Page 7 of The Drag Race Debutante & the Detectives
Shane folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “Five litre Coyote Mustang GT.” He nodded in the direction of the sleek black Ford surrounded by drooling idiots. “Upgraded injectors, headers and exhaust, custom rims, and twin turbos.” His smile was almost demented. “My baby doesn’t purr, she roars. You want perfection? She’ll work your balls better than a hundred dollar hooker.”
Emily snorted. “Then why the hell do you want to spend the night with me? Sounds like your baby will have you creaming your jeans before you even cross the finish line.”
Eric burst out laughing, and so did a lot of their onlookers, including Shane’s idiot brother.
Shane didn’t like that. His eyes narrowed. “The first thing I'm gunna teach you, little girl, is some respect,” he snarled at Emily.
“You can try,” she threw back at him, the expression on her face saying that was never going to happen. Not willingly, anyway. And it was Eric’s job to make sure that scenario never came to pass. “But hey, if you guys have finished measuring your dipsticks, how about we get this race on the road?”
“All right!” Someone amongst Shane’s groupies called out. “A V8 showdown.”
“Ford versus Holden. Fuck yeah!”
“You got this, Shane! Smoke that bitch.”
Cheers and whistles erupted from the gathered onlookers, then died just as fast when someone from the back of the crowd yelled out, “Cops! Go, go, go!”
The distant sound of sirens caught everyone’s attention and the bulk of the spectators made tracks fast. Eric looked to Dane then Emily, who was still staring at Shane, still challenging him with nothing more than a tight smile and a raised eyebrow.
The arsehole’s gaze tracked down her body one more time, then he blew her another kiss. “See you soon, cutie. You owe me a race.” Then he too turned away and headed for his car.
Which also meant it was time to bail and take Emily home.
Eric grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Really?” she said, and looked like she was about to say more before snapping her mouth shut and nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”
Dane grabbed her other hand and they quickly found their way to their car and bundled Emily into the back seat. “Who the hell called them in?” his brother said, scowling as the engine roared to life.
“No idea,” Eric said, watching Shane’s black Mustang disappear into the traffic.
“Good Samaritan?”
“Lots of hotted up cars in a vacant carpark in Browns Plains on a Friday night? Yeah, I’m thinking good Samaritan. It’s either that or we have a shadow,” he said as they peeled out of the carpark.
“What are you two talking about? What’s a shadow? And where are we going?”
Turning to look at Emily, Eric saw she wasn't buckled in. “Fasten your seatbelt,” he scolded.
“What?” She glanced down at her lap. “Shit,” she said, and quickly obeyed his command.
His brow furrowed as he studied her. It wasn’t like her to forget something as simple or as important as fastening her seatbelt. “Look at me, kitten.” She snapped her gaze to his, her obedience stirring his Dominant instincts, adding to his need to protect her. “Are you okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
But Eric knew Emily’s smiles, and knew she was forcing it. His lips pinched together as he scowled at her. He’d have to keep a close eye on her, watch and make sure shock didn’t take over and fill the void the adrenaline rush left in its wake.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked out the window. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are you taking me?”
“Home,” Dane replied.
“My home is in the opposite direction,” she said, sighing softly as she leaned back in her seat, seemingly unbothered by the fact they weren’t taking her directly home. Eric relaxed a little, knowing Emily still trusted them to take care of her, even after they’d essentially turned their backs on her for months.
He studied their girl for a moment longer before turning to face the front. As much as she liked to think she was a capable young woman—and in many ways she absolutely was—she had no idea of the depth of the shit she’d just stood in.
“We're taking the long way ‘round,” Dane said, checking his mirrors. “We need to be sure we’re not followed.”
Shane Spencer had an inferiority streak a mile wide, and Emily had made a fool of him in public. The chances he was going to let that go were somewhere between Buckley’s and none, which meant the chances of them being followed were high.
