Page 145 of Full Throttle

Juliette blinked. “What?”

“These bloody crisps,” Hamish said, pulling a face as he held up the bag. “Pickled cucumber. Who makes a flavor like that?”

Juliette leaned against the doorframe. “I notice it didn’t stop you from finishing the package.”

Hamish shrugged. “I don’t like to waste food.”

He looked about to go back to whatever he was doing—an intense game of Candy Crush, if she wasn’t mistaken—so she spoke quickly.

“Have you seen Ranya?”

Hamish pitched the empty packet into the bin. “Not today.”

Juliette sighed. “Helpful as always.”

She turned. Hamish’s voice chased her down the corridor. “Write to the company! I want more Irn-Bru-flavored ones!”

Juliette shot him a rude hand gesture over her shoulder, and Hamish chuckled. She made it to the airy lobby and then paused, scanning the corridors. Seriously. Where the hell was Ranya? She’d checked every room now. Twice.

She glanced at her watch.

She had to be at the airport in an hour, which left her about ten minutes to work with. Maybe she should double-check the bar. She was already turning when a blond man rushed by. Dominic’s race engineer. Juliette caught his arm, and he gave a startled yelp, almost dropping his pile of paperwork.

“Blake. Sorry. Do you know where—?”

“Jules.” Blake looked relieved that it was her and not, in fact, a corporate criminal looking to steal his paperwork. “Congratulations on the magazine cover. One of the boys left a few copies in the office.”

Juliette’s cheeks grew hot. “Thank you.”

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing her own face staring out from one of Britain’s leading lifestyle magazines. Her mother had papered the local theater with copies, so now there were about twenty photos of her lounging on her childhood race car bed with the headline “Where There’s a Wheel, There’s a Way.” Half had been decorated with little gold medal stickers courtesy of Cap.

She nodded at the paperwork. “What’s that for?”

“Oh.” Blake pushed up his glasses. “Tucker signs his contract today.”

Juliette paused. “Oh, right. I’d forgotten.”

Tucker Davies. The twenty-one-year-old Australian driver, and her new teammate. Funny, Juliette thought, that she’d spent most of the season begging for a new teammate, and now that she had one, it felt…

Strange.

Blake shifted his paperwork. “Were you looking for someone?”

“Ranya. She has my—” Juliette darted forward, righting the pile before it could topple. “Never mind. Have you seen her?”

“I think she went outside.” Blake hesitated. “Just between us, it’s not been a good morning. She had to convince the shareholders to sack Robert, and they put up more of a fight than she expected.”

Juliette’s heart sped up. “But she did it?”

Blake’s smile was wry. “Have you met Ranya? She’s terrifying.” He hesitated. “Also, she got a call.”

“What sort of call?”

“Don’t know.” Blake shrugged. “She spoke to them for about four minutes, hung up, and now she’s sitting outside.” He started down the corridor. “I’d proceed with caution.”

Juliette exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Give Dom my best,” Blake said. “If the two of you are still…” The rest of the sentence hovered like a question mark, and when she raised an eyebrow the tips of his ears went red. “Never mind.”