Page 4 of Racer (Iron Rogues MC #15)

EMILY

I t was good to be surrounded by cars again, even if the nurses practically had to force me out of the hospital. I’d finally agreed when Kane sent over a Redline Kings prospect who’d taken my spot at his bedside and promised to call if Mason woke up while I was gone.

The garage was quieter than usual. A couple of guys were wrenching on their bikes in the back corner, music low and conversation even lower. Nobody said anything to me as I passed through the main bay, which was exactly how I liked it today.

Mason’s car sat near the back—what was left of it. The front end was crushed like an aluminum can, the passenger side mangled beyond repair. But I wasn’t looking for cosmetic damage.

I knelt beside the frame, dragging my fingers along the steering wheel.

The data logger housing mounted in the middle had been ruined in the crash.

When I cracked the casing open, my stomach sank.

The device wasn’t just corrupted—some of the components were mangled beyond recognition.

A high-speed hit straight to that side of the car would’ve done it.

“Crap,” I muttered, sitting back on my heels.

“You sure didn’t waste any time takin’ a look at Axle’s car.”

I looked up to see Kane smirking at me from a few feet away.

“Maybe she’ll answer me before any of you guys do,” I muttered, holding up the mangled logger.

He stepped closer and gave a low whistle. “That’s what’s left of the data unit?”

“Yeah.” I turned it in my hand. “Probably didn’t survive the impact.”

Kane squinted down at the logger. “No salvaging anything off that.”

I nodded slowly, a pit forming in my stomach. “Which means we have no data.”

He hesitated. “And no way to prove Axle didn’t fuck up and cause the crash.”

Exactly.

I swallowed hard, setting the shattered unit down. “Mason didn’t make that mistake.”

“I know.” Kane’s voice was quiet now. “And so do his club brothers. Anyone else who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

Standing, I wiped my palms on my jeans. “If it’d been anywhere else, he’d be facing sanctions.”

Kane clapped me on the back. “Then it’s a damn good thing I own the underground races in the entire state, because nobody is gonna keep Axle off the track when he finally wakes the fuck up.”

I appreciated his use of when instead of if. Mason had been in a coma for nearly a week, and it was getting harder by the day to remain positive.

Snorting, I mumbled, “I’d like to see them try.”

Kane shook his head with a chuckle. “Not sure who’s more stubborn, you or your brother.”

“It definitely runs in the family.”

I had pestered Kane to give me the chance to show him what I could do under the hood of one of his race cars.

When I was only fifteen, he finally caved, handed me a lug wrench, and pointed at the rear tire of the nearest car, telling me to change it as fast as I could.

Since I grew up trailing my big brother, and he spent all his time either in the garage or on a track, it wasn’t much of a challenge.

But it took me a while to realize Kane knew that since my brother hadn’t kept any secrets from him.

Which meant he was well aware that Mason had let me do more than hand him tools when he was working on cars for years before then.

Grabbing a nearby racing jack, I had the vehicle off the ground in seconds. Then I swapped out the wrench for a hydraulic wheel gun. The entire wheel assembly was off and replaced in under a minute. When it was done, I dusted my hands off and grinned at Kane.

He’d hired me on the spot and had given me the experience I needed to earn my ASE certification. That first week had been brutal. Every guy in the garage watched me as though they were waiting for me to break something. Or cry. Just because I was a girl. Jerks.

So I worked harder. Faster. Cleaner. I stayed late, got greasy, and kept my mouth shut until I had something worth saying.

Eventually, I earned my spot with them. They didn’t treat me like Kane’s pet project or Axle’s little sister anymore. I was just one of the crew, which was exactly how I wanted it.

“Damn straight, it does,” Kane agreed, pulling me out of my memories. “Which is how I know he’s gonna be hell on wheels when he wakes up from his coma.”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Hey, Novak!” Gauge called from under a lifted Mustang, his voice muffled. “You skipping the race tomorrow night to hold Axle’s hand or what?”

I snorted. “I miss a couple of races ’cause my brother’s in a coma, and suddenly the world’s ending?”

“That’s because you’re the only one who double-checks my torque settings,” he shot back. “I don’t trust any of these other assholes.”

“You shouldn’t,” someone muttered from across the bay.

A few chuckles rippled through the garage, and I rolled my eyes as I wiped off my hands. “I’ll be there.”

The pit buzzed with controlled chaos—shouted instructions, the hiss of pneumatics, the sharp scent of exhaust and burnt rubber. Floodlights cast everything in stark relief, shadows cutting across the concrete.

I moved between cars, barking for a 15mm socket before the driver even finished complaining, my voice rising over the rumble of engines and the shriek of tires. One of the guys tossed the tool to me without looking.

My hands worked fast, focused, and steady. I was in my element, right where I belonged.

But I still felt the tension lingering under the surface. A few of the guys seemed quieter, and not just when I was nearby, so I didn’t think it was because they didn’t know how to treat me with Mason in a coma. Some glanced over their shoulders more than usual.

The crew was off tonight. Not in any way that would tank a race, but in the little things. A distracted look here and a too long pause there. My brother’s absence felt like an unspoken echo in every motion.

“You feel it too, right?” Piston muttered, dropping beside me as we adjusted a suspension component. “Shit’s been off.”

I didn’t answer except for a sharp nod. I couldn’t, not when my chest was already tight from holding it together all night.

Luckily, he didn’t push.

Later, while swapping out brake pads, I heard Gauge call over to another crew member. “Kane’s bringing in someone new. Some hotshot racer from Tennessee.”

I froze. Just for a second. Long enough for the wrench in my hand to slip, nicking my knuckle.

I should have known there would be a new racer to replace my brother. Kane needed to keep things running. There were races to win.

But it still felt like being punched in the chest.

Mason wasn’t even awake yet, and someone was already slipping into his shadow while people outside our circle were saying he’d caused the crash.

It pissed me off, but I didn’t say anything. Just tightened the bolt and kept working.

I finished up the last brake bleed and handed the tools off to Piston, wiping my hands on a rag as I stepped away from the car.

Engines still roared in the background. From the edge of the pit, I could see the finish line, a blur of heat waves and smoke where tires had eaten up the road.

The crowd screamed as the lead driver crossed, but the noise barely registered.

I was too wrapped up in the hole my brother left behind to really care who won.

The space Mason should’ve filled was still empty…and someone else would be standing in it soon.

I didn’t know anything about the guy Kane was bringing in except the gossip I’d heard the crew toss around tonight. Some Tennessee racer with a reputation that was bound to make him cocky. Guys like that always acted as if the track owed them something.

But I didn’t care how fast he was or how many wins he had.

I didn’t need a replacement.

I needed answers.

I tossed the rag onto the workbench and turned away from the track, jaw tight with purpose.

Let Kane’s golden boy show up and draw all the attention he wanted.

I was going to figure out what happened to my brother—even if I had to do it all by myself.