To Betray A Brother Read Online Free PDF

the left handlebar and stood on the rear brake. Her bike dipped left, hard. Her left hand shuddered as the front wheel slid.
    Without thinking she released the brake. The front wheel gripped the track, and her bike righted itself. They were so close she could reach out to touch the bike in front. The offending motorcycle accelerated away. Three riders took the advantage of her confusion and raced past. She shook her head. What the hell just happened? Did he pull in front of me on purpose? Who the hell was that? Black leathers, blue and white writing... Jack! Her blood pressure rose, and her temples pounded on the lining inside her helmet. What in the blazes is he trying to pull? Nothing he did seemed to make any sense.
    She gritted her teeth. “Damn it.” Another rider raced past reminding her to pay attention to her surroundings. She dropped the clutch, the back wheel spun she accelerated hard back onto the track.
    * * * *
    Being a member of ground crew for the track allowed Bryce free range of the track when racing was going on. He climbed the steps to the commentary box, nodded to the guys and stewards, took a seat, and settled in to watch the racing. He swallowed a mouthful of beer as Jack raced past Penny and braked hard in front of her. Penny took evasive action, just missing taking a hit from the bike behind her. The front end of her bike dipped aggressively and dived left. Several bikes raced past as she fought to regain control.
    Now he knew why Jack had been lurking around in the middle of the pack. Jack had been around too long to get caught in the middle of the pack. Until now it didn’t make sense for him to be so far behind the leaders. No reaction came from the commentary team or stewards, not a murmur, comment, or gesture. Bryce watched in silence. Penny worked hard to make up the lost places. Jack disappeared moving quickly through the riders and caught up with the lead pack. Disgusted, he threw his empty can into the bin, opened the door, and stomped downstairs.
    “Canadian Club and Dry, Shep,” called Bryce as he reached the bar. Without looking up, Shep reached into the fridge and launched a can in Bryce’s general direction while he finished serving his current customer. “Thanks man.” Bryce opened the can and took a mouthful. “Better than the crap I just saw on the race track.” He handed a twenty dollar note to Shep, who dropped the change into his hand.
    “Really! Usually the racing is pretty good in the 600 class.”
    “Usually is. I agree. Seems there are some people who have something other than racing on their minds or somewhere else to be. Stay safe. Catch you Friday night.” Bryce turned and walked off.
    He grabbed a hotdog and ambled through pit lane. The Red Dog Racing was putting the final touches on an Indian and a Flathead Harley as they readied themselves for the next race. He loved the Classic Racing Class. No gadgets, no technology to help the riders, just old fashioned skill and know how. The Indian started, and the bike moved past him. The exhaust pulsed, deep throaty and loud as the rider idled up pit lane. Bryce paused and shut his eyes. The sound washed over him as acrid smelling racing fuel filled his nose. He shivered, shook his head, and opened his eyes. Penny stormed toward him.
    She moved fast, her anger barely controlled. Her lips were set in a no nonsense expression with the corners of her eyes tightening.
    He stepped back as she brushed past hissing, “Get out of my way,” though gritted teeth.
    Bryce watched her go past. “Penny.” No response. “Penny!” he called, louder this time.
    “What!” She turned, planting her feet wide and placing her hand on her hips. “Well?” Her eyes blazed.
    “You’re wasting your time.”
    “What? What are you talking about?”
    Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Bryce wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “They saw what happened, and none of them cared.”
    Penny stepped toward him, menacing. “What do you mean