Page 3 of Midnight Racers

I leaned my ass against the side of the boat and stared at Jordan. “Thanks for saving me, you just need to drop me off and I can make my own way home.”

He waved off my comment. “I’m used to travelling with my two friends. The company keeps my mind off my problems.”

“Woman troubles?” I queried.

“You have no fucking idea,” he said with a sigh. “I let the woman of my dreams go to keep her safe from my world.”

“Feel any better about it after going on a killing spree?” I asked.

“Nope.” His jaw tightened.

“Maybe we should start again,” I suggested, holding out my hand. “Flynn Dempster.”

“Jordan Berkeley.” He took my offered hand.

“Fucking hell, nottheJordan Berkeley. You’re normally a myth or a legend.”

“I’m afraid the world wouldn’t be able to cope with two of me. Pleasure to meet you. Now that we’re associates, let’s head home as I have a business to run.”

Fate was a seriously twisted bitch. His name had come up a few times, and now he was standing in front of me after saving my worthless life. Maybe I should accept help from the universe every once in a while, since I had run out of luck.

I folded my arms across my chest and closed my eyes.

Fuck it.

I needed a new chapter and it looked like fate decided to intervene. Maybe I should take a chance and ride this wind of change to wherever it took me. What was the worst that could happen?

***

Chapter Two

Charlotte

I stood with horror cascading over me as the team I worked so hard to be a part of laughed and hooted over my photograph in the racing magazine. They had interviewed me as part of a series researching women who work in the male-dominated world of motor racing.

I’d gotten my first motorbike when I was ten, although Dad didn’t let me on the road until I was legal. I could beat my brother hands down on the race track in a car, and was one of the best mechanics in this team. Yet, me standing in tight racing leathers with my hair and make-up done made me into a joke.

They didn’t see me standing on the other side of the open door, my cheeks burning and tears trapped behind my eyes. The lewd comments made my skin crawl, and humiliation to settled in my stomach.

These men had been my colleagues. I fought to be the best I could be, worked harder than my co-workers, and constantly researched new, upcoming technologies to improve our brand.

All that destroyed because of one photo that showed a little bit of side breast because the photographer told me to unzip my leathers a bit to “show I was a woman.” The image had me fully dressed, neck to toe, in black leathers with the zip down to my mid-breast level, my push-up bra making me a little bustier than I actually was in real life.

Normally, I stayed in black T-shirts and jeans, and wouldn’t be vying for that outfit choice again. The conversation had devolved into what some of the men would like to do to me on the bike I straddled in the picture, so I turned away and came face to face with Dad. He owned the team, building his brand up from nothing. My brother raced for the team, but since it had been a man’s sport, I was relegated to the factory to repair and improve the cars.

“They don’t mean it,” Dad said in a low voice.

“If they didn’t mean it, they would never have said it.” I finally met his blue eyes. “I tried so hard to fit in and the first time I don’t have grease on my face, I’m met with this bullshit!” My voice rose at the end and silence began to descend in the next room.

“Charlie,” Dad pleaded.

The tears I tried so hard to suppress broke through and fell in heated trails down my cheeks. “You wouldn’t let me race since that role belonged to Dale, but for them to talk about me as if I’m a piece of meat and not part of the team…”

I pursed my lips together and tried to steady my breathing.

“This is a man’s world, Charlie,” Dad tried to soothe me. “You know that.”

“No.” I violently shook my head. “That attitude in there is misogyny at its best. I never did anything to deserve anything less than respect. Dale can pose half naked beside his car and he’s patted on the back.”

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