I lean over and kiss him and put my hands on his face. “Please don’t race,” I whisper against his warm lips. “I have a bad feeling. Please?”
“I can’t, Kay,” he whispers back, but he doesn’t sound angry. Only tired. “I don’t know what you read in your cards—”
“I haven’t checked my cards in days. I don’t care what the cards say.” I press my forehead to his. “I’ll burn my cards if you stay.”
His eyes widen. Then his gaze softens. “I love you, Kay.”
“Love you, too.”
“I wish…” He pulls back and tilts his head to the side, his mouth falling open. “What the hell?”
I turn and sigh in relief. Zane is striding toward us, his tall green Mohawk unmistakable, followed by a group of people.
Ocean shoots me a bewildered look, then climbs out of my car and leans against it, waiting. I get out quickly, zipping up my jacket.
“So this is what you asked the day off for, huh, fucker?” Zane asks the moment he’s close enough to be heard.
“Z-man.” Ocean folds his arms over his chest, brows drawing together. “Yeah, this is it, exactly.”
“You wanna race? That get you off?”
“No, dammit. I need the money.” Ocean glances at me, his expression undecipherable. “I bet Kayla told you what for.”
“Motherfucker.” Zane advances on Ocean, and I clap a hand over my mouth, because I think he’s going to punch him. But he grabs him in a quick man-hug and lets him go. “You talk to me, and I’ll help you. Didn’t I say that?”
“You did.” Ocean’s answer is subdued. “But it’s too much money.”
“I’ll lend you the fucking money. Don’t do something you’ll regret, fucker. Don’t get yourself killed. We’ll figure it out.”
He’s instantly surrounded by the others—Rafe and Tyler are here, and Shane and Seth, Jesse and Micah. The girls have meanwhile arrived in another car, and they’re approaching us, too—Ev and Manon, Amber and Cassie, Megan and Erin.
“We have a problem,” Shane says as I near the group.
Ocean reaches for me and I press myself to him, his arm coming around my waist. “Only one?”
He nods at Duane who’s walking toward us, his face red and his mouth an angry line. “What’s going on here? Blue, the race’s about to start.”
“Well, Blue.” Shane turns back to Ocean, unruffled. “The problem is that this Doctor Yates who’s been visiting your mom is not a real doctor. He’s a conman.”
“What?” I gape at him, and Ocean jerks against me.
In the spreading silence, Duane harrumphs. “Blue. The race.”
“Fuck the race,” Ocean says, way too calmly, his eyes stormy. “And fuck you, Duane.”
“You’ll regret this,” Duane yells, shaking his fist at Ocean but not coming any closer—probably because Tyler steps in his way, thick arms folded over his chest.
“I’ve already regretted it,” Ocean whispers. “This can’t be, Shane. I called the medical center. I called…”
“There’s no such center,” Shane says.
Ocean’s arm tightens around me. “Fuck.” We exchange a glance. “We need to go. Now. I hope Mom didn’t pass him the money I gave her yesterday.”
Grimly, I nod, and we climb back into our car. I should be glad. I should be frigging ecstatic that Ocean didn’t race, that he’s okay—and I am.
But the bad feeling is back, and it’s not going away.
Chapter Twenty-Four