Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(8)
Neither of us spoke for a moment, then someone rapped on my window, making me jump with fright. Blushing, and dodging Dante’s way too intense stare, I pressed the electric window down and gave the sandy blond guy who’d knocked a tight smile.
“You here to race?” he asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion then looking straight past me to Dante. “That’s brave of you to let your girlfriend drive your car, bro. I wouldn’t trust any chick behind the wheel of a nice car.” He gave an annoying little guffaw, like he was sharing some sort of private man-joke with Dante. I pitied this dude’s girlfriend—if he had one.
“She’s not my girlfriend, this is her car and I’m not your bro,” Dante replied in a voice cold enough to give Catherine a run for her money. He clicked his seatbelt off and stepped out of the car, coming around to my side.
The guy who’d knocked on my window looked at a loss for words, but Dante just pushed him out of the way and opened my door for me to get out and join him.
“That’s uh,” the blonde dude stuttered, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a group of guys leaned against cars near the ball-cap guy. “I don’t think we allow chicks to race,” he finally spat out, then paled when Dante folded his tattooed arms over his muscular chest and glared. “But hey, I’m not the one in charge. You’re welcome to check with Jimmy.”
Blond guy scurried away as quickly as he’d appeared, and I exchanged a look with Dante.
“You want to kick their rich-kid asses even more now, huh?” He asked me with a small smile, and I grinned my response. The only thing better than winning a race like this: rubbing it in their faces that they got beat by a girl.
Holding my plastered arm against my body, I wandered across the gravel to where Jimmy was counting out a sickeningly thick wad of cash. “Jimmy?” I called out when I got within a few paces of him.
The guy looked up, then tilted his cap up a bit when he spotted me standing there. “You’re new,” he commented with an odd tone. Excitement? Curiosity? “Come to place a bet on your newest crush, darling?” he asked me with severe condescension.
Dante snickered a laugh beside me but didn’t try and speak for me. This wasn’t the first time we’d come up against this attitude, but it had definitely been a while. I’d been driving since I was twelve, and racing Dante’s cars since I was fourteen. Back home, I’d earned a name for myself. People knew how good I was. How good my baby, the Butterfly, was.
It was almost thrilling that I would get to prove that all over again to this bunch of posers.
“I’m actually here to race,” I informed him, stuffing my good hand into the back pocket of my jeans. For the first time in a long ass while, I felt totally out of place. My jeans were worn and ripped—and not in a designer sort of way—and my sneakers had definitely seen better days. In fact, I think my mom had gotten them from goodwill. My purple sweater was too small, and the top of my electric blue bra was showing.
Jimmy tilted his hat up even further, peering at me with mossy green eyes as he stepped closer. His gaze ran up and down me, judging, before a small smile touched his lips. “You’re definitely new around here, sweetheart. We don’t allow girls to race.”
My eyes narrowed at him. A light smattering of freckles decorated his nose, and the hair poking out of his hat was mouse brown. If it wasn’t for that arrogant air of money he carried, he would be totally unassuming. “Why?” I challenged. “Because your egos can’t handle it?”
Jimmy smiled back, but it wasn’t a kind one. “No. Because girls can’t drive for shit.” He dismissed me with a shrug, turning away and starting to head back to his friends before someone else spoke up.
“Let her race, Jimmy,” a deep, husky voice said, and my attention jerked to the left where a tall figure leaned against—ugh, against that sexy as fuck Bugatti. When had he arrived? We’d driven past him some hundred or so yards back. “She can take Jasper’s place.”
“Whoa, what? No way, man!” A guy with platinum blond hair protested from where he sat on the hood of a canary yellow Lamborghini Aventador. As fast as he reacted, though, he backtracked. “I mean, sure, whatever. I didn’t want to drive tonight anyway.”
I squinted into the shadows at the guy who’d spoken up for me, but all I could make out was his broad frame and a flash of a wristwatch. If only he would step a foot to the right, I could see his face...
“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked the mystery guy—not Jasper, whose place had just been offered up.
“Absolutely,” the dude replied, then as though he’d read my damn thoughts, he shifted into the light. My breath caught in my throat, and I could have sworn time slowed down. His dark hair was the perfect length, styled like he’d just stepped off a photoshoot. His dark gray top was tight across a broad, muscled chest and hugged his thick arms all the way to the wrists. Probably Dante’s height, but where Dante was all lean, street strength, this guy was buff. Solid.
Put simply, he was possibly the most stunning guy I’d ever laid eyes on. Ever. Of course it made sense that such a perfect creature drove my unicorn car. “Maybe when she loses her pretty car she will think twice about turning up where she doesn’t belong.”
My jaw dropped at the cruel twist to his words. His dark eyes seemed to burn as he met my gaze across the shadowed space between us, and a shudder ran through my whole body.