Falling Away (Fall Away #3)(55)
Author: Penelope Douglas

She mock-scowled at me. “Juliet’s not any more docile, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

I licked my lips. “I don’t care who it is that gets naked for me, just as long as I get her again.”

Her eyebrows did a nosedive, she let out a disgusted breath, and whipped around, stalking off, and I was sure my face was red with laughing so hard.

Man, I loved to piss her off. I loved the foreplay. And I was going to enjoy backing her into a wall later on and convincing her she wanted to spend the night.

Madoc stalked over, holding Fallon’s hand, looking back at Juliet and then to me.

And he started singing Foreigner. “ ‘I want to know what love is! I want you to show me!’ ”

“It’s scary that you know that song,” Fallon grumbled.

I watched as Juliet walked over to Shane. They were looking at a car that had its hood propped up, but I saw her peek over at me out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t hide it. She pursed her lips together in a smile and rolled her eyes at me.

She was taking me as I was and loosening up—and I wasn’t thinking about my father, the Loop, or anything but her.

We were both falling.

Walking down the line, I checked cars off on the roster on my iPad, making sure they were present and ready.

“Suited up?” I inquired, looking down at Derek Roman, who was fixing a GoPro on the trunk of a Raptor.

He stood up, gesturing. “You tell me. Can you access it?”

These cameras couldn’t stream footage live from long distances, but I could access it on my phone. I waved, picking myself up on the screen of my cell.

“You got it,” I said. “You’re getting pretty fast at that.”

He smiled, looking too much like a five-year-old who just got a pat on the head.

“Faster means more races,” he pointed out. “More races mean more bets. And more bets—”

“Mean more money,” I finished, shaking my head. “Yeah, I know where your heart lies.” I jerked my head and walked off. “I need to check in with Zack. See you in a minute.”

He turned back to his work, and I grinned, actually surprised that he was becoming an asset.

Derek Roman was a couple of years older, but you wouldn’t have known it in high school. He used to race the Loop, but his antics got him in a lot of trouble. He didn’t get along with Jared, when they raced, or anyone else. He was careless, sloppy, and aggressive, exactly the kind of driver I didn’t want here.

So instead of banning him and waiting for the retaliation that would eventually come, I played it smart.

I kissed his ass.

Bullies want to matter. They act the way they do because they don’t feel important.

So I gave him that. Told him how much we had planned and what kind of undertaking it all was. How much I needed help, and how much I needed someone who knew the Loop inside and out, and then I gave him jobs.

He stayed busy, got special perks, and got his name officially listed on our Web site, any advertising, and he was involved in decisions. Now, if he decided to be stupid, he’d have a lot to lose.

“So.” Madoc ran up next to me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Could you possibly fit me into the schedule?”

“Tonight?”

I could feel his eyes roll as I worked my way through the crowd up to the announcer’s stage, and he fell in behind me.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I want to do that couples race you’ve got going on. Fallon loved riding with Jared that time he and Tate raced, and I want to take my wife out.”

I ran my hand over the top of my head, letting out a frustrated sigh as I stopped next to the stairs.

I turned, looking at him. “Do you have any idea how far in advance these races are scheduled now? It’s not high school anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to kick your ass?”

I dropped my gaze, smirking. Yeah, Madoc and Jared were old favorites here, but things were a hell of a lot different now. Whereas they had to contend with three or four races a night, we now had ten to fifteen, and some going simultaneously.

“I’m not saying that.” I moved away from the stairs, seeing Zack—the Racemaster—climb down from the podium.

“Hey,” I greeted Zack, and gestured over toward the track. “Roman’s going to send off the rally race, so can you make sure Sam knows to get his ass out first with the camera before they take off this time?”

“Sure.” He nodded and slapped Madoc on the arm. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Madoc answered but kept his eyes on me, waiting for me to get my reality check.

“Okay.” I laughed after Zack had walked off. “Of course I can fit you in.” I lowered my voice and arched an eyebrow before continuing. “Even though everything is scheduled down to the minute, and you’re messing with my timetable right now. But okaaaay.”

He smiled, teeth flashing bright white, nudging my arm. “Thanks, dude!” And then walked off.

“You need an opponent,” I called after him.

He turned, slipping his hands into his jeans. “I know,” he replied.

But I didn’t like his smile as he walked away.

For the next half hour, we got through five races—two rallies off track and three on. Once the cars were suited up and races began, my job got easier. I sat up in the podium running the cameras, alternating angles for the viewers so they always had exciting perspectives when they were on the site. Once in a while, I’d have to go and help with the cameras or the cars, because something wasn’t working, but Zack handled setting off the cars, and he, Roman, and a few others handled the bets.

It was easy and comfortable. Up here. Alone. With a clear view of the action below.

“Hey.”

I turned around and saw Cameron, stepping up the last stair, carrying a red Solo cup. She was dressed in a black miniskirt and a red flannel shirt tied above her belly button with the sleeves rolled up.

“Hey.” I leaned back against the small table, crossing my arms over my chest.

She came up next to me, looking down at the crowd silently. Everyone was enjoying whatever they’d brought in their coolers while Rob Zombie’s “Never Gonna Stop” played over the speakers.

I rubbed my fingers against my palms as I clenched my fists. My hands were actually sweating, and I didn’t understand why—after five years of knowing Cameron—I was suddenly uncomfortable.

The thick silence hung there between us, and I searched my brain for something to ask her. College? No, she wasn’t going. Her old foster parents? Maybe.