Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
I was ridiculously tired anyway. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.
The air was ripe with nervous energy when I emerged from my campervan the following morning. People buzzed around, making last-minute repairs on their cars. Adamo and Dinara were set for tomorrow's race, so they didn’t have to join the qualification race. As the organizers, their workload was still massive, so I would spend the day with Roman until the actual qualification started.
“Look!” Roman shouted excitedly, pointing at a car that pulled up in the line of participating cars. It was a black Ford Mustang with red headlights. Even before I looked inside, I knew whom I’d be seeing.
My lips still fell open when I spotted him behind the steering wheel, one arm casually draped on the lowered window: Nevio.
Roman let out a holler and waved at his cousin. My belly, however, coiled so tightly, I worried I’d projectile vomit my breakfast. This time, Nevio wasn’t alone. Alessio and Massimo were in the car with him. I knew those two would hardly hold Nevio back from whatever madness he had planned now.
“Dad!” Roman shouted at Adamo, who stood only a few steps away and was discussing something with one of the race drivers. He looked up and followed Roman’s pointing finger. His dark brows dipped in confusion. I walked over to him while Roman rushed toward the Mustang.
“Has he ever joined a race before?” I asked Adamo when I arrived by his side, doing my best to sound mildly interested and not show how anxious Nevio’s appearance actually made me.
Adamo shook his head. “I thought motocross was his thing. Maybe he needs a new hobby to keep him out of trouble. But Massimo, Alessio, and he have visited the races before to hang out with me.”
I had a feeling Nevio wasn’t here to stay out of trouble. He was here to cause it. For me. When our eyes met and he gave me a sly smile, I knew I was right.
He joined the qualification race that day. As the Capo’s son, he didn’t have any trouble getting a spot, of course, and knowing Nevio, he probably would have gotten rid of anyone in his way.
Roman and I accompanied the race in one of the camera cars. I knew the driver from my last time at the races. Gigimo gave me a broad smile when I slipped across the back seat with my little cousin. “Any bets on who’s going to win the qualification?” he asked.
I shrugged. Nevio would probably play dirty, so his chances weren’t too bad, though I seriously doubted his incentive to come here was to win any races.
I tried to enjoy the atmosphere and the thrill of the race, but every time I caught a glimpse of the black Mustang with the eerie red headlights, my belly plummeted again. A small part of me, some really insane part I tried to ignore, felt thrilled about Nevio’s sudden interest in me. Though interest seemed a strange word for his deadly obsession.
“He seems eager to catch your attention,” Gigimo said about halfway through the race. We raced alongside the leading group of cars, but we kept losing them as their maneuvers got riskier.
I followed his gaze outside. The black Mustang drove close to us. Nevio had his window down, his arm propped up on the door, and was steering his car with one hand despite the mind-boggling speed. I sent him a scowl that he couldn’t misinterpret. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a half smile, then he tore his eyes from me to briefly assess Gigimo in a way that worried me before he focused on the track and his opponents.
Nevio came in third place, which was surprisingly good, considering he’d never joined a race before and had been busy annoying me throughout the race.
The moment Gigimo parked the camera car in the camp, I shoved open the door and got out. I wanted to put distance between him and me before Nevio misjudged something. Of course, Roman had other plans and chatted with Gigimo about every detail of today’s race.
I waited outside, but right when Nevio pulled into the camp, Gigimo joined me with a friendly smile.
“How did you enjoy today’s race?” he asked as he propped up one arm casually against his car, bringing us closer.
“It was cool.”
I knew it was rude, but I took Roman’s hand, and with a curt bye, I walked away. Gigimo was a nice enough guy. When I first met him at the races, he’d been a driver hiding from the police for robbing a gas station. Most people who were part of the race circus were either part of the mob or had a criminal record for other reasons.
I hid in Adamo’s and Dinara’s mobile home despite Roman’s protests and my annoyance. I didn’t want to have to hide. I’d been excited about spending time at the races. I loved the atmosphere, the crazy people, and the sense of freedom. I didn’t want Nevio to take this from me. Eventually, Roman’s begging and my own annoyance won out.