Page 29 of Overtake
Jacintha touches my arm as I reach for the door. “You don’t have to do this, Pet.”
I tip my chin toward her. “You know I do.”
The October air is warm and dry as I step out. Cameras swing my way immediately, but Graham doesn’t miss a beat.
“—speaking of which, here she is now.” His smile is as real as Astroturf. “Ms. Hayter, care to comment on the growing concerns about driver safety?”
“I’m always happy to discuss safety.” I match his tone exactly. “Especially regarding dangerous driving during races.”
The gathered press shifts, scenting blood in the water. Graham’s smile tightens.
“I was referring to off-track incidents?—”
“I’m more concerned withon-trackincidents.” I gesture to the circuit behind him. “Like deliberate contact at high speeds and forcing competitors into barriers. The kind of behavior that endangers lives.”
“Now, see, this hostility is exactly what we’ve been discussing.”
“My concern is racing, Mr. Pritchard, and fair competition, and making sure every driver, regardless of their name or connections, follows the same rules.”
He steps closer, using his height to try to intimidate me. Typical middle-aged male power move. Not a fucking chance. Rodrigo flanks me, though I don’t need protection.
Cameras click around us.
Graham almost sneers. “Rules like not assaulting fellow drivers?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about assault.” I keep that professional, camera-ready smile plastered on my face. “But I do know about walls. Very solid things, walls. Unlike some drivers’ commitment to safety.”
Murmurs spread through the press. Graham’s mask slips, flashing something ugly underneath.
“My son?—”
“Has a history of dangerous driving that the stewards are finally reviewing.” I start walking. Rodrigo, Claudia, and Cin move with me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, PNW Nitro has a race to prepare for. Unless you’d like to discuss actual racing incidents?”
He doesn’t follow, but his voice does. “This isn’t over, Ms. Hayter.”
“Good, Mr. Pritchard.”
It’s not until we’re inside Nitro’s business unit that I let my shoulders drop.
“That’s going to be everywhere in under ten minutes,” Claudia mutters, already typing.
“Let them talk.” I grab my gear bag from Cin. I need to focus on racing, not politics. “I’ll do my speaking on track.”
“Yes, but what will the sponsors say? That’s what I need to control.”
I face Claudia. “Tell them I’m a driver who fights for the win the right way, and I’m willing to scrap on track and off.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s all but admitting you punched him.” Shaking her head, she points at herself then me. “I’ll figure it out. You don’t say anything to anyone else, Petra. You’re making me earn my salary this month.”
“Petra.” Reece’s voice is low as he strides down the narrow hallway that leads to our driver’s rooms.
Bloody hell. I’d hoped he wasn’t at the circuit yet. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, and Graham gets extra prickly when he’s challenged publicly.”
“I know.”
Graham Pritchard loves to make racing his personal soap opera and manipulate his sons like bloody storylines.
