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“Can you check everything to make sure there’s paperwork for Rory’s driver? I’ll take his training for the day. Tell anyone who asks that I sent Rory to Munich to talk to someone about the business. That buys us a day.”

“Should we send someone out looking for him?” Mario asked.

Dalton held up his phone. “I can see where he is, or at least where his phone is. Keep trying him periodically, and I’ll do the same. He’s got to stop at some point. Hopefully, he’ll call.” History had taught Dalton to not cling too tightly to that hope. He wrapped one hand around his nape and massaged the tension building there.

A commotion behind him drew Dalton’s attention. His other coach, Timo, had arrived with three drivers. Putting on his game face, he strolled over. “Gentlemen, I hope you slept well and are ready to get started.”

“Can’t wait,” Tatum Chandler, the new American driver grinned boyishly. He was in his mid-thirties, on the younger side for gentlemen racers, which is what the European Cup catered to, but the drivers were getting younger by the year. Formula One had drawn more attention to the sport, and avid fans were becoming aware of the opportunities available to participate in something they’d only been able to enjoy vicariously through TV.

“It is all very exciting,” said the soft-spoken German driver, Hans Muller.

Dalton grinned and scrubbed his palms together. “You guys can get your fire suits on, then your coach will go over what to expect in the practice session.”

Hans and Tatum nodded, and Timo directed them to a truck where they could change and gave them the door code.

The third driver, Dennis Moore, ignored Dalton as he passed by, phone pressed to his ear.

He spoke into the phone, “I don’t have time for this, and clearly, you’re not listening because we’re still having this conversation.”

Dalton glanced at Timo, who gave a small shrug. “Been on his phone since I swung by to get him. He was upset about Rory not picking him up.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can’t smooth over his ruffled feathers. Rory had to run to Munich for a meeting.”

Timo raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“It’s not going to work. I said no, and I meant it!” Moore ended the call and strode back to Dalton. “Not a very auspicious start today, Hughes. Where’s Rory?” Moore frowned as he stowed his phone in his pocket.

“I’m sorry about that, Dennis. A bit of miscommunication between me and my brother. I’ll be training you today.”

Moore nodded. “Fine. That will work.”

Dalton took a breath and held it for a slow count of five. Considering he was a former factory driver and a racing champion, it damn well better work. If Hughes Racing didn’t need the money so badly, there was no way he’d have welcomed Moore onto the team. But the company was in a huge bind. In fact, they were circling the drain. If he didn’t find a big influx of cash soon, this would be their last racing season.

“Timo will show you where to get changed. Come to the office”—he pointed at the trailer next to him that would be his office for the season—“when you’re ready, and we’ll go over a few things before the first session starts.”

Moore nodded, and Timo started walking him toward the other trailer. He shot a look over his shoulder at Dalton. Better you than me.

Dalton closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Whatever Rory was up to it had better be good.

“Got you another coffee.” Kendra Ballentyne shot him a smile as she handed him a cup of the jet-black brew.

“Thanks. How’s everything? We all good?”

“Yup. Finished setting up last night. The mini fridge is stocked. Lots of chocolate and fruit. Plenty of water. We’re good to go.” She started to turn away but paused. “I checked all the radios and headsets. One wasn’t working, so I put it back in storage. When we get back to the office, I’ll see if I can get it going again.”

“Thanks for staying on top of it, Kendra.”

She waved as she walked away. She, like his entire crew, knew that money was tight, and they all did everything they could to help keep expenses low. But they also knew not to scrimp when it came to safety. That was the main priority.

Coffee in hand, Dalton walked up the steps into the office trailer, the last big purchase his father had made before he passed away. While having rigs where the sides expanded so they had a full office with a small sitting area in the back was amazing, but unnecessarily expensive. His father never should have made the purchase.

The trailer where the drivers changed also had storage space so that helped, but running three trucks to transport all their equipment was a massive line item in the budget. One they really couldn’t afford.

Dalton glanced at the sitting area to his right. Greta must have found the cables because the cushions were back in place. He walked through the door on his left, around the large conference table in the middle of the room and took a seat at the far end. That was his space. Mario sat across the table closest to the door.

“Mario, do you have—” He hadn’t finished the words before Mario handed him the track book for Dennis Moore. “Thanks.”

He sat down and flipped it open. Rory had made some notes for Moore on the track map worksheet, which was a huge plus. Rory and Moore had already worked on the simulation for the track, but Dalton had no clue how Moore would handle the real thing.

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