Lennox (16 page)

“The fuck?” Nash straightens up. “You told my girl
she could race? The fuck’s wrong with you?” He jabs a
finger at Uncle D. “You tryin’ to get her killed?”

“I think she deserves a chance,” Cyrus says.

Jagger crosses his arms over his chest. “Fuck that. It’s
not fair. She hasn’t even run trials on this track before.”

“I’ve helped you run trials,” I say.

“Nash and I have been practicing this for weeks. For weeks. If
you’re gonna sub anyone in, it should be Cyrus. At least he’s
waited his turn,” Jagger says.

“All right, all right, that’s fair.” Drazic holds
up his hands. “Nash and Jagger this race. Cyrus, you’re a
lock for next. If we can get three next race, maybe Elena can join us
then, too. Fair enough,
djevojka
?”

I grimace and glance away. “Sure. It’s fine.”

“All right. You know what to do, then. Get lined up.”
Drazic claps Jagger and Nash on the shoulders and our huddle
dissolves.

Nash snags me in his arms. “C’mon, baby. You don’t
want to risk that sweet ass of yours getting splayed out on the
pavement,” he murmurs. “Besides, I run my best times with
you right in my ear.”

Great. I’m so glad I can be the puppet master behind the scenes
for him. I take a deep breath. “You’d be just fine
without me.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m nothing without my best girl.
C’mon. I know you said we’d take it a day at a time,
but . . . I sure do miss this nice, hard body of
yours.”

He presses me closer, but all I can think of is Lennox. The thought
of Nash holding me now is making my skin crawl. I have to tell him
off. I have to. Maybe if I wait until after the race, when it won’t
impact the crew, his trial times . . .

He grins, sly and sinister. “Maybe after the race, I can make
you scream my name again, huh?” He nuzzles his nose against my
neck. “For now, I’d settle for a good-luck kiss.”

I set my jaw firm and lean away from him. “Maybe after the
race.”

“Okay. Yeah. Something to look forward to, right?” He
squeezes my ass, then releases me. I stagger backward, sucking for
fresh air. My chest feels too tight. All I want is Lennox. All I want
is Lennox, and he doesn’t think he deserves me. As if that’s
his choice to make! Why the hell won’t anyone let me choose my
life for myself? Why won’t they give me that control?

“Ro-ry! Ro-ry! Ro-ry!”

The crowd around us erupts into cheers as the sounds of primal, beefy
motors echo through the alleys. A tight knot forms in my stomach. The
McManus crew has arrived.

I wonder, with a twist of the knot, if Lennox is with them.

A cluster of women forms around Rory McManus, his lanky form weaving
through them as he scans the crowd with those chilly gray eyes.
“Thanks, ladies,” he purrs at them, as he makes his way
toward Sleazy D. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty
time for you after the race.”

I shrink back into the crowd. The last thing I need is for him to
spot me here, and put two and two together. Bad enough that he’s
tied me with Lennox, in his mind. If Rory figures I’m Drazic’s
niece, I don’t even want to think how he might use me for
leverage over Lennox. Or over Uncle D, for that matter. And if he
told Uncle D that he saw me with Lennox . . .

Then the chanting shifts.

“Len-nox! Len-nox! Len-nox!”

It grows even louder, swelling as the crowd presses in. And there
Lennox is, that sad smile twisting his lips, waving to the public.
Rory can’t be too pleased that Lennox is stealing his thunder.
I know I should look away, but I can’t. All I see is him, as if
the dozens and dozens of grasping arms and stamping feet aren’t
even there. He turns my way and winces, like he’s bumped
against an old bruise. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear to
look anymore.

“What the hell?” Drazic says. I force the smile off my
lips. I have an audience. How easily I forget. But Drazic isn’t
looking at me—he’s looking at Lennox and his crowd. “He
wins one race and they love him?”

“All’s forgiven when rubber meets the road.” Cyrus
only shrugs.

We stake out a good position to watch the race. Instead of
warehouses, we’re stuck with the emptied-out storefronts of
Main Street, Villareal. We crack open the locked door of an old
clothing shop and make our way past the husks of dusty clothing racks
and shoe boxes until we find the roof access and head up top. The
drone operators are out in full force tonight, as well, though
they’ve had to set up white sheets in front of the old town
square to project their footage.

