Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(68)

“It’s Mike,” he said. “The mechanic who took my bike after the accident.” Mike calling meant he knew what had happened with the bike. It meant that we would know if Beau was to blame. “Hey Mike,” Reid said when he answered. I waited anxiously as they talked, trying to read his face and decipher what was being said on the other end. Not being able to hear what Mike was saying was damn near killing me. “Really? That makes perfect sense.” He nodded his head. “You think?” His jaw clenched. “Son of a bitch.”

“What’s he saying?” I whispered, knowing that it was not good.

“Thanks again for taking a look at it,” he told him. “I’ll be in touch soon. I’ve got a new bike on its way.” Reid’s sponsors had re-ordered him a bike for the upcoming season. “Well,” he said when hung up. “We were right.”

“What did he do?” I asked. I think we both knew that Beau had messed with the bike, but the confirmation cemented it.

“Replaced the fuel lines,” he said. “Purposely made them too long so they would kink and cut off the flow. Dumbass used lines from his shop so it was easy to track. No one sells the kind he used within a hundred mile radius.”

“At least we know now,” I said, trying to stay calm. I could tell Reid wanted to rush out the door and find Beau. It wasn’t going to solve anything by Reid beating him up. Beau hadn’t called the cops the last time Reid punched him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t this time. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, the thing is we can’t legally prove that it was Beau since the fuel lines aren’t marked, and I’m sure that he will come up with some alibi for where he was that night.” Reid sighed, before a determined look crossed his face. “I’m just going to have to give him a reason to leave town, I guess.”

“How?”

“I’m going to run him out of business.” He smirked. “Don’t you think people would rather buy a dirt bike from me?”

“I think they would,” I said with a nod, already seeing where he was going with this.

“In fact, I think I’m going to open a track and a shop. The only time that Beau has ever beaten me at anything was because I let him. He wants to play games, then I’ll show him why I always win,” he said with a determined look in his eye. He cracked his knuckles as a satisfied smile took over his lips. “I need to expand my business portfolio anyway,” he shrugged. “Can’t ride forever.” God he was adorable.





I was far from the end of my racing career. God willing I didn’t get injured, or worse. The idea of running Beau out of town by taking his business from his was great and all, but owning my own track and bike shop was what really had me excited. Nora would always be enough to bring me home, the business part would be an added bonus. With my brother working on his coaching career, the opportunities for us were endless. The two of us could train riders and really make Travers a household name in racing.

I’d talked to Hoyt earlier in the week and he’d been so frustrated with his current riding student that I didn’t even bring up the idea of opening a business. Chayse McCade was proving to be a handful on and off the track from what I’d gathered. I knew my brother though, and I knew he’d figure out a way to make things work.

I picked up Brett from the hospital later than afternoon and got him situated in the cabin. Nora had insisted I drop her off at home so she could start cooking the meal she’d promised me. A home cooked meal before I set out on a publicity tour was going to make eating out for the next two weeks a little more bearable.

“So you’re putting down roots, huh?” he asked when I told him about the plans I had for Halstead.

“The roots have always been here.” I laughed, patting him on the back. “I’m just growing into them, I guess.”

“I like it,” he said. “The track you have is already a good start. Just think what you could do with a few investors. A little more cash flow and you could have it top notch.”

“Are you saying you want to invest?” I cocked a brow.

“Of course,” he nodded, “I’ve got nothing else to do with my money. Can’t waste it all on booze and strippers, right?”

“Well you could, but I’ll happily spend it, buddy.”

“Well, I’m not a silent partner,” he informed me. “I want to make sure you don’t put little bitch jumps in. We’re going to need a good freestyle section too.”

“Of course.” I nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good. I’ll draw up some plans,” he said, looking around the living room. He gently hoisted his leg onto the sofa. “I’ve got nothing else do to.” Brett patted his knee-braced leg. With that amount of down time he’d be able to draw up plans for fifty tracks.

“Not that I mind you staying here, but you’re sure you want to stay in Halstead?”

“I think I do.” He sighed. “If I can’t ride, the last place I want to be is in Texas or worse, on a press tour where I have to answer a million questions about my injury and if and when I’m going to get back on a bike. Plus, Dr. Forlani is great.”

“You are though, right?” I asked. “Going to get back on a bike?”