Because of me?
My stomach twisted. I didn’t want that power. I didn’t want to be the reason he lost his edge. But I couldn’t back off either. Not now.
He said he wasn’t involved. I believed him. But Ross? The engineers? The silence inside that garage had screamed complicity.
I closed the laptop again and dropped my head into my hands.
Shanghai was my last chance. One more week.
And if I couldn’t find proof by Sunday, I’d walk away.
From the story. From the paddock.
From him.
I wasn’t sure which would hurt more.
It was getting late and my stomach gave an angry growl. I tidied myself up and headed down to the hotel lobby, intent on a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. In the marble lobby, a group of my fellow journalists were laughing and chatting loudly, their voices echoing brightly.
“Hey! Archer!” A familiar voice called from the edge of the cluster. My old friend, Caroline from my last job waved me over. I greeted her with a grin and approached the group. “Did you just get here too?”
“Yep. I was just about to get dinner.”
“Perfect. We’re all going down the road for a meal now. Join us?” Caroline was a smart, savvy reporter for one of the sports channels now, but we’d worked together for a sports website in London a few years ago. She was tall, had dark skin like silk and a smile that lit up the room. She linked arms with me as the group moved towards the glass doors onto the street.
I let myself be led, too tired and hungry to resist, even though my social battery was pretty low.
It was a short walk down the bustling Shanghai street, cool and chaotic, before we got to a brightly-lit restaurant. A guy at the head of the party did a quick head count before leading us inside and it was only as I reached the door that I realised it was Jamie Kavanagh from the Pulse Team. I couldn’t help feeling a touch star struck. I’d never met him before.
We were seated at a long table in the centre of the dining area and I found myself tucked in between Caroline and a guy from her team. Opposite us were staffers from a couple of the red-tops. Jamie sat at the far end of the table with people he evidently knew. I wasn’t close enough to talk to him but I flashed him a smile and he returned it, which was enough to make me a touch giddy.
I looked around the restaurant as we all made ourselves comfortable. It was sleek and polished with mirrors everywhereand screens dripping with decorative blossoms and fairy lights. Over in one corner was a group of Stratos engineers. Near the windows overlooking the street was Nova’s Team Principal with a group of men in suits that had the air of sponsors and executives about them.
There was another long table next to ours, right behind me, but it was empty, with little ‘reserved’ signs at intervals along it.
I ordered my food—beef noodles—and chatted with Caroline while we waited. I was warming to the group now, almost comfortable, and was glad I’d run into them.
“So,” the guy on my other side said, turning to me as our meals arrived. “You think Obsidian are cheating?”
“Well,” I said, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “I haven’t accused anyone of that.”
“No, but we all saw you questioning Volkov in Melbourne.” He was adding food to his plate from a sharing platter in the middle of the table, just glancing at me every few seconds. People went quiet around us and I shifted in my seat, suddenly uneasy with the spotlight.
“Well, yeah. I was following up on information from a source, you know? Looking for the story.”
“And what’s the story?” A woman opposite me asked.
“I can’t comment just yet.” I lifted my glass of wine and took a sip, not meeting her gaze.
“It’s got to be juicy though, if I know you.” Caroline grinned and gave my arm a light nudge.
“Oh, it is.” I grinned back, trying to play along, despite my reservations and conflict.
The glass doors opened and a large party filed in. I glanced their way automatically and recognised Jax Rivers at the head of the group, closely followed by his team mate, Ren Takeda. Behind them were the Falcon Edge drivers. My stomach sank when I realised the whole group were drivers and among them—
“Speak of the devil,” Caroline murmured at my ear.
“Right? What are the odds?” I whispered back, averting my gaze from Aleksandr Volkov.
