Page 16 of Austin

When the door to Bryce’s office opens, I freeze and close my eyes, not sure if I’m praying Austin will walk on by or stop and talk to me.

Sometimes, being a girl can be so frustrating.

“You. Follow me. Now,” Austin says as he walks up to my desk with a pointed finger.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask as he enters my space, gripping me by the forearm and lifting me up.

He’s not forceful enough to hurt me but serious enough that I don’t put up too much of a fight or cause a scene.

He leads me down the hall and then stops as a group of people turn the corridor, walking toward us. He moves us to the side and down another hallway, mumbling under his breath and pulling me with him.

He makes a series of turns down the halls I have yet to familiarize myself with until he finds a door handle, opens it, flicks the light on, and shoves me inside.

He follows and closes the door behind him.

“The janitor’s closet?” I ask, exasperated, as I look around at the small room of mops, brooms, buckets, and cleaning supplies. It stinks of wet rags and bleach.

He runs a hand on the back of his neck as he looks down at his brown leather shoes and kicks the wall. “Of all the girls in San Francisco, you have to be here.”

I cross my arms in front of my body. “And you would have preferred I were …”

“Anyone but you, Pyle.”

“Okay, seriously, what is up with that stupid fucking name?”

“You got a better one?”

I clench my teeth and feel the tension radiate up my spine. “Yeah. Falcon.”

His eyes widen at the sound of his street name. He inches closer, and I fall back into the wall behind me. It’s cold and hard against my back but nothing compared to the searing heat that is radiating off his body.

“No one can know who I am. Do you understand me? You are the only person who knows. Got it?”

I half-laugh. “I doubt I’m the only one who knows who you are. I mean, you are”—I lift my fingers to make air quotes—“‘kinda famous.’”

His hands fly to the back of his head as he looks up to the heavens and tries to tame his annoyance at my mocking him.

I push on, “I mean, you’re no Justin Bieber, but I get it. You’re Bryce Sexton’s little brother.”

This definitely ticks him off.

“I own this company, so you’d better watch your tongue. If anyone finds out that I was at that race, then it won’t be just my job on the line.” His words are filled with a sense of urgency.

“Did you hear someone died last night, or do you even care?”

His breathing suspends. “His name was Tyler, and he was a good guy. He worked at his family’s deli and was helping his mom pay her mortgage. Last time I saw him, I yelled in his face because he’d flashed a light when you crossed a line. So, yeah, I fucking care. Don’t ever use his memory to try to one-up me.”

My brows pinch in at his reaction. His eyes have a glass-like quality, which makes me wonder …

“Why do you race if it’s so risky?”

“Because I love it more than anything else in this world.” His serious tone affects me more than I was prepared for. He holds up three fingers. “Bryce and my best friend, Gregg, are the only people who know that I’m Falcon, and I know they’d rather go to the grave than rat a brother out. You, I’m not so sure of.”

My jaw falls as I get closer to him, making sure he knows the insult he just slung my way will not be tolerated.

“Not that I give a flying fuck who you are or what you do, but I’m not hard-pressed to sell anyone out. That’s not my style,” I say.

His hand palms my cheek, and I flinch back, my body hitting the wall behind me once again. I shake my head, confused by his actions.