Page 7 of Hyperspeed
As I rolled into the Nexus garage, my knuckles were pale against the console, and I still gripped the wheel. I jerked the vehicle to a stop, jaw tight, and the crew swarmed in before the engine had even cooled.
Shoving the cockpit open, I climbed out without a word, and when I yanked off my helmet, the dry Itharan wind slapped my face like a blessing. Sweat-slicked strands of hair peeled from my forehead as the breeze threaded through, cooling skin that had been cooking inside my suit.
Pulling off a glove with my teeth, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and headed towards Sam, sitting at his computer station with Jax. My engineer and teammate were watching a replay of the session—the part where Rev took the last corner at an eye-watering pace.
“Fuck, he’s fast.” Jax stared wide-eyed at the screen.
“And fucking reckless,” I added, planting my helmet and gloves on the desk.
Jax and Sam redirected their attention from the screen to me.
“You good?” Sam asked, likely confused about why I’d stayed out. But Jax’s smirk told me he had a better idea. I ignored him and focused on Sam.
“Yep.” I fell into one of the many rolling chairs scattered around the garage. “So?”
“So . . . what?” Jax cocked a damn eyebrow. Why could everyone do that shit but me?
“Where’d we end up?” I asked.
“Oh, fuck off.” Sam chuckled, punching my shoulder. “You already know you’re on pole.”
“And I’m right behind you,” Jax cut in. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”
“What are you on about?” I scoffed, but I couldn’t meet his eye.
The fucker had known me for far too long. It was a blessing and a curse, honestly. I sat back in the chair, legs spread and aiming for an air of nonchalance. It didn’t work, and Jax’s smirk widened. I was feeling unsettled, and the bastard knew it.
“Therookie. . .” Jax drawled, eyes narrowing. “Made fourth.”
“Fourth?!” I squawked.
Sam grinned. “That risky move gave him just enough time to knock Dray down to fifth at the last second.”
Ah, crap. I knew what that meant. “Dray’s in fifth?”
“Yep.” Jax stared down at his feet.
“Shit,” I exhaled, raking a hand through my hair. I’d probably spiked it up in every direction, but there were bigger things to worry about. Like the fact Valen Dray—a seasoned racer who regularly made the top three—got bumped down to fifth by a fucking rookie. “Dray’s not gonna take that well.”
“Nope!” Sam crowed, clapping his hands. He missed the way Jax winced beside him, but I didn’t. I didn’t have the headspace to focus on that right now, though. “Dray stormed out of Vortex’s garage before you even pulled up. And judging by the shouting, which half the paddock could hear, I’d say things aren’t very peaceful in their camp.”
Jax said nothing, just continued looking at his boots like they were the most interesting things in the galaxy. I couldn’t blame him, though.
Despite their past, and their current rocky . . . well . . . relationship wasn’tthe right word. Whatever the situation between them, I knew Jax didn’t like seeing Dray as anything other than the confident, arrogant bastard he was.
Cheering from outside pulled my attention away from the monitor, and beyond the wide doors of the garage, I saw Rev surrounded by crew from Zenith Nova. Zylo patted his new teammate on the back with vigour, his signature grin looking brighter than usual. Like he was proud.
However, Rev didn’t smile back. He just stood there, his expression unreadable. It was weird. I mean, most rookies would be beaming after a debut like that—revelling in the attention—but Rev looked like he couldn’t care less.
“Be right back,” I muttered, jumping out of my seat.
Walking quickly, I exited the garage, and by the time I reached the group, the crew had gone back to their jobs. I caught the tail end of a conversation between the two drivers.
“You did good, kid,” Zylo said. He squeezed Rev’s shoulder in his meaty fingers.
“Thank you,” he replied, cool as ever. But at least there seemed to be respect in the way he looked at Zylo.
Fair enough.
