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)
When I pull into the pit lane, I undo my harness, unlatch my wheel and stand on top of my car, arms pumping in victory before the main grandstand. The crowd’s cheer is deafening and I wave back.
Hopping down from the car, and as tradition dictates, I beeline to the barricades where my pit crew, technicians, strategists and engineers all await me. I leap up and into their arms, accepting backslaps and rubs on my helmet. I high-five, shake hands and accept the accolades, but truth be told, I’m nothing without these men and women.
We win as a team.
It’s then that I see Ronan and Sebastian have pulled into lanes two and three respectively, having finished in second and third places under the Safety Car. The next few minutes are more congratulations, official weigh-ins and then the interviews are next.
I wait my turn, searching the Crown Velocity crowd for Posey but can’t seem to locate her. She might be in the staging area behind the podium or maybe she’s in the paddock club. I only hope she’s somewhere in my line of sight when I stand on the middle tier reserved for first place so she can share what I hope is the first of many victories. Her eyes on me are the most important.
Sebastian gives the first interview with long time FI commentator, Gerhard Schneider. I stand in the wings, waiting, still looking for Posey. When it’s my turn, I’m handed a microphone and take my place.
“You ran a great race today from the pole position,” Gerhard says in his heavy German accent. “Walk me through what you had to do to defend.”
I scrape my fingers through my wet hair, do another glance around for Posey before focusing in on Gerhard. “Yeah… the car was just perfect today. Our team nailed the setup and the modifications. Couldn’t have asked for more and it just made it easy to keep pace, which kept the lead.”
“And what about that crash between Stefan Wagner and Tomas Aalto? You finished under a Safety Car.”
“I’m just glad they’re okay. I mean, it’s not as thrilling to come in that way, but a win is a win, and I’m looking forward to more.”
He asks me a handful of standard fare questions, the usual stuff, and I give the appropriate credit to my team as they’re due.
I think I’m done when Gerhard drops a bomb on me. “Lex, before the race, a story broke about Posey Evans. I believe she’s been shadowing you for a supposed article about FI racing. We’ve learned she’s not actually a journalist but rather a romance author who approached Crown Velocity under false pretenses. Care to comment on that?”
I blink, my entire body going rigid. What the hell?
My head swivels, now frantically searching the crowd for Posey.
“Lex?” Gerhard prompts.
“I… I don’t know anything about that,” I stammer, thrown completely off-balance. “Excuse me.”
I shove the microphone into Gerhard’s chest and walk away, the world around me tilting as I search the crowd, panic rising in my chest. What the hell just happened?
Maeve appears, as if out of thin air, her face pale and her expression tense. She grabs my arm and pulls me to the side. “We have to talk.”
“What happened? Where’s Posey?” My voice is sharp, almost desperate.
“She’s gone,” Maeve says, and when she puts the diamond bracelet in my hand, my stomach rolls. “The press confronted her before the race. They found out her secret and descended on her like vultures. She left.”
“Left the race, you mean? Because that’s fine. I don’t blame her. She’s probably hiding out in the hotel, but I’ll smooth this over with Harley.”
“She’s not at the hotel,” Maeve says tightly. “They said she checked out.”
“What?” The pit deep in my gut turns to lead. “Who told them?” I demand, my mind racing. And then it hits me. There’s only one person who could’ve done it.
“She thinks you’re the one who told the press,” Maeve says and I jerk in shock.
“Why would she think that?” I murmur, my fingers rubbing the diamonds.
“Because you’re the only one who knew besides me and she could tell it wasn’t me.”
I glare at Maeve. “We weren’t the only ones.” I hand the bracelet to her. “Keep that safe for me.”
My blood boils, rage simmering under the surface as I march toward the cool-down room. When I step inside, I see Ronan and Sebastian, sitting on their stools with bottles of water in hand. They’re laughing together, oblivious to what’s about to happen.
With focus and purpose, I stride up to Ronan and throw a punch, my fist connecting with his jaw. His chair tilts backward into a curtained wall and he tries to overcorrect by leaning to the side, only to be dumped onto the floor.
I reach for him, intending to haul him up and hit him again.