#Swag (GearShark #3) Read Online Free Page A

“I’d rather go than be left here without you.”
    The bold statement squeezed my heart. I pulled him roughly against my chest and wrapped him in a tight hug.
    “Don’t talk like that,” I whispered and slapped him on the shoulder.
    He gripped my back like he was afraid I might disappear. I wasn’t one for showing any kind of emotion, especially not at a race on my own turf.
    But the kid was clearly shaken. He’d been through enough already; he didn’t need me pushing him away like I was too macho to hug him.
    Movement coming toward us had me looking up. Anger cut through all the family fuzzies, and I shoved back from my brother.
    “You goddamn son of a bitch!” I roared and burst forward.
    My fist drove right into the side of his face. I felt the bone give way as his body recoiled back from the force of the hit.
    When he was sprawled out over the pavement, I stood over him, chest heaving.
    “Your green, cocky ass almost killed my brother,” I snarled. His eyes were slightly unfocused as he looked at me, but I knew his ears worked just fine.
    He seemed rather unhurt considering his car just slammed down over mine.
    My hands shook with the need to rectify it.
    “It was an accident,” he mumbled. “I lost control.”
    “You never had control!” I spat. “Don’t ever come back on my turf again. You’re out.” The way I saw it, any man could drive, but he had to be real about it. Thinking you could handle too much power too fast was a way to get people killed.
    Driving the way we did wasn’t a safe sport by any means. But some people were just fucking idiots.
    This idiot was a poser with a nice car who thought he could best me and make me look like a fool on my own territory.
    “But…” He tried to push himself up but fell back down.
    I felt my upper lip curl in disgust.
    People crowded in around us, watching warily. I felt the judgmental stare of someone close by, incredulous that I would deck a man who just almost died.
    He must be new here. Everyone else knew I didn’t give a shit.
    If he had died, it would have been his own fault.
    “Get him the fuck outta my sight!” I growled. I didn’t have time for this.
    A couple guys moved in and picked him up.
    “Jones!” I barked and turned my back. A guy in a set of coveralls and a backward hat appeared. “Gonna need your tow trucks tonight, man.”
    He nodded. “Have ‘em here in five.”
    I held out my fist, and we pounded it out. “Thanks, man.”
    Here on my turf, we didn’t call the cops. They’d just throw us in the slammer anyway. I wasn’t too fond of the metal cages they liked to lock racers in. Accidents happened, and we cleaned them up ourselves.
    Besides, I was pretty sure if this got around, my sponsor would read me the fucking riot act.
    I was lucky it hadn’t been worse. I had a race coming up.
    Might be time for a little break from the streets. At least until my next race was over.
    “You sure you’re okay?” Arrow asked, coming up beside me as I studied the mess that was my Corvette.
    “I’m fine,” I replied.
    “I had it under control. I was going to move,” he said, regret and agitation in his tone.
    He was pissed I jumped in front of him. Pissed I protected him.
    My brother lived too long without protection from assholes. He could be pissed all he wanted, but it wouldn’t stop me from being the brother I should have been before.
    “Losing control of the streets,” someone said from behind.
    I turned away from the mangled cars and stared, unflinching, at the approaching man.
    Kurt Bodean was a regular on my streets. He raced here, lived here, and generally annoyed me here.
    It wasn’t always that way, at least the last part anyway. We actually used to be pretty tight. We’d grown up together, worked in some car shops together, but over the years, we’d grown apart.
    We’d always sort of balanced on the line of friends and rivals. The older we got, the more it felt like we were just keeping each other close to