Touch Me Not (Manwhore, #1)(7)
“Nik, get your pearly ass out here!” Luther called through the door. “I got a line on a ’69 Mach 1, fully modded.”
Those last two words almost caused Nikoli to slip as he got out of the shower. Luther and his dad had introduced Nikoli to cars, and his very own love affair had been born. Luther and he both did rally and off-road racing. Luther’s dad frowned on it, but didn’t say much else. That old man had bailed them out of more than one scrape because of racing. If Nikoli’s father had known some of the shit the two of them got into on the racing scene, he’d personally drag Nik’s ass back to Russia and put him under lock and key. Those boys in the Miami scene were heavy hitters and pulled no punches. You either survived or you didn’t, and Nikoli loved it.
They’d been looking for an old American muscle car that already had the modifications they needed for the upcoming race in Miami, or one that could be modded. The race they wanted to enter had a few hitches, and not having to worry about getting the car’s electronics knocked out was the key. They’d entered the race last year, only to die three hundred yards from the finish line from a tech bomb attached to the car. Nikoli had bashed a few heads, but couldn’t do much else.
“We could still overhaul your Fiat,” Luther offered as Nikoli exited the bathroom. “It’s smaller and lighter.”
Nikoli shook his head. “No, we don’t want any repeats of last year. What’s the payout this year, you heard?”
“Four hundred grand, last count. Entry fee went up to twenty thousand.”
Nikoli nodded. “That’ll bankroll the new programmers.” He and Luther had started their own business at the age of seventeen. They’d both been huge gamers and took that love to a new level. They’d designed and programmed a shooter game that eventually blew up once it was released. They hadn’t wanted to sell the game, so they’d tried to figure out how to manufacture, promote, and distribute it themselves. Getting a bank loan just wasn’t possible for the two of them at seventeen. So they found an alternate route—fast cars and underground races.
Luther found the first race thanks to a buddy he played Call of Duty with online. The entry fee had been harsh, three thousand dollars. They bankrupted their savings and begged and borrowed from everyone they knew. Luther’s dad donated a thousand, as had Nikoli’s uncle. They’d driven down to Miami and won that first race, and came away thirty thousand dollars richer.
All they’d told Luther’s dad and Nikoli’s uncle was the money came from an investor who believed in the game. After that, Nikoli’s uncle had gotten them in touch with the right people, and their game had gone into production. They’d hired a business manager and a marketing manager who’d made deals with all the major players in the world of video games. A year later, that thirty thousand dollars turned into three million. After that, it’d just been an upward climb. The two of them owed no money to anyone and were able to bankroll any new projects by winning races. Eventually, they’d give it up, but not for a while yet. Luther loved working on the cars, and Nikoli loved racing them. Perfect relationship.
“Show me the car.” Nikoli grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down on the bar stool next to where Luther was engrossed in the computer.
“Dude’s selling it on eBay,” Luther said with a laugh. “Stupid.”
Nikoli let out a low whistle when the car’s specs came up. Stupid wasn’t the word—f*cked up insane better described the ass selling it. The original 351 motor had been replaced with a 428 bored out big block. Custom three-inch dual exhausts with Flowmaster mufflers, Offenhauser Port O Sonic intake manifold, Barry Grant 1000 CFM Silver Claw carburetor, and the list just went on and on. This car was still street legal, but it had the heart and soul of a racer under the hood. They would have to do very little to it.
“Email the seller. Offer him twice what he wants for it, and we’ll pick it up tomorrow, cash in hand,” Nikoli said, his eyes gleaming as he finished reading all the specs. “He’s a first class dumbass. There’s no way he built this car just to sell it for not even a tenth of what it’s worth.”
Luther snorted before checking his phone. His brow furrowed, and then he looked at Nikoli, perplexed. “What the hell? Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Nikoli asked, not really paying attention. He was still too focused on the car. The deep burgundy color set off the chrome nearly as well as black could.
“Did you ask Lily Holmes on a date?”
Nikoli’s head snapped around. How the hell did Luther know? “Who told you that?”
“Mac just texted asking if it’s true.”
“It’s not a date.”
“So you didn’t ask her to dinner?” Luther frowned at him, then looked back down to his phone.
“Well, yeah, I did, but…”
“Then it is a date,” Luther crowed, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, God, I never thought I’d see the day when Nikoli Kincaid had to resort to asking a girl out on a real live date.”
“Do you want a beating?” Nikoli growled. How in holy hell did the fact he asked Lily to dinner get out? “Tell Mac to shut his mouth or I’ll shut it for him.”
Luther wheezed he was laughing so hard, and all it managed to do was piss Nikoli off even more. He swung, and his fist collided with Luther’s face. He went down, cussing a blue streak. “What the hell, man?”