Wild Bastard

3

Marina

While some of the guys push the benches aside, the girls and I help set up the makeshift tables. We pull plastic cups and bottles from the boxes—Sergio stocked up well. Brandy, whiskey, vodka, even juice. The alcohol isn't exactly top-shelf, but that's not surprising. No one here likes to splurge on these kinds of parties.

I pour myself a glass of brandy and take a few sips. Heat burns down my throat, the liquid settling warm in my stomach. I remind myself not to drink too much—I have to help out at the clinic tomorrow.

"Come here, girl!"

A rough voice calls out behind me, and before I can react, fingers close around my elbow, yanking me to the side.

I turn sharply—and come face to face with Dan.

He looks pissed. And I know exactly why. Because I left my bra on. Again.

The first time he realized I wasn't following his no-bra rule, he tried to intimidate me into compliance. Threatened me. It didn't work then, and it won't work now.

I jerk my arm free and plant my feet.

"Don't drag me around like a damn doll!"

He spins to face me, jabbing a finger way too close to my face. If Lana didn't owe this bastard a favor, I'd have broken that finger already. I hate when people wave their hands in my face.

"Marina, what's so hard to understand about taking off your bra and going bare under your top?"

"I'm not flashing my tits for a bunch of bikers, Dan! Don't you think they've had enough of Lera's boobs?"

"No, I don't. I make the rules here. And if I say no bra, I mean no bra. If you won't do it, I'll put Lana in your place instead."

What a fucking asshole.

The plastic cup in my hand crunches under my grip, the urge to throw the brandy right in his smug face growing unbearable.

"You've got one last chance to make this right."

With that, he turns and struts away, switching his threatening scowl to a fake, easygoing grin the moment Lera comes into view. Hypocritical prick. I don't know how he can still sleep with her, knowing she was getting railed by one of the racers in his car just a few hours ago.

Shit. What now?

I thought he'd just yell, throw a fit, and let it go once he saw I tried to compromise by switching out my bras. Not that it even mattered—Lana was the one who kept sneaking me expensive lingerie anyway. I've owned maybe five bras in my whole life, but the contents of her dresser could probably cover a small plantation and still have enough left to shield me from the rain.

"Rennah."

Alex's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

I glance at him—red-tinted hair, infectious grin.

I've known him since my first time at the track. Always seemed like a decent guy. Friendly. Flirtatious. I just had no idea that this cute, easygoing guy happened to be Matthew's friend.

Matthew

The bass pounds like a heartbeat gone rabid.

Nothing's changed. The track has always lived like this. Races only get canceled for heavy rain or snowstorms—any other weather is just background noise.

We step down into the crowd. I don't bother scanning the faces. I already know who hangs around at these after-parties. Still, I might as well take a look—see if any new blood showed up while I was gone.