Page 2 of Fast & Reckless
Mira finally managed to catch up to Violet’s long-legged stride and gave her long, tousled jet-black hair, pale skin, on-point winged eyeliner, shredded jeans, and battered leather motorcycle jacket a quick once-over. She radiated “cool girl” right down to her slick English accent. Mira tried not to be intimidated. “Simone’s not in PR anymore?”
Violet shot her a quick glance. “Right. You already know your way around Lennox, don’t you?”
“It’s been a long time,” Mira said, her stomach swooping with nerves. But if anyone was expecting that hot mess of a girl she’d been, they were in for a disappointment. That Miranda was gone forever, andthisMiranda wasn’t going to make a single slip.
“Don’t worry, Simone’s still here. I’m her assistant. She’s out at the test track for press day. We’re starting there.” Violet hip-checked a door and ushered Mira outside, where a golf cart was parked haphazardly on the grass. “Hop in.”
As Mira slid into the passenger side, Violet popped behind the wheel and slammed her foot on the gas pedal, sending the cart rocketing forward. Approaching the track, Mira could hear the unmistakable sound of state-of-the-art automotive perfection roaring across the asphalt. Forgetting all herprofessional cool, her heart began to beat faster.Thiswas what she’d missed. The track, the cars, thesound.
“Were there a lot of upgrades to the car this season?” Mira asked.
“Oh yeah. It’s a whole new car, really. It’s on the track for the first time today, so things are a bit mad around here.”
“Not the best time to be starting.”
“It never is,” Violet said with a grin. “Welcome to Lennox.”
Violet braked with a spray of gravel at the edge of the track, and Mira stumbled out, unable to take her eyes off the streak of blue just coming out of a hairpin turn.
“It’s beautiful.” Her fingers tangled in the chain-link fence separating her from the track as the car hit the far curve, and she could see it properly for the first time.
Last year’s livery design had been too blocky and broken up, obscuring the elegance of the car’s design. This year was a huge improvement, solid Lennox royal blue with just a single slash of silver up the side, highlighting the car’s aerodynamic perfection, low to the ground and sleek as a knife.
The car sped toward the next curve and she could feel the power of its engine. Anticipation had her toes curling inside her sensible black pumps, and her chest thrummed in time with the engine. Here came the turn.
The car kept accelerating far past when her own instincts would have told her to brake. Just when it seemed inevitable that the car would careen into the wall, the whine of the engine dropped as the driver downshifted. It powered through the curve at a speed that felt physically impossible.
She let out a gasp as it sped away, down the straight, as if the car had sucked the breath clean out of her lungs. “Holy shit,” she murmured as her grip on the fence went slack. “That’s some driver.”
Violet chuckled. “Just you wait. Come on, let’s go introduce you to everybody before he comes off the track.”
She hurried after Violet, buzzing from her first close encounter with Formula One in seven years. For so long she’d been relegated to watching the races on her laptop in LA. But nothing could replace being here on the track, seeing it,feelingit.
As hard as coming back was going to be, it was what she wanted more than anything. If she could do this—successfully manage a season at Lennox—maybe she could parlay that into a career in racing management.
“Today’s just a press day,” Violet was explaining as they made their way to the pit lane. “So we can get some promotional footage of the car. They don’t even have decent tires on it yet.”
She remembered this part. FIA regulations forbade them to do much before official testing in Bahrain, but even a day like today, ostensibly just for press shots, was a chance to gather information about the car.
In the garage bay off the pit lane, Lennox’s second car was being readied for the track, surrounded by a dozen mechanics in blue jackets. As she and Violet approached, they paused, sizing up the new arrival.
“Mira, this is the pit crew. Crew, this is Mira, Pen’s replacement.”
“We have names, Violet,” a young Middle Eastern guy groused with a wink.
“And Mira will dutifully learn them all, Omar, but we don’t have time today. Where’s Harry?”
Omar turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Harry, Violet’s here to harass you.”
Harry … Mira’s heart gave a twist. None of the crew had been around long enough to remember her. She had a fresh slate with them. But Harry …
A familiar old voice growled from behind the far side of the car. “I’ve got no time for press nonsense today.”
Harry might have looked and sounded like a gruff gnome of a man, but when she’d been a curious little kid with a love of racing, Harry had indulged her, letting her hang around the race bay and patiently answering her endless questions. She hadn’t seen him since … well, everything—and if he looked at her differently now, she might just shrivel up and die.
“Come out, Harry,” Violet crooned. “I promise I won’t bite. Look, I’ve brought along someone new for you to growl at. It’s Mira, Pen’s replacement.”
At once, Harry’s grizzled gray head popped up from behind the car. “Mira?”
