Page 91 of Baker

I paused. “What about your uncle? Did he go?”

“She never married,” he said.

“Oh.”

It was a small piece of his life’s puzzle that I was able to snap into place. Piece by piece, I was sure that one day I’d get all the answers I needed.

“We were talking about loyalty and trust earlier,” he said. “Keep in mind, with bikers, there’s nothing more important than that. Respect is the only thing that comes to mind.”

“I know I’m a laugh a minute, but I’ll be my best around them. And, when we’re not around them.” I devoured a handful of snacks and then set the bag aside. “When I decided to do this, I realized that I’d have to be as devoted to this club as you are. So, I decided that’s where I stand. It’s the only way I could make it work in my head. I Googled a bunch of stuff before I came over with those signs. I’m pretty savvy about outlaw clubs.”

He looked at me and grinned. “Oh, really?”

“Uh huh. Respect. Give it and get it. Don’t talk about club business. Don’t ask questions. Don’t ever be seen around a cop. I’m pretty legit.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Sounds like it.”

“All joking aside. I’m not going to embarrass you.”

He glanced at me. “I never thought you would.”

I went back to eating my snacks, wondering when the day would come where I could get to know his brothers. It fascinated me that they’d been friends for a lifetime. Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into a place marked Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. I read the sign and then looked at him side-eyed. “We’re at a race track?”

“We are.”

I wasn’t dressed for the occasion, and neither was he. I wasn’t thrilled in the least. “We’re going to watch a car race?”

“No. We’re going to race a car.”

As much as I didn’t want to be excited, I was. “We’re going to race?”

“We are.”

My eyes went wide. “Holy crap. Really?”

“Really.”

An hour later, even though he said I didn’t have to be, I was fitted with an awesome leather suit, a helmet, and some cool boots. I didn’t care that my hair and makeup were a mess, I was excited to see what the car with an engine in the trunk was all about.

When we started the race, boredom immediately set in. Two minutes later, Baker announced that the tires were heated up, and he began to slaughter the competition.

“The geometric line follows the radius of the track’s corners. That’s not where you want to be. You want to be on the racing line. It follows the outside edge as you come to a corner, then as soon as you hit the turn in point...” He took a corner so fast I thought I was going to vomit. “You turn to the inside edge.”

Despite my thoughts that it would, the car didn’t squeal or slide. Baker downshifted, hit the throttle, and then upshifted, all with the steering wheel switches.

He shifted the car from the right to the left, and passed a red car with little effort. “Then, back to the outside.”

It made sense. Regardless of the radius of the track’s corners, the drivers attempted to make them as wide as they could, to prevent sliding out.

After a few laps where we reached speeds of over one hundred and thirty miles an hour, I was hooked. When we passed cars, I mentally cheered. When we went in the corners, I held my breath. When we came out of the corners, I exhaled.

I have no idea when I took a breath. I was too excited to figure it out.

He gave me instructions as we drove, making sure I fully understood what it was he was explaining. When I was sure we were going to be declared the winner, he pulled the car off the track and by one of the buildings.

He opened the door and got out. “Your turn.”

“Oh my God, no,” I gasped. “I couldn’t--”