Tears prickle my eyes as I run across the track and throw open the driver’s door. Roman is slumped over the wheel and doesn’t respond when I try pushing him back against the seat. He’s heavy, and I can’t move him.
I choke back the sob in my throat and try again. This time hands come down gently over mine. I flinch and slowly look up, finding John’s soft gaze flicker with worry.
“Let me help, Briar.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve as John pulls Roman from the car and shields him with his body so no one in the stands can see us. The last thing we need is the attention of everyone at the party.
“Is he okay?” I can only see Roman’s limp arms and legs as John gets him in the back seat.
“Briar, I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have to drive.”
I blink at him like the two thoughts won’t connect.
That’s right, Roman was about to race.
Race?!
“Um, John, I can’t. We should get out and get help,” I say with a panicked voice. The flag lady is already walking out onto the track. God, my fucking luck is bullshit.
“We’re already in the car and can take the road off the back end to leave. If Grahm spiked this beer, then there’s no telling who’s waiting out there for us. I need to check his vitals, so don’t flip the car. You got this, Squirt.” He gives me a weak smile before he lets his attention fall back to Roman.
My hands are trembling, but I manage to buckle the seat belt and secure the helmet that’s in the passenger seat over my head.
I spare a look back at Roman. Seeing him passed out with whatever drug was in that beer hits me like a train. He’s the strongest man I know, yet he’s so vulnerable right now it brings the tears right back to my eyes.
“Don’t look. Just focus, Squirt.” John sounds stressed.
I try to steady my erratic breathing, but the flags are lifted into the air and the countdown begins.
Go.
I floor the gas pedal, just as Roman did when he roped me into the car the first time. The car lunges forward. I can’t see whois in any of the other cars since it’s night and everyone has tinted glass.
Is Callum in one of those other cars? The thought is terrifying.
We reach the first corner and I slow down significantly, taking it as carefully as I can, but it’s still way too fast. Driving on dirt is like driving on ice. I floor the gas again once we’re back on the straightaway.
John’s phone rings. I barely hear it with how loud all the cars are around us. “Syxx is down. He’s been drugged or something.”
I don’t miss the air of suspicion in his voice. Does he think I did this? My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and I meet John’s darkened gaze.
“Roger that. We’ll try to get there at the same time. Make sure no one trails you.” John’s voice is sharp.
My grip is tight around the steering wheel and my palms get clammy. “Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
John is quiet, and I hear the click of a gun being cocked. A small gasp escapes my lips as the cold steel of the pistol’s barrel touches my temple.
“I saw you hand him that beer,” he snaps.
My foot comes off the gas, and my instincts are to wrap my arms around myself.
John yells so loud that I see stars. “Don’t fucking let up. Drive. I’ll tell you when to turn. We’re getting out of here while we can.” He nudges my head with the gun, and tears spill down my cheeks.
“John, I?—I didn’t do it. G-Grahm handed that drink to me, and I d-didn’t even think about it.” My breaths are as erratic as my words. Fear and anguish have never moved through me with such fluidity before.
“We’re going to let the lieutenant decide what to do with you after he wakes up.” He keeps his response short, making me feel even more like a traitor.
“Are you guys going to k-kill me?” I hyperventilate. Not for myself but because I’ve lost their trust so easily. Did they ever actually trust me? No, why would they? My name isn’t even Briar. I haven’t been honest with them from the start.
