SPEED (A 44 Chapters Novel Book 2) by BB Easton

Author:BB Easton [Easton, BB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Art By Easton
Published: 2017-09-09T18:30:00+00:00

Looking in my rearview mirror again, it became more evident that I didn’t really have a choice. I was already back on the straights, and Homeboy was just pulling into the second turn.

I eased off the gas a little, just to keep it from being a landslide, but as soon as Supra Man started to catch up, I lost him again in the third turn.

“Goddamn it!” I screamed at him from inside my car. “It’s like you’re not even trying! Do better, asshole!”

Before I knew it, I’d rounded curve number four and crossed the finish line. Just like that. Boom. Failure. I had one job to do, and I’d fucked it up. I mean, seriously, how hard is it to not win at something? Especially something that you’re not even good at.

I did the saddest victory lap in history and pulled up next to Harley, who was waiting for me at the starting line—looking positively pissed off.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The only other time I’d seen him that pissed off was when he’d found out that I used to date Knight, but this was scarier because, this time, he was mad at me. I had no idea what the ripple effect would be from my fuckup, but I was sure it would be pretty bad. Harley always had these little hustles planned out so that every domino would fall exactly the way he wanted. Well, my domino didn’t fucking fall at all, so now what?

I took a deep breath and opened my car door, but Harley was gone. When I stood up, the noises coming from the crowd were an odd mixture of excited and infuriated. Unless Supra Man had a cheering section I didn’t know about, those jeers were for me. From my people.

A thick hand grabbed me by the elbow and spun me around. It was Harley, and he was staring at me with an unreadable expression.

Holding up two fingers with a wad of cash pinched between them, Harley said, “Here’s your winnings, Speed Racer.”

When I didn’t take the money, Harley shoved it into the front pocket of my ripped jeans, then turned toward the crowd and waved a cluster of rednecks over. When he faced me again, his scowl had been replaced by my favorite twinkly-eyed, naughty grin.

“And here’s my winnings.”

One by one, the hillbilly truck enthusiasts lined up to smack their bitter dollar bills—tens, twenties, even a few hundreds—down on Harley’s open palm.

He chuckled and talked shit the whole time, calling them “sexist assholes” and telling them, “That’s what y’all get for betting against a lady.”

Bubba was last in line.

Harley tsk-tsked him with a smile and said, “I think you owe BB an apology.”

Bubba looked at me with shame and sincerity in his dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry. You won the shit outta that race, girl. You oughta be real proud.”

As Bubba walked off with his floppy fishing hat in his hands, I stared at Harley with my mouth hanging open and my eyebrows pulled together.

“What…the fuck…just happened?”

“You just made us a shitload of money; that’s what happened.

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