Racing for the Sun by Amy Lane

Author:Amy Lane
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THE next night, Burton rode with us out to Nevada—not Las Vegas, but a little town north, where apparently the illegal street races were the only entertainment the town had besides DISH TV.

The whole town was lined up on either side of the street, and my stomach knotted when I saw kids and pets and the whole fucking shebang there as I revved the Ford and kept her in place.

“Jesus,” Burton breathed. “I did not think it was gonna be a circus and a carnival and a street fair, all rolled into one.”

“It’s usually not,” Sonny said, and since he was the one who did the research into where we were going each night, I believed him. “This one’s three weeks, Ace. You qualify for this heat, we get next week off, and then we come back for the final. You get blown off in this heat, depending on your time, you get to come back next week, and then we get the final.”

“Aw, fuck! I’d better get my ass in gear, then, because that was one long-assed ride!”

“Yeah,” Burton said from his spot on a milk crate bungee corded to the floor in the back, “and I did not suffer that totally shitty ride just to watch you lose.”

I grinned and cracked my gum. “Sonny, show this man to a bookie.” We were idling at a stoplight, and I spared a glance for my new best friend in the back. “You can put money down on us, Corporal. I’m gonna make you a rich man.”

Well, not exactly rich. I did pull back on the throttle a little, ’cause if we were comin’ back, I didn’t want them to know everything we could do. But our time was third, and he’d bet on us to show, so he had a stack of cash to blow wherever the fuck he wanted as we drove back to Victoriana.

What he proposed to do with it baffled me.

“Naw,” he said seriously. “You don’t get it. Money, I got. This’ll be my investment in a safe house.”

“You want a room in the back?” I asked, plain flummoxed, but he nodded his head.

“Yup. Dig a foundation, add a porch, get me a mattress that does not kink the shit outta my back. A few weeks a year, I want to know I got a place. My name’s not on the money, my name’s not on the house. It’ll be mine.”

I thought that there might be scary people coming after Burton someday, and for a moment I almost said no. But I was already a murderer, and a veteran, and Sonny and I still slept with knives under our pillows and our symbols carved into each other’s skin.

“It’s done,” I said, and Sonny nodded like there weren’t no argument to be had. We said good-bye to him the next evening with some regret, ’cause he’d been good company, and Alba stared mournfully as he left.

“He’ll be comin’ back,” Sonny said, and for a second, he almost sounded gentle.

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