#Swag (GearShark #3) (27 page)

Lorhaven

I handed her my heart last night.

And quite possibly a piece of my soul.

She didn’t ask for either, but sometimes the very best things in life are given without request.

Joey

Friday and Saturday passed in a blur of travel, work, and sex.

Jace and Arrow hopped on our short flight to Charlotte, and surprisingly, everyone got along.

Everyone = Jace + Trent + Drew.

What was even more surprising was the way Jace was with me in front of everyone else. He treated me the exact same way as when we were alone.

Well, except he left my clothes on.

Yeah, we were kinda official (totally official), but there was no easing into it with him. It was all or nothing. He held my hand in public, draped his arm around me on the plane. Kissed me often, no matter who was in the room.

If Drew snickered when it happened, Jace’s response was totally tame.

Totally tame = giving Drew the finger. Sometimes both at once.

A girl could get used to that kind of thing.

It frightened me.

I didn’t want to get used to something I would miss if it went away.

In the beginning, I thought what Jace and I had was some sort of chemical reaction. A sexual compatibility unlike anything I’d felt before.

It went deeper than that. Much, much deeper.

I never meant to fall for him. Hell, I didn’t even mean to like him. But here I was, totally in love, while in the back of my mind, I wondered if it would last.

I wasn’t a fan of doubt or clouds hanging over my head. I was straightforward, so I expected everything else to be.

The way I saw it, I had one of two choices:

1.) Walk away.

Or

2.) Tell him.

Walking away wasn’t an option. I’d make it three steps before the invisible chain he unknowingly shackled around my heart would tug me back.

So I’d tell him. I’d say out loud what I hadn’t before. My secret. Even my dumb past. It could change the way he saw me. That expression in his eyes every time he looked at me could shift. The loss of it would cut deep.

Still, I’d rather hurt than torture myself with doubt every second of every day.

Not ‘til after the race, though. Focusing on the track, the win, and my career was my immediate goal. Having Jace in the pit today was like an extra boost of motivation. I wanted to impress him. I wanted to show him I belonged on this track.

I was a damn fine driver. No matter what else happened, of that I was sure.

So far, I was proving it.

Adrenaline was a cocktail in my veins today. I felt like I had an invisible IV of the stuff flowing right into my bloodstream. Despite the rush, my hands were steady on the steering wheel as I guided my car around the track.

I was doing it today. I was proving to everyone I could hack it. Only five laps to go, three cars to pass, and everyone would see me at the top, and then maybe they’d all shut up about a pro going indie.
Maybe they’ll all shut up about women drivers.

My back was sweaty from being strapped in the cab for so long. The vibration of the powerful car beneath me was no less noticeable than it was when I was on lap one. My brain almost hurt from the concentration I put in today, but for some reason, this race seemed more important. Crucial to my career somehow.

Maybe it was because of the interviews lately and the way I sort of bombed them all. Maybe it was because I knew people were watching me more closely than before because I was planning on going indie.

Or maybe it was because I was giving all these dick-toting drivers around me a run for their money.

I grinned as I stared at the bumper of the guy behind me. Yeah, I liked that one.

“Watch it!” my spotter yelled in my ear, and I looked up in time to see a car drafting nearby. I pulled away, doing my best not to swerve out too far and throw my car into a spin. It was a fine line driving at speeds like this.

“What the fuck!” I yelled, straightening out. “He tried to take me out!”

“We’re getting down to the final laps, Joey. Tension’s building. I feel it.”

Why did that sound like a warning and not a pep talk?

“Ease over,” he said in my ear. “The car behind you is still really close. He might try and clip you again.”

I glanced behind me. He was definitely too close for comfort. Something in my stomach clenched, but I forced the feeling away and turned back around.
Don’t look behind you. Only look ahead.

Through my windshield, I focused on the guy I needed to pass up. I’d know that car anywhere. It was one of my “team members.” Notice the quotation marks? Yeah, there’s a reason for them. He was a total douche nozzle, and I hated him. What’s more? He hated me.

I wanted to place ahead of him more than I wanted to actually win this race.

We’d been trailing each other most of the day. I could almost feel his satisfaction that I’d yet to pass him.

“I’m going for the pass up ahead.” I spoke into my mic.

“What? It’s too soon.” He worried.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not. I need to take him now so I can get even farther ahead on the next lap.

“Yeah, okay, try doing it on the inside.”

“He’s totally going to pull to the inside,” I argued, my hands tightening on the wheel. “That’s Cannon’s M.O.”

“Passing on the outside is too risky.”

I ignored him. He knew I could do this. He was just being cautious. This was another example of why it was hard being a racer when I was my father’s daughter. Spotters were scared. If they encouraged me to make a move that ended in a fiery crash—or worse, death—the fear of what my father would do to them was intense.

“I’m doing it.”

“I’m going to advise against it.”

I shoved the mic away from my ear and down my chin.
Fuck him!
His refusal only made me more determined.

The curve came up. I shifted and prepared to move. The driver on my ass swung in because I moved out just a hair. All at once, his speed punched up, his front end came barreling at my rear, and I knew he was aiming to take me out.

