Page 12 of Full Throttle

“You did this.”

She felt as if she were watching the scene from far away, like a spectator in the stands. Frederick smirked.

“Did what?”

Juliette balled her hands into fists. “You know what.”

Tampering with her car. Rigging the race. And wait, hadn’t he sat next to her at dinner last night? He could have even switched her phone to silent.

Frederick leaned closer. “And what if I did?” A smug little smile played around his mouth. “You’ll never be able to prove it.”

White-hot rage filled her.

She had the sudden urge to smack him, which was exactly what Frederick wanted, of course. The academy would give her the boot, which would really put a damper on any career prospects. Robert Von Galen—Frederick’s father—was the head of race strategy at Toro Significa, the feeder team for Taurus; if she attacked his son, she might as well cut up her driving license.

Frederick was still smirking, leaning against her car as if he owned it. Slowly, Cap removed his baseball hat, and the mechanic made a choking sound, releasing Clyde’s collar. The dog gave a bark of delight and pounced on another box of tools.

“Holy shit,” the mechanic breathed. “You’re Capulet Marchmont.”

That got Frederick’s attention. He spun around, and his shit-eating grin vanished. “Capulet. I was just taking the piss. I’d never actually…” He glanced at the broken wishbone. “I didn’t touch her car.”

Cap crossed his arms. “Oh, I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” Cap said. “You strike me as a smart man, Von Galen. I bet you only touched the hammer. You probably even wiped your fingerprints off the handle.” He removed his sunglasses. “But that’s my sister you’re fucking with. And if I need to place a call to the director of Taurus, then I will.”

Frederick gripped his pink bracelet. “It’ll be your word against mine. And my father’s on the board.”

“Well,” Cap said. “I guess we’ll see.”

Baz stepped into the garage, his eyes flicking between the three of them. “What’s going on?”

Juliette swallowed; if she spoke, she was going to cry, and she refused to give Frederick “I’m a prize dickhead” Von Galen the satisfaction. “Nothing. I was just congratulating the winner.” Her smile was barbed. “Even if he is a piece of shit.”

Baz frowned, his gaze flicking toward the damaged car. He exchanged a loaded look with Cap. It was the same look they’d exchanged over countless Christmas dinner tables and summer barbecues. A look that said “yes, it is exactly what you suspect and I will fill you in later.”

She looked away. Technically, she’d met Baz first, on their first day in class. He’d been dumped at the academy unceremoniously by his grandfather, who’d taken one look at the eleven-year-old child he’d been saddled with and bolted for Magaluf, armed with Baz’s meager inheritance and a taste for whiskey and women.

“But it’s cool,” Baz had said, reaching for a pencil. “I got a scholarship to the academy, so it worked out.” After that, Baz had begun joining the Marchmont family for Christmases and summer holidays; he and Cap had bonded over a shared love of pub quizzes and darts, and now they texted every day, which was great for them. Lovely. Really. She was in full support.

Still. At moments like this, she wished they’d stop exchanging furtive glances and do something helpful, like assisting her in murdering Frederick Von Galen and then hiding his body in the Scottish woodlands.

Frederick dropped his voice to a murmur. “No need for insults, sweetheart. There are better ways to put that pretty little mouth to use. If you want to find out what winning tastes like…” His hot breath tickled her ear. “You know where my room is.”

Juliette pulled a face. Honestly. Gross. “Come on.”

She steered Baz and Cap out of the garage, marching them toward the castle. Baz glanced over his shoulder. “What was that about?”

Juliette stripped off her gloves. “He tampered with the rear suspension on my car.”

“What?”

“That’s why it blew.” She doubled her stride. “He must have broken into the garage last night.”

Baz exchanged a look with Cap. “You have to tell someone.”

Her mouth tightened. “No.” She rounded on Cap. “And you won’t say anything either. Not to anyone.”