Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11)

to play.
“The greatest sprint car drivers in the world four-wide, this is their salute. The drivers are thanking you for your attendance this evening and ladies and gentleman in return we’d like you to stand and when they come out of turn number four we want them to be able to hear you over the rumble of those nine hundred horse power engines,” Jerry said. My heart pumped in my chest a little louder as I watched the cars, four-wide, the engines rumbling the stands. “Las Vegas Motor Speedway, you wanted the best, you got em four abreast, often imitated, never duplicated, the greatest show on dirt, the world of outlaws!”
Another part of the night I will never tire of hearing, nor will I ever see the image before me enough. My husband, dad, brothers, all on the track together living out their dreams racing on the edge.
The opening laps were caution filled from drivers in the back but once they got green, Rager got a jump on him early on, but Easton certainly didn’t back down to the defending World of Outlaw champion. He never would. I had a feeling it had something to do with proving himself. We saw it a lot with the guys who moved up to NASCAR, and then came back to run on a dirt track every once in a while. I think it went back to them wanting to show that they still had it.
Whatever the reason, Easton had something he wanted to prove, and he was about to right from lap one. They battled for six laps, Rager pulling an impressive slide job on him.
I didn’t know what Easton was thinking, but he basically drove right into the left rear of Rager’s car. Turned into him and then sent Rager’s car flying through the air. His car did a series of snap flips, basically really aggressive quick flips, and then came to rest near the wall in turns one and two.
I was fucking pissed and I knew Rager probably felt the same.
Kinsley and I both jumped to our feet in the stands. My view of Rager’s car was obscured by the track safety crew pulling up to his car. I couldn’t breathe waiting to see if they could get him out. Anger shot through me immediately. I also couldn’t fucking believe Easton did that.
Once out of the car, Rager refused the ride in the ambulance and stood in the middle of the track. My heart was in my throat, beating about a million miles an hour with him standing so close to moving cars.
Don’t get hit by a car. Please, do not get hit by a car!
“What the fuck is he doing?” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air as I watch Easton’s car approaching. Fans around us began cheering when he did that, probably excited to see some emotion on the track. That was one thing fans loved. Crashes and fights.
“This won’t go over well,” Kinsley noted at the same time Rager threw his helmet at Easton’s car when he drove by. His helmet bounced off the wing and onto the track where he picked it up. Fifteen minutes later, the race was finished. Caden won leaving him four points ahead of Rager in the run for the championship. All because of Easton. A driver who had no business even racing here tonight.
Kinsley rushed down to the track to celebrate with Caden and I headed back to the pits to deal with Rager.
“That sucked,” Lane grumbled, staring at his car as they brought it in on the tow truck.
Rager paced the space in front of the hauler, hands in his hair and cursing under his breath.
“Are you okay?” I attempted to reach out to Rager, touch him, remind him I was here for him, but he wasn’t having it and side-stepped me when he noticed Easton pulling into the pits, four other cars following behind him, a cloud of dirt kicking up in the wake.
Rager at least waited for him to remove himself from the car before he was in his face.
Naturally, that was all the time Easton had. Uncle Spencer surfaced from the hauler, his hands on Easton’s chest. “Don’t do anything stupid, E.”
Easton looked past Uncle Spencer and smirked, his eyes on mine. “I wo—”
“You better have a good goddamn reason as to why you pulled that shit out there!” Rager shouted at him, shoving him back against his car.
“That’s enough, you two,” Uncle Spencer urged, his eyes darting between the two of them, and then to my dad who stood beside me. “Are you going to do something?”
Dad grinned. “Nope.”
Uncle Spencer sighed, keeping himself positioned next to Easton. “Nice, Jameson.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Easton asked, catching himself against the side of his car. “It’s just racing.”
“I don’t fucking think so.” Rager shoved him again. “You wrecked me. That wasn’t racing. You did that shit on purpose and you fucking know it.” Rager wasn’t in the mood, his voice sharp. I could tell from the beginning when he got in Easton’s face and towered over him that tonight he wouldn’t back down. “You got a problem with me? Say it to my fucking face.”
“I do.” Easton straightened his posture, his jaw clenching in what I only assumed was anger for being pushed twice now. “You drive like an asshole out there with little regard for anyone else around you. That shit wouldn’t fly at any professional level.”
Rager laughed. “Last time I checked, I get paid to race. Maybe not NASCAR money, but you can be goddamn sure I can still outrace you any day.”
Easton chuckled, eyeing Rager’s car. “Yeah, looks like it.”
“You hit me, asshole. Looks to me like you’re the one with little regard for anyone else around you.”
Dad handed me a beer, his racing suit pulled down around his waist, his hat on backward. “I don’t feel like stopping them. I know it’s the moral thing to do, but I’m getting too old