The drivers pull up to the starting lines. Lennox and Rory for the
McManus squad, Jagger and Nash for ours, and the Upstate, Calaveras,
and a few other crews mixed in, as well. A crowded field. But Lennox
knows how to pull it off.

Dammit—there I am, cheering for him again. I’ll have to
cut that out. I pop my earpiece in, though Nash is the last person I
want to talk to right now, and ready myself for the race.

Sleazy D launches the racers, to wild screaming and thrashing from
the crowd. The cars rip down the town’s main drag, picking up
speed at varying rates. Jagger’s Mitsubishi Lancer claims an
early lead, but he’s always going to kick ass on the straight
shots like that—we’ll see if he can hold onto it. I swap
between my view through the binoculars as they tear west and the
drone projections once they come up on the first curve to head out to
the buttes and back.

On the projector, I spot Rory McManus gunning for Jagger, hard.
“Watch, it Jag. McManus on your ass,” I tell him. “Try
hugging the right side of the curve. You’ll make up the speed
later.”

“Copy, Ellie Bear.” Jagger lags behind Rory as they take
the swing, but then the lights gleam beneath his Lancer’s body
kit, and he shoots back into the lead once the circuit straightens
out.

Then I spy the dark curves of Lennox’s Mustang threading his
way through the pack. My heart skips a beat, remembering the time we
spent together on the hood of that beast. A flush creeps down my
neck. Dammit, Lennox, why can’t you just make up your mind? I
want to scream at him that I don’t care, that it doesn’t
matter to me what he’s done, what kind of situation he’s
in. He’s perfect to me. I don’t need a someday.

I need him now.

Cyrus touches my arm gently, approaching the edge of the roof beside
me. “Hey. Are you doing okay?” His eyebrows crease as he
studies me. “With you and Nash, or just . . .
you. You look a little lost.”

I try to hold it in and be strong for Cyrus. But I can’t handle
it anymore. My strength is all gone. I bite my lower lip and shake my
head. “I can’t do this anymore, Cy—any of it this.”
I draw a ragged breath. “I just want to be my own person. Stop
letting other people decide for me, dictate my life to me.”

Cyrus nods and pats my back. “You’re stronger than you
realize. I know you’ll get there. It’ll be a rocky road
to freedom—not everyone will be happy about it—but it’ll
be shorter than you think.”

I want to believe him, but all I can think about is how much bullshit
the promise of “someday” is. Someday I’ll be free.
Someday I’ll be in control. Just like Lennox promised me he’d
be mine.
Someday.

Someday’s just a nicer word for never.

“Drazic? Cyrus?” Nash’s voice cuts in, through our
earpieces. “A little help here. This cocksucker’s trying
to jump my lead.”

I turn back toward the projectors. Sure enough, Nash and Lennox have
both squeezed past Jagger and Rory, who are still duking it out for
third. And Nash looks livid. As if the past month hasn’t taken
any of the sting out of his burning, misguided need to take his
revenge. Dammit.

“Ignore him,” I say into the earpiece. “He’s
not harassing you, not doing anything aggressive. If you don’t
fight back, you’ll keep hold of first. Focus on the race, and
not the drivers.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I risk a glance at the middle section of the pack, where Jagger’s
clogged up with the Calaveras boys. They’ve got him pretty well
boxed in—not much chance he can regain the lead now. Nash is
our only shot to score a win for the Drazic crew. But deep in my
heart, I want Lennox to win it again.

“You’re doing fine, Nash,” Drazic says over the
earpiece. “Just keep it steady. Jagger, don’t get
rattled. Hold your ground and they’ll give up.”

Nash’s car wavers for a moment, but then he settles back into a
solid pace. Lennox is still ahead of him, but Lennox isn’t
trying anything fancy; when they reach another straightaway through a
lengthy alley, Nash pulls around him without any aggression and
naturally claims first place.

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Nash is doing fine. Maybe he will get over this. He’ll win, and
Lennox will get second, still quite respectable, and then maybe Nash
can start to mend—

Nash abruptly cuts his speed with a scream of his brakes.

“Oh, shit.” I rush toward the other edge of the roof,
near where he is. “Nash, what the hell are you doing?”

The drones surge forward to catch up just in time to capture Nash’s
GTO slamming into Lennox’s Mustang from the left. Metal
screeches against metal as Lennox is crushed up against the
cinderblock walls. Smoke pours from beneath the Mustang’s and
GTO’s tires.

