CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Asher
“Why did you do it?” Russell braced his palms on the desk, looming over me while I sat flanked by Dawson and Ale. Ethan was in the hospital, and my career now hung on the extent of his injuries—and what he chose to do with them. My future was in his hands, and I had no one to blame but myself.
At least he’d been conscious when the ambulance took him.
“Why. Did. You. Do. It.” Russell repeated, stressing every word as if asking five times would magically produce a different answer.
I couldn’t tell him Kaia and I were together. But Ethan’s filthy comments had crossed every line, and I’d lost it.
“Because he deserved it.” My chest tightened as I pulled in a shaky breath. Fuck it. Russell needed to know what kind of man he’d allowed on the team. “And because he disrespected your daughter with inappropriate comments.”
Russell barked a dry, disbelieving laugh. “Mydaughter? Why would he disrespect someone he’s seen once in his life?”
Asshole. Didn’t he care about Kaia at all? Words today, but what if Ethan tried something when I wasn’t there? Bile rose in my throat. I might lose my spot mid-season, but I’d rather face the fallout than stand by while anyone hurt her.
“Ethan’s been with this team much longer than you, and we’ve never had problems,” Russell went on, his condescending tone scraping my nerves raw. “A team is about camaraderie and respect. You must think you’re better than everyone, but being your father’s son doesn’t give you the rightto—”
“Russell.” Dawson’s voice thundered, cutting him off. “Not the time. Let’s wait for an update on Ethan.”
Russell slumped into his leather chair, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re all dismissed. I’ll contact Alejandro once Ethan’s agent or lawyer calls.”
I rose and shuffled out. My legs felt numb, my chest too tight to breathe. Ale and Dawson caught up, and we walked the hallway in silence.
“You need ice,” Ale said once we were outside. “For your cheek and your hand. Let’s go to my place. You too, Dawson. We need a strategy to handle this mess.”
“It’s over.” I tossed the words over my shoulder, heading for Ale’s SUV. “No strategy can fix it.”
Ale unlocked the car. “Let me do my job, mi niño.”
I stayed silent on the drive. At his place, he handed me an ice pack and pointed at the couch. “Sit. Want something to drink?”
“Water. Thanks.”
Dawson dropped beside me. “I’ll take something stronger.”
Ale returned with a bottle of water for me and whiskey for himself and Dawson. He set the glasses down and settled on the other side of the sectional.
“It’s going to be all right, Ash,” he said. “Doing bad things for the right reason isn’t the same as doing them for none at all.”
I scoffed, pressing the ice pack to my cheek. “You heard Russell. I go through life punching guys because I think I’m better than everyone.”
“He’s obviously wrong.” Dawson swirled his drink, ice clinking. “But you did well telling him.”
“Hopefully.” Ale exhaled, sinking back into the couch. “Does Ethan know about you and Kaia?”
“I’m not sure.” My gut told me he’d used my weakness against me. Even if he hadn’t had proof before, he sure as fuck did now. And what he chose to do with it could wreck my life.
Dawson sipped his whiskey. “What worries me is that, as team owner, Russell will probably be forced to sanction you for the fight.”
No lies there. My recklessness had handed Russell the perfect excuse to get rid of me once and for all. He already thought I was a law maker and a hothead—and I’d proved him right.
Ale snorted. Dawson and I both looked his way.
“What?” Dawson asked. “Am I wrong?”
Ale lifted his glass. “Regardless of what Asher did, he’s the team’s most valuable asset. Not letting him race—or worse, kicking him out—would cost a fortune. Forward Racing is climbing the charts for the first time in over a decade. Russell might hand out a sanction, but it won’t touch Asher’s place in the remaining races.”
