“Well, I will today.”
“You’d better. And Roo?”
She closed her eyes and smiled, half-hating, half-loving the clichéd nickname he’d insisted on since she was three, and he was eight and bossy as hell. “Yep?”
He leaned in closer, so his words were just between them. “This is not the time to be flashy. Smart choices.” His brows pulled down, and his eyes held concern. It was an important race, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t blow it. For all of them.
“Why is everyone so worried?” she asked.
He leveled a stare, and it was all the answer she needed. This was a business, and the higher-ups at Ravensport would not take kindly to her coming up short this close to the end of the season.
“Knock it off,” she said. “I got this.Wedo.”
When the track cleared at the three-minute warning, Reese felt everything in her relax. She was born for high-stakes moments like these and relished every second of the adrenaline. When the lights in front of them went out, the race was on. Reese leapt off the line in a controlled burst, tires gripping just enough to keep her from spinning. Her focus narrowed, all noise swallowed by the roar of engines and the thrum of her own pulse. She didn’t lunge—she calculated. Brake late into Turn 1, defend her inside line, and keep the car ahead in sight like atarget, not a threat. This wasn’t about heroics in the opening seconds. It was about staying clean, keeping position, and waiting for the pack to settle before she’d pounce. Her goal for lap one: survive the chaos.
“Nice start,” Julie said over the radio. “You have Griffin behind you. The gap is 0.6 seconds. Hold your inside line.”
“On it,” Reese said, poised to defend.
Time behaved differently behind the wheel, slow and fast at once. Reality drifted away as the minutes ticked by, leaving Reese in a dreamlike state where her instinct and reflexes took over as lights, sounds, and colors flew by. It was everything she loved in this world.
By Lap 12, Julie was calling her in for a pit stop. She’d need new tires. “Box this lap, Reese.”
She frowned. “I’m in good track position and think I can make a move on Simeon.” The car ahead of her was offering too many openings not to snatch one up. “Give me another lap.”
“You’ve got more than a dozen laps ahead. Your tires don’t have much left in them, and you’re going to lose grip.”
“One more.”
“Box, Reese. Box,” Julie’s voice crackled in her ear, sharp and determined. It wasn’t a request.
But instead of driving into the pit lane, Reese stayed out. She pressed the throttle and blew past the entry, committing to one more lap. “Reese. What are you doing?” Julie asked. She probably had a few other choice words, but the team radio was public, and the world could hear every exchange.
“Just trust me on this. About to improve our position immensely.” Reese had to redeem herself after the last few races, and that meant taking risks. Defiant? Yes. But Julie was being too cautious with so much at stake. She eased to the outside until she was wheel-to-wheel with Simeon, who was such an asshole she’d take pleasure in the attack. He was edging closer,forcing her onto the marbles. The tiny clumps of shredded rubber waited like ball bearings on concrete. Reese kept her foot in, the steering wheel trembling in her hands as her worn tires searched for grip.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She had to correct, but the tires weren’t listening. The car speared toward the barrier, and she knew what was coming and braced. A split second later, the sickeningbangof carbon fiber meeting concrete echoed in her helmet. She’d put the car straight into the wall.
Then silence. Nothing. That is, until Julie’s voice crackled in her ear. “Reese, are you okay? Talk to me.”
“Goddammit!” she shouted, slamming her fists against the wheel. Smoke curled from the right rear as marshals waved yellow flags. The car was in bad shape, with the front wings nearly torn off. She honestly couldn’t believe what had just happened. This was an absolute nightmare.
Julie’s voice came back, cool and clipped. “Copy that, Reese. Race over.”
CHAPTER 1
THE OFFER
Sloane Foster picked up her iced coffee—cream, no sweetener—from the counter of her favorite coffee shop in Venice Beach, just a few blocks from her apartment. The Cat’s Pajamas was not only funky and homey, but it also served what she considered the best damn coffee in LA. And she considered herself one who would know.
“Excuse me, ma’am. You’re going with iced? It’s not even 10 a.m.”
No way. Sloane turned at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself face-to-face with none other than Veronica Vance, shiny mauve lip gloss and all. Her brain scrambled for context. “This is certainly an unexpected cameo.” She quirked her head, a grin tugging at her mouth despite her shock. This was certainly a welcome one. “What in the hell, Ronnie?”
Veronica rose from her seat near the counter, wearing dark, expensive jeans, a hunter green blazer, and heels. She looked undeniably pleased with herself for the perfectly executed surprise. “What can I say? I had to see you. Been too many months.” Her dark hair fell in the same glamorous waves, now a couple of sophisticated inches shorter, brushing just belowher shoulders. She was still as gorgeous as ever and far more confident than 90 percent of the population.
“Do you ever take those things off?” Sloane asked, gesturing to the pumps. “Maybe in the shower?” It was what they did, tease each other, affection in disguise. She held out her free arm for a tight hug—because damn, she’d missed Ronnie more than she’d realized until right now. They had such a history, coming up together from karting through Formula 2. Eventually, when Sloane had been called up to F1 and Ronnie hadn’t been offered a seat, their paths had diverged. Their friendship hadn’t, however. Veronica was family to Sloane and always would be. She was one of those humans whom you could go a year without seeing and pick up exactly where you’d left off.
“No,” Veronica told her, giving her a warm squeeze. “Heels live on my feet in perpetuity. Are you a touch blonder than the last time I saw you?”
Sloane touched her hair absently. She had it in a purposefully messy ponytail today, a look she was leaning into. “Nah. Just some extra highlights.”
