Shifting Gears: The Complete Series (Sports Bad Boy Romance) by Alycia Taylor

don’t know the
number, so unless that’s you calling me…” Kate shakes her head. I answer,
saying, “Eli.”
    “Tramway and Jersey,” a
woman’s voice says. “Be there in ten minutes or don’t bother showing up.” She
hangs up the phone.
    “Tramway and Jersey,” I
tell Kate. “While I’m running the Chevelle, I’ll give you the keys to the
flatbed in case you’ve got to get out of there. Don’t try to race the thing,
though. Just calmly drive off if you have to. They might stop you and ask you
some questions, but as long as you haven’t broken any laws yourself, you should
be fine, all right?”
    “I’m starting to like the
idea of trouble,” she says, and I think her own response embarrassed her a bit.
Her face is red and she’s looking anywhere but at me. “Let’s just go.”
    “Righto,” I answer and we
pull out of the shop. I get out quick to close the bay door and then I’m back
in the cab and we’re on our way to Tramway and Jersey.
    I don’t think there’s
really anything there, but an intersection is an intersection.
    While we’re on our way to
the start point, I want to give Kate the rundown of how the race is going to
work, but there’s really not much to tell her. Jax is playing everything pretty
close to the chest.
    We finally get to the
intersection and I pull the flatbed over to the side of the road.
    There’s no one here.
    My phone rings.
    I pick it up, “Yeah?”
    “Two blocks south, one
block east,” that same woman’s voice says. “Leave the truck. When all four are
in position, the race starts. No waiting.”
    “Hold on,” I interrupt.
“What about the route? I don’t know where I’m going. How am I supposed to-”
    “The route is marked,”
the woman snaps and then hangs up.
    I put my phone back in my
pocket.
    “We’ve got to unload the
car here,” I tell Kate. “The start point is a few blocks away, but I took the
passenger’s seat back out of the car. What do you want to do?”
    “Just drop me off before
you get to the line,” she says. “I’m not going to miss the start of this.”
    I nod and we get out of the
cab.
    Kate grabs one of the
ramps, I grab the other, and we set them up at the end of the flatbed. She
spots me as I pull the car back off of the truck and onto the street.
    From there, we leave the
ramp where it is and I hand Kate the keys to the flatbed as she settles in
where the passenger’s seat would be.
    I drive slowly to the
start point. After stopping to let Kate out, I pull up to the line.
    My competition for this
race is a BMW M3, a Cobalt SS, and a Ford GT. This is the first race in the
tournament, and it’s already the toughest field I’ve been pit against.
    That is, assuming the
people sitting behind their steering wheels can drive.
    I’m waiting for some kind
of instruction: where the race is going to end, how we’re going to know the
route. But a man in a black suit and sunglasses steps out between the two
center cars and points to each of us individually starting at the far right and
working his way over to me on the far left.
    I nod when the finger’s
pointed at me and I’m keeping my revs up as the man raises his arms over his
head.
    They’re really just going
to start it.
    He lowers his hands and
my left foot comes off the clutch while my right foot is burying the gas pedal.
    I’m not first off the
line, but I’m quick to catch up.
    The GT’s got me by half a
car length, but we’re just getting started.
    We’re burning down the
road, and I’m keeping my eyes out for any indication of where to turn, but so
far, I’m seeing nothing.
    My twelve-hundred horses
are slowly creeping up on the less-heavily-modded GT next to me, but it’s not
an easy fight.
    Up ahead, the street
lights are out and I’m honestly on the verge of just hitting the brakes and
calling it a day when the protected left turn light comes on, the other two
filled green lights still black.
    That’s got to be it. If
I’m the only one to