Page 39 of Start Your Engines

Jac shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you that a couple of my team have said they’ve caught him talking shit about you. He always shuts up when my team walks in.”

I rub my scar more roughly now. That punk. He’s not my best driver. Although neither has reached the podium, Connor consistently beats him in every race.

“That’s not what I wanted to show you, though.”

She points at the screen where Connor is about to enter the car. The umbrella partially hides him, but the camera angle shows enough of his face and side. He blinks five times and then starts spinning. I lean into the screen and count the spins. Then, he taps his left hand on his right leg five times. The umbrella hides his movement, but from how his right arm crosses his body, I suspect he’s doing the same to his left leg. Then he shakes his head five times and gets in the car.

“What is he doing?”

“I don’t know. But he only allows Silas near him before races. Do you want to chat to him?” Jacs points her thumb towards Silas, who looks at anything but us.

I call him over.

“Silas, please explain what’s happening here,” I ask as I rewind the footage, and we watch it together.

He stares at the screen, unsurprised by what he’s seeing, before lifting his head to the garage ceiling. I fix my stare on him, waiting for him to make eye contact, but he doesn’t. “It's a normal pre-race tradition,” he squeaks.

“Try again, and I want the truth,” I continue my stare, challenging him to meet my gaze.

“Antoine, another excellent result,” my dad shouts so loudly it filters into the garage. Another situation I need to deal with. “Well done, Dane,” he says with much less energy. For fuck’s sake. The issues keep coming. Connor is our best driver, even better than Niki, and could help make this team great again. It’s time my dad treated him with respect.

Silas’s shoulders tighten when Connor enters the garage. He lowers his voice. “He does it before every qualifying race and grand prix race. I don’t know why. It started with the blinking, but since Australia, it’s worse. He swore me to secrecy.” Silas blusters through his explanation. “You can’t tell him I said anything.”

I’ve seen drivers with their rituals before—hell, I had my own—but the number of things he’s doing and the escalation have me clicking my teeth.

“I won’t. Thank you for telling me,” I reply. “You can go.”

Connor stares at the three of us, including a jittery Silas. His brows furrow as Silas rushes past him, not stopping to congratulate him on his race.

My dad and all his friends praise Antoine, but he makes a beeline for me. Who do I deal with first? Although both men need speaking to in a private space and probably not today, I sense them watching me.

“Ma belle,” Antoine says, and instead of the fake smile I usually respond with, I glare and grind my teeth. “Your dad invited me to dinner with you, him, and his friends to celebrate my driving.”

Before I can tell my dad no, Antoine brushes my ponytail, making it swing.

I flinch away from him as Connor barges into the group.

“Leave her alone, Antoine. I’ve told you not to touch her,” he shouts, grabbing his collar.

“Leave him, Dane. You always were a liability,” my dad grumbles. Connor tightens his grip on a flustered Antoine. As much as it’s nice to see Antoine managed, I can’t have a scene in my garage.

“I can handle this,” I snap at my dad and Connor. I shake my head, exhausted at men constantly needing to undermine my authority. “Let go of him.”

Connor’s mouth drops like I’ve betrayed him as he pulls his hands away. They hang by his sides.

“Guys, take a look around the garage. I need to speak to my little girl,” my dad says to his visitors. I throw my headphones down as the men walk away. They stare at me over their shoulders and smirk.

“I’m not your little girl. I run this damn team.” I fist my hands.

Connor’s eye twitches as he stares. Jacs eases back, leaving the situation to me.

“You’re still my?—”

I turn to Antoine. “I want you in my office on Tuesday at nine am. And if you ever touch me again, you’ll be out of this team before you call me or any of the women here belle again.” I catch Connor’s glance. “I won’t be going to dinner with my dad. I have a job to do that doesn’t include having dinner with my drivers.”

“Unless it’s Connor and pizza,” Antoine mumbles.

The bullshit I have to deal with. I glare at Connor, who shrugs. I can’t trust anyone.

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