Chapter 19: Two Hands on the Handlebars
"Get the fuck out of Dodge, Evans, before I kick you the hell out. And my way ain't as pretty as I am." Brittany's tone is anything but cordial or welcoming when she glares at the floppy blonde haired, green eyed slim surfer looking guy that walks towards her and Santana's current position.
A shit-eating grin, like he owns the fucking world, is still spread across the guy's face. Brittany watches with clenched teeth as the his eyes momentarily divert to Santana and linger quite a bit longer than Brittany cares to even think about even being slightly okay with. She takes a step in front of the shorter girl, her muscles still tense and ready for any kind of fight she's hoping might go down.
Anything to wipe that smug ass smirk off her rival's fish lipped face.
"Pleasure to see you as well, Pierce." The guy greets with an incline of his head as he comes within a few feet of Brittany and Santana.
"That's far enough, Samuel, now tell me what the hell you're doing on my turf."
"It's Paul actually," the guy speaks up, his eyes flicker over Brittany's shoulder to Santana once again, as his arms fold across his chest.
Brittany's lip turns up in confusion, "What the fuck?"
"I go by Paul now. Sammy just doesn't sound like very much of a tough name."
At this announcement, that the pain in her ass known to the world as Samuel Paul Evans III, is suddenly trying to be 'more tough', Brittany rolls her eyes, "Yeah I think you're gonna need more than a name change to fix that."
Hearing Santana snicker quietly behind her gives Brittany more satisfaction than she ever thought possible.
Feeling her push up against Brittany's back, well that's a whole other set of reactions that make Brittany incapable of properly thinking. In the very best of ways.
"I didn't come here to make small talk with you about my name," Sam, or Paul rather, starts to say but Brittany is quick to interrupt.
"Then why the hell are you still talking about it? I've been asking you for ten minutes about what exactly the fuck you're doing here, so spit it out already."
Brittany feels the palm of Santana's hand glide across the small of her back until it rests inconspicuously on the curve of her hip. The touch sends a blaze through Brittany's body, and she has to take a momentary breather before she can properly function again.
"I'm here about the rumored job that's circulating around Vegas, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, well you ain't as smart as you claim to be."
Before Brittany can formulate a reply, it's Santana that is speaking up over her shoulder in bolstered defense, "I'd watch what comes out of those ridiculously disproportioned lips, Trouty, especially when it pertains to your erroneous judgment of Brittany's intellect. She's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, and I don't even know you but I can tell she's got extensive amounts of genius over your pea sized side show brainpower."
Brittany's surprised her jaw doesn't drop at Santana's words. Paul on the other hand, simply continues to smirk through the entire ordeal.
"Well I'll be damned Pierce, you got yourself quite the little spitfire of an addition to your crew. She's very easy on the eyes I must say."
"You keep your damn eyes off of Santana, so she's not tainted by your look Evans. And while you're at it, get the hell off my concrete and out of my sight."
Paul Evans merely flashes his impish smirk, "Last time I checked, it was a free country and admiring pretty little things never hurt anyone." He says, his eyes lingering towards Santana again, who Brittany moves to shield ever more so before Paul continues, "And now that I think about it, isn't this you and your brother Hunter's 'turf' over here? If I've got business around here, I'm going to get the full scale. You can't expect to just send me off without giving me the chance to speak to the Pierce crew as a whole."
"You want to watch me Evans? Just fucking try me. And I swear you won't ever be able to look at any woman again if you don't stop your eyes from their creepy lingering anywhere near Santana. You know my word is gold, and you also know I can very well kick your ass."
There's a look of anger followed by contempt that flashes in Paul's green eyes and his jaw tenses at the insult. He's hard pressed to deny the truth to Brittany's words, she has, after all, bested him at more than one game in their lifetimes. But he's not about to mention anything of the sort where he stands and instead chooses to change the subject, like any good coward would.
"I came to talk a deal Brittany. Crew to crew, which means I'm not leaving until I get the proper meeting with you and Hunter."
Brittany would absolutely love to give this guy the proper meeting, one that involves her fist in his cheesy ass smirking face. Knock some sense into him, ya know? But she realizes there's not much she can do aside from allowing Paul to speak with her and Hunter as he's requested. It's not like she can go to the cops and tell them that another boosting crewmembers leader is currently trespassing on her property, because that would just be a big fucking disaster waiting to happen.
