Текст книги "Crash into You"

Автор книги: Katie McGarry

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 38

Rachel

THE ENGINE SWITCHES FROM A growl to a purr as I shift down and ease into the bay of Isaiah’s garage. My heart does that nauseating skip, squeeze, beat once combination the moment I spot Isaiah. His eyes go right to mine, and the slight slant of his mouth gives me flutters.

Unable to hold his gaze, I stare at the console as I place her in Park. Oh, God, he is happy to see me. At least I think he is. My insides explode at the sight of him striding over. Last night, I fell asleep in his arms and woke up this morning to find my cell on the pillow beside me with the message Tomorrow typed into an open window.

I thought school was never going to end.

Isaiah opens my car door and his warm silver eyes smile at me. “Hey.”

I sweep my bangs from my eyes. “Hi.”

He offers his hand and I accept. His fingers wrap around mine and heat surges up my arm, flushes my neck and settles into a blush on my face. He tugs gently and I slip out. I’m not sure if my body vibrates from the rumbling of the garage door closing or from the blood pounding in my veins.

Our fingers lace together, and his other hand smoothly cups my hip. I suck in a breath, surprised that someone touches me so easily and with such care.

“You look nice,” he says.

“I’m in my school uniform.” White button-down blouse, maroon-and-black plaid skirt, and a pair of white Keds. Nothing spectacular.

“I know.” The seductive slide in his voice causes the back of my neck to tickle.

“Hi!”

We snap our heads to the right, and if it weren’t for Isaiah’s hold, I would have stumbled back. Practically on top of us is a girl with long brown hair, a black hoodie and the tightest jeans I have ever seen. I automatically hate her because those jeans make her look good.

Isaiah sighs loudly. “Rachel, this is my friend, Abby. Abby this is my girlfriend, Rachel.”

I have to restrain from dancing. He called me his girlfriend. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What’s your favorite color?” asks Abby.

“Green?” That is a beyond odd question—I mean it’s normal, yet not.

“Tacos or spaghetti?”

“Tacos.”

“Disney World or Disneyland?”

“Neither.”

“Rolling Stones or Beatles?”

“Beatles.”

She squishes her lips to the left. “Oh, so close, but I can let the last one go.” Abby regards Isaiah with the same familiarity I have with my brothers. “We should keep her, but we may have to set up a visitation schedule. You know, control issues and all.”

My eyebrows rise. “Keep me?” Abby’s words crash in my mind. “Control issues?”

She pokes a finger at her chest. “My issues. Not his. You and I are going to be friends, and I don’t do friendships. Well, I obviously do,” she adds as her finger lazily points to Isaiah. “But he doesn’t count. See, we met inside of a Dumpster when we were ten.”

My eyes widen to the point I start to wonder if I’ll ever blink again.

“Abby,” says Isaiah, interrupting her before she can continue. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.” The Rolling Stones’ “Miss You” plays from her phone. “Shit,” she says. “Hold on a sec.” She answers and heads outside.

“Wow.” It’s the only response I can think of.

“That’s one way to describe her. Look, if you don’t want to deal with her...”

“No,” I interrupt. “She’s your friend...”

And he interrupts me. “But if she makes you uncomfortable...”

My turn. “I like her.” From the moment she said that we’d be friends, I liked her.

I walk away from Isaiah and stand near the open hood of his car. Holy hell, he’s been busy. “You installed a cold air intake.” That will help increase the horsepower in his car.

Isaiah runs a hand over his freshly buzzed dark brown hair. He kept the shadowed stubble on his jaw. If it’s possible, the combination makes him so much sexier and more dangerous.

“I’m serious about Abby. She’s different. I put up with her because I’ve known her longer than anyone else. That type of stuff is important to me, but if Abby bothers you, then I’ll make sure she keeps her distance.”

I touch the curved piece he added to the engine. “Did you really meet her inside a Dumpster?”

When he doesn’t answer immediately, I sneak a peek out of the corner of my eye. His hands are on his hips as he stares at the floor. “Yeah. We were both looking for food.”

I close my eyes as my heart aches. I can’t imagine what his life has been like.

“I don’t want your pity,” he says with a mix of hurt and pride.

