Full Throttle (The Revved Series) (12 page)

I’m on my feet, unable to contain or calm myself. My eyes
are locked onto Enzo’s car as it easily snatches up the lead. Harrison’s red
vehicle hangs back, gauging the pace of race. They tear through the first lap,
and my world is narrowed down to the race track. Nothing matters in this moment
except those two cars speeding through the course at breakneck speed. I grab
onto Bex’s hand for support as the riotous crowd surges around me.

With each lap, Enzo’s lead increases. He’s the uncontested
frontrunner of the race, making it look absolutely effortless. My brother
relentless holds onto his place as the leader of the pack as the cars of his
competitors fall away. All except one, that is.

Harrison trails Enzo by a fair margin, giving my brother
room without letting him out of his sight. The rest of the top ten cars fall
behind as the fifteenth lap begins. The race seems to fly by at the same time
that every second stretches on forever. I fall into a paradoxical time warp, as
I do every time I watch a race. There’s absolutely nothing like it in the
world.

My every nerve stands on end as Enzo and Harrison close in
on their final laps. A couple other cars get aggressive, here at the end, and
jet up to join them at the front of the herd. I spot the canary yellow car of
Sven Landers, a Swedish driver just a few years Enzo’s senior. Landers pulls
into third place and holds his position, trying to find a way to get an edge on
Harrison. Behind them in fourth place is Alexi Rostov, a young Russian driver
who happens to be Enzo’s closest friend in the world of F1. The four of them
race ahead way ahead of the rest, the ultimate frontrunners of this race.

The roar of the crowd picks up as Enzo, Harrison, and the
others speed into their final lap. My breath is shallow, my head pounding.

“Ow,” Bex cries, pulling her hand from mine, “You trying to
break my arm off? Just breathe, Siena.”

But her words fall on deaf ears. My eyes are glued to the
green and red streaks of light that are Enzo and Harrison’s cars. Enzo is
drifting inexplicably toward the center of the track, leaving his coveted
position wide open. Harrison inches toward the inside track, vying for a shot
at the window that will let him get past my brother. Is Harrison going to
overtake Enzo at the last second? I’m thrilled and terrified by the prospect,
and I couldn’t look away if I tried.

“What the hell is he doing?” Charlie cries, as Enzo edges
further away from the inside position, “He’s going to blow it!”

I hold my breath as Harrison lines himself up just behind
Enzo, on the verge of jetting into his abandoned position of power.

“He’s gonna go for it,” Bex squeals, “He’s gonna—”

Harrison’s car surges forward on a sudden burst of draft momentum.
He flies ahead, about to slide past Enzo. But just before Harrison can secure
his place, Enzo veers hard toward the inside track. A scream rips from my
throat, echoing among the cacophony of the crowd around me, as the two cars
careen toward each other. Harrison spins away across the track, struggling to
keep from colliding with Enzo. My brother surges ahead as Landers and Rostov
speed around the out-of-control red car. Harrison skids past them toward the
barrier, and the breath rushes out of my lungs.

Just before his car turns over, Harrison wrestles back
control. He sets off again, soaring toward the finish line, but the three frontrunners
are far beyond him now. I watch as Enzo tears across the finish line, with
Landers on his tail and Rostov coming in third. Harrison speeds after them,
placing fourth overall. The spectators are cheering and laughing all around me,
but my voice has fallen silent.

“Siena, where are you going?” Bex asks as I tear away from
her.

I charge through the crowd, knowing that Charlie and Bex are
scrambling to follow me. My mind is a mad whirl as I skirt around revelers and
crew members, media types and vendors. I crash into my fair share of people,
but finally make it down to where Team Ferrelli is gather, cheering and
carrying on as if it’s New Years Eve.

“We won!” Gus shrieks, pulling me into a bear hug, “That
crazy brother of yours did it, Siena! Did you see?”

“I saw alright,” I say furiously, “What kind of shit was
that he pulled?”

“What are you saying?” my dad demands, grabbing onto my
wrist.