With a heavy sigh, but no amount of admitted defeat reflecting in her posture or attitude, Brittany gives one more prolonged glance in Paul's direction before she consents, undeniably still reluctantly, to his request.
"Fine, you can have five minutes with us. Not a fucking second more," Brittany says, her tone conveying the sincerity of her subtle threat. She jabs her finger at him a little more pointedly, "And keep your damn eyes to yourself."
After seeming to accept Brittany's terms with a nod of his head, Paul allows Brittany and Santana to lead the way towards the main building and Hunter's 'office', he doesn't fail to notice the way Brittany possessively wraps her arm around the shorter girl's waist and throws a look over her shoulder that silently implies, with the utmost seriousness in the world, 'I'm watching you'. Paul may get into trouble every now and again, and he might not be considered the sharpest tool in the shed but as much as he would never admit it out loud, he's not a fool to mess with Brittany Pierce.
Particularly in the matter of a woman because he'll right as rain fail on all aspects of that. He resolves to settle the matter elsewhere, where perhaps he will be supplied a faired chance in the matter.
Perhaps on the streets, where they were both born and raised to race.
##################
Although Brittany's possessive attitude in regards to Santana does not disappear on their trek to Hunter's office, it does become a little less strict possessive and a little more kind attention. In other words, she shifts from having her arm wrapped tightly around Santana's waist, to gripping the shorter girl's hand, though still firmly, but now more calmly in her hand.
The fact that Santana allows it, and even goes as far as to intertwine their fingers and give Brittany's hand a subtle squeeze, means all the difference to Brittany. And it certainly calms her inner, and somewhat outer, rage.
When she reaches the door to Hunter's office, Brittany doesn't make any attempt to knock on the door, instead she simply barges right in like she doesn't give a damn.
Because, well, she doesn't.
"Hunter, there's an asshole here that is persistently requesting the audience of the two of us for reasons still unknown to myself, and despite the fact that I loathe the very thought of even standing in a room with you right now, he won't fucking leave until I do so let's just get this shit over with." Brittany says upon entrance to the office in absolute lieu of any kind of greeting. Not that Hunter deserves it in the least.
She's expecting some kind of pretentious overbearing remark to come out of Hunter's lips, she's not expecting to see him calmly spin around in his swivel chair and administer her an incline of his head in some form of uncommunicated agreement to her spiel. It's creepy, out of character and completely nerve wracking.
"Ahh Samuel Evans, so nice to see a fellow crew leader around these parts. Well then, have a seat and tell me what brings you here." Hunter addresses the other man in the room without so much as a glance or hint of acknowledgement towards Santana. Not that Brittany, or even Santana, was expecting anything of the sort. Hunter's avoided the feisty woman since she gave his nose a new shape; crooked slightly to the left.
Brittany finds it's one of Hunter's most endearing features, possibly the only one. And it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that she imagines how hot Santana must have looked when her fist connected with Hunter's face. Brittany shivers a little, that thought still gives her the really good chills.
"Hunter Pierce, always nice to be in the area of such an accommodating guest, and please call me Paul. Samuel was my father."
"As you wish, Paul. What can I do for you today then?"
Brittany's about to interject into the massive mockery that's occurring before her eyes when she feels Santana tug on her hand by her side. She turns her eyes and finds careful brown ones looking back. Santana tilts up on her tiptoes and Brittany simultaneously leans down, shuddering slightly when warm lips brush across the shell of her ear.
"You know anything he says isn't going to matter. But the sooner he speaks, the sooner he can get his ass out of here and the sooner we can get down to our own discussing business."
A smile forms on Brittany's lips as Santana whispers those words quietly into her ear. She has to admit, the woman's got a good point. She'd much rather get all of this out of the way and move onto properly fixing things with Santana, as soon as possible. Brittany gives Santana a subtle nod of agreement and her ears refocus to the other, less important, conversation occurring within the room.
"Simple challenge then Hunter, all you have to do is accept."
Brittany's eyes go wide. Wait, challenge? What?
"What type of challenge?"
Two sets of deceitfully evil looking green eyes turn and focus on Brittany.
"A streetbike racing challenge, as I just mentioned." Paul vaguely elaborates. Brittany's face morphs back from confusion into careless consideration. Her eyes flicker in Hunter's direction momentarily before glancing back in Paul's direction.