“I’m not offering you pity.” Understanding hopefully, not pity. It’s not much, and it’s not nearly on the same level, but it still causes me enough pain that I can’t face him. “I don’t have friends. I have my brothers, and there are some girls at school that I can sit with at lunch if I want to, but they don’t get bent out of shape if I don’t show. I’m...I’m weird.”

His boots tap against the floor as he moves in my direction. “No, you’re not.”

I stiffen, irritated and tired of everyone telling me what I am. “How many girls do you know who work on cars, like speed and can happily tell you what a cold air intake looks like?”

Isaiah places his fingers underneath my chin and tilts my head in his direction. “Only one, and she’s my type of girl.”

A flurry of rose petals swirls in my chest. I swallow and remind myself to breathe. He lowers his head as I lick my lips. His warm breath mingles with mine and right as our lips come close to connecting, the garage door squeaks open.

I flinch as if jolted with electricity and immediately slide a foot away from Isaiah. He softly chuckles. An audience obviously wouldn’t bother him. I toss him a dirty look that only makes him chuckle more.

“You’ve got company,” says Abby. Right behind her is the guy that showed with that girl Beth. My hand goes to my stomach as it cramps. Isaiah and the guy share a short shake. “Logan, remember Rachel?”

He nods at me. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” My eyes flicker from him to the door as I keep waiting for her to show. A strange uneasiness curls between my skin and bones. Beautiful, confident, mysterious Beth: the antithesis of me and everything a guy like Isaiah should want.

This week, Isaiah explained how Logan will race his car while Isaiah drives my car at the dragway. The better parts will go into my car since it’s in better condition.

Isaiah never mentioned anything about Beth helping, and I never asked. After Isaiah announced that she wasn’t his girlfriend, I thought I could let her go, but the uncertainty of what his relationship was with her before I crashed into his life gnaws at my soul.

Isaiah claps his hands then rubs them together. “We’ve got a turbocharger, a cold air intake, an exhaust cutout to install and a girl with a curfew. Let’s move.”

* * *

With anxiety coiled and poised to spring on a moment’s notice, I digress to a bad habit: nibbling on my nails. I used to bite, but then my mother would have an aneurysm when she’d see what I’d done to my manicure.

I should be right beside Isaiah and Logan as they work on my car, but I can’t. Being in the same room is bad enough. How can anyone watch surgery being performed on a loved one, much less hold the scalpel? Isaiah pushes a button and the lift’s ear-crushing whine accompanies the sight of my car floating into the air. The turbocharger is in. Now he’s installing the cutout to the muffler. Once this is done, my baby will never sound the same again.

“So,” says Abby. “What do best friends do?”

Kind of like a cartoon character, I whip my head back and forth from Abby to the lift. She’s been next to me during the whole ordeal, sharing strange broken conversations about nothing. “What do you mean?” By best friends?

“I’ve never been to the mall.”

And she gained my full attention. “Never?”

Abby twirls the string attached to her hoodie. “Well, yeah, I’ve gone for work, but never to hang. Are you one of those girls? The ones that go to the mall? I think I could do it. Wander the mall for no reason.”

“Why haven’t you?” I don’t feel like answering that I don’t hang at malls. Most of the girls I know think my hatred of all things retail is weird.

She wraps the string tightly around her finger three times. “Malls are expensive, and as I said before, I don’t do friendships.”

“Besides Isaiah,” I say.

“Besides him,” she agrees. “And you.”

“Why me?” It’s a bold question to ask, but everything about this girl is bold.

“Because,” she answers. When neither one of us say anything for a while she finally continues, “Because you like Isaiah. If you like him, then maybe you can like me. Besides, I like bunnies.”

I try not to smile. A strange answer, yet normal for her. We watch as the two guys tinker with the underside of my car. Actually, Abby observes, I avoid looking. “Where do you work?”

Abby pulls hard on her string, causing it to become uneven. “What?”

“At the mall,” I prompt.

She scratches her mouth as if attempting to hide the uneven smirk. “I don’t work at the mall.”

I mull over what she said earlier. No, she said...

“I make deliveries to people at the mall.”

“Oh.” She must sell cosmetics or something like that. “So you have a home business?”

