Page 11 of Full Throttle

Who was he?Who was this sexiest specimen of a man she had ever seen? The other guy, Mark...Markos . . . whatever his name was may have been leading the conversation, but without saying a word, Colby knew that he wasn’t the real power. That was the man staring at her.

Colby fought against her natural instincts but was failing. She typically didn’t allow herself to be attracted to the men in this business. As a woman, it was too hard to gain respect, but all too easy to get an unsavory reputation. Colby found the strength to lift her chin in a quiet challenge.

It didn’t work. Instead of him backing down, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. And then, as if the entire world hadn’t just shifted on its axis, he simply turned away.

Colby was rattled. But what unnerved her the most was how she felt at the loss of his attention.What was that?She gave a gentle shake of her head to clear it from that dark magic.

After a few more minutes of conversation, their guests left. She was more than a little relieved.

Tom’s voice snapped Colby back into the present. “Cyrus, can we talk?” All the niceties from moments ago were gone. Tom still seemed to be irritated. One didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that it was because of that disaster of a test run. “Are we going to be ready for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be as ready as we can be, but will Asher?”

“I convinced him to show up. I hope you know how important this is for Daughtry Racing and you.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, Tom. You’ve cut our budget to almost nothing. There are things that car needs that a band-aid and rubber bands are not going to fix.”

“Asher said that he knows someone who would make for a great mechanic and Crew Chief for Daughtry. He seems to think that guy might be able to make improvements on our car.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “It might not be a bad idea.”

Was he serious? There was nobody better than her dad!Colby strained her ears and craned her neck around the hood to hear more clearly.

Cyrus was seething. “That sounds like a threat. I don’t take too kindly to those.”

“I don’t make threats.”

Cyrus folded his arms across his chest. He stood at his full height of six-foot-two inches and glared down at the balding little man. “I’ve been the crew chief for Daughtry Racing for over twenty-five years. I’ve forged relationships with people that slick talk and money can’t buy. You might want to think twice about any decisions you make when it comes to me and my crew.”

Tom knew that most of the Daughtry organization was loyal to Cyrus. Tom had to hold tight, at least until he’d sold this godforsaken organization. However, a time would come when people wouldn’t automatically defer to Cyrus James. “The bottom line is Asher has the potential to increase the value of this team. He can’t quit before we sell it. We have to do what we can to make him happy. That affects your bottom-line as well as mine.”

Cyrus was seething.Maybe we would be able to give him the best Daughtry could offer if Tom hadn’t been ciphering money out of the company.

Tom continued with his diatribe. “ESPN wants to include him in a feature they are doing on NASCAR. Asher is what makes Daughtry Racing attractive enough to sell. This is my opportunity, and I don’t plan on you messing it up.”

“I wouldn’t bet the house on Asher. He’s a good driver, but he doesn’t take advice very well.”

“I don’t care! You don’t need to worry about Asher. Your only concern should be making sure that car is ready for the test run tomorrow.”

Cyrus shook his head in disgust, knowing that he’d basically been relegated to a mechanic. “She’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Tom stalked away.

Long after he was gone, Cyrus still stared in the direction Tom had walked away. Cyrus remained quiet, then finally walked back over to the car.

Colby snapped her head around when she saw her father coming. She pretended as if she had been working on the gasket all along.

He didn’t buy it. “I don’t remember you being this nosy.”

“It was hard not to listen.” Curious, she asked, “Who were those men?”

“Scouts for the potential buyers.”

Colby chewed her lower lip. “Are you sure? The one guy seemed . . .” Her words trailed off.

Her dad finished her sentence. “Like he could bench press a car?”

“No. Not him. The other one. He was,” she still searched for the right words, “intense.”

“He didn’t say much. I have no idea what he was sent here to find out, or what he’s going to tell the owners.”

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