AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I park my car beside Milo and get out.
“We’ve gotta check in with Deacon,” He nods down the row of cars.
As we make our way over, I admire all the spectators’ cars lining the road. There are some damn nice vehicles here tonight.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” Deacon drawls as we approach. He has some pink-haired girl nearly straddling his lap. His hand is hidden under her skirt, and I just shake my head and laugh. “Never thought I’d see your ass around here again.”
“Deacon, you motherfucker, how’ve you been?” I knock my fist against his free hand.
“Just living the dream, man.”
“Yeah, it looks like it,” I smirk. The girl tosses her pink hair over her shoulder and looks back at me and Milo, biting her lip as she grinds down on Deacon.
Shit, they might as well be fucking at this rate.
“Usual buy-in?” Milo asks.
“Yep,” Deacon answers, focused on his ministrations.
“Two grand,” Milo says and reaches into his pocket for a roll of cash.
I pull out my wallet and count out twenty bills before handing it over to Deacon. I’m not that surprised that he’s still the one running these races. It’s not easy to find someone we can trust enough to hold on to that much cash. However, most people don’t know that Deacon could buy all the cars here without even blinking an eye. He’s loaded — old family money. This is all just for fun, I guess.
I asked once why he never raced with us, and he said just being on the sidelines was enough of a thrill for him. Much of his childhood had been planned for him, leaving no free time in his schedule. He spent more time with tutors than with his actual family. So, I guess I understood the need to rebel a bit.
We grab our GPSs from Ricky, get everything hooked up, and drive over to the starting line.
When I roll my windows down, I listen to the rumble of engines. I laugh to myself, unable to quell my excitement.
I feel like a twelve-year-old on Christmas morning.
“You ready, man?” Milo shouts through the passenger window of his car.
I smirk and rev my engine in answer.
“So, who do I have to look out for?” I shout back.
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s the one to beat these days? You know, now that I’m gone?” I may be a cocky asshole, but Milo knows it’s all in good fun.
“Oh, you mean who’s the best?”
“We all know I’m the best, dickhead. Who’s second best?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “The Street King.”
“Who?” I ask, furrowing my brow. I’ve never heard of anyone who goes by that title.
Milo leans forward and looks past me, nodding toward someone who pulls up on my right in a ‘67 Camaro.
My jaw slackens as I take in the dark-haired beauty behind the wheel. She doesn’t take her eyes off the road before her. Her hand gripping the steering wheel tight.
I turn back to Milo, eyes wide, my question evident.
“She is the Street King?”
“Dude, don’t let looks deceive you. She may be pretty, but she’ll smoke your ass,” Milo chuckles.