“Who’s the guy with Isaiah? Is he a friend of yours? He’s hot.”

“No. He’s Beth’s friend.” A twinge of jealousy rattles my bones. Abby’s sneakers squeak when she kicks at a nonexistent spot on the floor. While I’ve never asked Isaiah about Beth, Isaiah’s also never offered information. Maybe Abby can fill me in on Beth since Isaiah is closemouthed. “Do you know Beth?”

“Yes,” she says.

Not helpful. “Were you friends with her?”

“Hell no. She twisted Isaiah so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe.”

The overhead heater clicks three times as we all groan. Isaiah turned it off earlier, but we all began to freeze. Cold fingers aren’t good for my baby so he powered it back on. Isaiah swears as he yanks off his T-shirt.

My heart trips. Last night, I dreamed of touching his body. “He has a lot of tattoos,” I say, hoping Abby doesn’t notice how I stare at Isaiah.

“Yeah,” she replies. “He got his first one, the tiger, when we were fourteen.”

Huh. “Does it mean something?”

“Don’t know. Isaiah won’t discuss his tattoos. He gets them and moves on.” “Paint It Black” plays from her cell. Abby presses a hand to her forehead. “I’ve gotta split.” And she disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

She had Isaiah twisted so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe. Abby’s words circle in my mind. What was an attempt to make me feel better has progressed to nausea tearing at my throat.

A whistle draws my attention. Isaiah flashes the craziest smile I’ve ever seen. “Almost done, angel. You’re going to love how she’ll sing for you.”

This time when I smile, I have to force the muscles to comply. How can I compete with Beth—the girl who kept, possibly still keeps, him twisted?

Chapter 39

Isaiah

THE GODS ARE ON OUR side. The weather’s warm—upper fifties—with clear skies predicted for this Saturday night. With my hip cocked against Rachel’s car, I assess the Camaro pulling beside me in the waiting lane behind the grandstand. The big-ass dragsters are having their turn in the lanes. Next will be the street cars.

Rachel stands near the hood petting her car like the pony it is. “Promise you won’t wreck.”

“I’ll take care of your car.”

“Isaiah, I’m worried about you.”

About me? My heart stalls in my chest. Rachel, Logan and I checked out a few races before we signed in and unfortunately, we witnessed a wreck. No one hurt, but it totaled the cars. Rachel’s face faded into an unnatural shade of white when an older guy mumbled how the rules enforced at the track were written by the blood of other generations. Since then, when Rachel’s watched the races, I think all she sees are ghosts.

I meet her violet eyes. “I’ll be okay, Rachel.”

She lowers her head, raises it, then lets it fall back. I can’t read her very well and I wish I could. “What’s going on in your head?” I ask.

Rachel sucks in a breath to answer right as the driver of the Camaro slides out. Doing what I asked of her earlier when a possible bet came into the picture, she walks straight for the grandstands. Her long hair swings forward, hiding her face. My legs twitch with the desire to follow her, kiss her and ask what’s wrong.

When Rachel arrived at the garage yesterday, she was one hundred percent with me, but by the time I finished her car, she became distant again. I’ll dig for the issues tonight. Now I need to focus and win us money.

I glance behind me at Logan. He’s already deep in conversation with his competition: a Dodge Charger. That’ll be a nice race for Logan. That driver always jumps the green light.

The Camaro driver appreciates Rachel’s car. “When did you upgrade?”

He may not know my name, but he recognizes me by my old car. I’m the same with him. “This week.”

“Still think you can take me?” he asks.

“Easily.”

He nods to his car. “I’ve made some updates, too.”

“Not concerned.”

Just as I hoped, he produces a wad of cash from his pocket. “Then you won’t mind putting money on the table.”

No. I wouldn’t.

Chapter 40

Rachel

MY FINGERS KNOT AROUND THE cold metal fence as I watch Isaiah drive my car to the burnout area. The accident we saw occurred a second after the race began. A tire blew, causing the driver to lose control and ram into the side of a Chevy Comet.

It scared the crap out of me—especially when a burst of flame shot out one of the cars. Men scrambled over the barricades, hauling the drivers to safety, spraying fire extinguishers at the hood. Isaiah went to launch himself over the fence to help, but my grip on his arm stopped him.