I pulled the wheel and guided my car out and over. The driver who’d been trying to clip me was taken off guard by the sudden movement, and his front tire hit the grass. The change in pavement jolted his car and sent it into a spin, farther into the center of the track.

“See ya,” I sang, refocusing on the car in front of me.

“They’re coming up fast! Boxing you in!” my spotter yelled.

Just as soon as the one car spun out, another replaced him, filling the vacancy I just left. On my right, another car was coming up, and I jerked the wheel, gliding over to push him out, and then hit the accelerator and pushed my car so I was driving parallel with Cannon.

On the outside of the curve, my car had to work harder than his. My fingers ached from gripping the wheel as I pressed down the gas a little bit more.

Pure hostility seemed to slam into the side of my car, and I glanced out my window into Cannon’s blue vehicle. His head was turned in my direction. Even though I couldn’t see his expression, I knew he was pissed I would try to pass him this way.

“Back off.” My spotter warned me.

“What! No way!” I yelled and powered on. I gained on the blue car. He sped up, trying to gain what he lost, but there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. Up ahead, the curve was starting to straighten. It was now or never.

I gave my car almost everything it had and went for it.

I pulled ahead, barely clear of his car. Movement out of my mirror made my heart jolt when Cannon jerked his wheel toward my back end as if he were trying to shove me off the road.

I cut the wheel sharp, cutting him off completely and taking up in front of him just as the track straightened out.

“Asshole!” I spat and refocused in front of me

I needed to concentrate on taking the lead, maintaining the progress I was making.

Beneath me, the car started pulling a bit, like some bolts needed tightening.

“Fuck!” I muttered and kept going.

“Your car is pulling. You need to come in.”

“I can go another lap,” I insisted.

“You’re risking a whole hell of a lot,” he argued.

“I know my car, dammit.”

“Next round, come in,” he said. I heard his muffled voice yelling orders and demands for the crew to get shit ready. Then it seemed his voice got farther away. I only heard the rumble of his tone, not what he was saying.

Cannon appeared on top of me, drafting hardcore, even worse than the guy who’d just tried to do it to me before.

“Get off my ass!” I yelled.

He pressed in closer, coming up on the inside of my left rear corner. I sped up, my car rattling a bit, but I knew she would hold. Cannon came right along with me.

“What’s his position?” I called into the mic, jamming it back against my lips.

No answer.

“His position!” I yelled.

I glanced back nervously. The back of my neck was tingling. Cannon was going to try something. He was going to try and nudge me enough to take me out.

“You’re in trouble, Joey. You need to get some space. He’s drafting, and it looks bad.”

Really? What the fuck was wrong with this guy? He was so getting fired.

“Way to have some confidence,” I bitched.

I ignored him, looking ahead to see what my options were. As I drove, a car moved past Cannon and up beside me.

What the fuck?

I looked over, recognizing the driver as someone Cannon was often photographed with. Even through all our gear and the windows, I felt our stares lock.

This was an ambush. He was going to ride my side so I couldn’t move over and Cannon would have a better chance of taking me out.

I knew these guys hated me, but what they were doing right now was downright dangerous. Life-threatening.

Sweat dripped off my temple. I felt it trail down the side of my face. I pulled in a shuddering breath and forced my eyes off the driver and back ahead.

I felt a whisper of a touch against my back left side…

“Josie!” Jace’s voice flooded my ear, pulling me out of the panic starting to swallow me.

“Jace?” I answered.

“These motherfuckers are trying to take you out,” he growled, but his voice was rushed and sort of breathless like he’d been running.

“No shit. Where’s my good-for-nothing spotter?”

He made a fierce sound. “I punched him in the face.”

Just like that, I felt stronger, more in control. “You got this?” I asked.

“
We
got this.”

I hit the gas, asking my car for a little more. The rattling got a little more intense; my car pulled.

“Fight it,” he said. “Get through this. Then we’ll tighten your shit.”

“That bank up ahead,” I said, surveying my options in front of me as the driver beside me slid in a little closer.

“You’re gonna need that bank,” he said, his voice oddly void.

“Jace?”

“Focus, Josie,” he commanded.

I wasn’t too far behind the two cars in front of me. All the push I was giving the car to get away from Cannon was gaining me a little advantage.

“He’s gonna try to take you out. I see the way he’s forcing the car into position,” Jace said, flat. “Take that bank ahead, go low into it, and then use the way it slopes up.”

“Got it.”

“You need to keep that car in control, Josie.” Jace sounded almost desperate. In a weird way, it made calm wash over me.

When I was a child and woke up from a scary dream, I asked my dad if he was ever scared. He smiled and said,
Never.
When I asked how come, he said,
Because when the person you’re with is scared, you have to be strong for them. You have to give them strength.

I felt the nerves in Jace. I was going to do this. Not just for me, but for him, too. Fuck these guys, my so-called teammates.

One was already out because he tried this.

Now here, two more were trying. They were working together to shut me out.