Page 28

CONAN

I watch the dot on my screen obsessively.

She’s pushing nearly a hundred miles per hour.

My stomach twists. It’s the same route as last night. I should’ve fucking known.

I scroll through my texts. Hundreds unopened, all just shit I don’t care about.

I search Pete’s name.

There it is.

Entry for the race tonight. That motherfucker.

I don’t race anymore. It’s fucking dangerous.

I’ve got enough shit I could get caught for, I don’t need to be locked up for illegal street racing.

Not when I’ve got enough blood on my hands for the death penalty.

Though, the few times I did race when I first moved here?

God, it was fucking exhilarating.

My fist shakes.

I call Pete. No answer.

So, I try again.

This time the asshole picks up.

“Conan?”

“Yeah,” I growl. “Wanna tell me why my car is in a race and I’m fucking not?”

I can’t hide the edge in my voice.

I don’t give a shit about the car, but the woman driving it? That’s another story.

Not just driving. She’s illegally goddamn racing it.

“I had no fucking idea, didn’t know she’s your girl. But, Con, I might have said too much.”

My girl? I wish.

“Too much, how?”

Fucking Pete and his big mouth.

I push my whiskey away. I need a drink, but now I’ve got a sassy nurse to deal with.

“Look, I thought she’d stolen the car from you. Wanted to warn her, so I told her she might end up dead.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You told Hallie I’d kill her?”

Of all the things I want to do to her, killing isn’t on the list.

Punishing her? That’s climbed to the top three.

“Yeah… thought it might make her return the McLaren.”

“If anything happens to her, you, Pete, will be the one I kill with my bare hands.”

He mutters under his breath.

“I told her not to race it. She was so sure.”

The corner of my mouth twitches into a grin. Sounds like her.

“You know Hallie well?”

“Yeah. She’s been on the scene a couple of years now. She’s good. Not sure about letting her loose in your McLaren, though.”

That sick feeling crashes down.

A McLaren races nothing like a Shelby.

But I guess that’s why she spent all last night practicing.

“Fuck. I’ll be at the finish line.”

“Great.”

I cut the call and throw on some clothes.

There’s going to be a lot of people there.

I need backup.

Just in case.