Ocean (Damage Control 5)

His blue hair gleams like the metallic paint on the cars in whose direction he’s walking. Three other guys, young like him, straighten from where they’ve been slouching and shake hands with him.

“So this is the famous Blue,” I hear one of them say. “Been hearing about you for years.”

“Nice of you to join us,” another says.

They all laugh.

The sound rattles in my ears, changing into something wicked and vicious. My mouth is dry. My throat parched. My palms are sweating.

Ocean turns around, looks straight at me. Smiles.

There has to be another way. If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing another solution. Would Zane give him a loan? Would it be enough? Would Ocean get mad at me for doing something like that without asking him?

At least he’ll be alive to get pissed at me.

No time now, anyway. They all get in their cars and line up for the race.

Then Duane walks over to the side, lifts his hand, and brings it down in one swift chopping motion. The engines roar.

The race is on.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ocean

My parents’ trailer never really felt like home. Nor did my apartment in Madison. Not until Kayla walked into my kitchen barefoot this morning, wearing my T-shirt and nothing else.

But for a long time, racing was my home. Being inside a powerful car, adrenaline pounding in my veins, running faster than the wind.

So it bothers me that I don’t feel it today. The car feels too small, too cramped. I feel caged, and cold sweat is dripping down my back.

Never thought I’d feel like this before a race.

A memory flashes before my eyes—of my Chevy sliding on the highway, out of my control, slamming into the metal fence, murky water rising outside the windows. I remember ice-cold panic.

I remember the twisted wreck of the car with the bodies of my brother and Livvy—one of them alive and the other dead.

In the rear-view mirror, I see Kayla, and the panic increases, turns into a vise around my chest. What if this is the last time I see her? What if I never hold her in my arms again?

I used to be fearless. I thought I had nothing to lose. Well, now I do.

Can’t lose her.

Duane appears by the side of the road, and I sigh in relief. No more time to think and get cold feet. No choice. I have to do this.

He lowers his hand. I slam on the gas and we’re off.

I didn’t lie to Kayla when I said this would be fast. We tear off down the road, then careen around a turn, the speed throwing me against the door, the car sliding for a second—fuck, fuck—then it’s back under my control, and we’re hurtling down the road.

Funny how my chest still feels fucking tight from that one moment of imbalance.

Get over it. Right now.

One of the others, a black Camaro, weaves a little, almost touching my car. I keep control, cursing a blue streak, until it moves away. There’s another turn coming up, and I hope the driver noticed. A turn with a metal fence and the walled yard of a storehouse.

Focus on the road.

I downshift as the turn comes up, the muscles in my arms and legs tensing—