I got in his face. “I couldn’t care less about the—”
But he grabbed my arms, and I was stunned silent when he shook me.
“What do you care about?” he growled, and I felt Juliet and Fallon still beside me.
I sucked in air, shocked at his roughness. I barely blinked as he grabbed the hem of my loose black tank top and ripped a slit up the side.
I gritted my teeth together. “Madoc, what the hell are you doing?” I asked calmly.
He grabbed the two pieces and tied a knot halfway up my stomach. “You’re the queen,” he reminded me and then plucked the backpack off the ground. “You own this track and every driver on it. He’s ignorant of that fact, so educate him.”
I took a deep breath, not wanting him to see the smile I was trying to hide. Yes, this was mine. The track, the Friday nights, and the wins. I didn’t need to engage Jared. But I was going to keep what was mine.
Turning around, Madoc barked one last order before walking off. “Juliet, get her some fucking lipstick, too.”
My eyebrows did a nosedive.
Asshole.
Juliet dug in her bag as I watched Madoc toss my backpack into his car, clearly making sure I didn’t have an excuse to be antisocial even after the races.
I looked down at my shirt.
Such a jerk. Even if I undid the tie, my shirt was still ripped.
“Your husband is—”
“A handful?” Fallon finished, her green eyes smiling. “Yes, he is.”
I jerked as Juliet tried to get some red lipstick on me.
“Stay still,” she chided. “Jax hates gloss, so I found this lipstick that doesn’t get him all sparkly when I kiss him. He loves it, but if it smears on your face, it’ll take more than a little spit to get it off your skin, okay?”
I let her put the damn lipstick on because—I didn’t know why. Maybe it was added armor. Maybe I wanted to be pretty for Ben.
Or maybe I saw Jared take a seat, leaning back on the bleachers, while a girl—a different one than the one I’d seen him arrive with—draped a hand on his knee, interest flaring in every one of her mannerisms.
Maybe I wanted to show him that I didn’t need him to make an impression of my own.
The friend he’d arrived with sat on his other side, looking bored and disinterested. Purple streaks flowed through her jet black hair, and glancing up and down her body, I took in her alternative appearance and wondered at how Jared’s taste had changed.
I had always been edgy but on the socially acceptable side. This girl was beautiful but a lot busier in her hair, makeup, and piercings than I thought Jared would have liked. He’d always said he appreciated my less-is-more attitude.
I guessed that was a lie.
She wore skinny jeans tucked into combat boots and a black sleeveless blouse that draped flatteringly down her body past her hips. Her wrists were adorned with dozens of metal and jelly bracelets while her ears sported metal from the lobe all the way around to the tragus. Her face had a few holes as well.
She seemed like Fallon, only louder.
Seeing Ben approach him—probably to break the ice sooner rather than later—I headed over with Fallon and Juliet, catching Jared’s eyes almost immediately.
Madoc leaned into Jared, speaking close, but Jared’s gaze stayed on me as Ben grabbed my hand when I came up. I blinked, smiling up at him and hoping he couldn’t feel the sweat on my palms.
“Tate.” Jared nodded.
I breathed in and out steadily through my nose, keeping my pulse in check. “Jared.”
“Your career really took off, man,” Ben admired, speaking to Jared. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Jared replied without meeting Ben’s eyes.
“Clear the track!” I heard Zack holler in the distance as the round-one drivers took position.
“So you two finally got together?” Jared inquired, his words sounding more like a statement than a question.
I arched a brow, turning back to the track and ignoring him.
Ben joined me, taking my lead that I had no intention of indulging a conversation with Jared. Zack announced the next race, and we all watched as he and Jax set up the drivers and sent them off.
The heavy engines shot off, pounding over the screams of the crowd, and I smiled as the cars roared past, the wind sending my hair flying over my shoulder.
Juliet and Fallon chatted, and Madoc hung back, staying quiet. Jared stayed behind me on the bleachers, the heat of his eyes covering my back.
I’d missed that feeling.
“Well,” Jared’s smooth voice floated behind me. “Our little pond certainly has come a long way, hasn’t it? My brother looks like he’s outdone himself with the Loop. Some amazing races, hot new drivers . . .”
I slipped my fingers into the pockets of my tight jeans and tilted my chin up, the corner of my mouth tilting in a grin.
“But it’s still a small pond,” he finished, his hard voice dripping with disdain.
When he tore me down in high school it was to feel better about himself. But now it was to get me to react.
I turned around, meeting his eyes but never giving him what he wanted. He could gloat and wear his self-satisfied smirk, but I didn’t play this game anymore.
But much to my surprise, Jared wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. His expression was dead cold, and his eyes bored a hole right through me.
There was no anger, no amusement, no threatening tone to his voice . . .
What was he thinking?
“This is Pasha, my assistant.” Jared introduced the goth-looking girl he’d driven in with. He turned to her. “Pasha, this is Tate and Ben.”
Assistant? Yeah, right. Men and women who were attractive and unattached generally weren’t friends. Unless one of them was gay.
“Tate?” Pasha repeated as if she recognized my name, and I saw her shoot a look to me and then back to Jared. “As in . . . ?” she asked him, trailing off as if they shared a hidden understanding.
I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he stayed silent, with his eyes focused out on the race.
And her interested expression turned judgmental as an eyebrow shot up.
She knew something.
I turned back around, just in time to see the racers cross the finish line, and I wondered if Jared had talked about me with her. It would’ve been unlike him. He rarely confided in anyone, so why her?
“Round two!” Zack shouted over the loudspeaker, making me jump.
I looked over the track, my game face lost, and . . .
And now my blood wasn’t dancing under my skin. It was shaking.