Twist the Knife - Page 164

He glances down at me, an affectionate smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I think so.”

“How have I lived here my whole life and never known this place existed?”

Jigsaw glances at the overgrown grass and weathered, barely legible sign for Zips racetrack. “It probably hasn’t been popular since before you had your license. All kinds of people race and gamble here now. They do theme nights sometimes. Drag racers, street legal, import only, American, whatever.”

He steers my car around the outside of the racing area, following a smaller dirt road into the closed track area. He effortlessly backs my car into a spot at the end of a lot of other done up cars lined up along a fence.

“I think your car will be safer here than out in the lot,” he explains.

“Thanks.”

He takes my hand and we walk through the grass, passing little white buildings with long, sliding windows in the front—like the kind of place you’d buy cotton candy and hot dogs from at a fair.

“In the summer, they’ll have fried dough and stuff in some of these booths,” Jigsaw explains.

“Oh, yum. I haven’t had fried dough in years.”

Hard boots slap over the packed dirt path, running up behind us.

Jigsaw swears under his breath and turns around. “Don’t do it, fucker.”

Grinning like a fool, Rooster slows his steps. “So close.” His gaze drops to me. “Hey, Margot.”

“Is this your way of watching my sister?” Jigsaw asks.

“She’s right there.” He points straight ahead to a group of girls standing around a red 90s Ford Mustang with bold white stripes painted down the hood. Two of them are about my height. For once, I won’t feel like the shortest one in the group.

The place is lit up with floodlights. Engines roar, exhaust fumes tickle my nose, and plumes of smoke billow in the air.

“For an illicit racing ring, there sure are a lot of cars here,” I say to Jigsaw.

“Shit, half of them probably belong to Remy’s crew,” Rooster says. He slaps Jigsaw’s shoulder and jogs ahead of us.

“Remy’s here?” I say to Jigsaw.

“Yeah, he’s here all right,” he grumbles. One corner of his mouth kicks up. “Your friend Torch is here too.”

I roll my eyes skyward. “I sent him my sorry I can’t make it text yesterday, so I don’t know why you’re still bent out of shape.”

He rumbles with laughter and pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“What’s so funny?”

“I like when you call me out. Wish you’d been here earlier.”

“You didn’t gloat to Torch, did you?”

“Fuck no. I didn’t even talk to him today. Dex almost kicked his ass for chatting up his girlfriend.”

“Gee, Torch sure gets around,” I mutter.

“Is my lady death jealous?” he whispers in my ear.

“No.” I turn my head quickly and kiss his cheek.

“What’s that for?”

“I’m happy to be here with you tonight.”