I looked up at him. He looked down at me. And when my body began to tremble, he placed an arm around me.

Isaiah drives past the waterline, jerking me back to the present, and he immediately heads to the staging area. The unexpected move paralyzes the anxiety spiders crawling in my stomach. “Why isn’t he doing a burnout?” I whisper.

“Because the car doesn’t have slicks,” says Zach as he approaches me and leans an arm on the fence. His blond hair shags over his face. “Street cars typically avoid burnouts.”

Right. Slicks are a type of tire that sticks better to the tracks. Zach was nice last weekend, but he reminds me of the guys from my school—how he speaks, knows everyone, and how he has plenty of the girls vying for him. So, in other words, he puts me on edge, and I slip back into Rachel mode. I step away from him when he invades my personal space.

The driver competing against Isaiah spins his tires at the waterline, creating a haze of white smoke. Because the Camaro has slicks, will it have an advantage? Isaiah bet everything he had against this guy: fifty dollars. If we don’t win, we go home.

“I haven’t seen you race,” I say to Zach when I think of something coherent.

“The Cobra sounded funny so I’m sitting her out.”

I nod to let him know that I heard him, but keep my eyes on Isaiah. Please, please, please God, take care of Isaiah.

“That’s your car, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes.” I wish he’d be silent. If he talks then I can’t concentrate, and if I can’t concentrate then God will stop listening to my prayers.

“Why aren’t you driving?” he asks.

Isaiah’s competition hits the second staging line. The yellow lights flash down and right; as the light turns green, my car lurches with a power I never believed possible, lifting the front wheels. Isaiah rushes forward, with the Camaro following less than a second behind. Both cars fly by me, with Isaiah easily in the lead.

Come on, come on, come on... Yes! Isaiah crosses the finish line first. I lower my head and suck in a breath. Thank You, God, for keeping him safe.

“Did you hear me?” asks Zach.

“Um...” This is awkward. “No. Sorry.”

“I said that I want to race against you.”

The red lights of my car glow in the distance as Isaiah leaves the track. My body automatically angles toward the exit, as if a gravitational pull exists between Isaiah and me. “I’ll tell Isaiah.”

“No, Rachel.” Zach places a hand on my arm and his unwanted touch feels foreign against my skin. “I want to race you when you drive your car.”

I move my arm, pretending to itch my shoulder. “I won’t be racing.”

“Why?”

“Because...” I don’t know how to explain in a way that doesn’t make me appear weak.

“Because Isaiah’s one of those guys that doesn’t think that a girl should be behind a wheel.”

I huff. “No, he’s not.”

“I’ve got money.” Zach smirks. “And I hear he needs it. Tell him I’ll race, but only against you. He knows my stakes.”

Something deep inside of me shifts, and it’s not the good type of stirring.

“And Rachel?” Zach begins to slowly walk backward. “If you were my girl, I’d let you race.”

“He’s not like that,” I say, but Zach already turned his back to me and is too far away to hear.

“He’s not,” I repeat. At least I don’t think he is.

Isaiah permitted Logan to drive his car without seeing how he would do behind the wheel. Yes, I messed up once, but why hasn’t Isaiah granted me another chance?

Maybe because he’s discovered my secret. Maybe he already knows that I’m weak.

Chapter 41

Isaiah

HITTING EIGHTY-NINE, I SHIFT DOWN and slam my hand onto the steering wheel. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

The surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins makes me feel like I’m flying high without the loss of control that drugs or alcohol brings. This is the only time I feel truly alive. I turn left at the end of the drag strip and pause for my competition to catch up: a Nova with sweet upgrades.

This is my last race for the night and damn, I feel good. My competition, a guy ten years older than me, shakes his head as he gets out of the car with a hundred in his hand. “I should have smoked you, kid. What’s under my hood is ten times what you’ve got.”

He’s right. His upgrades should have kicked my ass. I take the money and resist the urge to kiss it. “Good race, man.”

“Your reaction time at the light is insane,” he says. “I want a rematch Friday night.”

My luck must be changing. “Bring cash and I’ll race you all night.”

