CHAPTER ONE-3
346 Words
THE TRACK FLEW BY IN front of him. Around the car, flashes of color taunted and threatened. The smell of fuel was a familiar tang in his nostrils and the constant roar of the powerful engines was deafening.
Warwicke felt his muscles cramping under the strain of holding the car on the track. He slid into the turn a breath ahead of Lautaro and Maricruz. Metal screeched against metal and sparks flew as Lautaro swung toward him, trying to muscle him into the wall.
On the other side, Maricruz held her spot like the pro she was and smiled, her dark eyes flashing with challenge. Warwicke grinned back and saluted her, accepting her challenge and raising it.
But he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off the track...or Lautaro...the jerk swung sideways, just before Warwicke entered the straight, and caught Wick’s front, inside tire just enough to throw him sideways.
He hit Fabiana’s eighty-five car hard and sent her spinning.
The last thing he saw was a look of terror on her beautiful face as she slammed into the high wall. And his ninety car slammed into what remained of the eighty-five car.
There was so much blood. It was everywhere.
Warwicke jerked upward, sweat dripping down his face.
The dream had felt too real.
He swiped a shaking hand across his brow and lay back down. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he feared he’d never get back to sleep.
He closed his eyes but the pounding continued.
Intensified.
His eyes flew open. That wasn’t his heart pounding. It was somebody at his door. He pulled the covers back, glancing at the clock as he climbed out of bed. Two o’clock in the morning. Strange time for someone to come for a visit.
He reached into the nightstand beside his bed and pulled out a Glock, checking to make sure it was loaded before heading to the door. He pulled it open, the Glock held down at his side, out of sight.
He almost dropped it when he saw her.
Fabiana. Covered in blood, from head to toe.
Just like in his dream.
- Writer
