Page 90 of The Sound in Silence

She reaches up and cups my face, bringing me down to her height where she lays a claiming kiss. Those of the crowd still paying us attention observes—observes her own claim on me.

“Give Caladin a few minutes. He’s amping up the crowd after that showdown. A bunch of bullshit, but people’s cash will flow quicker now. Then we’ll start.”

I do what I always do, and linger by the edges. Normally people avoid coming too close because they know better. Sometimes women will try to approach, only to be sent away with a gesture. There’s no one in this crowd I’d let near my cock, even in my pre-marriage days.

When the cheers increase, I know Caladin’s nearly finished. He pushes back through, winking as the crowd disperses to the edges of the city road, on the cement to make room for Anders and me. There’s a white stop line a few feet away, always used as the starting line.

“Pot’s bigger,” Caladin announces, skipping back to our sides. “More than normal are betting against you. They think she’ll,” he nods to Ariella, “distract you. Then the other half are motivated by the show.”

“That’s precisely what’ll happen.” Ariellaisa distraction but not for the reasons they think. I’ll lose the race, money be damned, before I lose her to her traumatic memories that racing could dredge up. But if she’s okay, then I’ll win the race and won’t stop driving until we’re back home and I’m buried between her legs.

“Good luck, not that you need it.” He heads nearby for his bike, where he’s about to drive the stretch of the race toward the finish line. The crowd often splits themselves between watching the pre-race and watching the ending—catching the winner. Caladin places himself at both ends for the bets.

Anders breaks through the crowd, his arms spread to make himself bigger. “Last chance, baby. Climb in my car and experience a winner.”

A growl works its way up my throat, alongside a comment, if it wasn’t for Ariella pulling from my arm. First, I reach for her, but then she passes him with a haughty look and climbs right back into our car.

Ignoring him, I get in too. Anders drives his vehicle to the starting line where a woman stands, gripping a white flag. He leans out his window to talk with her, which means I only have a moment.

Once I’m situated and my car’s on, I cup Ariella’s face, ensuring she sees the seriousness sketched onto mine. “One sign of distress and I stop the car and we go home. I hate that you’re making me do this.”

She smiles and brings her hands up, making a sign I’ve learned only two nights ago, and even mouths along.I’m fine.

Searching her eyes, I seek the lie. And find none.

“I know you are. Well then,” I release her, putting the car into drive so I can move it to the starting line, “buckle up.”

Ariella

Erico’s concern for my well-being might be the element of a relationship I’ve always craved, but his worries are pointless. Speed didn’t cause Mom’s death; a villain did. An evil stepfather who used her, me, and my sister for his own gains. He paid someone to ram us into traffic. The accident occurred from a standstill.

That’s not what’s happening today. Erico racing a guy won’t bring flashbacks.

I think. I hope.

Either way, his concern, the look in his eyes, only makes me love him more.

Wait…

As Erico brings the car in line with his opponent’s, I feel like I’m being removed from the moment. Here but nothere. Physically present, but not mentally. My mind is drifting, to the past, present, and future. To every moment with Erico I’ve experienced and every moment still to come.

I think I’ve felt it for a while but never put words to it. Never wanted to until Iknew. Until I felt safe enough not to have this happiness yanked from me. Marrying Erico was my way to find a smidge of happiness in this mafia lifestyle I was dragged into, but at the same time, I never would have believed we’d becomethis. A duo.

“Ready?” His question brings me back.

The engine revs. Erico glances out my window, toward his opponent, who’s grinning and revving his own engine.

My husband doesn’t even look like the mafia boss I’ve come to know. He’s carefree, almost younger. Right down to his ripped jeans and Henley. An outfit that made me drool upon leaving the mansion. Erico in a suit—sexy. Erico casual—mouth-watering. In a way, he reminds me of when he came out to the pool in only shorts yesterday. That ended well, and ideally, tonight will too.

A woman stands between the vehicles and she lifts the flag, stealing my attention. I’ve seen enough movies to know what this means.

Erico stares straight down the dark road. Despite being in the city, most of the streetlights are off, which makes me wonder if this is set-up as such. Strange, but perhaps it’s to hide the race. I would have thought these were done on back roads, but what do I know?

Erico reaches for my hand and places it overtop the shifter before covering it with his own. His fingers flex over the shifter, over me, including me in his experience. His eyes narrow on the road and even his mouth flattens, every ounce of his focus on the race.

The sky crackles again, only this time, instead of the threat of rain like all the previous cracks, the cars are slammed with large, heavy raindrops. The wipers automatically switch on to clean the windshield, and none of the observers seem to care about getting drenched. Guess when their money’s on the line, water doesn’t scare them.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and I know why. While it’s summer with hot temperatures, the rain won’t be icy, but can still result in worsening visibility.

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