Page 21 of Fast

There’s a lull in the music, just as the glass shatters and the fire flares because of the alcohol.

Fox spits on the ground and takes two unsteady steps in our direction.

I square my shoulders, turning around to shield Zara with my body.

If the asshole wants another beating, I’m more than happy to deliver. He’s a fucking pain in the butt on the racetrack, but I can’t stand a man who would even think about hitting a woman.

The air is fraught with tension, my muscles tense to breaking point.

“Zara,” Ares pulls Zara away from in between us. “It’s getting late. Let’s go back to our rooms. I’ll walk you.”

It isn’t a question. I know that tone. Ares uses it whenever he’s made a decision, and he expects everyone around him to fall in line. His old man used that same tone when we were kids and we got into a fight or broke something in the house.

At the same time, Atlas and some of the guys from the Blue Lightning team grab Calvin by the shoulders.

“Come on Fox,” Atlas says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s go to the hotel bar and get you a coffee. I think you’ve partied enough for tonight. We have a race tomorrow, and I don’t want you to look for excuses when I get to the finish line while you’re still on your second lap.”

To my surprise, the asshole doesn’t put up much of a fight.

“You’re right, Hunter,” his speech is slightly slurred. “She ain’t worth it. Women are all useless cunts. Once we’re done filling their holes, they’re nothing but a fucking headache.”

Atlas rolls his eyes as he and the other guys practically carry Fox away from the bonfire.

Ares and Zara have already disappeared toward our hotel.

“Let’s get a night cap,” Chance claps me on the shoulder. “And then go to bed. You need to be ready for the race.”

There’s an edge to his tone, as if he were talking about something other than the Super Bikes Championship.

I look at him, in search of a clue, but his expression is hard to read.

Is he thinking about sneaking into Zara’s room later? Would she welcome him if he knocked on her door in the middle of the night? Would she welcome me?

We’ll be sleeping in the same room tonight, so if he tries to leave, I’ll be hot on his heels. If he takes a shot at Zara, I can’t let him win.

ZARA

Ares’s hand clasps my shoulder as we leave the sand of the beach in favor of the boardwalk that leads to the group of hotels that are part of Bridgeport’s main tourist resorts.

Warmth seeps from his palm into my skin through the thin fabric of the blouse I borrowed from Heather.

His grasp on me is firm, but not painful. We’re walking at a brisk pace, in complete silence.

The lobby is deserted, aside from a sleepy-looking guy at the concierge desk.

We’re the only two people in the elevator and Ares lets go of my shoulder the second the doors close in front of us.

I shudder, missing the warmth of his hand.

He looks angry, or at least I think he is. I’ve just met him and his friends, but it’s clear that Atlas is the one with the sunnypersonality, while Ares is quiet, more serious than his twin brother.

I take advantage of the forced proximity to take a good look at him.

While Chance isn’t a twin, it’s impossible to miss the family resemblance between them.

Despite being two years older, Chance has a couple of inches on his elder brothers. I would guess he’s about six four, which would put the twins at about six feet two.

They all have blond hair, but Chance’s is a slightly darker blond with golden hues; the twins are an ashen blond, with streaks that glow silver under direct light.

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