Page 6 of Racing Dirty Trilogy Box Set

Xavier

I have about an hour before I need to get Izzy, so I drove back to the racetrack.

All the lights are still on in the pits and I pull my Charger down the dirt drive.

The cops are still milling around Austin’s race car, taking pictures and talking to each other.

There’s yellow crime scene tape around the area they towed the car to as I pull up next to them.

I shut my car off and climb out. Chills race down my spine as I walk over to Austin’s car.

It’s a crumpled wreck. The hood is pushed all the way up toward the windshield, folded like an accordion.

The engine was damaged beyond repair and the driver’s side door cut open where the EMTs needed to pull him out.

The rear of the car is covered with black soot from where it caught on fire when he struck the barrier in turn four.

One cop sees me approach and he stalks over.

It’s still surreal to see Austin’s car like this. He is one of the safest drivers on the track, and deep in my gut, I can sense this is no accident. I was watching the race when he lost control of his car and slammed into the wall.

I didn’t hear the squeal of his brakes as he attempted to make the curve in turn four and I knew something was wrong. I heard his tires screeching and metal hitting concrete.

I was one of the first people on the scene. I flew across the track as fast as I could, not caring about the other cars swerving around me trying to avoid hitting me.

I reached his car with my heart in my throat, his helmet muffling his words before he passed out.

He was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

I saw the sparks coming from the back of his car, so I raced back to the winner's circle, in the center of the track, and snatched the fire extinguisher.

I put the fire out in the back before it reached the gas tank and by that time the EMTs were extracting him from his car.

The fire department cut a hole in the side of his door and the EMT’s had him loaded up on the stretcher.

They cut off his jumper and started an IV in his arm.

I remember thinking Izzy couldn’t lose him like she lost her mom.

They removed his helmet carefully and had his neck in a brace.

He wasn’t moving, but then I noticed his chest rise and fall and relief filled me.

A police officer stands next to me, his dark blue uniform looking almost too official in contrast to the chaos swirling in my mind.

He crosses his arms, his gun strapped to his side, and his walkie-talkie crackles quietly on his other.

He turns the volume down before speaking, his voice flat, offering no emotion.

“It’s a damn shame this happened. How is he doing?” The officer asks, eyes scanning the horizon, avoiding my gaze.

“I don’t know. The doctors didn’t come out when I left.

They took him straight back into surgery when the ambulance arrived, and the nurses haven’t told us anything since.

My parents and Mia are still in there. Izzy’s on her way back.

I’m headed to the airport to get her.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m anything but.

The officer nods slowly, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment before he looks away. “Good luck. I hope it’s good news when you get back,” he mutters, almost to himself. I nod and walk away, trying to steady my breath.

The officer writes something down in his notepad he pulled out of his breast pocket and closes it. He turns to look at me, his brown eyes etched with worry. He scratches his head in concentration before he speaks, his voice gruff.

“Here is my card. I have all of your information and if you will have Izabella contact me tomorrow, I can tell her what I’ve found."

I take the card from his hand and look it over. Officer Christian Iverson, it reads. Jealousy hits me hard when I look back at him.

There is no way in hell I’m letting Izzy talk to him alone. His military cut hair, muscles bulging under his uniform, manly charm and southern drawl must make the women crazy. Nope, not gonna happen.

I shake his hand and walk back to my car, leaving him standing there glaring at me. I start it up and drive off to the airport. It’s just me and my memories of Izzy as I drive into the night.

I shake off the pang of jealousy at Officer Iverson and Izzy. She isn’t mine to claim anymore. If she is interested in a southern boy, I can’t stop her, but I will do my best to remind her how good we are together. How explosive we are when we are together, and how perfect she is.

Everyone keeps telling me I screwed up five years ago one drunken night, but I don’t remember it and I won’t make that same mistake again. I’ve changed a lot in that time. I quit drinking, fucking, and only concentrated on being the best racer in the history of Michigan.

The sacrifices I made once I lost Izzy have paid off.

I’m in first place in my division of Super Late Model UMP’s.

Which is a step up from Austin and my dad.

Sponsors are coming out of the woodwork to put their names on my car.

I focused all my time, effort and money, in hand building my car, using the specs Izzy made for me during the two weeks we were together.

She was always extremely talented at designing race cars and the graphics for them; I had to use them to be close to her somehow, to remind myself how much I lost that one drunken night. Call it self-torture if you will, but it helped me deal with the aftermath of my mistakes.

Lost in thought, I pull into the quiet airport terminal and park my car. The lights in the parking lot are bright. I shoot my dad a quick text, letting him know I made it to the airport, and that I spoke to Officer Iverson. I have a half-hour before Izzy’s flight lands and shut my car off.

I take a sharp breath, get out, lock up my car, and steel my nerves as I stroll through the main entrance of the airport.

The automatic doors open and cool air brushes against my hot skin as I walk into the quiet terminal.

I pass through security and look for her flight on the screen.

Mia texted me her flight number while I was driving, and I find which terminal Izzy will come from.

Too anxious to sit down, I pace the waiting area, my racing boots making a clicking noise against the pristine tile floors.

There aren’t many people here, but a woman and child catch my attention.

The little boy is watching me with deep green eyes as I pace back and forth.

I give him a little smile and he waves his tiny little fingers at me.

There’s a pang of regret in my chest when I see those eyes looking back at me.

My heart aches while I think about what I undoubtedly missed.

I wonder, while glancing at that boy if I didn’t screw up would Izzy and I have a kid already?

Would he have green eyes like her or would we have a precious little girl, with Izzy’s blond hair?

Shaking my head at my wayward thoughts of something that will probably never happen, I keep pacing. I wonder where these thoughts are coming from when I hear the announcer come over the PA system.

“UA flight 5102 from LAX to MBS is now unloading.”

My heart rate picks up and sweat is forming on my brow. I’m nervous as fuck at how Izzy will react to me being here to pick her up. I watch and wait as passengers unload and make their way to the baggage claim.

Finally, I spot her sauntering toward the waiting area with her head down, checking her phone and my breath catches in my throat.

The California sun has kissed her skin, giving her a dark glow.

Her blond hair is even lighter, and her body is even more toned than when she left.

Her hips are perfect in her ripped jeans, showing parts of her long toned, tanned legs and her delicate feet are displaying a white pair of sandals.

Her chest is fuller than what I remember in her white tank top.

She is all woman now and my dick stirs alive at the sight of her.

Those sleepy emeralds look up from her phone and collide with mine.

She stops walking and just stands there, mouth open in confusion. I approach her and stand face to face with the woman of my dreams. The girl who stole my heart and I swear I will get her back. One way or another, she will be mine again.