#Junkie (GearShark #1)(28)

“Ron Gamble,” he introduced himself.

“Trent Mask,” I returned.

“Ah, yes. I’ve watched you play football for a few years now. You’re a great addition to the Wolves.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuine. “It was a good four years with the Wolves. It went by fast.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes. Life has a way of doing that.”

“So does Drew.” I gestured to the cobalt-blue Fastback that was nothing but a blur as it breezed by.

Gamble laughed. “Yes, he definitely is fast.” His eyes turned off me and back to the track. “This is a colleague of mine, Jay Hopper. He works at headquarters, keeps the drivers all in check.”

I offered my hand to the man beside him, and we shook.

“So…” I began, going right for it. “What do you think of Drew?”

“I like a man who cuts to the chase,” Gamble said.

“One of the most motivated drivers you’re ever gonna meet.”

“Not shy are you, either?” He glanced at me, his lips pulled up in a smile.

I shrugged. “Not when it comes to this.”

“Are you his manager?” Hopper asked.

“No, he’s my best friend. I’m here for support.”

“He has a lot of support,” Gamble mused. “Anderson and Walker talk him up to me whenever they get the chance. And their wives?” Gamble chuckled. “They talk about him constantly.”

“We’re family.” I shrugged. I made a mental note to tell him Braeden put in a word for him. I was sure he’d get a kick out of his brother-in-law going to bat for him. Those two liked to give each other a hard time, but this proved B actually liked him.

Gamble returned to watching Drew. “It’s good to have a large support system. It’s needed in a sport like this.”

“That mean you’re interested in working with him?”

Damn. That might have been a little too point blank.

Hopper barked a laugh. “You sure you aren’t his manager, kid? You should be.”

“I’ll say this. If you do sign him, I’ll be around a lot.”

At that moment, Drew drifted around the curve of the oval. It was a perfect f*cking drift.

My chest swelled with pride.

I glanced at Gamble and lifted an eyebrow as if to say, You’d be stupid not to sign him.

“He’s good,” he allowed.

“Better than good.” I corrected.

“He’s out there alone,” Hopper added.

“Let’s see how he does on the track with another driver.” Gamble continued.

The sound of another engine seemed to blast onto the track from the other side. Like a bullet a car shot out onto the road and joined Drew.

It was a bright-yellow Nissan Skyline with an all-black hood and black spoiler on the back. It was flying, just like Drew, but I could make out a yellow blur on every tire, and I knew it must have some kind of lit-up wheel well to make it glow.

The body of the car was low, so low it almost sat on the ground, but it looked fierce that way, like it hugged the road and literally floated.

Even though the car was f*cking sweet, my stomach tightened.

“You should have given him a warning he wouldn’t be alone. He’s not expecting another driver out there.” I worried.

“There’s lots of unexpected in racing,” Hopper replied mildly.

It pissed me off. “Yeah. But putting a driver in danger to prove a point is a dick move.” Yep. I just cussed at the richest man in the state and his lackey. Did I give a flying f*ck?

Apparently not.

Neither man seemed offended. I wasn’t worried about it anyway. If this was the kind of shit Drew could expect from these two, then screw this. He’d be better off on the indie circuit.

At least there we already knew everyone were *s.

I expected better from these guys.

“I’d say he’s handled the track buddy just fine,” Gamble pondered out loud.

The yellow sports car drove right up alongside the Mustang and matched his pace perfectly. Even though from this distance I couldn’t tell, it still seemed like the drivers were measuring each other.

A few seconds later, the Skyline gunned it and pulled ahead, the sound of its accelerating engine filling the air.

C’mon, Drew.

The car worked as he shifted and sped forward. He pushed it to the point I started to worry. He had to be going close to one hundred eighty and gaining. I reminded myself this was a closed track and it wasn’t like he was out there with someone who didn’t know how to drive.

“Who is that?” I asked, realizing I had no clue who they were.

“One of my sponsored drivers,” Gamble replied. “Figured we’d see how Forrester did with someone with some professional experience.”

I felt pissed off all over again. It’s like they wanted him to fail, and I felt guilty. I knew that Skyline was probably better equipped than the Fastback.

I should have known better than to worry about Drew. That guy always knew how to come out on top.

I watched on pins and needles as he approached the yellow car on the inside. In response, the car glided over, cutting him off.

He hung back, shifting… giving the impression of being defeated. But I knew better.