"A race between whom?"
That same smug smirk crosses the taller blonde's excessive lips, and his eyes don't hesitate to slide fleetingly up and down Santana's body, "Well four people. Two from your crew and two from mine. Winner takes all concerning the matter's that have cropped up around St. James' crew."
Suddenly the gears start churning in Brittany's brain, "You're proposing that we race, in a motorcycle race, to determine which of our respective crews gets to participate in the yet confirmed boosting challenge being dictated by that asshole St. James? How do you even know about that?"
"Please, Brittany, anyone who is anything in this town has heard about the great Jesse St. James' calling and proposed boosting challenge. Of course the only real competition in this city rests between you and I and for once I figured we could settle this before anything dirty happens in the big game. Wouldn't want to damage you or your ladies pretty face."
"Like I could trust you either way. You, and your crew, have always played dirty."
"It doesn't matter Brittany, I think Paul has offered us a fair proposition," Hunter suddenly cuts into the conversation, and Brittany's body flares with another surge of red-hot anger. She feels Santana's hand grip hers tighter once again, even going as far as to step closer to Brittany and wrap her other hand around Brittany's forearm as a sort of calming method. Brittany shouldn't be surprised at how quickly her body goes from raged to aroused at just the slightest touch from Santana.
But what can she say? The woman's got magic hands.
She grits her teeth as she glares in Hunter's direction, "Fine, if that's how you want to play this than that means that it's you and me who are nominated to participate in the race."
Brittany watches in satisfaction as Hunter's eyes go wide upon hearing his sister's words. He definitely wasn't expecting that. His mouth gaps open in some ill-advised attempt at squirming his way out of actually racing, but Brittany's already got that part covered.
"What H? You don't want to race?" She asks, the picture of innocence and care, so much the opposite of what she actually feels or thinks, but she's not letting Hunter get out of it this time, "I figured since you're always talking about how much this crew is a 'family' effort, you'd want to support that notion by stepping up to the plate and taking one for the team. After all, it wouldn't be fair if you asked one of our crewmembers to enter the race in your place. Not very good leadership and all."
Everyone in the room, except maybe the thick head Paul, is fully aware at what Brittany's playing at. Hunter's eyes narrow and she watches his throat bob in a subtle show of nervousness.
"You're right big sis, it would only be fair." He finally supplies, his brow beginning to perspire from the internal terror he is quite obviously going through. It brings a very happy smile to both Brittany and Santana's faces.
"Well good, it's settled than. Me and my crew will return in two hours and we can get this who thing done with." Paul speaks up from his corner causing Brittany to jerk slightly. She's not going to deny that she had already forgotten about the other individual in the room. She doesn't much care for him so it's not really a surprise.
She turns her head to look at him and gives one solid nod in his direction, "We'll be here. No chicken shit Evans, or I'll kick your ass."
"We'll see Pierce. We'll see," Paul calls back as he turns to exit the office. He glances one more time in Brittany's direction before his eyes skim over to Santana and give her an unpleasantly long lingering look, "See you there too, hotness."
If Paul hadn't fled the office the second those words left his over sized lips, Brittany would have damn well ripped them right off and attached them to somewhere else on his body that's wildly inappropriate.
She knows she's sure as hell going to kick his ass on the racetrack, and then afterwards probably kick his ass for real.
##################
It takes Santana eight minutes, four hand squeezes, numerous whispered words of reassurance and one unexpected and chaste kiss to Brittany's lips to get the other woman to calm herself down and return to the reality world where she's not plotting the death of one Samuel Paul Evans III.
"Hey, hey," Santana coos as she pulls back from the quick peck and tries to catch the attention of Brittany's rapidly moving light blue eyes. Finally, Brittany's glancing into brown depths and that serene calm is washing over her, "Brittany, he's gone. It's just you and me now."
The words do even more wonders to calm Brittany, and quickly she is smiling like an idiot and stepping into Santana to wrap her up in a sweet embrace, her arms easing around a slim waist and tugging the smaller woman in tightly to her body.
"I like the sound of that." Brittany murmurs into Santana's hair as she rests her chin on top of her head. Santana lets out a small sigh, the air releasing from her mouth breezing across Brittany's neck in a mixture of cooled warmth that sends tingly shivers down her spine.
