l music vibrated through t

t through the thick clouds of exhaust fumes and dust. Hundreds of people screa

akes hard, throwing the bike into a vicious tailwhip. The rear tire

ane, Graham held a pair of military-grade binoculars to his

the crowd. He was a massive wall of muscle, chewing on

ront tire. He blew a cloud of

oice booming over the engine noise. "A hick trying to ta

er hands on the handlebars. She slowly lifted

owd we

reached into his leather vest and slam

a turf bet. Whoever loses, their crew i

t rate remained perfectly steady. She need

ified supercar rigged with a massive nitrous oxide sys

looked like a

f the track. She raised a red flag high above he

pped th

o the dirt, launching the heavy vehicle forward like a m

e smoothly rolled the throttle. The bike launched forwa

gripped the railing. "Sh

he binoculars. "She's not choking. She's testin

g into the 'Reaper's Scythe'-a brutal hairpin turn with a solid

rd into the inside lane to block he

didn't

locked. The motorcycle let out a

their eyes. She was going too fast.

ed horizontally, the footpegs sparking violently against the asphalt. She

exhaust pipe scraped against the metal guardrail. A massive shower of

ike practically defying gravity. Panic seized his chest. He jerked

past him li

ahead of him. The digital timer on the o

nt. Then, the crowd erupt

His breathing stopped. His hands gripped the m

lane overtake. He had seen it before. Fo

d. The ghost he had b

helmet, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She walked straight o

dow and snatched the two-million

The Azure Syndicate is do

oved the check into her jacket,

est heaved. He twisted his pinky ring, a

you," he