Page 9 of Drive To Survive

He stared at my outstretched hand, then reluctantly shook it. A shiver raced down my spine at the feel of his calloused palm, a sure sign of a man who hadn’t spent his life pushing paper. Too soon for my liking, he released me.

“What can I do for you?”

“She’s concerned for her little boy’s safety,” Adele interjected. “I told her not to worry and that he’ll have a ball.”

I refrained from telling Adele I was more than capable of answering for myself and instead locked my gaze on the vivid, hostile stare of Nico Palmer. “He’s only six, and he’s been through a lot. I just want to go over a few things with you. That’s all.”

“All the children here have challenges,” Nico plainly stated. “He’ll be fine.”

Without waiting for a response to his rude response, he walked off, a slight limp giving him a juddering gait. My mouth popped open as I stared at his retreating back. He entered another office at the back and slammed the door.

“Well, of all the rude, arrogant?—”

I spluttered, incensed at his summary dismissal of my concerns as if I were some neurotic mother who wanted to wrap her kid in cotton wool.

Well, aren’t you?

No. I damn well wasn’t. Concern over putting my precious child in a potential death trap was a normal maternal response. The abnormal in this situation was the jerk behind the mahogany door.

“Don’t mind Nico,” Adele said, gesturing dismissively. “That’s just his way. Bark’s worse than his bite. Most of the time.” She flashed a grin.

“His way?” I flicked my eyes in her direction before an invisible force dragged them back to Nico’s office. “You mean insufferably bad-mannered and disrespectful?”

Adele chuckled. “That, too,” she said. “I guess you can’t blame him after what he’s been through.”

Curiosity nudged at me at her throwaway comment. I knew nothing about the owners of this racing school other than the marketing spiel I’d read on their website. Lots of talk of philanthropy, a desire to give back to an industry they’d reaped benefits from and pay it forward to others less fortunate, as well as a ton of testimonials from parents. But nothing personal except for a brief bio on each member of the company—which I’d only skimmed.

“Why? What’s wrong with him? Other than his obvious need for a personality transplant, that is.”

Adele laughed louder. “He’s actually one of the good guys, although he hides it behind a dour image he works hard to maintain.” She pointed to a chair opposite her desk, and as I sat, she lowered her voice. “You know about his racing accident, right?”

Accident? “No, I don’t.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know anything about motor sports.”

She appeared surprised at my lack of knowledge, if her raised eyebrows were any indication, but equally keen to enlighten me. “It was almost two years ago now. Nico used to be a top Formula One racing driver.” She paused, her gaze flickering to my furrowed brow. “You know what Formula One is, yes?”

“I mean, I’ve heard of it.” A flush crept over my cheeks. “Like I said, I don’t really know much about motor sports.”

“Wow,” she said. “You won’t fit in around here. We’re all racing nuts.” She grinned. “Anyhow, trust me when I say that Nico, along with Tate Flynn and Jared Kane, who are the other owners of this venture, are three of the best drivers Formula One has ever seen. They were racing in Belgium when the suspension on Nico’s car snapped, and he smashed up his legs pretty bad.” She snapped her fingers. “And just like that, it ended his career.”

“Oh God,” I said, my stance toward him softening slightly. “The poor man.”

“Yeah. He had a pretty rough eighteen months of it. He partied hard, drank too much, tore through a lot of women.” She laughed and waggled her eyebrows. “Lucky bitches. If it weren’t for Tate and Jared, who knows where he’d have ended up? This place gave him a purpose and a chance to still be around cars, y’know?”

“So the three of them run it together?” I asked, hopeful I might get a better reception from speaking with one of these other two men. “Is it possible for me to talk to one of them instead?”

She shook her head. “They’re more silent partners. Jared comes around occasionally, but not often enough for my liking.” She fanned herself. “That boy is delicious.”

My eyes briefly dropped to the wedding band on her left hand. She noticed me checking it out and shrugged unashamedly. “My hubs is used to me. I’m fortunate that he’s not the jealous type. He knows I love the bones of him, but hell, I enjoy looking at pretty things. Who doesn’t?”

The door to Nico’s office wrenched open, and he stormed out, his irate gaze settling on me. “You’re still here?” he snapped.

“Yes,” I said, meeting his irascibility with a smile. Losing my temper wouldn’t do either of us any good.

He huffed. “Fine. You’ve got two minutes.”

He dropped a file on Adele’s desk and turned around, leaving his office door open.

Adele pointed to a row of racing helmets lined up on a shelf behind her. “Feel free to borrow one.”

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