Chapter 25

Jace:

I’d spent the last week buried in Camden's storage unit. Every morning I'd unlock the faded blue door. Every evening I'd leave with more questions than answers. Boxes. Invoices. Financial records. Shipping manifests. Construction permits. Wire transfers. Everything was organized so meticulously it almost scared me. Cam had been building a case. Against somebody. The only problem… I hadn't figured out who.

My phone buzzed as I sat cross-legged on the concrete floor with another banker box open in front of me. Reid.

I answered without taking my eyes off the paperwork. "Yeah?"

"Dude."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you in a week."

"I've been busy."

"I know."

"You've become one with cardboard."

I smiled. "I smell like dust."

"I bet you do. And old paper."

"Probably."

He sighed dramatically. "It's Saturday."

"I know."

"The port's hopping tonight."

"Mhm."

"I need my best friend."

"You need somebody to carry your betting notebook."

"I need somebody to remind Riverside who the hell Jace Maddox is."

I leaned back against the storage unit wall. "I'm not racing."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You were about to."

"...Maybe."

I laughed. "You suck."

"I have girls to do that for me, my guy."

Silence settled for a second. Then he spoke again. "Come take a break. You've been staring at receipts all week."

"They're getting blurry."

"They're supposed to. C'mon."

I looked around the storage unit. Nothing in here was going anywhere tonight. "...Fine."

"There he is."

"But only for an hour."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

The abandoned shipping yard looked even busier than last weekend. Music thundered through the humid night air. Floodlights illuminated rows of polished paint and expensive horsepower. The crowd had doubled. Word traveled fast. So did money. Reid was already weaving through the crowd, notebook tucked beneath one arm, collecting cash from racers placing bets.

He tossed me a bottled water. "I figured you'd say no to beer."

"You know me too well."

"I've had practice."

We wandered together through the rows of cars. He stopped every few minutes. Collected another stack of folded bills. Wrote another name. Argued with another racer trying to change their bet. Same old Reid. Same organized chaos.

"So..." He glanced sideways at me. "You finding anything?"

I thought about the storage unit. About Camden's handwriting. About Follow the money. "Maybe."

"You gonna tell me?"

"When I know what it means."

He nodded. "Fair."

We continued walking. Halfway down the staging lanes… Something caught my attention. Not a car, a kid. Seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Standing beside an old Fox Body Mustang. Primer gray. Cheap drag radials. The car looked pieced together from Marketplace and hope.He kept wringing his hands, looking around, checking his phone, then checking his wallet, then looking at the staging lanes again. Nervous. Really nervous.

I nudged Reid. "You know him?"

Reid glanced over. "No."

"New?"

"I think."

I walked over. The kid looked up immediately. His shoulders stiffened. "Uh… Hey."

I smiled. "You alright?"

He nodded too quickly. "Yeah… No."

"You don't look alright."

He swallowed. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

A long silence. Finally… "...My name's Kade."

"I'm Jace."

His eyes widened slightly. "I know." 

Of course he did. "You racing tonight?" 

He nodded. "My first real one."

"Yeah." I smiled.

"Good place to start." He tried smiling back. Didn't quite get there.

"You nervous?"

"A little."

"A little?"

He laughed weakly. "I'm terrified."

"That's normal."

He looked down at the folded cash in his hand. "I'm betting too."

I frowned. "How much?"

"My entry."

"No."

"Your bet."

He hesitated. "...Everything."

My stomach tightened. "Everything?"

"My last two weeks' paycheck."

"...Why?"

He looked embarrassed. "My mom's behind on electric."

The words came quietly. "I figured..."

He shrugged helplessly. "...if I won..."

I looked at the money. Then back at him. "...How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"You work?"

"Dockyard. Part-time." I nodded slowly. 

"I get more hours during shrimp season."

Silence. 

Then— "If I lose..." He laughed nervously. "...I'm kinda screwed."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Kid. You don't have to do this."

"I do."

"There are other ways."

"Not fast enough."

I reached into my pocket. Pulled out my wallet. "I can lend you some."

He immediately shook his head. "No."

"You can pay me back."

"I don't want charity."

"It isn't."

"It feels like it."

I looked at Reid. He simply watched. Waiting. An idea formed. "...Alright."

The kid frowned. "What?"

"I've got another idea." He blinked. "I'll race."

"...What?"

"I'll take your spot."

His eyes went wide. "What?"

"If I lose..." I shrugged. "...you’ll work off your bet money around my place."

"You don't owe me anything."

"And if I win..." I smiled. "...You take every dollar."

The kid stared. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah."

"...Why?"

Because I wish somebody would have done it for me. Because Camden would've. Because kids shouldn't have to gamble grocery money. I shrugged instead. "Seems like the right thing."

He looked completely overwhelmed. "I… I don't know what to say."

Reid finally stepped in. "I'd take that deal."

The kid looked at him. "You serious?"

Reid nodded. "You know who this is?"

"Mhm. He’s named Jace. We met last week.

“Jace Maddox." Reid replied.

"The Jace Maddox?" 

I sighed. "Don't make it weird."

Reid grinned. "The man's annoying. But..." He pointed toward the staging lanes. "...he's also one hell of a driver."

The kid slowly handed me the line up number. "I trust you."

I accepted it.

"I'll bring your car back in one piece."

The Fox Body wasn't pretty. The clutch grabbed high. Second gear protested. The shifter felt like stirring soup. But underneath… Somebody had built this car with love. It wanted to run. Across from me… A bright blue BMW M4 rolled into the opposite lane. Eastside money. Carbon fiber everywhere. The crowd buzzed.

"That's Trevor." Reid leaned through my window. "Rich kid. He wins a lot."

"Good."

Reid laughed. "I knew you'd say that."

The starter stepped between us. Hands raised. The world became strangely quiet. I wrapped one hand around the shifter. One around the wheel. Breathed once. Twice. The light dropped. GO. The Mustang exploded forward. First gear vanished almost instantly. Second. Perfect. The rear tires clawed at the pavement. The BMW stayed beside me through sixty feet. Then… I felt it. That familiar rhythm. The conversation between man and machine. Every vibration. Every shift. Every ounce of grip. Third gear. The Mustang surged. Half a car. One car. Two. The finish lights flashed overhead. I lifted. The crowd erupted. I coasted through the shutdown area. Heart pounding. God… I'd missed that.

By the time I pulled back into the pits… The kid was practically vibrating.

"Did I—"

Reid walked over holding a thick stack of cash. Without a word… He slapped it into the kid's hands. "You won." 

The kid stared. Speechless. "...All of it?"

"Every penny."

His eyes filled. "I..." He looked at me. "I can't… You can."

I smiled. "Now." I pointed toward the exit. "Go pay your mama's electric bill."

He laughed through watery eyes. "...Yes, sir."

"And don't come betting your paycheck again."

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

He climbed into the Mustang. Before driving away… He rolled down the window. "Thank you." Then he was gone.

Reid watched the taillights disappear before looking over at me. A slow grin spread across his face. "What?"

He shook his head. "You still got it."

"The driving?"

He laughed. "No. The driving's easy." He bumped my shoulder. "I'm talking about that damn heart of yours."

I looked out toward the empty stretch of pavement where the race had just ended. The crowd had already moved on to the next matchup. Another pair of cars. Another chance at glory. Life kept moving. It always did. I turned the old metal lighter over in my hand. Click. Click. Click. Camden would've laughed at me tonight. Probably called me an idiot. Told me I couldn't save everybody. Maybe he would've been right. But if I could save one kid from making the same kind of desperate mistake that had stolen everything from us… Then climbing back behind the wheel had been worth it. Even if only for one race.