Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4) (33 page)

Holding up a hand she shakes her head and laughs. “First, that’s a Shelby GT500, don’t downplay it like it’s just a Mustang. Are you sure you want me behind the wheel of a classic with 550 horsepower in my clumsy hands?”

“Can you handle it?” I ask leaning in.

“Fuck yes I can,” she purrs. “I can kick his fool ass too. But why me? If I break it, I can’t buy it and
if
I lose you’re out a car.”

“That’s just it,” I say biting her lip. “You won’t lose.”

“What do I get if I win?” she smiles running her tongue along the seam of her bottom lip.

“Material for your book, a Shelby GT500,
and
bragging rights.”

“The hell you say,” she wheezes out. Looking around me at the Mustang she practically salivates at the thought of owning it. Considering I’m a man who likes to own things, I appreciated the greed in her eyes. “And Sun,” I say getting her attention. “I’ll get your license reinstated too.”

“You’d do that for me?”

I’d do anything for her but said, “Gladly.” When the host called for drivers I stepped back giving her room to move. Leading her over to the circle of other drivers, she steps up confident, like she had it in the bag. The host asks for challenges and without being prompted, Sun speaks out and the room went eerily silent.

“I’ll race the driver of the Nissan for pinks.” I wanted to laugh because no one said pinks anymore, at least not here, but the guy stepped forward sizing her up and that I didn’t like.

“You drive?” he laughs as he checks her out.

“That’s not even a complete sentence, try again.”

“I’ll wipe that smirk off your face when I drive off in that Mustang, female.”

“Sun,” she says getting in his space. The two of them were equal in height but if I had to pick a winner in a fight, I’d go with Sun. My girl was bloodthirsty.

“What?” he says crowding her right back.

“My name, fuckstick,” she says going nose to nose. “Is Sun. And your breath is hit, get that stank out of my face.”

“I think you need to learn a lesson,” he says pushing her and that’s when I took up her right side. She’d still race because I loved seeing her excited but he’d die for putting his hands on her.

“I’m good,” she says touching my arm. “To quote Jay Z, ahem,” she clears her throat and the other drivers laugh. “You know the type, loud as a motor bike but wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight.” When he just blinks, she leans in and smiles. “You’re the fruit, by the way.”

“The rules,” I shout over to the host. No one here liked the Nissan driver and it was clear if he kept running his mouth, he’d be too dead to race. But Sun rattled him and it was fucking hilarious even if I didn’t know the song she quoted, I got the gist of it.

She listened to the rules and when she smiled at me, I knew she gave not one fuck about following any of them. Street racing on French is hit or miss. It used to be fairly popular until new drivers ran their mouths and word got out. Around here, cops don’t show up for murder, but they were like flies on shit for a street race.

Walking over to the car, she opens the door and pauses. “Whatever happens,” she says staring at the dashboard. “I’m going to say now, I had the time of my life.” Win or lose didn’t matter to me, that wasn’t why I brought her here. For some reason I wanted to see what she was made of. If this arrangement progressed into more, I wanted her by my side and needed to know she was able to survive in my world. Because there was no escaping this life for me, I needed her to acclimate herself to my way of living. Selfish but necessary. Racing was the least violent of my ventures and bottom line; today, I wanted her to have fun. Spanking her ass, she giggles and kisses me hard before moving away.

“Make me proud,” I tell her.

“Shade?” she says strapping in. “Don’t forget to film this.”

Closing the door, she starts the engine and backs out heading over to the gravel. When the Nissan pulled up next to her, she looked over and made the jacking off gesture with her fist. Revving his engine in response, she just shakes her head and laughs.

As for me, I’d never tell her I was fucking scared to death but even fear didn’t stop me from hitting record.

Nothing beats the new car smell.

The odometer shows it only has eighty-nine miles on it. How he could have a car like this in his possession and not drive it, is beyond me. Then again, I wasn’t a rich criminal with a fleet of cars at my disposal either. Pulling out of the warehouse, I follow the Nissan guy out to the road we drove in on.

Giving him my best hand job impression, I laugh when he revs his engine trying to intimidate me. It wouldn’t work, but points for trying. Racing like any other sport has a winner and a loser. Maybe he was a good driver, but I had more at stake than he did. The need to make Shade proud had me gripping the wheel. The urge to win had the back of my neck tingling. Shade getting the Nissan out the deal had me squirming in my seat. Most of all, he believed I could do it and I wanted to show him that I could. Having my license back would be a bonus, as would owning this beautiful car. Unfortunately, the odds of me keeping it were slim because I’d go right back to breaking the sound barrier with it. Honestly, I gave it a week before it was impounded and that was a damn shame. Leaving the gravel and lining up on French, I watch the host (or whatever they call him) stand between our cars. By appearance the Shelby outweighed the Nissan but I wasn’t concerned about that. I had a supercharged 5.4 liter V 8 under the hood and knew what to do with it. This was a muscle car and I liked muscles.

