Crash Into You

Chapter 72

Rachel

THE DRAGSTERS’ ENGINES SCREAM INTO the night. From the top row of the bleachers, Eric looks down on me, waiting. Our money is due to him by midnight. We’re twenty minutes away and five hundred short.

Standing next to the bleachers, I watch from a distance as Echo and Abby wait for Noah and Isaiah to bring her Corvette back around to the side. The engine burned at the line, costing Noah the race and Echo her car.

I suck in my bottom lip as I glance at Echo again. It was her brother’s car. The only piece she has left of her best friend that died in Afghanistan. I think of Gavin, Jack, Ethan and West. Right now, I’m mad at them and they’re mad at me, but it would kill me if they died.

And I cost Echo his car.

Loose rocks roll on the blacktop and Zach appears at my side. “I hear you’re finally taking the race against me.”

I nod. Isaiah didn’t have to tell me that we’re down to desperate. “What happens if I lose?”

Zach’s eyes shoot up behind me, and I don’t have to follow his gaze to know that he’s looking at Eric. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Zach steps closer to me and whispers, “Don’t take this race.”

Ironic how Isaiah had tried to warn me away from racing on that first night we met, but I don’t regret a single decision. Because I stuck around, I fell in love with him. “I don’t have a choice. Now tell me what happens if I lose.”

“You do have a choice,” he pleads. “I thought I did, too, but I don’t now. I have to win and I will. I’ve seen you race before. You don’t have it in you to win.”

“If I lose, Zach.”

“He’ll own you. He’ll own Isaiah. Details don’t matter at that point.”

I suck in air and slowly release it. “I’ll see you at the line.”

Noah and Isaiah push the Corvette into a vacant spot and when they pop the hood they both curse as smoke billows out. I wander to stand beside Echo and Abby. Echo’s finger taps anxiously against her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. To see something that means so much to her fall apart is heart-wrenching. Knowing that Isaiah and I are responsible is devastating.

“So am I,” she says. “Noah lost two hundred because the ’Vette broke down at the line.”

“Echo...” How do I say this so she doesn’t deck me, because she obviously doesn’t know. “Fixing the engine on a ’65 Corvette is going to cost a lot more than two hundred dollars.”

Echo rips her gaze from the car. “We have forever to fix the car. We’ve got twenty minutes to come up with five hundred. You and Isaiah are more important than any car.”

Abby elbows me. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“What I don’t get is how this guy knows we’re here.” Echo looks over at Eric, who seems all too happy with the turn of events.

“Because he’s Satan,” says Abby.

With his shoulders hunched over, as if preparing to tell a loved one the news of a death, Isaiah slowly strides over. “I’m sorry, Echo. I swear to you, I’ll fix it.”

“It’s okay, Isaiah. I knew what I was getting into.”

His heavy storm-cloud eyes glance at me. “We’re short.” Isaiah draws me into him. “This scares the shit out of me, angel.”

I place a slow kiss against his cheek and a longer one against his lips. “I won’t lose.”

At least I pray I won’t. The confidence I’m exuding on the outside doesn’t exist on the inside. Isaiah worked hard to prohibit this race, but in the end, couldn’t stop it. It’s on me to save the two of us.

The loss of control, the fact he can’t protect me in this moment, wages war on his face. “If you lose this race, you don’t stop the car. You keep driving. This time you go to the police. You tell them everything. You get someone to protect you.”

“I won’t leave you.”

His hands weave into my hair. “Please, Rachel. I’m trying here.”

“Echo will get Rachel out,” says Noah. “Rachel, I’ll stay by his side.”

I go to protest, but the grumble of Zach’s engine interrupts. Isaiah places an arm around my waist to tuck me close. Zach yells over his engine, “What’s the bet?”

“Five hundred,” answers Isaiah. “Abby’s holding.”

“And I think I’ll watch Abby.” In his half strut, Eric slinks over with a few guys from the night I street raced with him.