“Enzo totally cut Harrison off!” I say, pulling away from
him.

“Who gives a shit?” my dad says, “Davies shouldn’t have been
so damn eager. He deserved it.”

“They could have crashed,” I say, “That was reckless, Dad.
That was stupid.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dad says,
brushing me off like a gnat.

Hot tears spring to my eyes as Enzo’s car rolls to a stop on
the track. Team Ferrelli surges out to meet him, and I storm after them. My
brother leaps out of his car, pumping his fist in victory. I’m so furious with
him I could spit, but I hang back. Let him enjoy his moment of glory. They’ll
be plenty of time to chastise him while we’re alone. There’s no need to do it
in front of thousands of people.

“Are you OK, honey?” Bex asks, laying a hand on my shoulder.

“That was a dirty trick,” I say, angry tears running down my
cheeks.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Charlie says, “It was just
strategy.”

“You don’t even believe that,” I snap, “You’re just trying
to protect him.”

Before Charlie can retort, a flash of red catches my eye.
Harrison’s car screeches to a halt beside Enzo’s, and Team McClain rushes over
en masse, looking more than a bit panicked. I gasp as Harrison leaps out of his
car and tears the helmet off his head, tossing it off onto the track. He
marches toward Enzo, shoving crew members out of the way as he goes.

“Lazio!” Harrison roars.

Enzo turns to face Harrison, and a cool sneer spreads across
his face. “Davies,” he says, crossing his arms, “Come to congratulate me on my
victory? How very sweet of you. I suppose the British do have
some
manners, after
all.”

“That was a bullshit stunt you pulled you dumb motherfucker,”
Harrison growls, stepping up to my brother and pushing his chest with both
hands. “You could have caused a goddamn wreck. What the fuck were you
thinking?”

Enzo stumbles but keeps his cool. “I was thinking that I’d
like to win the race,” he says, “It’s sort of the point of this whole thing.
But I guess a rookie like you might not grasp that concept yet.”

“You threaten my life like that again Lazio,” Harrison says,
“and I'll fuck you up so bad none of your little whores will look at you again.
How can you celebrate a victory that’s built on acting like a proper cunt?”

“With champagne and lots of easy women,” Enzo replies.

My stomach turns, watching the smug smile widen on my
brother’s face. What the hell has gotten into him? This isn’t the Enzo I know
and love. Not by a long shot. Harrison narrows his eyes at my brother, his jaw
pulsing with anger.

“If that’s the way you want to race, Lazio, so be it,”
Harrison growls, “but make no mistake—I’m not going to forget this.”

“I don’t really give a fuck either way,” Enzo laughs.

“I think you do,” Harrison counters, “I think I’ve got you
shaking in those designer boots of yours, and you’re way off your game. You’re
afraid of me, Lazio. I can smell it. And you should be, too. Because we both know
that I’m a better driver than you. And I can prove it.”

“Is that so?” Enzo says, his smile dissolving into a furious
scowl.

“You bet your ass,” Harrison says, “I’m coming for you,
Lazio. You may have thought that this was your little star turn, but you’re
dead wrong. I’m going to win this tournament. I’m going to shove all those
precious years of toil and training straight up your ass.”

“Beat me?” Enzo says, “That’s your plan? Conquer the day
with your pretty face and bullshit bad boy attitude, win one tournament, then
piss away the rest of your life with cheap whiskey and hookers? Just like dear
old Dad.”

“Pardon me?” Harrison says, his voice deathly quiet.

“That’s right,” my brother goes on, “I don’t know why I
didn’t see it before. You’re Walther Davies’ kid, right? The second I put the
pieces together, the worries I had about you cleared right up. How could you be
any sort of threat, having that pathetic drunken playboy as a fa—”

“No!” I scream, as Harrison rushes at Enzo, murder in his
eyes. A dozen members of Team McClain and Team Ferrelli throw themselves
between the two drivers, pulling them apart before they can tear each other to
pieces.