We share a short nod, and I drive Rachel’s car to where Logan and Rachel wait for me. I’ve won every race tonight. After getting his feet wet, Logan won more than he lost, bringing money to the table.

In the darkness, Rachel shines as bright as the sun. Her hair a halo framing her face, her eyes stars. “That was awesome!”

In two easy strides, I reach her, weave my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. My angel is so light she practically floats. “Isaiah! You’re crazy!”

“Insane,” I answer.

She rests her forehead against mine and braids her hands tightly on my neck. “That was close. He almost got you in the end.”

I love the sensation of her body against mine. Tonight, I’m going to kiss her again and, if she’ll let me, I’ll explore a little further. “Were you doubting me?”

She smiles when she notices the lightness in my voice. “Never.”

That’s right, angel. I’ll never let you down.

Rachel wiggles in my hold. “You’re strong.”

My lips twitch. “Pure steel.” Strong enough to protect you.

“Hate to break in here,” says Logan, “but I’ve got a game tomorrow and a full pocket.”

I set Rachel on her feet while keeping her tucked beneath my shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

Though I consider The Motor Yard safe, it’s still not a good idea to flash money—especially the type of money Logan and I banked tonight. Logan follows me back to my apartment, where we had left his car.

Logan hands me his wad of cash. “Have you ever thought of adding a nitro system? Those cars were flying.”

I shake my head. “That’ll put us against a different class of cars, and in order to compete in that we’ll have to go bracket racing. Plus, nitro’s some crazy-ass shit. A lot can go wrong.”

Logan flashes his not-guilty-by-reason-of-insanity grin. “All the more reason to do it. What’s bracket racing?”

Leaning against her car, Rachel tunnels her hands into the sleeves of her black coat. She’s cold, and I crave to make her warm. “I’ll explain it later.”

Logan’s eyes shift to Rachel. “Got it. See you.”

He drives away and I head over to my angel. “Want to see how much we made?”

“Definitely.”

Rachel allows me to open the door for her in the entrance and to my apartment. Once inside, she slides off her coat and rests it on the kitchen table. In a nervous gesture, she laces her fingers together and glances around the room. “Is your roommate home?”

“No,” I say. “He’s staying with Echo tonight. You sure your brother will cover curfew?”

She stares at her fingers. “I covered for him last night so he agreed to tonight.”

Giving her space, I sit at the card table and begin counting cash. She sinks into the other folding chair and counts the other pile. For a brief few seconds, the only sound in the room is the scratching of dollars moving against each other, and thanks to the crazy bat downstairs, we get to listen to Elvis singing about shoes.

“Six hundred,” she says in awe. That would be my winnings.

“Four hundred and forty,” I tell her, holding Logan’s stash.

Rachel slumps in her seat as if in shock. “Off of your fifty and Logan’s twenty we made one thousand and forty dollars.” She pauses. “That’s not possible.”

“It is.” Has it not hit her that in one race on the streets the pot was five thousand dollars? And that was a slow night.

She leaves the table and begins to pace. “We’re going to do this, aren’t we? We’re going to pay Eric off and be free of him, and my parents will never know what I did. I mean, we have over two-thousand dollars already.”

My mind clears with that info. “How are you coming up with two thousand?”

Rachel repeats the endless loop she’s created from one corner of the couch to another. “I have a thousand. A little over five hundred in birthday and Christmas money. I pawned some jewelry for another five hundred. Oh, Isaiah.” Her face flushes. “We’re close to halfway there. We could pay Eric back before the six weeks.”

She’s a mixture of anxious and excited, and those feelings become contagious. Knots form in my stomach and I think of the million ways I want to touch her and kiss her and let her know that she’s the only one in my life.

What I should tell her is that tonight will be our only money rush. Now that people know how Logan and I race, they’ll either avoid us or not wager as much. I have no doubt we’ll raise the amount we need, but it could still be a struggle.

I also decide to keep it to myself that Eric has eyes on us and that he’ll be unhappy we’re making money.

Rachel finally stops the frantic path she’s wearing onto the subflooring. Her face beams. She’s light in a world full of darkness. Rachel is happy and that’s all I desire.

“We could be together, Isaiah. With no worrying over Eric or debts or anything. We could be happy.”

