Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
In fact, I’m deleting the damn manuscript and going back to my historical fiction.
Fuck formula racing.
This new burst of confidence has me curious and I pull out my phone. I navigate to voicemail and without hesitation, press the button to listen to Harley’s message. I do need to know how bad the fallout could be for me.
“Posey, I need you to call me back immediately. It’s important that we talk about what happened. Obviously, we aren’t telling Lex that you left as we can’t have him distracted, but… well, just call me.”
The message ends and I’m flummoxed. There were no threats. In fact, she didn’t sound angry, only mildly annoyed.
Part of me wants to dial her back and get the berating over with, but the other part—the one that wants to put this all behind me—decides against it. I delete Harley’s message and shut off my phone, shoving it deep into my bag.
Back into the sand my proverbial ostrich head goes, and there it will stay.
CHAPTER 22
Lex
The engine roars through my bones, but my mind is split between the track ahead and the battle behind me. I’m in the lead, holding a solid two-second gap, but Stefan and Tomas are right on my heels, fighting for second. It’s the last lap, and Titans Racing has been making waves ever since Brienne Norcross took over. Everyone’s been watching Tomas this season, and it’s no surprise he’s going wheel-to-wheel with Stefan.
I push hard through the next corner, hitting every apex perfectly, but I can’t shake the thought of them closing in. The rearview mirror shows glimpses of their cars battling, Rosso Corso versus Titans Racing, both desperate and unwilling to back down.
“Who’s behind them?” I ask through the radio, trying to get a sense of the field.
“Ronan’s fourth,” Randall’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Sebastian is behind him in fifth.”
Sebastian Wolff of Freedom Dynamics? Look at the Americans go.
This sport has been traditionally European, but American teams have made inroads in the last decade and they’re starting to make serious moves. It’s fascinating to see the shift but not something to ponder right now.
Half a lap left and the podium is mine.
I catch something in my wing mirrors. Stefan and Tomas are side by side, heading into the corner—too fast. Way too fast.
“Shit!” I mutter under my breath as I see the disaster unfold. Stefan clips the rear of Tomas’s car, sending them both spinning off the track and into the wall. It’s a violent crash and Tomas’s car flips while Stefan’s goes airborne for a moment before slamming into the barriers. Debris flies in all directions and I catch a glimpse of one wheel coming loose before smoke obliterates my view.
“Did you see that? What happened?” I ask frantically, trying to keep my focus as the pit wall explodes with chatter.
“Checking, Lex. Just keep your head down.” Randall’s voice is urgent but composed.
I push through the next corner, trying not to think about the wreck behind me. “Is everyone okay?” I ask, my grip tightening on the wheel as I fly down the straight.
“Standby. We’re getting updates,” Randall responds as the safety light simultaneously pulses on my wheel. “Safety car deployed, Lex. We’re finishing under caution.”
I slow, bringing the car down from its peak speed. Despite the chaos behind me, I have, at this moment, won the Bahrain Global Prix. Under a Safety Car this close to the end of the race and with such a significant crash, everyone will finish with their current standings.
It’s not the high-speed finish under the checkered flag that all drivers love, but I can’t help but feel the thrill of the win settle in. This is it. My first race of the season, and I’ve won. I see the black-and-white flag waving up ahead and as I cruise under it, the excitement is still there, even if the end was a little less dramatic than I’d imagined.
But in the back of my mind, there’s a weight. What happened to Tomas? To Stefan?
“Tomas and Stefan are out of their cars and okay,” Randall says over the radio.
“Thank God.” I breathe a sigh of relief and allow myself to welcome the thrill of victory.
My thoughts shift, not to the trophy awaiting me or the screaming fans, but to Posey. I can almost see her in the stands, her wide eyes and that brilliant smile. It was a struggle to put her out of my mind today, but I managed it. Now, I can’t wait to see her… to hold her.
Sure as fuck going to kiss her and I don’t care who sees. She was going to watch from the grandstands, but I know Maeve will bring her to me.
“Great job, Lex. Fantastic race. P1, mate!” Randall’s voice crackles in my ear, pulling me back to reality.
I smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you, the crew, the engineers.”