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stiffen, my danger radar flicking quickly from yellow to orange.
    Then he holds my arm out. “Relax, Jenessa,” he says. “I’m just offering you a beer.” He places the cold bottle in my hand.
    I close my fingers around it, gripping it to stop my hand from shaking. “Thanks,” I say.
    The conversation near the other car has died away. The other guys are kind of watching without trying to seem like they’re watching.
    Part of me is telling myself to get in my car and leave , to not come back here again.
    And another, bigger part is thrilled to be here, this close to danger. With a guy who definitely feels like someone I shouldn’t be hanging out with. Who feels a bit dangerous himself.
    And who’s not Dmitri.
    â€œWant some help with that?” Cody asks, nodding toward the cap on my bottle of beer. It’s tight.
    I narrow my eyes at him and laugh. “As if,” I say. But I keep my tone light. I snatch a corner of my jacket and reef on the cap, hoping it’ll give and that I won’t look like an idiot.
    The cap pops off. I drop it on the pavement and knock back half the bottle in three seconds. Bless my father for showing me how to open my throat and guzzle Kool-Aid when I was eleven years old. I’m sure he has no idea how useful I’ve found it.
    â€œWow, yeah! ” says the Bibs guy. He claps, and a couple others laugh.
    I take the bottle from my lips. Cody watches. I level my gaze at him. “So? You gonna race, big guy?” I smile sweetly. “Or are you going to stand around staring at me all night?”
    Laughter erupts from the group gathered around the convertible, but it ebbs quickly. Cody doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t say anything either. He’s not happy with me stealing his thunder.
    At the same time, I can see that he likes the challenge I’m laying down. I bet there aren’t a lot of people who give Cody a hard time. And chances are, if I knew him better, I might not do it either.
    But for now, ignorance is bliss.
    I stay until the last race of the night. At the end of the evening, as everyone’s packing up, Cody comes close. He smells like beer and engine oil.
    â€œI’ll see you next week,” he says.
    It’s not an invitation so much as an order. But I nod. I want to come back. I want to watch the racing. And, strangely, I want more of Cody.
    As I drive home, I touch the sore spots on my neck where he grabbed me for a kiss.
    I wonder if he left a mark.

Chapter Ten
    I’m waiting when Mark and Bibs pull in. Cody follows a few minutes later. I’ve parked just off the shoulder, like everyone else.
    I lean against Cody’s car, and we watch a few races. Mark and Mike. Bibs and some new guy, Doran. The guys are always careful to make sure the road is clear before they take off. From the starting line, you can see almost a mile in each direction. When there are no lights coming, they go. And they rotate the lookout every couple of hours. No one wants the cops hassling us.
    Cody hands me a new beer every time I finish one. With him, it seems drinking isn’t really an option. It’s more like an expectation. I think he’s on his fifth.
    He’s standing beside me now, his arm draped carelessly around my waist. I kind of like it. The beer has loosened me up, worn down my sharp edges. I find myself shrieking and laughing every time the cars peel off the line in a scream of rubber.
    After my third beer, my vision has grown fuzzy. I reach for my cigarettes and light up. I hadn’t planned on letting Cody in on my dirty little secret, but I’m feeling good tonight. And I feel like having a smoke.
    I take a drag, careful to blow the smoke away from Cody. I hope he doesn’t say anything.
    Maybe I’ll offer him one.
    I take another puff and turn to see his hand moving toward my face, fast. I flinch backward. My other hand comes up to shield my face.
    Cody laughs. The sound