Page 34 of Hot Lap
The brothers' eyes meet in the mirror. It’s a long, assessing look.
Wyn drops his blue and gold WolfBett Racing duffel on the floor. "Thought you'd still be on your honeymoon."
Reece holds the plank, counting silently. "Shouldn’t you be strategizing how not to shunt it again in Q2?" His little brother has a problem with crashing in the second qualifying round. It’s happened three times this year.
Wyn snorts, but there's an edge to it as he begins stretching under Haran's watchful eye. The jab hit too close to home, and as much as Reece knows Wyn thinks he can hide his frustration, there’ no keeping that from a brother who’s raced beside him for nineteen years and seen him almost every day for over twenty-four. Reece knows his baby brother way too well, which is also how he knew exactly which button to punch.
The two physiotherapists exchange professional nods.
Wyn stretches his shoulders. "So you married that girl from Vegas."
"Yep."
"After one night."
"Uh-huh."
"In a drive-thru chapel."
"With Elvis." Reece transitions into side planks at Ona’s direction.
Wyn shakes his head slowly, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Fucking hell, Reece. Gotta say, I didn't think you had it in you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You know what I mean. You're always so..." Wyn gestures vaguely. "Calculated. Everything by the book. I'm the impulsive jackoff, remember? You're the golden boy who never puts a foot wrong." He glances at Ona. "Well, almost never, right, O?"
They all know he’s referring to how Reece hiring her was the first blow to Graham’s control.
She regards him with cool calm. "Fuck you, Wyn."
Haran chuckles under his breath.
"Maybe I got tired of that rep." Reece rolls onto his back.
Wyn takes the resistance band Haran offers. "Yeah, well, if it was about pissing off Dad, mission accomplished."
It wasn’t about that asshole at all.Reece wipes his face with a towel. "When isn't he fuming?"
Wyn lowers his voice. "No, mate. I mean it. He'sextrathis week. Got Junior hanging around the paddock, 'collecting content' forPaddock Access."
That’s the name of Graham’s hit behind-the-scenes F1 TV show. It comes with cameras crawling up all the drivers’ arses, especially Reece’s and Wyn’s.
Reece freezes. "DBJ has entrance to the paddock? You’re joking.”
Wyn shakes his head, watching his elder brother. He knows Reece can’t stand Junior. "Graham told Damien Senior he'd keep him on a leash.” He rolls his eyes. “Good luck with that."
Reece pushes up to sit on the mat. "How’s Nico handling it?"
He means Nico Belmonte, the other driver for WolfBett Racing. Nico’s the reigning Drivers’ Champion, and he has serious beef with Junior.
Wyn blows out a breath, stretching his hamstrings. "Not well. Threw his helmet across the garage yesterday when he found out. Honestly, I thought he was going to walk."
"Christ," Reece mutters.
Junior’s a predatory problem and a half, and everyone in F1 knows it. He can’t believe the FIA lifted their ban on the guy. Reece scrubs a hand over his face, anger simmering about this new development. He doesn’t want DBJ anywhere near Mai, or any other woman for that matter.
He hesitates, then starts another side plank. "Look, about Maiken?—"
