Page 5 of Captured By Fate

I glance down at him. He’s a tall guy, at nearly six foot one, but I stand four inches taller than him.

“What is it?” he asks.

My voice is low, quiet with my instructions. “Double check the guests. I want to make sure there are absolutely no unexpected disruptions tonight.”

He frowns, his blonde brows pinching together as he asks, “Did you see something?”

I shake my head. “No. But I don’t want to be caught off guard, either.”

I shove both my hands in my leather jacket and look around the throngs of people. Still, I see nothing out of the ordinary, but the moments right before a race always have me on edge. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Alright,” Patrick says.

I watch him move away from me, heading toward the stands of people. Pivoting on my heel, I move purposefully toward Vince’s bike.

His black machine looks sleeker than usual with the lime green and neon orange accents he had added to it earlier this week. The power this thing exudes is impressive.

It really is a beautiful bike.

I admire it for a moment, knowing it has a 1,000 cc four-stroke engine. A few weeks ago, We clocked Vince going three hundred and twenty-six miles an hour. It’s impressive as fuck. It really is.

But he still hasn’t beat my record.

From the corner of my eye, I see him saunter over. We’re nearing the start of the race and I shiver. There’s always a familiar rush of adrenaline in anticipation of a race.

At that kind of speed with nothing but leather and a helmet to protect you, you could die. It’s exhilarating.

“She’s a beauty,” Vince says, loud enough for me to hear.

“That she is.”

“Destined to win.”

His cocky demeanor never fails to take front row, even though my record is still in place. I turn to him and grin, saying nothing. He knows he still has a record to break, and he’s far from breaking it.

Vince swings a leg over the seat of his bike. “Are you racing tonight?”

I arch a dark brow. I haven’t raced in a while. “When someone beats my record, Vince, then I’ll race to beat them.”

He scoffs. “One of these days, Jackson. Just wait.”

I grin again. I’d love to race. But someone has to make sure these underground races stay…just that. Underground. Nothing more than a whispered event no one can find because they don’t know if it exists or not.

That’s my job. To keep us safe. It’s more important.

“Be careful out there,” I growl, before turning on my heel and walking away from him.

Vince’s answer is to start his bike and rev the fuck out of the engine. The crowd absolutely loves it and goes wild. The cheering escalates to a roar and once again, the familiar rush of adrenaline courses through my veins.

A small smile grazes the corners of my mouth. For a moment, I wonder if it would be worth getting on a bike and showing Vince how it’s done…

Again.

But I dismiss the idea. As much as I would love to do that, I love the control I have over the crowd even more. Each and every one of them knows that the only reason they’re here is because I allow it.

Without my permission, without my generosity, this place would cease to exist. The races are because of me. This is my haven and they’re merely invited to glimpse my oasis when I deem it acceptable.

Once more, my eyes scan the crowd of familiar faces. I know each and every one of them, and they know me. Several men nod at me in acknowledgement. Women smile. One winks.

---