched aloud, she couldn’t help but admire the
beauty of both cars. She liked to go fast. Hell, who didn’t? But she’d never be
able to afford a flashy car like that, not by piercing for a living. She loved
what she did, but it wasn’t exactly the most lucrative career.
    A beautiful girl stood beside the MC, a flag in her hands.
He moved aside, and the energy of the place was humming now as the crowd
anticipated that scrap of fabric dropping. She held it high for one beat, two,
and then it dropped.
    The cars took off, their back tires smoking and the crowd
screaming.
    Mia’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them tear
past her. God, they were fast. Flashy and powerful. Made her wonder what it’d be
like to go that fast, just once.
    But then, out of the corner of her eye, a blue light caught
her attention. She stared off into the distance but it didn’t disappear. It got
larger.
    The cops were coming to break up the race. This was illegal,
wasn’t it?
    Mia’s stomach dropped. “Oh shit.”
     
    Garrett scanned the crowd from his position a little ways
down the stretch from the starting line. There weren’t many spectators, most of
them crowding by the cars, drinking, partying and generally having themselves a
ball. He nodded to Quentin, who’d parked his bike in the thick of it. The
signal passed from Quentin to Trent, and then to Reg, who was somewhere behind
the Bugatti.
    And then Garrett waited. While Art’s supposed friend and
right-hand dealer drummed up the crowd, Reg was scoping out the lay of the
land. More than anything, Garrett needed to know where Art Ford was hiding.
What he was up to tonight. There had to be more to this than a simple race. The
recurring theme with Artie was always drugs, money and influence. So what did
he stand to gain with this little performance?
    Garrett grunted. He’d know soon enough.
    The return signal came only a second later. Quentin’s right
hand raised and fell twice.
    Disappointment tensed his shoulders. Art wasn’t driving;
Garrett had expected he wouldn’t be. The coward wouldn’t risk his own hide,
even for this kind of show. But the signal meant he wasn’t in the car, and he
wasn’t in the thick of the crowd on the sidelines.
    Where the fuck was that asshole?
    The starting flag dropped and the cars took off, but Garrett
wasn’t looking at them anymore. He was staring into the woods across the road,
beyond the spot where a woman was propped against a tree, watching the race.
The moonlight was glinting off something far behind her in the trees, but he
couldn’t tell what. He stepped closer, trying to get a good look.
    That’s when the woman took off, running toward the crowd.
    “Shit, it’s the cops!” The cry came from his left, and chaos
ran through the spectators. They clambered over one another, sprinting for
their vehicles as sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer with every
second.
    Garrett didn’t pay attention to any of them, instead
hurrying across the road to stare into the near-darkness. Was that a car in the
woods? A black SUV maybe?
    Only a half second later, the headlights flashed on and the
SUV rumbled to life, barreling straight for the road. Garrett ducked behind a
tree, glad he’d worn black leather tonight. Between that and his dark-knit
skullcap, it was likely he hadn’t been seen. He gained his feet just as the
vehicle turned onto the road and a pale white face caught his eye.
    “Goddammit, it’s Ford,” Garrett hissed as he sprinted for
his bike,