Page 55 of Devil May Lie

“Thanks.” Madden wasn’t the type to hold grudges, and no matter what else might have been said, Sila had been very helpful just now. “Let me know the next time you’re at the Docks. I’ll toss you a beer.”

“Aw, are we becoming friends now?” he teased.

Madden rolled his eyes and headed back toward the parking lot. It was clear he’d gathered all of the information he could here. Time to move on to the next avenue of insight. He popped out the earbud attached to his device and pushed it into his right ear before he hit number two on his speed dial.

“What’s up, little brother?” Rebecca’s singsong voice flowed through the line after only a couple of rings, followed closely by the popping of her gum.

“Nurse Odell,” he greeted, “tell me everything you know about Fear of Abandonment.”

Chapter 14:

The Docks at night were beautiful—smelled like shit, but the view almost made it worth it.

Almost.

Berga typically only ever spent time on the outskirts of the parking lot, away from the crowds and drunkards, and even then, his only purpose was to support Bay.

As a professor at the most prestigious school on planet, Bay had to hide the fact he was an illegal racer, so he kept his helmet on at all times and went by the name Pandaveer. The racers were split into skill levels: Elite, League, Mid, and Rookie. As one of the top racers in League, Bay had gathered a pretty decent-sized fanbase, including some overzealous people who tried to follow him and catch a glimpse at what was beneath the helmet.

Berga and Flix took turns waiting until after his races with a loading truck to store Bay’s bike. He changed clothing there and then drove himself home with no one the wiser. Because all that needed to be done discreetly, there’d never been a genuine reason for Berga to travel further onto the scene.

“Is it too noisy?” Nate Narek leaned in and practically shouted into Berga’s ear. Considering how loud the crowd around them was cheering, there’d been no other choice but to, yet Berga still sent him a disapproving glare all the same before nodding his head.

The race tonight was for the Elites, which meant racers like Bay and Nate—who was only Mid tier—weren’t allowed to participate.

But Madden was.

He glanced around, scowling when someone bumped into his shoulder. As soon as that man saw Berga, he skittered off to the side, putting distance between them. Most people were smartly doing the same, giving Berga and Nate a wide berth.

Nate noticed and let out a low whistle. “Must be nice being a Devil. Usually, we’re all packed in here like sardines.”

“The smell is already intolerable,” Berga stated. The mixture of cigarette smoke, spilled booze, sweat, and grease had overpowered any pleasing scent that could have come from the ocean water on the other side of the street.

The track was made up of cordoned-off roads that didn’t get much traffic this late in the day. That was how Madden had gotten away with it and selected this area in the beginning when he’d first come up with the idea for the races. Now, politicians and the police helped to block those roads off whenever there was an official event. If asked, it was mere rumor and hearsay, but everyone knew the truth.

“They may as well legalize this,” Berga grumbled.

“I heard Madden is trying to get it to be,” Nate said. “He submitted the paperwork last week. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if it’s approved by the high council.”

Berga snorted. “That? It’ll be taken straight to the Emperor.” Who would approve it immediately due to Madden’s close friendship with her brother, Kelevra. “I thought the fact it was considered illegal was half the appeal to him, though.”

He was pretty sure that’s what he’d overheard years ago at Friction. Madden had been talking about it with Baikal and some of the others, and Berga happened to be close enough to listen in on the conversation. He had no clue why it’d stuck with him, but the details returned now.

“When is this damn thing starting?”

“Right now.” Nate pointed to their left where the start of the race began, just as two riders stepped out from a small building.

The already boisterous crowd grew even louder, but this time Berga tuned them out.

The hovercars were already in position at the starting line, one neon yellow and white and the other black with streaks of maroon. The riders' motocross outfits matched their bikes, and even though they both already had their helmets on, Berga knew exactly which one was Madden just from his gait alone.

“Did he color match everything to his hair?” he clicked his tongue. How tacky. Even still, he couldn’t tear his gaze away as Madden swung a long leg over his bike and seated himself. When he waved at the crowd, lapping up the attention, Berga scoffed.

Why did he suddenly feel prickly all over?

This was stupid. What was he even doing here? Trying to get Madden’s attention? To what end?

The asshole had continued to ignore him since yesterday, and while it irked him, Berga couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to explain why that was. They’d slept together thrice now, and each time had been against the others' will. Tit for tat. As far as he was concerned, that should make them even. It should mean things could return to the way they used to be, with the two of them living their own lives away from each other.

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