The world seems to fall down around my ears as I lock eyes
with Harrison. Gone is any hope of some kind of miraculous reconciliation
between him and my brother. I can see the hatred burning in Harrison’s
eyes—hatred for my own flesh and blood. How can I be with someone who despises
my family? How could Harrison ever want to be with me now? Enzo just had to go and
add fuel to the fire for the sake of his own pride. And now, because of that
one stunt, the greatest passion of my life has been torn from my hands.

Three whispered words leave my lips and are lost at once in
the roaring crowd and post-race dissonance:

“It’s not fair.”

Chapter Nine

Just The Beginning

I stare down at the cottony expanse of clouds beyond the
airplane window and will my mind to be quiet. From the moment Enzo sailed over
the finish line at the Barcelona Grand Prix until this second, I feel like I’ve
been in constant motion. All I wanted after that nearly disastrous  race was to
go to Harrison, soothe him somehow, make sure that he was alright. But there
was no way, and certainly no time. After all, that was race one the first of
sixteen. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before this tournament draws to a
close.

How could so much have happened over the course of one Grand
Prix weekend? I arrived in Barcelona with a light heart and a clear head. I was
going to bust my ass as Ferrelli’s PR whiz, knock back a few margaritas with
Bex and Charlie, and cheer on my brother as he added a new chapter to our
family’s racing legacy. But the moment I saw Harrison in that Barcelona club,
everything changed. It’s like my entire worldview was refocused, and all of
things I knew so well to be true are suddenly in flux, up for question.

My hands clench into tight fists as I replay the alteration
between Enzo and Harrison at the end of the first Grand Prix. They both flew
off the handle, but there’s no way around it—Enzo instigated that fight out of
a petty need to prove himself against the new guy on the circuit. My brother
antagonized Harrison from the start. And that stunt he pulled cutting Harrison
off just before the finish line? It was dangerous, and spiteful, and downright
ugly.

I’ve never been one of those little sisters who thinks her
big brother is perfect, but this isn’t like Enzo. He’s always been critical of
other drivers, and his ego is inflated like a hot air balloon after years of
being treated like the next freaking messiah, but I’ve never seen him put
another driver in harm’s way like that. And of course, the first guy he really
messes with on the track happens to be the same man that I’m falling head over
heels for.

Perfect.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and snap out of my reverie.
Charlie sits beside me on the Ferrelli private jet, looking at me with concern.
We’re on our way to Monaco for the next Grand Prix, and everyone is riding high
after Enzo’s early victory. Everyone, of course, except for me.

“Airsick?” Charlie asks me.

“Not exactly,” I tell him.

“Talk to me, Siena,” he urges, “You’ve barely said a word
since the race. Hell, we’ve hardly spoken since we got to Barcelona.”

I smile wearily. “It’s been a busy weekend, Charlie.”

“That’s never stopped us from having fun before,” he says.
“Come on. How many of these tournaments have we been through together, huh?
First with your dad, now with your brother. You live for Grand Prix weekends.”

“I guess the job’s just stressing me out,” I say, trying to
change the subject.

“Nah, it’s more than that,” Charlie insists, “You don’t
crack under pressure. There’s something else going on.”

I turn away from Charlie, digging my fingernails into my
palms. Charlie’s been my best guy friend for my entire life. I’ve come to him
with so many guy troubles over the years, but there’s no way I can ask for his
advice this time around. He’d go right to my dad if he knew that I was seeing
Harrison. And that, as they say, would be that.

“I think I know what’s going on up there,” Charlie goes on,
giving my temple a little tap.

“I seriously doubt that,” I mumble.

Charlie leans toward me, lowering his voice. “This is about
Davies, isn’t it?”

I whip around in my set, jaw falling open. “What...How...?”
I splutter.

“You’re not as hard to read as you think,” Charlie tells me.

“Charlie,” I say, grabbing onto his hands, “You have to keep
it a secret.”

“Of course,” he tells me, “But Siena, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? How can you say that?”

“Look, I know you’re probably feeling a little guilty,”
Charlie says, “But Siena, the world is not going to end just because you let
Harrison Davies buy you a couple of drinks. You didn’t even know who he was at
the time!”

