Chapter 307
Dallas felt the familiar, hot spike of possession in his gut. He hated it. He hated that he couldn’t walk over there and stand between her and the rest of the world. He hated that Anson Hyde was going to see her like this.
He unlocked the brakes on his wheelchair and rolled forward, stopping directly in front of her. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.
“It’s too tight,” he said. His voice was rough. “Change.”
Eliza looked down at him. Her expression softened, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s a standard fire suit, Dallas. Loose fabric is dangerous in the cockpit. You know that.”
She leaned down, her face inches from his. He could smell her shampoo and the faint, metallic scent of anxiety she was trying to hide. She pressed a quick, light kiss to his lips.
It was a distraction. A pacifier.
“Come on, Eliza!” Azalea yelled from the foyer, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Anson the Asshole is waiting! You’re going to win us that gallery!”
Eliza pulled back. “I have to go.”
She slipped her wrist from his grip. Dallas’s hand remained in the air for a moment, fingers curled around empty space, before he lowered it to his lap.
He watched them leave. The silence they left behind was heavy.
Zane clapped a hand on Dallas’s shoulder. “Let’s go, you brooding wreck. We have a race to watch.”
The Speed Club was a sensory assault. The smell of burning rubber and high-octane fuel hung in the air, thick enough to taste. Engines roared in the distance, a constant, aggressive thrum that vibrated through the floorboards.
They found Anson in the VIP lounge.
He was leaning against a black, modified Nissan GTR — low to the ground and menacing, built like a predator at rest. Cathey Norton was hanging off his arm, wearing a dress that was too short and heels that were too high for a racetrack. She gazed up at Anson with an adoration that turned Dallas’s stomach.
When Anson spotted the wheelchair, a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
“Mr. Koch,” Anson called out, his voice carrying over the noise. “Inspiring. You really don’t let a little thing like being broken stop you from showing up.”
Dallas rolled to a stop. He looked Anson up and down, his expression perfectly bored.
“I don’t need legs to watch you lose, Anson.”
Cathey chimed in, her voice high and grating. “Anson is the king of this track. You’re all going to be embarrassed.”
Azalea stepped forward, planting herself in front of Eliza. “Shut up, spare part. No one is talking to you.”
Cathey flushed a deep, blotchy red and looked to Anson for defense, but his eyes were already locked on Eliza.
He pushed off the car and took a step toward her.
“Eliza,” he said. The way he said her name was a caress. It made Dallas’s hands clench into fists on his armrests. “Care for a lap? Just you and me. Like old times.”
“I don’t recall us ever racing, Anson,” Eliza said coldly. “I recall you driving fast to scare me.”