Page 51 of Fast & Reckless
Will had the uneasy feeling that he was caught in the middle of something much bigger than a bullshit piece of strategy in a single race. Paul’s anger was old, but still red-hot. This wasn’t about the race, or the way Will had been fucked with—this was about Brody.
Harry cautiously laid a hand on Paul’s shoulder, probably the only person who could have done so in the moment. “We’re talking to Race Control, Paul. We’ll handle it.”
“What was that about?” Will ventured. “What’s his problem with me?”
Harry seemed to leach some of Paul’s fury away. He closed his eyes, and dragged in a deep steadying breath. When he spoke again, he was marginally calmer, closer to the tightly controlled man Will had come to know.
“That wasn’t about you, Will. It was about me,” Paul said. “And I will make sure the bastard pays for it, one way or another. He’s going to be penalized. I don’t care how high I have to go to see it done.”
Will knew how hard it would be to get the accusations to stick. It would be up to Race Control to issue a ruling, and everybody would see what they wanted to see. It was anyone’s guess how the damned thing would be decided.
“And if not, we’ll get him in the next one.” Harry looked to Will for confirmation.
“Hell, yes, I will. I will ruin that asshole,” Will said.
Paul met his gaze, his rage still sparking in his eyes. “Yes, you will, because before this season is over, you’re going to be the goddamned world champion, whether Brody McKnight likes it or not.”
Paul turned on his heel and stormed away, taking Harry and most of the pit crew with him. As the crowd thinned, Will spotted Mira hanging back near the monitors, the first time he’d seen her since that day in Barcelona. Something in his chest gave a twist—some weird thrill of excitement. Abruptly, the rage he’d been nearly choking on moments ago ebbed, and all the noise in his head went quiet.
Then he registered the look on her face. Her eyebrows were knit together and she was biting her lip as she watched her father storm away toward FIA headquarters. He handed his lid and gloves to Beata. “Can you take these?”
“Sure thing. Good job out there.”
“Thanks, B.”
The few people left in the pit were clustered in twos and threes, staring after Paul’s receding figure and whispering about what had just happened. Will was the one who’d just run the race, but nobody’s attention was on him.
He crossed to Mira. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up at him, eyes full of misery. “I’m really sorry, Will.”
“What for? Because that washed-up asshole decided to fuck with me? Whatever. I’m fine.”
“He could have killed you.”
He scoffed. “Brody will have to work a lot harder to do that.”
“But—”
“Look, whatever happens, everybody’s gonna know how Brody got that podium spot today. And it’s probably the last win of his shitty career, right? Brody’s never come close to winning a world championship and this is sure as fuck not going to be his year.”
“I can’t believe you’re so calm about this.”
Honestly, he was a little surprised himself. He’d been breathing fire when he came off the track, but now that he was next to her, talking with her for the first time in over two weeks, he just couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. That was new and different for him. No woman had ever managed to take his mind off the track. And that probably meant that where Mira was concerned, he was in deep trouble.
“I can handle Brody and anybody else who comes at me.” He finally managed to get her to crack a smile.
“I know you can,” she said quietly.
Now that he had her, he didn’t want to let her disappear again. “Hey, let’s—”
“I have to go catch Dad,” she said abruptly, stepping away from him.
He sighed. “Right. See you in Austin?”
She nodded. “Austin.”
Then she was gone, hurrying through the paddock in the direction her father had gone. He stood watching as long as he could see the bright flash of her hair in the crowd. Yeah, he was definitely falling into the deep end with her.