Electricity shoots into my veins and shocks me as if I’ve never been alive. I stand abruptly, knocking over the folding chair. My heart races and this surge is something unknown. Something I don’t understand. Something that fosters confusion, panic.

Her eyes glimmer with too much adoration; with too much of an emotion I’ve only seen people give to anyone other than me. I see love in her eyes and it scares the hell out of me.

“You need to go,” I say. My voice is deeper than normal and a tremor courses through my body. My eyes burn as a shadow crosses her face, snuffing out all the light. Damn me to hell. I’m the one who created that sorrow. If I stay with her, she’ll never know light and happiness.

“Isaiah,” she says carefully. “I don’t understand.”

“Go home.” I swipe the money off the table and stalk into the bedroom. With three steps, I circle the room and perform the act again. My thinking is messed up, as if I’m high or took a severe blow to the head. My thoughts detach from my mind, away from my body.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” comes a soft voice from behind me.

Why hasn’t she left? “Nothing. I’m looking for a place to hide the money. This is a shitty place, Rachel, and awful things happen here.”

“Like people breaking in,” she says.

That’s exactly what can happen. “Just go.”

Rachel looks small and defenseless as she rests her temple against the door frame. The dim light of the kitchen silhouettes her frame. Obscured by blackness, I can’t see her face.

“You could give the money to me.” Her voice is so soothing that part of me clings to the sound. “Where I live is safe.”

My thoughts collide into one another. The back of my legs hit the bed and I sink onto it. My entire life is one long thick rope full of knots and kinks where people have twisted me inside and out. Nothing about me is solid or sturdy. I’m frayed and tattered. “I’m no good, Rachel.”

I stare at the cash in my hands. My fingers clench and the money crackles. I won’t lead Rachel further into the abyss. This ends here. It ends tonight. “You need to leave and never come back. I’ll race my car. I’ll pay off the debt. Leave and know I’ll always keep you safe.”

Silence. Nothing from her. Nothing from me. I close my eyes, cursing the scorching wetness behind my lids. I don’t want to feel anymore. Feelings hurt too damn much.

Quiet footsteps shuffle in my direction and the cash crackles again in my fist. “Go, Rachel.” My voice is so raw it’s nothing more than a rasp.

The bed moves and sinks to my left. A touch so light I almost believe I’m imagining it presses on my shoulder. “I think I’m falling for you, Isaiah.”

My head dips. I think I’m falling for you, too, and it terrifies me.

The pressure remains on my shoulder as the fingers of her other hand trace the compass tattooed on my forearm. “I don’t know what love is or how it should feel, but I know that when I’m with you I like who I am, and that’s never happened to me before.”

I like who I am when I’m with her. The music below us is soft, lyrical with a steady beat. Elvis’s deep voice sings about suspicious minds.

“I like who you are, Isaiah, and I like how you look at me. But what I really like is the rush that hits me when you’re in the room.”

Because Rachel has always been magic, she gives words to the emotion tearing at my soul. “People don’t attach themselves to me, Rachel.”

She kisses my shoulder, and a shudder runs through my body, igniting every cell. “Then maybe they don’t know you like I do.”

The finger tracing the tattoo slides down to my hands. “Give me the money, Isaiah. Trust me to keep it safe.”

I clutch the money tighter, but as her hands weave around mine, my grip loosens. “Do you understand the trouble, the danger, you’re taking on?”

With her fingers holding on to the cash she whispers, “Yes.”

I place my hand over hers. “Put it down.”

“But, Isaiah...”

I lift my head. “If you say you’re going to keep it safe, I believe you, but right now, I want you to put it on the floor.”

She half smirks with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re bossy.”

“Yes,” I admit. Hear what I’m saying, Rachel. Listen to what a controlling mess you’re falling for. “I am.”

The money hits the floor, and my hands immediately frame her face. She has skin so soft that I worry about damaging her with a gentle touch. Her breathing hitches as my lips come close to hers. I’m going to kiss her. “Tell me I’m who you want.” So I know there are no mistakes.

Her nose slides against mine as she slowly nods. “I don’t want anyone else.”

God help us both for her allowing the devil permission.