CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SMELL OF HIGH POWERED fuel filled the air. The sound of engines rumbled around her. Fabiana pulled the Camaro into its spot between the starting flags, enjoying the quietly competent rumble of its massive engine.
The car felt huge around her. She was used to the small, womb-like feel of the eighty-five car. But she had memories of drag races from her youth to draw on as she revved the Camaro and glanced over at Warwicke.
She wasn’t surprised to find him looking at her. As their eyes met, he lifted two fingers and pointed them toward his eyes, and then back toward her, as if to say he’d be watching her. Fabiana laughed and shook her head, repeating the motion back at him.
The scantily clad young woman with the starter pistol stepped up to the line and Fabiana’s smile s
