Chapter Seven
Danica stared between the two men, studying them closely. The one on the right wore a pristine fitting suit. In the dark, it looked black but when he shifted in the light, she could see it was actually just a very dark maroon. His hair was cut short and dark, perfectly styled. It only served to highlight his chiseled jawline more. The other, calmer one, with his long pale hair was a stark contrast. He was dressed a little more casually than the other though he carried himself like he was clearly in charge. It was as if he purposely had dressed to not appear intimidating. His friend had followed no such idea. Both of their eyes were a strange color, and both flashed every so often, whether with emotion or in the light, Danica couldn’t tell. They were both incredibly attractive and that put Danica on edge more than it would have if they’d been plain.
“I don’t make deals with strangers,” she finally said. Some instinct told her to be wary around the two men.
“I think this is a deal you’ll want to hear,” the suit said, raising his brow.
Danica looked between them again, at the otherworldly attractiveness of them and she tensed impossibly more. The hair on the back of her neck rose.
“What are you? Models or something?”
The suit chuckled, but the one in charge just studied her. She was annoyed that the chuckle was attractive in itself. It might have been intended to make her relax, but she didn’t. It wasn’t relaxing. It was unnerving.
“No,” the suit said. “We are most certainly not models. I’m a business owner and this one is a—”
The leader glared at the suit and the suit’s words cut off completely. Curiosity piqued Danica’s interest.
“A what?” she asked, raising her brow.
“An interested party,” the leader said, smiling gently at her, but there was a glint in his eyes that, despite the smile, unnerved her. It felt like a trap, as if a way to reel her in while at the same time making her want to run away. “I’m Phi, by the way.” He pointed to the other. “This is Arden.”
Danica had to physically stop herself from clenching her fists in her jeans. Every nerve was on edge standing near the two. It was a strange feeling, to be so rattled by two men.
“You need work on a car?” she asked, thinking perhaps that was what they were there for. “The shop hours are nine to five. Come back in the morning.”
Danica backed toward the Indy car. She didn’t turn her back, her instincts screaming at her not to, weirdly. She’d never been intimidated by men—she’d had her fair share of assholes in her line of work—but something about the men made them feel almost predatory.
“We don’t need mechanic work,” Phi denied, watching her move toward the car. “We need a driver.”
Danica froze, her face twisting at his words. “I’m not a limo driver,” she spit, pretending like she had no idea what he meant.
“Don’t play stupid, Danica. You know what we mean,” Arden threw in, crossing his arms over his chest. The suit jacket stretched over clearly large biceps and Danica purposely ignored the way it did so.
She took another step backward. “I don’t drive anymore. I’m not a racer. I can recommend—”
“No, we need you to be our driver,” Phi interrupted her, his expression serious.
Though there had been no threat in those words, only vehemence, Danica gave into the urge to protect herself and pulled out the one and three quarters wrench that was inside the door of the Indy car. She held it casually in her hand as she faced them.
“I said I’m not a racer,” she repeated, facing off against them.
Arden smiled and stepped forward, making her shoulders tense. She didn’t raise the wrench, but the temptation was strong. “But that’s a lie, Ms. Dyers. I’ve seen the videos myself, the bio—”
“Then you know I stopped racing five years ago,” she spit back. “I won’t be driving for anyone, most especially not a couple of attractive predators. I know your type. I want nothing to do with you.”
Phi tensed but Arden only smiled, playing a game. “So, you can sense the danger we pose?”
“I’d be stupid not to. I don’t know who or what you are, but if something looks like a duck and walks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.” Phi’s face twisted in confusion, but Arden only smiled in amusement. “I don’t want anything you’re offering.”
Danica turned sideways as if to climb back inside the Indy car, dismissing them, but Phi’s next words made her freeze.
“Not even if it would save your orphanage?”
She had one leg in the car. Her hair was wild around her face after the helmet had pulled strands from the braid at the back of her head. She knew she had to look insane after a full day of work. She was dirty, sweaty, and annoyed. But Phi’s words made her forget everything she should have been worried about. Her eyes slowly met his and held. For long moments, they studied each other, before Danica spoke.
“You have two minutes.”
“Not here,” Arden grunted, curling his nose up at the dirt around them. Though he seemed as if he’d be more at home in a grittier environment, he seemed more bothered by the dirt than Phi was. Phi, in contrast, held himself as someone not used to dirt and yet, didn’t seem bothered.
“Is there somewhere we can retire to and get coffee?” Phi asked.
Danica studied them both, looking closely. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. They both felt dangerous somehow, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. But they weren’t threatening her, weren’t being aggressive. Both were standing in such a way to put someone at ease, but it didn’t do anything for her. She could still sense the threat. However, they needed her to race for them, and she couldn’t very well race if she was dead.
Nodding, Danica said, “Meet me at the diner in town. Drive up Main Street. Silver building. You can’t miss it. We’ll talk there.”
She didn’t wait for them to answer. Instead, she fought every instinct in her and turned her back on the two men to climb fully inside her father’s Indy car. When she started the engine, she glanced back at where they’d been standing only to see that they’d disappeared completely.
Instead of going straight to the diner, Danica drove the car back into the shop and gingerly covered it back up with a tarp. Once she was satisfied that it was covered and back in its place, she closed up the shop and climbed onto the aging crotch rocket she’d fixed up well enough to drive. It saved money on gas at least, even if she preferred cars to motorcycles.
She dropped the machine into gear and eased up the street toward the single diner in Rockville.