“Pole dancers are down the street,” says Abby in a bored voice. “And if I let you watch, I’d cost more.”

Without waiting for his retort, Abby walks over and shows Zach our five hundred. He motions to Eric, and Eric produces a wad of cash that he holds between the slits of his fingers.

“I’ll take that,” she says.

“You’re not neutral,” Eric replies.

“And you’re a jackass. Public place, Eric, and think about whose territory you’re standing in. I believe at the moment I outrank you.”

Eric bends his elbow to hand her the cash. She collects and counts. Once she nods to Isaiah, he crushes his lips to mine. It’s a fast kiss, yet intense. Hands warm on my face, on my back. His lips moving rapidly, with such desire that when I go to catch my breath he pulls away. “I love you.”

Isaiah opens the door to my Mustang, finds his helmet, flips my hair behind my ear and straps the helmet on my head. Behind me, Noah edges the fire-retardant jacket onto my arms.

Isaiah speaks at such a fast pace I can barely keep up. “If the car makes any funny sounds, does anything strange, you brake, do you understand me? Don’t try to win the race. Don’t floor the gas. That’s when the wrecks happen. Listen to your instincts. Anything weird, you hit the brake.”

I’ve watched Isaiah put the jacket and helmet on dozens of times, and each time my heart ached with the thought of what would happen if the car wrecked. My eyes widen as I see the sweat breaking out on his forehead. “The fire extinguisher is under the passenger seat. If the car crashes, you get out. If you can’t, you grab the extinguisher, and I swear I’ll be there.”

“There isn’t a nitrous system in the car,” I remind him blankly.

His fingers pause on the zipper. “Even without it, this is dangerous.” A pause. “It’s okay to back out. I swear to God I’ll protect you.”

“I’m doing this.”

“Tell her about the torque,” says Noah as Isaiah zips up my jacket.

“I know what torque is,” I whisper.

“Not this, angel.” Isaiah secures the straps to the jacket and double-checks the helmet. “You’ve played with the car in parking lots, learning how to go for the light, but I’ve put enough torque and horsepower in your pony that she’s going to kick up on you. Nothing like those bad boys with the million-dollar engines, but she’ll ride up. It’s a good thing. She’ll come back down. Don’t fight her, Rachel. Just let her run.”

In the driver’s seat, I numbly reach for the seat belt until Isaiah leans in. His hands quickly maneuver around the five-point harness he installed for racing. “Can you see?”

One hand grips the steering wheel, the other the stick shift. The harness has me locked tight to the chair. “Yeah.” And then I start to think. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to see the lines.”

Isaiah squeezes my hand. “I’ll walk you through it.”

He closes the door and I start my pony. I rev the engine a couple of times because I need the calmness associated with her singing. Taking a deep breath, I shift into First and follow Isaiah to the starting line.

My entire life I tried to be all girl with bows and painted nails, but feeling my baby purr beneath me, knowing that I’m about to push her—I feel very alive.

Curling his fingers as a sign to continue or using his palm as a stop, Isaiah guides me around the water to avoid a burnout and slowly edges me to the staging area. I hit the first light and Isaiah throws his hand to a stop. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m going to drag race.

The smell of rubber hangs in the air as Zach completes his burnout. The roar of his engine grows as his car joins mine. Isaiah nods at me as he walks away. This is it. This is me on my own. Zach creeps forward, his second staging light hit. Once I hit the second line, I’ll have seconds before the race starts.

I inhale deeply and tap on the gas. My second light flashes on. In rapid succession, the yellow lights count down...three...two...one...

My foot falls off the clutch as the other rams on the gas, a perfect coordination of shifting and moving. The engine roars as my body presses into the seat. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as the front wheels pop up and slam back onto the dragway. The same gravitational forces that pulled me back push me forward.

Becoming one with the car, I shift with her sounds, letting her rip, letting her run. And in seconds, I pass the finish line, laughing, soaring like a bird in flight.

I just won.