Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(107)

“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.”