Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 135792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
On the outside, Liv kept his polite smile, but on the inside, he already wondered whether he could get away with piercing some tires later, when no one was looking.
The guy stroked the green metal with a self-satisfied grin. “You know who to bet on in December then. Biggest race of the year. People get into that pre-Christmas frenzy and bet big. The stakes go nuts.”
A hot flush made Liv’s cheeks burn, but this wasn’t the time to reveal his cards, so he offered the shithead a grin. “I can imagine. This vehicle is really something. How big do you think the prize pool will be for that big race in December?” he asked, playing into what the guy surely wanted. He would not be too charming, nor reveal that he too was a racer. No, he’d sneak up on the bastard and cut his brakes when he’d last expect it.
Metaphorically, of course. Liv always played fair. When it came to cars at least.
His new enemy number one—scratcher of Knox—spread his arms, eager to boast. “Normally I’d say something between ten and twenty grand, but there’s this guy coming here from Nevada, and he’s a bit of a star. You probably never heard of him, goes by Blizzard, and he’s a bit of a legend. Heard some of his high-flying friends are coming to slum it here with us regular folk. So who knows? Sky’s the limit, really.”
Liv’s brain ached, as if someone had squeezed it. Ten or twenty wouldn’t cover the entire surgery, but it would have been a good lump sum to start with. With the potential for more? He’d bend over backwards to make that race, even if the Nevada racer’s name brought a shiver to his back. He’d seen Blizzard in action. The guy didn’t just have an expensive, well-tuned car. He was a raging maniac who feared loss of publicity way more than he feared death.
But this wasn’t the moment to let fear set in. He smiled and offered the other guy his hand, because there was only so long he could think of him as ‘that bastard’. “River.”
“Bill. So save up some cash, River, ‘cause it’s gonna be a big one, I can feel it. And the club holds the bets, so it’s all secure and shit.”
Bill was really selling it, but Liv had all the information he needed.
“Oh, I won’t be betting. I’ll be taking that cash home,” he said, with a growing smile. “But good luck to your brother,” he added and turned around with a spring to his step.
The muffled curse reaching his ears made him smile, but he wasn’t here to bask in this fucker’s failure to smell danger when it snuck up on him. He came here for a job.
“Evening,” he said, stepping past the open gate of the garage. Despite it being Friday, several men were still at work, by the looks of it doing chopper maintenance. He’d never been a motorcycle man, but he could smell burnt motor oil from afar. Still, pointing that out from the get go might not be the best recipe for friendly banter.
Four heads turned his way, and one of the guys, stick-thin, with a rather large, protruding nose wiped his hands on his dirty jeans, measuring Liv with his gaze. “And who are you?”
Best way to deal with unfriendly people? Keep being friendly.
Liv shrugged, ignoring the impolite tone. “River. I’m looking for Lion. He about?”
Another guy, this one bearded and showing off a hairy chest despite the cold, cocked his head, assessing Liv’s confidence. “He’ll be back in about an hour, but feel free to wait. You a friend of his?”
But before Liv could answer, a young blonde in hot pants and fishnet tights stepped in with a big smile and a whole steaming platter of what had to be burritos. Wrapped in foil, they looked chunky, and smelled delicious. While Knox had stepped up his game in feeding them both by either making attempts to cook or extracting food out of Ezra, Liv’s mouth still watered at the size of those things and he followed the platter with his gaze.
“Who’s up for burritos?” the girl asked, striding in. “Savannah made them.”
The guys all rose, wiping their hands and no doubt already salivating. Whoever Savannah was, she was known for her food, and now that Liv had smelled it, he wanted some too, especially if he could get one to take back home for Knox. After all, in their situation every saved dollar counted. He was about to ask if there were any to spare when the lanky guy from earlier snapped his fingers at him.
“Will you stop staring at my sister like a lecher, or should we talk outside?”
That was… unnecessary. But before Liv could have quipped something back, heavy footsteps sent a shudder down his spine. “Simmer down. This one likes dick.”