Maybe Zara winning this race will appease Morelli enough to give us time to figure out our next move.
We’re almost at the curve where the racetrack narrows before the final stretch; there’s no way that our three bikes can negotiate this curve at the same time. I think it’s best to let Zara pass first, so it’s easier to watch over her. I’m not going at my full speed so I can accelerate and catch up with her for the final part as soon as we’re past the curve.
It happens in the blink of an eye.
A dirt bike appears from nowhere, cutting onto the racetrack from one side of road, where high grass provided an ideal hide spot.
The person riding it is clad in black leather, with a full black helmet covering his whole face.
The dirt bike is barreling toward Zara, and I… freeze.
“Atlas! Atlas, no!” Someone is yelling louder than the noise of the motorcycles that are coming past me.
I realize that I stopped right after the curve and that the voice yelling my brother’s name is my own.
Chapter 14
Shock And Awe
ZARA
Ilean to one side, getting ready to negotiate the narrow curve right before the final stretch of the race.
The trick is decreasing the speed just enough to have better control, but not so much that I lose my momentum.
I’m barely out onto the final part of straight road; the finish line is right in front of me when I see the dirt bike coming for me.
It all happens in a blur, but the second I realize what’s happening, I accelerate. There’s no way to avoid it by swerving without getting hurt; the best way to avoid an impact is to cut in front of it before we collide.
Yes! I whiz past before the dirt bike can touch me and keep riding toward the finish line. At this speed, the room it would take to come to a complete stop is such that I would get almost to the end of the makeshift racetrack, anyway.
As I let my bike eat the rest of the track, my eyes shift to the mirrors on either side of me to try to catch what’s happening behind me.
What is Chance doing? Being behind me, he didn’t have enough time to cut out of the curve without coming into contactwith the dirt bike, so he should have decelerated further than what he already had to negotiate the curve.
Rather than slowing down, however, Chance stops just in time to avoid being hit.
Lev, who was just behind him, decides to take a huge risk by not continuing on the straight stretch of road in front of him. For a second, it looks almost like he’s about to do a U-turn, but that isn’t his intention. He turns just enough to drive past Chance’s bike and take chase of the dirt bike that’s continuing off the road and into the grass on the opposite side from where it came.
I jump off my Ducati, handing it to one of Mason’s men who man the finish line and run off the road in the hopes of spotting Lev.
The other motorcycles are cutting the finish line one by one, but right now the race results are the least of my worries.
I follow the obvious path where the tall grass has been flattened by the motorcycle tires, stopping only when I spot Lev’s Damon Hypersoft lying sideways in front of me.
Lev is on his knees, his helmet still on his head.
His broad chest is heaving with every breath he takes.
I’m at his side in a heartbeat. “Lev, babe, are you ok?”
My boyfriend takes his helmet off, throwing it on the ground. “I’m fine.” He heaves, still catching his breath.
“Are you hurt?” I lean over him, my hand on his shoulder. I scan his tall, muscular form covered in a black and blue leather race suit for any obvious injuries.
“No. But I hit something with my front wheel, and the fall knocked the wind out of me. I had almost caught up with that fucking dirt bike.”
He accepts the hand I offer him and rises to his feet.