They remain like that for a few more seconds until Santana feels Brittany's breathing ease and the staccato thumping of Brittany's heart modifies to a more leisurely pace. Santana's hands wander down to the jut of Brittany's hipbones, resting firm and solid before she lightly pushes on them in signal for Brittany to lean back some.
When their eyes meet again, it generates mega-watt smiles on both of their lips. Santana's lasts for a few seconds less than Brittany's, as she appears to shift into a more serious mode.
"Can we talk about what happened back there?" Brittany assumes that Santana is referencing, albeit vaguely, their time spent in the presence of Hunter and Paul. She's not entirely sure which part of that Santana intends on discussing. She gives a subtle nod and a miniscule shrug to convey her internal consensus to speak about whatever it is Santana wants.
Brittany watches with rapture as Santana's bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, where the other woman gnaws on it for a moment in her phase of deliberation.
Finally, she speaks.
"I know that I'm probably imposing beyond my boundaries, but I can't help but be a little incredulous about the nonchalant manner with which Hunter basically volunteered the both of you for a dangerous and ridiculous demonstration of bravado. And for what? So that you can win and then go on to do even more dangerous things?"
It takes a moment for all of Santana's extensive vocabulary words, at least in Brittany's terms, to register in her mind, but when they do, a grin stretches across her face. Santana in turn frowns at Brittany's look of elation. She wasn't expecting that kind of reaction.
"You're not supposed to be happy about potentially getting yourself killed."
Again, the smile stretches wider. Brittany leans back in close to Santana and brushes a few kisses across her cheek.
"I think it's really freaking adorable that you care so much."
Santana finds herself desperately wrapping her arms back around Brittany, and sinking further into her body.
"Of course I care Brittany. I care, so much, about you."
Brittany releases a heavy sigh, considerations weighing heavy on her heart and thoughts, "I figured some of those….feelings," she hesitates on the word, not quite sure of herself to divulge it or anything else that might go along with it, "might have changed after some of the things that happened."
It's Santana turn to sigh, "I think you're too smart to have thought that." She remarks and Brittany's heart flips at the sincerity of the statement but they fall back into silence once more. Santana closes her eyes and relaxes in the comfort that is Brittany, as the taller girl relishes the feeling of having Santana so close, so absolutely in her arms.
After a few minutes Brittany takes a deep breath and clears her throat, "So where do we go from here, assuming you're still willing to give everything a chance."
Santana merely nods her head into the cushion of Brittany's chest, "Yes, I meant what I said." She begins to say, referring to their brief discussion that was so rudely interrupted by the arrival of Paul Evans only an hour ago. Santana's fingers tighten their hold on the back of Brittany's shirt, "I don't need you to tell me everything, right away all at the same time, but," she pauses to lean back and glance up at Brittany, "I do need you to let me in if any of this is going to work."
Brittany studies the beauty before her with an intense almost trance like focus before she nods her head once, "I can do that. I mean…I want to do that. For you." She admits, her voice low but packed with sincerity. Santana nods, her brown eyes staring into the depths of Brittany's blue for an instant before she rocks up on the balls of her feet and presses her dry lips against the poised ones before her.
The kiss is brief, but it packs a punch like no other, and Brittany most certainly feels the hit from it. A hand travels up to cup Santana's cheek as the woman draws back from the kiss, a pale thumb strokes softly across smooth tan skin. Brittany tilts her head to place a kiss on the tip of Santana's nose, not even bothering to consider how incredibly intimate she's being right now.
Something about Santana makes up for any sort of strange feelings she's having. Without reservations, Brittany holds her closer wrapping the smaller woman up in a kind of warm hug that Brittany has neither given nor received in a very long time. The feeling of Santana hugging her back just as firmly chases any of her fears away.
Santana pulls back from the hug after a few seconds a regretful look on her face. She knows they both have other matters to attend to now, but is thankful at least at Brittany's agreement to eventually discuss things more fully.
"We should probably go get the bikes ready for you and Hunter to race. As much as I despise the thought of you actually getting on one in such a confrontational manner, I also have to hold my belief that you'll kick Paul's ass and I won't have to worry anymore."
Brittany chuckles at Santana's words stepping back to allow them the chance to walk from their seclusion and head towards the bike shop, she doesn't mind the way that Santana's hand automatically finds hers as they walk together.
