Free Burned: A Stepbrother Romance by Teagan Kade Page B

danger, the thrill. I can understand it. The rush isn’t there if the threat isn’t real. There has to be a clear and present danger. That’s what gets them off.
    “You ready to race?”
    I lower my head and lift my eyes. “You were kidding, right?”
    “No, maam.”
    “Don’t call me maam.”
    “No, officer. You’re racing whether you like it or not. But first, you’re going to need someone to race against.”
    “Let me guess, you have someone in mind.”
    “I do.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    We make our way to the outskirts of town and pull up in front of an all-night donut shop. The shop itself doesn’t look like it’s seen a lick of paint in twenty years, but one thing stands out—the Lamborghini in front of it.
    Brock raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t know anything about cars?”
    “I’m not an idiot. I know a Lamborghini when I see one.”
    “A 2012 Murcielago to be precise, over 600 horse.”
    I take in the car in all its Batmobile swoopiness. Black, of course.
    There’s a major greaseball sitting on the hood, legs squatted out given how low the car is. He looks a bit like Hernandez from a distance.
    Brock parks the car. “Wait here.”
    I grab his arm. “What are you going to do?”
    “Lay down terms.”
    He closes the door and walks over to the Lambo, the owner recognizing him instantly and the two of them talking. I can see the owner wave his hand in a ‘no, no, no’ gesture, before Brock turns his back to me.
    When I see them again the owner of the Lambo looks much happier. He’s pointing at the Camaro (or me?). He’s laughing.
    Brock shrugs his shoulders and heads back over.
    “No good?” I ask when he gets back in. Please, please.
    For a beautiful few seconds I think I’ve escaped, but no.
    “It’s on,” Brock beams.
    “Great,” I sigh sarcastically.
    The Lambo follows us as we head down the highway and turn off down a non-descript side street. Just like Second Bridge, it’s long and flat like a dragstrip, but this time there are no intersections, no other cars. Buildings shield us from the highway.
    Brock comes to a stop in the middle of the road, the Lambo coming up beside us. It’s so low I can’t even see it out the window.
    I lean over Brock and look down. It seems Lambo guy’s not alone. There’s a big-boobed Barbie doll type in the passenger seat.
    Brock takes off his harness. “Time to swap.”
    “You’re not serious, Brock. Come on. I can’t drive this car.”
    “You can and you will. That was the deal.”
    I’m still complaining as we swap seats. I pull the harness into place and grab the steering wheel. Brock checks his watch.
    I look sideways at the Lambo, the driver smiling back with teeth that are far too white for this time of night. He blows me a kiss.
    “Who is that guy?”
    “A real asshole. That’s all you need to know.”
    “Right.”
    Brock points through the windscreen at a light in the distance. “See that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That’s the railway crossing. A train will be through in two minutes. The lights will go red. When they go green, we race. First to cross the tracks wins.”
    “Wins what?”
    “Don’t worry about that. Focus on the race.”
    I don’t think I’ve seen Brock this serious in forever. “What do I do?”
    “This is an auto. It’s easy. Let the car do the work. I’ll guide you through it.”
    “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
    He reaches into the footwell and moves my legs. “One foot on the accelerator, the other hard on the brake pedal. Foot on the brake, you’re going to bring the revs up with the accelerator to 3500rpm. Got it?
    “Got it.”
    “You’re going to hold it there. Once the lights go green you’re going to lift your foot off the brake and press the accelerator all the way down. Whatever you do, don’t lift off. Keep that foot down.”
    “Yes, boss.”
    “I’m not joking around, Maddy.”
    “Okay, okay.”
    He moves one of my hands from the steering wheel to the shifter.