Page 29 of Racing Dirty Trilogy Box Set
Xavier
We’ve been sitting in a small, cramped interrogation room for hours, looking over every driver from the racetrack.
I’m sitting in a cold steel chair and my ass fell asleep a long time ago.
Mia is barely holding her head up and Izzy fell asleep in the corner a few hours ago.
Her head leaning against the plain white wall, the concrete must be cold under her ass.
Nolan, Christian and I have gone over everything from driver’s affairs to the finances and nothing is standing out. I’ve learned more in the past hours about each driver from the track than I care to remember.
Some of these drivers I won’t be able to look at again, like Tommy Harvey, the old man who’s friends with Austin.
He has a thing for younger women, like barely above legal age, young women, but nothing that tells us he wants Austin and Izzy dead.
No one we have checked out has any reason to hurt them, but someone out there does.
“Bro, we’ve been at this for hours, there’s nothing,” Nolan says, hitting his fists on the metal table, making Mia jump.
“Let’s call it a night,” Christian says, dark circles are under his eyes. He closes his laptop and gathers all the paper he printed on each driver’s financial records.
Mia stands and stretches. “Thank fuck. I am so tired, I can’t think sideways." Christian watches her stretch, a heat of want in his brown eyes.
“C’mon, I’ll drive you home,” he tells Mia, gruffly.
I walk over to Izzy and gently shake her. “Izzy, let’s go home." She opens her eyes, smiles at me, and lets out a groan.,
“Uh, my ass is asleep,” she complains. I help her up and run my hands over her ass. “X, what are you doing?" She asks raising an eyebrow at me.
“Massaging your ass since it fell asleep,” I tell her.
“We’re in a police station, you can be arrested for inappropriate grabbing or something,” she mumbles, her voice still sleepy.
I laugh and stop massaging her ass and kiss her on her neck. “Let’s get out of here. If I never see an interrogation room again, it will be too soon."
“I agree," Nolan says, stretching.
Izzy’s eyes gaze into mine, taking my breath away. “Have you figured anything out?" She asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing yet. Everyone at the track checks out. I don’t know where to go from here yet."
“We’ll figure it out,” she says, confidently. We make our way down the stuffy hallway. The marble floor glistening under my feet. The fluorescent lights are casting shadows on everyone’s faces. We reach a metal door and Christian runs a key card through it and the door buzzes before opening.
Nolan goes out first, followed by Izzy, me, Mia then Christian. We walk out into the warm night air out to the parking lot. I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air into my lungs.
Mia comes up to Izzy and me, “Do you guys want to grab something to eat? I’m so hungry I can eat an elephant." Izzy’s stomach growls at the word eat and her face turns red.
“Starved. Where do you want to go?" Izzy asks. Mia thinks for a second, but I know where she wants to go, she always wants to go there, no matter what time it is.
“How about The Diner? It’s almost three a.m., that’s the only place open now,” Mia says.
Yup, I was right. “OK, we’ll meet you there. Nolan, you going?"
“Yeah, bro. I’m not passing up The Diner food even if I was shot in the ass and bleeding all over the place," Nolan answers. I shake my head, some things never change, and I love them all for it.
The Diner is a small little mom-and-pop restaurant that sits on M20 between the racetrack and our houses.
The outside looks rundown and old, with peeling green paint.
The inside is scrubbed clean with new vinyl red booths lining the walls, round and square tables filling up the middle and a long marble counter with swivel stools near the kitchen.
They serve any meal at any time and the cooks are phenomenal.
Izzy and I used to come here almost every weekend after a big race, when we were kids, with our dads. We used to sit at the corner booth, listening to our dad’s talk about their race, what went wrong and how to fix it.
My mom would sometimes join us, but most of the time it would be us kids and our dads. While they were talking about the race, Izzy and I would sit next to each other talking about our futures in racing and what kind of cars we would drive.
As we got older, it was about the friends we had or any problems in school.
Once we reached high school, The Diner stops were few and far between.
I was too wrapped up in getting action and drowning my issues with beer, than to come here and have her sit next to me, so close but not mine to have or to touch.
The last time we were here was the first and only night we spent together.