Regardless of everything Brittany's ever thought or known about feelings and affection, what she has with Santana feels more right than anything she's ever known.
##################
It's two hours later when Brittany, with Santana at her side, returns to her bike that they set up just out of the shop and notices the sun hung low over the horizon, in preparation to set within the hour. It takes a few more minutes of waiting before a golden matte, as opposed to golden chrome, Audi a8 pulls up to the curb down the concrete driveway of Brittany's shop.
As Paul Evans steps out of the car, Brittany doesn't hesitate to roll her eyes.
"Should have known you'd show up in something like that. Such a nice car ruined by that tacky color." It's only loud enough for Paul to hear but he isn't afforded the time to respond because behind his car there's a vivid yellow Yamaha YZF-R1 and an alpine white Honda CBR1000 that pull up and park, both riders quickly dismount before they walk towards where Paul stands.
One of them removes their helmet and Brittany immediately recognizes him as Ryder Lynn, one of Paul's long time friends. The other one appears to refuse to remove his helmet, but Brittany can tell by his stance and the general position of his head that the asshole is staring in her direction. He's tall but scrawny looking.
Paul's appearance in front of Brittany draws her attention away from the mystery asshole.
"You still ready to do this?"
Brittany scoffs, "As if I'd be scared to challenge you in any way Evans. You know I'll always win."
The tense line of Paul's jaw does not go unmissed by Brittany, "Let's just get this over with. Where's your brother?"
"Half-brother, and he's probably getting his bike. Either way, the track's a half mile that way," Brittany points in a westward direction away from the shop where she knows a strip of street is currently abandoned and ready for prime racing usage, "I'll meet you there in five."
Paul gives a nod of agreement before turning back to his 'crew' and signaling them to follow him in his tacky ass car. When they drive out of sight, Brittany turns to face Santana, whom has been standing next to her the whole time.
"You ready to do this?"
Santana nods and takes Brittany's hand as the taller woman leads them in getting on the bike in preparation to head out.
A few seconds later, tucked safely behind Brittany, Santana holds on tightly to the woman's waist as she rides down the street a little ways towards where a small group of individuals have already formed. Santana is more than thankful that Brittany appears to be taking this particular race serious, and is wearing a helmet, an armor jacket, and a pair of gloves.
She was also kind enough to loan Santana the same set of gear for her to wear 'just to be safe'.
The crowd consisting of Brittany's crew, Santana's crew, the rest of the Evans crew and a few straggler's part and allow Brittany to maneuver the bike through them to the front of the swarm where Paul, the mysterious asshole, and Hunter all wait in a line for her arrival. Upon observing Hunter's bike, a Suzuki SV650 Sport in metallic black with red decals that is nowhere near a comparable bike to the superbike she's on, she shakes her head at his choice.
Flipping the visor up on her helmet, she turns to address the man, "Why did you get the 650 out? We have a GSR1000 Hunter, that's a better racing bike, especially for this situation."
Hunter merely shrugs his shoulders, "I'm more comfortable on this bike Brittany."
Brittany doesn't get the chance to call him an idiot because in the next second, Paul is speaking up.
"Track looks like your basic one-mile. I think that's fair." He begins and turns his focus from Hunter to Brittany, "Same conditions? Winner gets the St. James job?"
Brittany nods, "That's what we agreed on. First one of us to cross it is the winner. No best out of shit."
Paul nods in agreement, "Alright, let's get this show on the road." He says before turning back to prep his bike for the race. Brittany grits her teeth.
"I hate that saying." She mumbles under her breath before feeling a gentle squeeze around her waist. She looks over her shoulder to see Santana, her own helmet visor flipped up, smiling at her. Brittany can't help but smile back.
"After this you won't have to worry about this shit, and we can talk."
Brittany's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners as her elation fails to be held back. She nods, "I like the sound of that."
Santana takes a second to unclip and remove her helmet before she reaches out and delicately does the same to Brittany's, mesmerized by the way blonde locks cascade around Brittany's shoulders as the helmet is removed. She cups pale cheeks in her gloved hands and draws their lips together. Even though the angle is not ideal, Brittany still manages to push further into the kiss and slip her tongue past Santana's lips, stroking the curves of her teeth before nibbling softly on the plumpness of her bottom lip.