Two miles.

All I had to do was out drive him.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I forget all about the Nissan next to me. Granted, this was Michigan and a pot hole might actually kill me, I ignored that too. Freedom was up ahead, it was just me and the road now.

Driver’s ready

I nod.

With both feet steady, one on the gas and the other on the clutch I take another breath.

When his hands went up, I watched him count down.

3

2

1…

Go time.

The squealing that came next wasn’t from the tires but from me. I was in fourth gear hauling ass before I could even blink. Smooth was the word that came to mind. I’ve never driven anything that glides like this does. Dropping it into fifth, I see him coming up in my mirror and slide into sixth blowing his ass out of the water.

That fast, it was over.

Yet, I wanted to keep going.

Slowing down, I find a spot to turn so I can head back to Shade. Victory was mine. This beautiful car was mine, and if the hope in my chest was anything to go by, Shade was too.

Nissan blocks my turn, jumps out of his car and rips my door open. “Get out, bitch,” he says tugging me. Removing my belt, I granted his request by stepping out without argument. If he accuses me of cheating, I would punch him in the throat.

Pushing me back with his chest, he says, “You fucking cheated, dirty whore!”

Balling up my fist, I smile “Now that’s a complete sentence, was that so hard?” then follow up by in fact, punching the prick in the throat. When he grabs it hoping to breathe, I kick him in the balls for being a poor sport. Grabbing his jacket, I drag him over to his car shoving him inside. “Bring your losing ass and
my
car back to the garage, or die.”

Slamming the door, I climb in and give him a minute to catch his breath. If he wasn’t pissed before he was now, for sure. Then like I wasn’t waiting and cops weren’t an issue, he made a phone call. Though I had no clue who he called whoever it was spooked him. Because he gave me a look of alarm, then hauls ass back to the starting spot. Pulling in next to him, I look to the crowd for Shade not seeing him.

Guys congratulated me and I ignored it.

A few minutes later, when I did find him I was too busy watching Shade annihilate Nissan with his fists to interrupt.

Sun didn’t just win, she left the competition in the dust. (Literally)

From my position in front of the warehouse, I filmed the race for her. She, of course, was flawless as I knew she would be. I was in awe of her plain and simple. As requested, one of my men was at the finish line with his lights off making sure she was safe. I didn’t trust the other driver and was right not to. When he called to tell me what happened and how Sun handled it, I was waiting for him when he pulled back inside.

Instead of welcoming my woman back, being able to congratulate her on her victory, I was beating the life out of this asshole. He dared to yell at her, push her, and accuse her of cheating. Razor would handle him when I was finished, but I was nowhere near finished.

Call me old school, but I liked street fighting. Fists being my preferred weapon. Using them on his face, he was already unrecognizable and just lost his ability to stand. Nodding to my man, he lifts him up and I continue. Some of the drivers in attendance filmed the fight, others were entertained, and a few couldn’t believe what was happening.

They meant nothing to me. However, when Sun pushed through the crowd and our eyes locked, the urge to kill him didn’t abate. In fact, when I saw her in the flesh safe and sound, the urge increased. She didn’t look shocked or disgusted, if anything she looked like a well fucked woman with red cheeks and bright eyes. Her adrenaline was pumping and it looked beautiful on her. Delivering one final blow, I instruct my man to take him around back. The crowd was thinning out but not as quickly as I’d like. The cops hadn’t showed which surprised me but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Taking the handkerchief out of my pocket, I wipe my hands off before touching her.

“You,” I whisper, kissing her. “Were fucking amazing tonight.”

“I really was,” she says breathlessly. “That was fun, Shade.”

“Fucking gorgeous,” I growl.

“That was one hell of a beating you put on him,” she smiles. “Now what happens?”

“He dies for touching you,” I tell her. “Then the cars will be brought back to the garage and yours will be stored there for you.”

“You’re killing him now?” she asks.

“Unless you prefer to do it? It would be your right.”

“I’ll just watch you do it,” she says sliding her hand into my back pocket. “You filmed me, right?”

“Yes, Sun,” I laugh. “I did, now let’s get this done so we can go home.”

“Oh!” she says squeezing my ass. “Do I get a victory fuck?”

“You get whatever you want,” I growl into her mouth.

“Then hurry up,” she whispers. “I want to fuck in my new car.”

The woman was made for me, Jesus.

While my man held the offender up, slapping him to keep him conscious until I arrived, I relieved him of his duty and at my nod he let him hit the ground. Passing by Sun, who he was fully aware he wasn’t to speak to (ever), he bumps her shoulder and says, “Clean win,” before disappearing with the Mustang.

I would be addressing that with him later, but first I had business.

“Please,” he says spitting blood all over my shoes.

“Ew,” says Sun pinching her face in disgust. “He pissed himself.”

“He also spread his DNA all over my shoes.” I felt that needed pointing out.