I scream. Uncle D is shouting into the earpiece, but I can’t
make out the words. The whole world goes fuzzy around me. All I see
is red, red and the twisted hunk of metal that Lennox’s car is
quickly becoming—

I swing over the roof and shimmy down the drainpipe. I have to get to
the crash. Help Lennox get out. Please, oh, please don’t let
his gas tank catch a spark—I know how the tanks and gas lines
on those old muscle cars can be—

“What the fuck?” people are shouting, among other things.
The crowd is swarming the alleyway, but I clamber over them, unafraid
to use my steel-toed boots to help me carve a path through the
throng. I have to get to Lennox. Make sure he’s okay. One block
over, the rest of the cars scream past, diverted around the alleyway
on their quest for the finish line, though I couldn’t care less
now who’s going to claim the prize.

The first thing I see is Lennox, wriggling his way out of the
crumpled frame of the Mustang as if it were a prison cell. Blood
drips down his left side where glass has shattered and studded into
his skin. But he’s alive. Oh, god, he’s alive. It takes
all of my willpower not to run to him and hug him tight.

Instead, I turn toward Nash, who’s staggering out of the GTO,
rubbing at his wrists.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I scream at him.
“What’s wrong with you? You could have killed him!”

“So what?” Nash says, then shakes out his hands. Good. It
fucking hurt him, driving Lennox’s car into that wall. Serves
him right.

“You could have killed you
both
. If you hadn’t
slowed down to take the turn into the alley . . .”

“Whatever. Fuck him.” Nash spits in Lennox’s
direction. “He had it coming. He’s got it coming still.”

In the distance, Sleazy D is announcing the winners of the
race—Jagger, followed by Miguel Calaveras, then Rory McManus.
Drazic will be glad Jagger still pulled it off, but I can’t
believe the gall of Nash. Risking his life, and Lennox’s, just
to prove some stupid point. And their cars—I bury my face in my
hands. We can’t afford to completely overhaul the body I spent
so long on for the GTO. And if the McManuses put Nash and the crew on
the hook to repair Lennox’s car, as well . . .

“God dammit, Nash. You don’t even think about anyone
else, do you? Just yourself.” I shove the heels of my palms
into his chest to force him away from me. I don’t want his
embrace. I don’t want
him.
“You had the lead. The
race was totally yours. And it was more important to you to hurt him,
to screw all of us over like this? Is revenge, staying stuck in the
past, really so important to you?”

“Shut up,” Nash snarls. “I can do what I want.”

“The hell you can. Fuck you, Nash. You and me are done.”

Nash stalks toward me, then pulls himself back at the last minute.
The McManuses and Drazic and Cyrus have arrived, and all eyes are on
us. But I don’t care. Let them see what a colossal fuckup Nash
has become.

“Fuck you, Elena. You always liked him better, anyway.”
He glowers at Lennox. “Even though he’s a fucking
murderer.”

I gesture toward the heap of cars wedged against the alley wall. “And
you were ready to become one, too.”

Drazic charges forward to give Nash what I hope is an epic beatdown,
while Lennox limps toward the McManus crew. Mama McManus says
something that I don’t catch, but Lennox starts shaking his
head rapidly. “No, seriously, it’s fine,” I
overhear him say. “Please. Just let it go.”

Cyrus catches me by the arm as I storm away. “Ellie. Are you
gonna be okay?”

“Do I look okay to you?” But I’m all wrung out. No
more fight left in me. I sink into a warm hug from him. “I just
don’t understand why it has to be this way.”

“Me either.” His eyes narrow, watching the McManus crew
huddle together. “And I’m afraid it’s only about to
get worse.”

Elena

I hop into my Camaro and drive back to Ridgecrest alone, restless
with a furious energy that roils inside me like a thunderstorm. I am
so beyond done with Nash. Right now I can’t even remember what
attracted me to him in the first place. Maybe he’s right, and
back when we first started dating, I really was just looking for
someone to replace the Lennox-shaped hole in my heart. Well, he’s
completely fucked that up now.

He tried to
kill
Lennox. Not manslaughter—actual
premeditated murder. Even though it’d make things worse for us
with the McManus crew. Even though the last thing our crew needs is
to lose one more member. I can’t believe he’d be so
fucking selfish. It’s a miracle neither he nor Lennox were
seriously hurt.