Why do I get a “good while it lasted” vibe from her words? She bows her head and fiddles with the hem of her skirt. My gaze drops to her thighs. Despite her knees being pressed together, her inner thighs never meet. Perfect for a hand to slide up on. Keeping my sweaty palms to myself, I sigh and move my gaze down the empty road.
Already regretting my next words, I say, “You think after tonight I’m going to let you out of my sight?”
“What are you saying?” Her nails dig into the fabric of the straps she’s moved her hands to.
Without thinking, I reach out and close my hand over one of Zamara’s tight fists. I don’t speak until she relaxes her grip. “Like I said, you did better than most. My goal was to get you to faint at the S-curves. Suicide Curve was halfway down the mountain.”
“What does that mean?” Hope fills her jade irises.
“That you’re on probation—”
Like tires leaving rubber on pavement, Zamara squeals. She doesn’t even let me finish and yet she’s already clapping, bouncing in her seat.
“Listen to me,” I command and she stills. But her clasped hands are trembling. She’s fighting hard to stay quiet. I close my eyes to keep them from rolling and continue. “Pack for a week. You’ll be staying at the garage.” Then I open my eyes and pierce her with a serious stare. “My goal is to win the Impulse Cup this year.” She nods frantically. When I see her lips part to speak, I cut her off. “If you can prove yourself useful and my team thinks you can help me win, then I’ll take you along.” I shift to first gear and step on the gas. “Tell your father about what I said. I’ll wait for a call from Brody tomorrow. When you’re given the okay, I’ll pick you up.”
“Why can’t I just come to the garage?” Confusion dimples her brow.
“For this to work, I need to be in control, Zamara. What you did tonight makes your safety my responsibility.”
She squeezes her thighs together tightly, sandwiching her palms between them. “Are you saying Daddy will do something?” Her usually vibrant voice shrinks several sizes.
I parallel park in front of HQ and send a silent prayer to the racing gods for strength. Just how dense can this girl be? I glance toward the tall glass building dominating the block. For all I know, this is the tower the dragon guards the princess in. The girl needs a severe reality check.
“Zamara, your father is the boss of the Bitterblade Mob, the most powerful man in Terra One.” I roll my eyes to the heavens—in this case, the interior ceiling of the Zagato. “What do you think that means?”
“I’m not stupid, RC.” The bitterness in her tone catches my attention. “I know what my father does. I know what Brody really does for a living. They’ve been grooming me to take my father’s place since I turned thirteen. The only reason why I’m free to go as I please now is because I made a bargain with him.”
A deal with the devil. This is interesting. I push away from my seat and face her. “What bargain?”
“I get a year of freedom.” Her fingers glide over the dashboard. “One year to experience what it’s like to be part of the Gathering.”
The longing in her eyes dries my throat, turning the inner walls to the texture of toast. “What happens after that?”
There’s something so sad about the smile she gives me. “I take my place at my father’s right, beginning the transition into power.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “He already wants you to be the next boss?”
Zamara rests her hands on her lap. “It’s what I was born for. I have to prove myself to the family for the rest of the Mob to respect my claim. To ensure continued peace.” She stares at her hands. “That takes years.”
“Zamara….”
She must have heard the concern mixed with awe in the way I said her name because she shakes her head at me. “You don’t have to worry about that. The fact that you’re giving me this chance is more than enough.”
The blush that runs across her cheeks puzzles me. The sudden tension in the car makes me itch, so I shift to teasing in an attempt to ease the air. “You’re not in yet, Princess.” I poke at the valley that the coming together of her eyebrows create until it flattens. “You still have a lot of work to do. If you don’t prove useful, I’m sending you back here. Do you get me?”
Zamara releases the clasp between her legs and the straps retract to the top of the seat. Then she leans toward me and throws her hands around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. My eyes widen. She presses her chest against mine, and I can feel the fast beats of her heart through her sweater.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
Her sincerity forces me to swallow the hard lump that her breasts pressing against mine generates. “Don’t thank me yet.” I reach up and untangle her arms so I can lean away from her. More space between us means more of my brain cells work. “Now get out of here and check in with Brody.”
With an overly enthusiastic nod that makes her curls bob, Zamara opens the door and steps out of the car. “What will happen to my Zagato?” she asks, bending down to the open window.
“We’ll keep her at the garage.” My gaze shamelessly flicks to the cleavage staring me in the face. “It’s still too early for you to be driving