I stare dumbly at my friend. So he’s totally in the dark after
all. He thinks that I’m worked up about a margarita or two at the club?
Jesus...If he had any idea what those drinks have already led to, he’d toss me
out of this jet in a heartbeat.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Charlie tells me,
“Everyone makes mistakes.”

A flare of anger shoots through me. “I didn’t make a
mistake,” I tell him, “Even if I’d known who Harrison was that night, it’s not
like he’s some kind of villain. He’s a man who happens to race for another
team. I’m allowed to spend time with anyone I like.”

“Not when anyone is your brother’s main competitor. Not to
mention an arrogant douche with a cheesy accent and a bad temper,” Charlie
says.

“You haven’t said three words to Harrison,” I snap, “You
don’t get to pass judgment on him. If any of you even tried to get to know
him—”

“Get to know him?” Charlie scoffs, “Why the hell would we do
that? And why do you even care, Siena?”

“I just think he’s a good guy,” I say, “And this rivalry
thing is bullshit. Not to mention a PR disaster—”

“You don’t like this guy, do you?” Charlie asks, “I mean,
actually like him?”

“What is this, seventh grade?” I deflect.

“Siena,” Charlie says seriously, “You and Davies...You just
had a couple of drinks together, right? It did end there between you?”

“Of course,” I say, lying through my pearly whites.

“Are you sure?”

“Did I stutter, Spano? There’s nothing going on between me
and Harrison. I just think Enzo’s acting like a jackass.”

“Well, he’s allowed to,” Charlie says, “He’s in the lead.”

We don’t speak for the duration of the flight, Charlie and
I. We begin our descent into Monaco and gather our things. I barely notice the
breathtaking view of the French Riviera as we head to the next hotel. My head
is too full of worry to take in the sights. I finally manage to shake the rest
of the team and shut myself in my hotel suite. As soon as I lock the door
behind me, I collapse onto the sprawling queen bed and let myself have a
long-awaited cry.

I let out all of my frustration, my guilt, my anger, but
most of all, my heartbreak. It’s killing me to know that I’m going behind my
family’s back...but the pain I feel knowing that I may never get to see things
through with Harrison is worse. I’ve finally found someone who understands me,
someone who turns me on from a mile away, someone I feel safe with and trust
with my heart and my body, and I can’t be with him.

There’s a soft knock on my door, and Bex calls out from the
hallway.

“Siena?” she says, “Honey, can I come in?”

I open the door for my best friend, and watch as her face
crumples into a mask of sympathetic hurt.

“Oh, sweetie...” she says, closing the door and hugging me
tight, “It’s OK.”

“It’s not,” I cry, clinging to her slim body.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

I spill the entire story. From the night at the club, to our
seaside rendezvous, to the night we spent hidden away together, getting to know
each other’s minds and bodies.

“Did you guys...?” Bex asks.

“No. We didn’t have sex. I mean...Not technically. He said
he wanted that night to be about me trusting him. Knowing that he just wanted
to make me happy.”

“Damn,” Bex whistles.

“Tell me about it,” I laugh, wiping away the tears from my
eyes. “I’m so lost, Bex. I have no idea what to do.”

“Have you heard anything from him since the race?” she asks.

“No,” I say, “Not a word.”

“I’m sure he’s just caught up traveling,” she says, “You
guys have plenty of time to sort things out.”

“I don’t know how we can,” I say softly.

“Look,” Bex says, “I stand by what I’ve said from the start.
If you really like this guy, you shouldn’t let anything come between you. Not
your family, not F1, not some stupid tournament. Your happiness is more
important than any of that.”

“Thank god you’re here,” I whisper, laying my head on Bex’s
shoulder.

“You kidding?” she says, “This is what best friends are
built for. Your guy problems might be slightly more epic than I’m used to,
but...”

“Tell me about it,” I sigh, “Some girls try online dating, I
fall for my brother’s arch nemesis. Different strokes, I guess.”