Chapter 3

One Saturday, the track was busier than usual.

A regional championship event.

Bigger crowds, faster cars, more money floating around.

I was hauling a set of tires when I saw them.

A sleek, black SUV pulled up near the VIP tents.

Expensive. Out of place here.

The doors opened.

Chloe stepped out.

She wore pristine white racing overalls, designer sunglasses hiding her eyes.

Her entourage followed, looking bored and superior.

They scanned the dusty track with disdain.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

What was she doing here?

She spotted me.

No flicker of recognition. Or maybe just disinterest.

She turned away, laughing at something one of her friends said.

Later, I was under a car, tightening a loose bolt, when a shadow fell over me.

"Well, lookie here. Ethan Cole, playing in the dirt."

It was Jimmy "The Jet" Rourke.

A local hotshot driver, arrogant and loud.

We' d had a few run-ins before my fall, back when I still raced for sport.

He' d always been jealous of my family' s resources.

"Still alive, then?" he sneered. "Heard you lost everything. Serves you right, pretty boy."

I ignored him, focusing on the bolt.

"What' s wrong, Cole? Cat got your tongue? Or did that rich bitch finally dump you for good?"

His cronies chuckled.

I slid out from under the car, wiping grease from my hands.

"Leave it, Rourke."

"Ooh, feisty. How about a little race, for old times' sake? Oh, wait. You don't have a car, do you?"

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound.

"And you definitely don't have the balls anymore."

My fists clenched.

"Hey, Ethan."

Chloe' s voice.

Cool, detached.

She strolled over, her entourage trailing behind her like pilot fish.

She held out a set of car keys.

They dangled from her fingers, glinting in the sun.

Familiar keys.

The keys to the Shelby Cobra.

Her prize.

"You sort of earned a piece of it, I guess," she said, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.

"Go on. Race him. Show him what you' re made of. Or what' s left of it."

Rourke looked surprised, then greedy.

"You' d let him drive that? Against me?"

Chloe shrugged. "Why not? It might be amusing."

Her eyes met mine.

There was a challenge in them. And something else.

Detached amusement.

Like watching a bug under a microscope.

My pride, what little I had left, roared.

The humiliation, the anger, the sheer injustice of it all, surged through me.

I snatched the keys from her hand.

"Fine."