Page 226 of Revv

The place is louder than I expected even without a race happening. Somewhere beyond the garages, an engine screams through a gear before cutting sharply, and the sound vibrates straight through the steering wheel.

Okay.

Kind of hot.

The guy at the gate checks my name, hands back my ID and points me toward a row of buildings farther inside.

“Garage four.”

“Thanks.”

I park where he tells me, grab Emma’s folded paper and hop out.

The air smells like hot rubber, fuel and metal, and there are people moving everywhere carrying tires, tools and expensive-looking pieces of machinery I would absolutely drop if someone trusted me to hold them.

I head down the row and find the bay doors to garage four open.

There are several bikes inside on stands, bodywork partly removed while a handful of men work around them.

One guy is crouched near a front tire, another is looking at something on a laptop, and somebody farther inside is swearing at a wrench like it personally betrayed him.

Well, shit. I like this place already.

I step into the entrance and at first nobody notices.

“Hi.”

Nothing.

An engine fires nearby and I jump just enough to piss myself off.

“Okay. Fuck you, too.”

When it shuts off, one of the guys near a workbench finally looks over.

He wipes his hands on a rag. “You lost?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for someone.”

His mouth twitches.

“Who?”

I hold the paper up, and the guy beside the tire glances up.

Someone else turns around and I look between them.

“Why does everyone suddenly look entertained?”

The first guy grins. “No reason.”

“Suspicious.”

He turns toward the back of the garage.