Page 6 of Speed Trap

“He moved to the other side of the country, didn't he?” Ryan gestured for me to lead him into our temporary garage.

I smirked and bowed low to him. Ryan rolled his eyes and walked inside.

“Yeah, probably. I didn’t follow it through.” I ran straight into Ryan who had stopped in the entrance. “What the fu— You okay, old man?”

Ryan coughed and slipped past me, leaving me in a room that had one other occupant.

York Hart, my mentor and idol, stood in the middle of my garage.

My stomach dropped and tightened in a single second. I’d grown up watching York’s victories on TV, though my father had attempted to ban me from them, declaring a soldier's brat shouldn’t waste his hours on frivolous dreams. Honor was all that mattered to my father. So much so that he seemed to forget he had a family.

That hadn’t passed on to me.

A red and black leather jacket hung easy over York’s broad shoulders, and despite sporting a two-day growth, he exuded class. Mirrored sunglasses completed his look, even in the dark of the garage, which made him all the more intimidating.

My mechanics team was conspicuously absent, and that meant…well. I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but here’s hoping I hadn’t screwed up too bad.

“It would be nice to see you focused on your driving.”

That’s what he opened with? Nothing on what had happened with Benson, though I assumed that’s what had brought him down from on high. Justfocus on your driving.

Holy shit.

I bit back the retort I would have shot back at anyone else in the world and stalled at the starting post. “Will do.”

Silence fell between us and I fought the fingers that insisted on tapping my thigh in an irregular beat.

I have the conversational aptitude of a rock.

York sighed, sliding his sunglasses off to dangle them from his fingers. “Hawk, you’ve got serious potential. Distractions can cost you your career early on, and I’m not talking about Benson.”

Ah. There it is.

“Yes, sir.” My words hadn’t improved, though at least I found them this time. York stared at me and didn’t say anything. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’ll get my head in the game. Though to be fair, if Benson hadn’t attacked my crew chief, we wouldn't be having this discussion.”

“Of course we would.” He tapped his sunglasses on the back of his other hand. “If it wasn’t the blonde, it would be someone else. Get your head out of your ass. Focus on the race. I’ll speak to Benson.”

York hit me with a piercing stare that took me back to being a shitty school kid who got caught with his pants down between the teacher’s legs.

“Appreciate it,” I murmured as he walked away.

Sunny Cooper haunted me. Every time I turned around there she was, talking with Benson’s team, doing a press release,directing a photoshoot. I stalked her online after hours just to cement my obsession.

Currently she stood across the road from pit lane, bending over a photographer to point out shots and aspects. I’d seen Benson on his practice laps earlier and couldn’t remember who had booked the track and for when. Sunny wiped my mind clear of anything but her. York had a point. I knew I needed to get my headspace right but she was such a damn fine distraction all I wanted to do was find her and rile the fuck out of her again.

“York was right, you know,” Ryan said from beneath my car where he lay on his back, tinkering. “Head where it needs to be. You’re on practice laps soon and the season starts after the break. Stop looking for her, Hawk.”

I grinned, not taking my eyes off her perfectly curved ass that fit into shiny, tight black pants that highlighted every luscious curve. “I wasn’t looking for her.”Semantics.“You know that’s never going to happen.” My fragmented conversation didn’t win me any brownie points. Hell, I could barely keep up.

Ryan muttered something about focus from his position beneath my car. I nodded, made a gesture he couldn’t see but probably anticipated, and strode toward her. The photographer—the same, sleazy bastard who had taken shots while her driver was threatening my crew chief—glanced over his shoulder as I jogged across the track. Ryan called out something behind me.

I waved back as the photographer caught the glare I sent his way. His face paled despite the midday sun. He headed up the track away from Sunny, ostensibly beneath the guise of scouting more promo shots.

That left Sunny standing alone.

Perfect.

“Hey.” I slowed to a walk. “You guys ready for the season, huh?”

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