Santana releases a tiny whimpered moan at the action and pulls back from the kiss, her eyes a shade darker, and her skin slightly flushed. Brittany grins triumphantly at the reaction she has enticed from the gorgeous woman.
Santana's eyes close briefly before she exhales a content sigh, "Okay, you should probably race." She says, her eyes opening back up to focus intently on Brittany, her bottom lip gets pulled between her teeth as a nervous apprehension overcomes her demeanor, "Please, be careful." She whispers and it cracks a smile across Brittany's face.
She tilts in and pecks soft lips, "You know it." She promises and holds the bike steady as Santana smoothly climbs off and walks to take her place at the edge of the crowd as Brittany moves her bike up to the line with the others.
The racers all line up and are given the signal to start the race. A rush surges through Santana's body as she watches Brittany expertly and smoothly navigate her bike ahead of the other racers the first second off the line, and then that's when shit starts to go downhill.
It only takes a moment for Santana, and everyone else, to register that there are only three bikes racing down the street and when her eyes turn to the starting line, she finds Hunter not only propping the bike up on it's kickstand, but unhurriedly dismounting from the seat and removing his helmet as he grips at his side.
Santana's eyes flicker first down the street where she sees that Paul and his other racer are not only gaining on Brittany but also appearing to prepare to sandwich her between their bikes. A surge of panic now radiates through Santana's body.
"Hunter! What the hell are you doing? Brittany can't be out there all alone!" She exclaims, running over towards the man in question. She watches as a grimace covers his face and he clutches tighter at his left side.
Shaking his head, Hunter's green eyes meet Santana's brown, "There's something wrong with my side, I can't race."
"You can't just fucking leave her out there!"
Hunter's eyes flicker momentarily down the road to where Brittany is now fully sandwiched between the other two racers, their motives looking less and less cordial as the seconds tick by.
"She's a big girl." Is all Hunter says before he begins to limp away, all eyes darting between him and his sister who is currently in the middle of a dangerous game just down the street.
The panic continues to radiate through Santana's body, gripping every inch of her nervous system. She has half a mind to chase after Hunter and lay a left hook on him again, but something tells her it wouldn't be the best way to help Brittany right now, and that's her main concern.
Not even considering the consequences of her actions, Santana pulls her helmet over her head and runs over to the bike that's set in the middle of the street. She quickly swings her leg over the seat and straddles it, turning the ignition and starting up the engine in less than two seconds. Her eyes glance down the street to see Brittany trying to maintain control as Paul kicks out at her bike from one side and the mystery racer does the same from the other side. Santana shifts the bike into gear and pulls back on the throttle before releasing the clutch, squealing the tires a little as she urges the bike into action.
The grip she holds on the handlebars is rough and desperate, but Santana doesn't have time to be pensive about the fact she's easily out of her element, because the closer she gets to Brittany the more dangerous the entire situation is becoming. Luckily, Brittany's skills upon a streetbike are a lot more seasoned, and Santana watches the way the other woman easily transforms her outnumbered situation into one a little more manageable in her terms.
Brittany's bike jerks to a stop as both Paul and the mystery racer lean in to kick at her bike again. Her actions successful deter any kind of clashing between the three racers, but allows for Paul and the other racer to instantly take a lead. The maneuver also allows Santana to gain a lot of ground on the racer's as well, inching closer and closer until she's flying past Brittany a moment later and quickly moving on to catch up to Paul.
Brittany is suddenly snapped back into action as she watches Hunter's Suzuki fly by her and she quickly realizes that it's not Hunter at all that's racing the bike. Fear grips at her heart as she recognizes Santana's long dark locks flowing out from under her helmet, and she's quick to shift her bike back into gear and rev the engine back to life, launching the bike forward and after the rest of the racers.
Santana can tell that Paul wasn't anticipating anyone catching up to him as he cruises at a moderate speed towards the 'finish line' section, and is taken by surprise as another bike suddenly appears on his right. He glances over and notices the bike as the one Hunter Pierce was intending to race earlier, but definitely recognizes that it is not the Pierce man whom is riding it. With a quick flick of his head towards his right hand man racing on the other side of Santana, Paul pulls back on his throttle and quickly matches the Suzuki's pace.
