Page 19 of Overtake
“Are you going to tell me about decking Wyn Pritchard in the gent’s at The Blue Room last night?”
“Don’t believe everything you hear or read.” With my left hand, I pick up the mug of chai she’s ordered for me and take a careful sip. It’s wonderful.
“Oh, I believe what I know. You stood me up for your scheduled heat therapy, which you desperately needed after that shunt, and now you’re protecting your right hand in a way that suggests a boxer’s fracture.”
“It’s not fractured.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Give it here.”
I reluctantly offer my hand. She unwraps and examines it with the professional ruthlessness only a physiotherapist who’s known you since birth can manage.
“You’re an idiot.” She releases me after a thoroughly uncomfortable inspection. “Luckily, nothing’s broken, but you’ve got bruising across the knuckles that doesn’t come from a steering wheel.”
“There was debris flying all over the fucking place during that crash.”
“Was there a nose among that debris?” Cin opens the kit bag she always carries, rummages around, and pulls out a rolled compression bandage. “Because normal crashes don’t leave people gossiping about how Wyn Pritchard returned to the hotel last night with a swollen nose and two magnificent shiners forming.”
“Ow.” I sip my chai. “I heard he hit a wall.” I point to my nose. “With his face.”
She pauses in wrapping my hand and lowers her voice. “Jesus, Petra. Nico’s keeping his mouth shut, but that won’t last forever.”
“Hmm.” I take another sip of chai. “What’veyouheard?”
“That you tracked Wyn down in The Blue Room, followed him into the gent’s toilet, and laid him out with one punch before anyone could stop you.” She ties off the wrap. “What I want to know is why you’d risk your career like that. Not to mention your hand. Do you know how many tiny bones are in there?”
“Twenty-seven.” It’s a figure Jacintha has drilled into me since I was a teenager. “Eight carpal, five metacarpal, fourteen phalanges.”
“And every single one of them more valuable than Wyn Pritchard’s face and your ego.” She’s still keeping her voicelow. “Did you at least hit him properly? Thumb outside, wrist straight, like I taught you?”
I laugh. “You taught me to hit people?”
“I taught you proper form for everything. I’d hate to think you’d risk your hand with poor technique.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, Pet, you need to be more careful.”
“Maybe Wyn needs to be more careful about walls.” I flex my hand, testing the wrap.
She shakes her head. “You’re as ruthless as your old man.”
“Learned from the best, didn’t I?”
“Speaking of whom, what did Uncle Coy have to say about all this?”
“Nothing pleasant.”
“No doubt.” Cin checks her watch. “Let’s finish breakfast, then we’ll go to the gym and get some actual therapy done on your currently fucked-up body before we get on a plane for a twenty-hour flight.”
“Thanks, Cin.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This is going to hurt, plus I’m putting you in the freezer.” She means a cryo chamber is in my immediate future and she smiles at my groan. I hate cryo more than an ice bath. “Well that’s what you get for missing your appointment last night.”
“Worth it.” I’m thinking of Wyn’s stunned expression.
“Maybe. But next time, wait until after I’ve treated you before you dole out punishment to a meathead, yeah?”
I smile. It’s the closest thing to approval I’m going to get from her. “Yeah. Fair enough.”
The press pack descends before I’m fully through the hotel’s front doors. Cameras flash, microphones are shoved in my face, voices overlapping in their eagerness to get a quote. Rodrigo parts their ranks like a human tank.
“Petra! How severe are your injuries?”
