Page 29 of Full Throttle

Was he a fellow driver? That’s what she wanted to ask, but what did it matter? People would make assumptions, just like they always did. She slept her way to the top. Someone gave her a leg up. She wasn’t good enough to do it by herself.

“If you’re asking if we were dating,” Ranya said, “then I guess you could say that we were. We met the year I started as a reserve driver. My truck broke down in the car park, and he had a spare set of jumper cables.”

Juliette released the chair. “Did you stay with him? After the article?”

“No.” Ranya squeezed the tube until her knuckles were white. “He wasn’t a bad man. He was…protective, I suppose. Supportive of my career. But…”

“But?”

“He was a racer,” Ranya said. “And when it came to choosing between me and the sport, he chose what mattered more to him.” Her dark eyes were steady. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Something cold settled in Juliette’s chest. “I want nothing to do with Hastings. Trust me.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Ranya said. “But what I’ll say is this: If you want to be a champion, you have to be selfish. You have to be ruthless. You can’t let anyone get in your way, least of all yourself.” She crumpled the empty tube. “Nobody is worth giving up the trophy for. Nobody.”

“What are you saying?”

“Be careful.”

She swallowed. “I’m here to drive. That’s all.”

“Good.” Ranya threw the empty tube in the bin; it landed with a dull thud. “Prove it to me on track tomorrow.”

Chapter 10

Under Pressure

February sunshine beat down on Juliette’s shoulders. The air was a burning hand pressed to the back of her neck. The track sliced through the heart of the desert, littered with reporters and cameras. Perspiration trickled down her nose. She wondered briefly if it was possible to sweat to death.

God, what she’d give for a nice orange juice.

“All right,” Ranya said. “Nothing fancy today. Just an easy lap followed by some pictures for the cameras. Is that understood?”

Their team principal leaned on a cane, an iced lemonade in her hand. Juliette looked enviously at the perspiration on the glass.

Dominic shifted. “Define easy.”

He wore a navy race suit, his face shaded by a baseball cap. He looked tired, Juliette observed, or possibly hungover. She hadn’t spoken to him since their unexpected embrace with the pirate ship last night, but she couldn’t imagine Dominic’s conscience had kept him awake. As far as she was aware, he didn’t possess one.

Ranya gave him a look. “Don’t break the car. You’ve got your headsets?”

More nodding. Ranya took a sip.

“Keep our race engineers informed. If you feel the car acting up in any way—understeer, oversteer, too much downforce—then I want that communicated. We can’t win with a half-decent car.”

“Noted,” Juliette said.

Dominic nodded. Or he probably did. She’d spent the last twenty minutes without making direct eye contact; it had begun to feel like a contest, and she had no intention of losing.

“Good,” Ranya said. “Let’s get started.”

Dominic turned and walked back toward the cars. Juliette was about to follow him when Ranya caught her arm.

“Juliette?”

She paused.

“Just take it slow today,” Ranya said. “Follow Dominic’s lead.”