Page 51 of Cross the Line
‘There’s something wrong with the car,’ he says. ‘We need to retire it. Slow down and box. Repeat, slow down and box.’
I’m stunned into silence. The car feels as perfect as an Argonaut is capable of. ‘What’s the problem?’ I demand. ‘I don’t feel anything wrong.’
‘There is an issue,’ Branny repeats, though he doesn’t give any details. Maybe he doesn’t want our competitors to know, but I’m driving the fucking thing. He could at least give me a hint so I could help judge the situation.
‘Tell me,’ I grit out.
But again, I’m left in the dark.
‘We can’t risk it,’ he says. ‘Box, box.’
I don’t care that the whole world can hear me swear over the radio. I don’t care that I nearly break the pit lane speed limit as I haul the car in. I don’t care that my helmet lands with a sickening crack on the concrete inside the garage as engineers and mechanics rush around.
Steaming from head to toe, I grind my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret to someone who doesn’t deserve it. With my chin tucked to my chest, I dodge bodies determined to stop me to discuss. But I can’t do it right now. I can’t. I can’t listen to the excuses.
Except Sturgill, the team principal, stands between me and the hallway that leads out of the garage, giving me no choice but to pass by him. I prepare to shoulder around him, to avoid his eye and all the bullshit he’s going to spew at me, but the second I step beside him, his hand darts out, and he grabs my bicep.
I’m about to snarl at him to let me go, but I go rigid at the guarded look in his eye. The caution. The dark worry. So I let him drag me toward him. Once we’re closer, he puts his mouth by my ear, not daring to be overheard.
His breath is hot on my skin, but my blood runs cold when he speaks. ‘There was nothing wrong with the car,’ he murmurs. ‘The order came from Buck.’
CHAPTER 17
Willow
The second Dev storms into the garage, I’m moving toward him.
I rip off my headset and toss it down on the first available surface, homing in on him without a second thought. Not even the stiff ache in my hips from sitting in hard chairs and hours spent standing can hold me back.
Mark tries, though.
He grasps my upper arm, causing me to stumble to a stop. I pull my shoulders back, snapping my head up and shooting him a frown. We’re both lucky he didn’t pull hard enough to do damage.
Before I can open my mouth to reprimand him, he’s shaking his head.
‘Leave him alone.’ The words are low but firm, and there’s little room for me to argue back.
Sucks for him that I’m going to do exactly that. ‘I think I’ll take my chances.’
I’m equally firm, holding his gaze until he slowly loosens his grip. Reluctantly, he searches my face, and his fingertips graze the back of my arm as they finally fall away.
I ignore the way he calls my name in warning as I stride off again, heading to where Dev disappeared out the back of the garage. I’m not fast enough to catch up to him, but I think I know where he’s going.
The door to Dev’s driver room is closed when I reach it. I knock, though I don’t wait for an answer before slipping inside and shutting it behind me.
Dev is on the other side of the small room, head down, fingers buried in his hair, pacing. The set to his shoulders is tense under his fireproof shirt, like he’s barely holding back the urge to drop his hands and hit something. His unzipped race suit flutters around his hips when he turns at the sound of the door closing, and my heart breaks at the pain on his face.
I stay where I am. If he asks me to leave, I will, no questions. Until that happens, though, I’m sticking around. He shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.
No one likes to drop out of a race early, but based on his reaction, this isn’tjusta DNF. Something else is at play.
‘I have to leave this team,’ he declares, voice cracking on the last word. He finally drops his hands and balls them into fists at his sides, leaving his hair a mess. The heat of his anger has turned cold. ‘I can’t stay here while they sabotage me over and over again. I’m wasting my whole fucking career.’
I keep quiet. He needs to get this out before it eats him alive. Dev is always a positive force. Always a yes-man. But for once, he’s allowing his true frustration to show.
‘There was nothing wrong with the car,’ he goes on, speaking in a rush. ‘Sturgill said the order to retire came straight from Buck. He set me up. Asshole screwed me over so I’ll stop embarrassing his son – and so I look less appealing to any team who might be interested in me.’ He grunts in disgust and shakes his head, his damp hair falling across his forehead. ‘I have to get out of here. Before they ditch me first.’
Why would they do this to him? It doesn’t make sense. Dev is an amazing driver. He consistently scores points, keeping the team from being completely annihilated in the Constructors’ Championship, so why would they want to ruin his chances of success? It’s like cutting off their nose to spite their face.
