Page 125 of Full Throttle
Ranya’s dark eyes were sharp. “I’m going to say something now, and I need you to listen to me.” She leaned forward. “You’re talented, Juliette. Not just for a woman. Not just because you’re a woman. You have the sort of raw talent that could define our generation, and it has nothing to do with the body that you were born into.” She paused. “All you need is a little more self-belief.”
Juliette looked away. She could feel pressure building behind her eyes. “Thank you.”
Ranya rose. “Get some rest. I’ll see you on the track tomorrow.”
A thought occurred to her. “Ranya?”
She paused. “Yes?”
“Will you tell me something?”
Ranya pursed her lips. “Depends what it is.”
Juliette waved a hand. “That thing you do, where you just seem to make objects appear…How do you do that?”
Ranya observed her, as if deciding something.
“Like this,” she said.
She unscrewed the top of her cane. Then, to Juliette’s incredulity, Ranya began to pull objects out: chewing gum, anti-inflammatory cream, pain medication, tensor bandages…The cane was hollow, she realized. Like a secret pocket.
“I got this cane last year.” Ranya shoved the objects back inside. “Saves me from having to get up when my leg’s hurting.”
Juliette whistled. “Clever.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s like throwing a dummy.” Juliette nodded. “Your cane, I mean.” One of her favorite maneuvers in the sport: tricking another team into thinking you were coming into the pit lane, so they’d do the same, allowing you to bypass the other driver. It was a fake-out. A risky one, admittedly, but satisfying when it worked.
Ranya considered this. “A bit like throwing a dummy, yes.” She turned the door handle. “Juliette?”
“Yes?”
Her face was very serious. “What makes a man’s career will ruin yours. Remember that.”
Juliette straightened. Sudden realization struck her with the force of a car slamming into the barriers: Ranya’s repeated warnings about relationships with other drivers, the fact that she’d hired Dominic Hastings when no other team would, the conspiratorial looks between them, as if they shared a common enemy…
“Ranya?” Juliette’s mouth was dry. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“The man in the photographs. The one you were caught in a compromising position with. Who was it?”
Ranya’s smile was sad. And somehow, Juliette knew what she was going to say even before she said it. “Vance Hastings.”
She slipped out the door, the tapping of her cane fading down the corridor. Juliette closed her eyes. The twinkling city felt cold, like looking at lights at the bottom of a great sea. Ranya was right; nobody was worth giving up a trophy for.
She knew what she had to do.
Chapter 39
Cool It Off
Dominic paused outside the door. The hospital was busy this morning; patients shuffled down the corridors, and children with light-up shoes filched sweets from the candy bowl when the nurse wasn’t looking. He pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes. No point in advertising his visit. Not that he gave a shit about being seen, but Juliette might.
Dominic raised his hand. The most important thing—no, the only thing that mattered—was seeing Juliette. He’d explain everything: his father’s ultimatum, his fears, the art gallery…
And then she’d forgive him. Or at least not strangle him with an IV drip.
