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“Well, they both have money to invest with us, don’t they?” Mouse countered. “And lord knows we could use it.”
“You’re not supposed to tell him that!” Chase growled.
“What am I supposed to tell him?” his teammate protested as he shrugged. “That we haven’t spent our life savings on Bashful and we really need to win this race to just pay the bills?”
Chase slapped his hand against his face. “Lord give me strength. . .”
Ben chuckled. “There’s no need to worry about me investigating your books all that thoroughly. Thunder racing is an expensive business, and there’s hardly a company that doesn’t need an infusion of coin to get them from one tract to another.”
Mouse’s face brightened. “So you’ll help us?”
Ben smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
“Then I’ve got something for you two!” Mouse announced as he rummaged through both his pockets. He drew out his fists hands and held them out to us. In each of his upturned palms was a badge with their company number. “Here you are then. Your own badges.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Ben chuckled as he took his badge. “You must stop doubting people’s good intentions.”
“Well, I just-” I struggled to find the right words as I took the badge and pinned it to my chest. I couldn’t help but puff my chest out a little as I grinned at Mouse. “Thanks.”
Mouse clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now then, what say we have you show off Bashful to the crowds later, eh?”
CHAPTERELEVEN
“Mallory!”Chase snapped.
Mouse winced. “It was just a suggestion.”
I grinned. “Actually, that sounds like a lot of fun.”
“See?” Mouse countered as he puffed out his chest and looked up at his annoyed companion. “She wants to do it.”
Chase rolled his eyes and returned to his espionage.
I, too, looked at the race course as the thunders sped past us. I had to wait for their noise to diminish before I asked the question on the tip of my tongue. “So what lap are they on?”
“Forty-nine, so they’re on the final lap,” Chase replied as he continued his vigilant watch.
“That must take a while,” I mused.
Ben nodded. “The better part of an hour, and some drivers race three times a day, if they’re unfortunate enough to have their placements scheduled in that way.”
My face drooped. “That sounds like a lot of tension for one day.”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Mouse answered as he strained his neck to watch the drivers on the far side of the track. “The wheels rolling beneath you throwing up dirt and sand with a couple dozen other thunders roaring around you.”
I winced and rubbed a finger in my ear. “That sounds like a good way to lose your hearing.”
“Their helmets muffle nearly all of the noise,” Ben assured me as the thunders came around again. “Though the older drivers do often become somewhat deaf.”
“Such is the sacrifices we make,” Mouse solemnly confirmed.
“Hey! What in the blazes is that!” Chase barked.
Mouse shook his head. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!”
Chase glared down at him. “Of course you didn’t, you tyke, there’s something going on at the other side of the track.”
