Fiction Books About Cars Novels & Stories

Ella’s POV The city sped by in a blur of distorted neon and trailing brake lights. Lucian didn’t take one of his Blackwood fleet; he drove himself in a matte-black beast of a car that growled with a low, predatory hum. Inside the cabin, the air was different—it tasted of expensive leather, cold rain, and the lingering electricity of the story he had just told me.

Chrome and polished paint reflecting on the spotless floor Ferraris, Aston Martins, Bentleys, Rolls-Royces… These are exotic cars I’ve only ever seen in magazines or rap videos sitting here casually like grocery store carts. My hands go to my head automatically. “No fucking way.” Lucas strolls inside without looking impressed. Which makes sense. This psycho grew up thinking Bugattis were emotional support animals. I walk slowly between the cars, stunned. “These are real?” Lucas snorts. “No, Shitshaw. They’re cardboard decorations.”

Books replied taking the car keys from the table as they got out of the apartment. Books slowly drove through the the quiet streets of Ikeja as no one or vehicle could be seen as they cruised in their red Honda element car. Rich kids right? Yes they are. A brief history about them would be done in the next episode. "I don't see anyone" Bolaji said as he broke the long silence between them in the car. "this gives me the creeps" Suddenly their car went tumbling due to a great force brought upon it and it crashed on an electric pole.

He’d already been in bed with them, working angles all along. But Alonzo’s name never appeared. Not once. I followed Victor’s order. I burned the pages until the ashes curled, black flakes turning to smoke. Then, restless, I walked to the garage. The red Porsche gleamed beside Constance’s town car. Sending back books was easy. Sending back a car? Not so much. I considered parking it in front of Xenos headquarters with the keys taped to the windshield. But instead, I opened the passenger door and slid inside. The leather still smelled expensive. Seductive. I dug the registration papers out of the glove box.

Roman grabs the pizza box from my hand in his left hand and then my hand in his right and guides me to the door. He directs me to what I assume must be the garage. Although it doesn’t look like any garage I've seen before. It looks like an auto store where luxurious cars are sold. I don’t think I could name or even count all the cars parked here if I tried. There are SUVs and sports cars, vintage-looking cars probably a few hundred years old. Damn, Leo would give up his entire savings and Playboy and porn magazines to see this for himself being the car freak he is. “Is that a… pink Ferrari?” I ask out loud, stunned.

"It will start. I made sure of it." "Twelve years and it still runs?" "I have a mechanic in the next town over. He thinks I'm a eccentric collector with a fear of flying. He keeps my vehicles maintained. I pay him well to ask no questions." I ran my hand over the hood. The metal was cold. Smooth. It felt solid. Real. A strange anchor in a world that had become increasingly unreal. Kael opened the passenger door for me. I hesitated. "What?" "Nothing." I slid into the seat. The leather was cracked but clean. It smelled like old books and faintly of gasoline. "I just... I've never been in a car like this. I took buses. Trains. Walked most places."

The sun was up early, ready to witness the stupid mess I was about getting myself into. As expected, when I reached the end of the street, a car was tailing me. I turned left and proceeded to hurry, but then slowed down as pain shot through my wound. I looked behind me and saw an SUV with tainted windows. Great. This reminded me of some kind of FBI thriller books I’ve read. Just that in those books, the Protagonist always manage to get away. I on the other hand was bundled like a sack of potatoes and thrown into the trunk of the car before it sped away, making me hit my wounded side on the hard floor.

And if he knew everything that's happened these past few days, he'd probably kill me himself. I don't even know what's worse anymore: getting murdered by my father or by a psychotic maniac. I roll my eyes at my own stupid question. 'Focus, idiot.' When we get to the garage, there's a massive collection of cars. Unlike Henry with his obsession for classic vehicles, these are all modern. The kind you'd kill to have in some underground racing circuit. —Which one's your favorite? —I think I'll go with something not too flashy... just to get to a café —she laughs at my words.

Anywhere a silver flash drive might hide. “Nice car,” I said. Voice light. She started the engine. It growled smooth. “Are you a car girl?” she asked. I smiled. Real one this time. “Well, I’m into F1. Because of the hot drivers. The juicy drama surrounding them. And they are so hot. The fashion too. All that crazy stuff.” I actually grinned. First real smile in hours. She laughed soft. Looked at me sideways while she pulled out. The convoy of black Benz followed close behind.

Lorenzo without a word further walked out. "I guess I'd see you later," Leo said with a dazzling smile, "Keep your emotions in check, I won't be there to protect you if Enzo looses his temper," "Y-yeah I know thanks," She said before walking out chasing after Lorenzo stopping at the front of his garage. Sunlight, dusty and warm, streamed through a high window, illuminating a sleek black sports Ferrari car. Its paint gleamed like a polished obsidian mirror. Cassie stood a few feet away, her breath catching in her throat. She’d never seen anything so beautiful up close. Every curve, every line of the car, looked luxurious. She traced the outline of a headlight with her eyes, a subconscious smi