Page 17 of Racer (Iron Rogues MC #15)

EMILY

T he roar of the crowd filtered through the glass, muffled but impossible to ignore.

I paced the length of the Redline Kings owner’s box, arms crossed tight against my chest as I stared at the track below.

The Helline Circuit was still an underground race, but Kane paid off the right people to be able to host at the Redline Speedway.

I hated being stuck in here.

The pit was where I belonged. Where I could run diagnostics, check telemetry, and shout strategy over the headset. Not locked away in an air-conditioned skybox, watching through reinforced glass as if I were some delicate spectator.

But Jude had put his foot down. Hard. And I hadn’t wanted to distract him while he was racing against drivers who literally wanted to kill him. So I’d given in without a fight.

Kane was at my side as the signal dropped. Jude’s Charger peeled out with a growl that set my heart racing. The others surged with him, and engines snarled as tires screamed across the pavement.

For the first couple of laps, he held steady. All smooth lines and tactical turns.

Even from up here, I could feel it—the tension coiling beneath the surface.

We were all waiting for Dez’s guys to pull some crap on the track. But at least Jude had backup this time from some of the other teams.

“He’s driving tight,” I murmured.

Kane nodded. “He’s waiting.”

“For what?”

“For someone to make a move.”

As if on cue, one of the cars on his left swerved inward, trying to sideswipe him on the next bend. My stomach dropped.

“Crap,” I breathed.

But Jude didn’t flinch. He flicked the wheel with terrifying precision and sent the other car spinning into the barricade in a burst of tire smoke and sparks. The crash shook the fence, and the crowd erupted in a roar.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, heart thundering. “That wasn’t a fluke.”

“Nope,” Kane said grimly. “It was a failed ambush.”

More cars pushed in, one after the next—testing, feinting, trying to crowd him out. But I saw it. I saw the pattern.

“His backup,” I whispered.

A familiar car clipped another that got too close to Jude. A second redirected the heat off him with a deliberate drift. The other teams had come through for us.

The next few laps were brutal.

Every time Jude tried to pull ahead, someone blocked him. One of our allies clipped another driver’s tail just long enough to open a gap, but it didn’t last.

Then one of Dez’s drivers broke through the line.

I saw it coming a split second before it happened—too fast to scream, too slow to stop. The other car slammed into Jude’s side with vicious intent, and his Charger spun.

My breath lodged in my throat.

The whole track seemed to tilt as his car whirled, tires screaming, smoke pluming from the pavement. I fisted my hands at my sides, heart pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Don’t crash. Please, don’t crash.

But Jude didn’t lose control. He never did.

With a move so fast it was almost invisible, he corrected the angle, straightened the frame, and hit the gas. The other driver was still recovering when Jude swung wide and plowed into his side with a punishing force.

The crowd roared as the car veered off track and crashed into the barricade.

Jude didn’t look back. He shot down the straightaway like a man possessed.

I didn’t breathe again until he crossed the finish line. In first place, just as we’d planned. Dez Franklin had fallen into our trap and was now royally screwed. I was thrilled, although a part of me still wanted to see him pay even more for what he’d done to my brother.

The owner’s box erupted in cheers behind me, but I barely registered them. All I wanted was to get to Jude.

I whirled toward the door and made it three steps before one of Mason’s club brothers and one of Jude’s blocked the way.

“Move,” I demanded.

“Can’t.” Blitz shook his head. “Racer said he’d break all our legs if we let you out.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Dead,” Maverick replied. “Said he’d start with the knees.”

I gaped at them, but Kane didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Love you like a sister, Em, but I’m not taking a bullet for you,” he muttered. “After what he just pulled off, he’s earned the right to be a possessive asshole for five minutes.”

I huffed and crossed my arms.

“I can’t wait until it’s your turn,” I growled.

Kane finally looked up and rolled his eyes. “Don’t hold your breath while you wait.”

I started pacing again, frustration and adrenaline buzzing through every nerve. I wasn’t going to be calm until I saw Jude with my own eyes. Then I was going to kill him for scaring me like that. Right after I kissed the hell out of him.

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the stopper. Jude stalked into the owner’s box, helmet in one hand, the other clenched at his side. He was still in full racing gear—sweat-slicked, flushed, and brimming with adrenaline-fueled fury and triumph.

I didn’t hesitate.

I launched across the room, running full tilt until I collided with him. His arms caught me mid-sprint, wrapping around my waist and lifting me clean off the ground. Then he spun me once with a sharp exhale, as though he needed proof that I was safe, even though I hadn’t been the one in danger.

My legs clung to his hips, my arms locked around his neck, and my face buried in his shoulder. For one perfect second, the world disappeared.

Then I yanked back just enough to glare at him.

“You’re not allowed to do that again,” I snapped, jabbing a finger against his chest. “My heart can’t take it.”

His smirk was maddening. “That your way of saying you love me?”

I tried to pout, but it crumpled the second I looked at him.

“Yeah,” I muttered, dropping my forehead to his. “I love you, you big jerk.”

“Big jerk?” he echoed, his grin widening.

“You totally turned every club brother against me,” I complained.

He quirked a brow. “Only because I know you so well. You never would’ve known if you hadn’t tried to leave the owner’s box—like I told you not to.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, since I couldn’t argue with his logic.

Pressing his finger under my chin, he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. His smirk vanished, replaced by something raw and reverent. “I love you too, baby.”

Jude showed me how he felt every single day, but hearing those words from him settled something deep inside me.

My heart felt full to bursting as his mouth found mine in a kiss that wasn’t soft or slow.

It was everything that had built between us—weeks of tension, fear, wanting, and relief—all crashing into one moment.

The guys hooted behind us, someone shouting something crude, but I didn’t care.

I melted into Jude and celebrated our victory against the monster who put my brother in his hospital bed by kissing the man I loved.

A throat cleared behind us, loud enough to break the spell of the kiss. Jude didn’t release me right away, pressing his lips to my forehead before glancing over his shoulder with a growl of irritation.

Fox stood in the doorway, arms crossed and mouth quirked in a half-apologetic, half-amused grin.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest,” he drawled. “But we have club business. Need you, Racer.”

Jude’s jaw flexed. He looked back at me, eyes dark with something fierce and unreadable, and cupped my cheek in one gloved hand.

“I gotta go for a bit,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’ll meet you at the Redline Kings clubhouse when this is done.”

I nodded, trying to hold back the disappointment that flared in my chest. This was how MCs worked. I knew that. Even respected it. But I wasn’t happy about the timing of his president’s request.

Jude leaned in and kissed me again, slower this time. Then he released me, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip before stepping back.

Fox gave me a chin lift before disappearing down the hall.

I stayed where I was, watching Jude walk away. I had his heart. I knew that much.

But maybe I wanted more.

Maybe I wanted the words stitched on leather that would make it official. His old lady. His everything .