Page 117 of Rogue Riders Duet

“That’s why they’re called surprise tests.” He points toward the men’s bathroom. “Go ahead.”

Fuck.

I step inside hesitantly and immediately want to back out. Two officials in blue lanyards are posted like statues beside the row of urinals, each holding a clipboard, supervising the racers standing at the second and fourth urinals. One of the racers is Mason.

He’s got his back to me, thank God, but the sound of him pissing into a cup might be the most mortifying thing I’ve ever heard. I whip my head away so fast I nearly sprain my neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My breath hitches, and my pulse is in my ears.

Breathe, Alaina. Just breathe.

This isn’t news. We knew this could happen.

You can’t ask for privacy during a doping test. The officials are literally allowed to stand there and watch you piss into the cup. That’s the whole point. No switching samples, no cheating, or faking it. And yeah, I don’t have a fucking dick. But Dane prepared for this.

“My manager…” I start, sounding a little shaky. “He arranged for me to do all doping tests via blood.”

The official frowns, flipping through his clipboard. “I don’t see anything listed under medical exemptions.”

My heart plummets straight into my gut, and I start to ramble. “There has to be. I lost a kidney. Urine tests might not be reliable and could skew the results. I don’t want to risk that, that’s why I’ve been moved to the blood-only protocol.”

He squints down again, unconvinced. “Nothing here says that. No flagged notes. No UCI clearance filed.”

“I can go get him. Dane, my manager. He has the documents. Just let me…”

I move to turn, already halfway to the door, when his hand closes around my arm.

“Once an athlete is notified of a doping test, they’re not permitted to leave. It’s a WADA rule. You step out now, it’s logged as a refusal, and a refusal means automatic disqualification, Crews.”

My stomach lurches as a hot wave of panic shoots up my spine, hotter than the pain that’s been gnawing at me all day. The walls feel too close, the air too thin, and my skin starts to crawl.

“No. I can’t. I lost a kidney. You can’t ask me to…”

“You can provide a urine sample now,” the official says evenly. “And if there’s a medical issue, we’ll follow up with a blood test. That’s the standard protocol when something seems off.”

“I can’t!” My voice cracks on the last word. “I’m not supposed to. I’m flagged for blood testing only.”

“Not according to my list.”

“Can I at least call my manager?” I ask, already digging my phone out of my hoodie pocket. “Please.”

He hesitates, then nods once. “One call. He needs to come here himself with the documentation. No phone confirmations.”

The relief has me nearly sagging to the floor. “Thank you!”

I hit Dane’s contact and hold the phone to my ear.

One ring.

Two.

Voicemail.

Shit.

He’s probably asleep again. Cold, dead to the world, of course, he is. My hand drops to my side slowly, and my heart pounds in my ears. “He’s not picking up, but I can’t do this. Please? I need the blood test, it’s a medical issue.”