Road Queen 11 S3 Tara Lynn Foxx Holly West Avi -

sat in the driver’s seat of her ’69 Charger, knuckles white. She was the veteran, the Queen Mother of the asphalt circuit—gravel-voiced, calm, and dangerous. Beside her, Holly West thumbed a switchblade open and shut, her sharp grin never reaching her eyes. Holly was the loose cannon, the one who’d rather burn a bridge than cross it.

Avi’s gaze didn’t flicker. “Because I want the title. Not the garage. The title . Tara Lynn Foxx, you win this, you go clean. I win, I control the routes from Vegas to the border. But if you die? Some desk jockey from the city takes over. No one wants that.” Road Queen 11 S3 Tara Lynn Foxx Holly West Avi

Avi walked over, boots crunching on gravel. She tapped Tara’s window with a single knuckle. “The pass is rigged. Three switchbacks, dynamite on the second. Someone wants the Queen dead before the finish.” sat in the driver’s seat of her ’69

“Let me ride shotgun. We take the old mining road. Dusty, slow, but alive. At the junction, we split the prize—the cash to Holly, the garage to you, the routes to me.” Holly was the loose cannon, the one who’d

Their headlights caught a silhouette in the middle of the road.