Page 7 of Firefly
I tighten my gloves and glance down the empty stretch of road waiting for Reid to finally make his dramatic entrance.
He lives for theatrics.
Always has.
Tonight’s race is farther from Brimstone than usual, tucked close to Whitestone Academy territory.
Which means this isn’t about racing.
It’s business.
Reid’s business.
And when Reid says show up, you show up.
I scan the lineup. Stone. Asher. Bianca. All waiting beside their bikes beneath the flickering warehouse lights.
An orange and black Ducati glides in place next to me. The rider cuts his engine but doesn’t acknowledge me. Not even when I nod.
Okay then. Asshole.
Still… something about him feels wrong.
Or maybe right in the most dangerous way possible.
He turns his helmet towards me slowly. I can’t see his eyes behind the tinted visor, but I feel them.
Heavy and intense.
Like he already knows me. A chill flies up my spine, then a roar of another engine cuts through the night.
Reid.
Of course he arrives last.
Cocky bastard.
But my attention catches on the girl riding behind him.
Long black curls whip through the wind behind her helmet. Tight leather pants hug her curves and stitched across the back of her jacket are the words.
Devils Incarnate.
My stomach drops.
Jade Rivers?
Even I know who she is.
Biker royalty wrapped in gasoline and violence. The entire underground practically worships the Rivers family.
Kaira steps in front of us, holding the flag while half the guys here stare at her ass instead of the road.
Typical.
Everyone fires their bikes up.
I pull on the throttle once as my pulse spikes with anticipation. Beside me the Ducati rider still watches me.