Paul steers his bike closer to Santana as his crewmember does the same on the other side, his intentions being to either scare the woman into slowing her bike or knocking her out of the race by any means possible. He's not expecting Santana to have the capability to kick out with her right leg and solidly connect with the mystery rider, successfully catching him off guard and forcing his bike to jerk to the side where he looses a bit of control and has to slam on his breaks to avoid crashing. In the process of watching this occur, Paul gets a little too close with his bike and quickly finds the rear end of his bike, where the passenger pegs are found, getting caught on a similar area of Santana's bike.
Brittany watches from a few paces behind in horror as Paul and Santana's bikes suddenly become attached to one another and Paul's attempts of kicking at Santana's bike don't fix the issue. The two connected racers must realize there are bigger issues going on because they simultaneously glance up at their upcoming path and notice they are rapidly approaching a barrier median set in the middle of the street that divides the two lanes, which will be branching off in less than a minute.
Santana's eyes bulge in fear and she frantically tries to maintain control of her bike as Paul begins to kick more forcefully and desperately at the backend of the Suzuki in attempt to break them apart. In a last ditch effort, and remembering something that Brittany had mentioned to her back when she was teaching Santana how to ride, Santana pulls back just enough on her front brake, allowing the momentum to shift the read end of the bike forward and to the left as Paul continues straight and at the last possible second before she'll loose control, Santana kicks out her left leg with all the power she possesses and connects with the area of the bike just behind Paul's calf, effectively disconnecting the bikes and sending Paul's into a swerve off to the right.
Not having the ability to regain control, Paul jams both of his brakes and forces the tires to lock as his bike loses balance and skids into a parked car off the side of the street. Santana only catches a glimpse of Paul being launched from the bike and tumbling across the hood of the car before she herself realizes her bike, though going much slower and now with an angled momentum, is quickly becoming unbalanced and she finds herself tilting to the right and pushing off from the bike to eject herself from the seat to skid across the pavement lightly as the bike falls on its side and slides a few feet down the street in front of her.
A second later, Brittany's bike comes to a screeching stop next to the fallen Santana and she quickly cuts the engine and jumps from the bike, not even caring that it crashes to the ground, tumbling to Santana's side before ripping her helmet off and kneeling to reach out to the other woman.
"Holy fuck Santana!" Brittany exclaims as she watches for any movement from the woman lying on the ground, Santana shifts and lets out a tiny groan before her head lulls from its position on the ground to look in Brittany's direction. Slowly, Santana's hand comes up to flip her visor up.
"Fuck, that kind of hurt." She mumbles as Brittany finds herself choking out an emotional cross between a sob of relief and a laugh. She slowly reaches out and takes the helmet carefully off of Santana's head before tossing it to the side and cradling the smaller woman carefully in her arms. When Santana manages to sit up a little she releases a long rush of air and leans further into Brittany just as the previously watching crowd catches up to them.
"Can you stand up?" Brittany asks Santana who nods and allows the taller woman to help her to her feet where Brittany wraps a strong arm around her waist to keep her standing. When Mike appears at Brittany's side she glances at him.
"Mike, here help Santana. I'm going to go kick that fucker's ass." Brittany says, her eyes glaring in the general direction of where Paul crashed just a few moments ago. Before Brittany even has the chance to pass Santana off to Mike, the shorter woman is gripping onto her jacket tightly and tugging her close.
"Wait, Britt, he's not worth it. Please."
The way Santana's tone is so soft and pleading keeps Brittany from moving. She glances down at Santana and sees her brown eyes shining with unshed tears. It tugs at her heartstrings and makes her stomach flip with emotions.
She relents, saying a simple "Okay." Before receiving a grateful and relieved smile from Santana in return.
"Take me home?"
The way Santana uses the word home causes a whole different set of emotions to flutter unexpectedly within Brittany's body, and warmth settles over her. More and more she can't deny any such tender request from Santana. And with a nod of silent relent to Santana, Brittany suddenly realizes something that should be surprising but in truth she probably saw coming a while ago.
She's already deeper than she ever thought possible and falling harder by the second.
Okay then, there you have it. Lots more action planned and coming up for everyone! Thanks so much for your patience and continued interest in this story! It means so much to me that there are people out there that enjoy it, and take the time to tell me about it. Plus, got some streetbike racing Brittany and Santana. Thanks again so much to y'all! Another update will be on its way soon.