Bad Boy's Last Race by Dallas Cole Page A

is situated around a dozen different buttes, their rocky crests the only feature on the otherwise flat desert landscape. To the west, the sun looks like it’s melted into one of the buttes, spilling pink and indigo everywhere. We round the butte and find our public awaiting us there—hundreds and hundreds of spectators, dancers, DJs, and more.
    I roll to a stop in the lineup, scanning the cheering crowd muffled by my soundproof windows, and turn toward Sophie with a grin. “Showtime, baby.”
    “Need me to flash my tits?” she asks, grinning back.
    I kiss her forehead. “Maybe after the race.”
    Then I flip my aviators down and climb out of the Firebird, flashing dual peace signs to the crowd. It’s a wilder group than Ridgecrest, and there’s a dark bass beat pulsing in time with my heart. I grin, drinking in the rowdy atmosphere.
    “Hey, Jagger!” some chick in a halter top screams. “Wanna sign my boobs?”
    “Whatcha doin’ later, Jagger?” Another girl snaps her gum, uncomfortably close to my face. She’s dangling something at me—oh. A pair of panties. Well, of course. And they’re looking slightly used.
    I shoulder away from her and cup my arm around the small of Sophie’s back. “Letting this hot babe sit on my face,” I reply. Sophie snorts under her breath.
    “Oh.” Panties lowers her arm. “Can I watch?”
    I steer Sophie toward our crew’s huddle. “Not a chance!”
    Sophie tucks one hand in the back pocket of my jeans. “I guess there’s stiff competition on the track and off, huh?”
    “Not even close.” I nuzzle my nose against the hollow of her throat. She smells like warm summer breezes. “Though if it’s stiff you want . . .”
    Sophie giggles and squeezes my ass. She looks fucking incredible backlit by the desert sunset that I can almost forget the cheering crowds, revving engines, pumping dance beats. All I see is Sophie.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.”
    “After you crush the competition,” she says.
    I groan and squeeze her ass in return. “ Fine . I expect you ready and waiting the moment I step off the finish line.”
    “Jagger!” Drazic shouts. “Cut the foreplay and get your ass over here.”
    I press a quick kiss to Sophie’s temple and join the huddle while Sophie stands off to the side. Elena looks like a nervous wreck, but Lennox is rubbing a reassuring hand against her shoulder. Drazic is a lot sterner. Nash claps me on the shoulder and pulls me in to the huddle between him and Cyrus, our navigator.
    “All right, listen up,” Drazic says. “I know we’ve pored over the map, but this is our first time seeing this new layout in person.”
    “It’s not too different from the configuration they used last year. But there’s the new leg that opened up with the highway expansion,” Cyrus says. “I’ll guide you home safe and sound.”
    “Not a problem. We can handle it.” Lennox nudges Elena. “We’re all more than capable.”
    “Watch out for that tricky turn around the third butte,” Nash says. I can tell by his hardened gaze that he’s still sour about Drazic not picking him to compete for the Tristate this year, but he’s got plenty of other races coming up. We’re still mending the crew after all the drama that went down with him, Lennox, and Elena a few months ago, after all.
    “Trust in Cyrus’s and Nash’s voices in your ears,” Drazic says. “You’re going to do just fine. Elena—watch your corners.”
    “On it.” Her cheeks flush red.
    “Jagger, don’t fear the Calaveras boys. They always wuss out at the last minute.”
    I smirk. “They’re going to be choking on my exhaust for weeks.”
    “And Lennox—grab onto those straightaways and speed for all you’ve got.”
    “All right, folks, it’s time to let these ponies run free!” Kylie, the Rose Grove organizer, shouts through a megaphone. “Bets placed, engines revved, line up and get ready to ride!”
    I pull my Bluetooth earpiece from my pocket and stride over to