Faster Longer (Take Me...#3) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) by Masters Colleen

Author:Masters, Colleen [Masters, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hearts Collective
Published: 2013-12-09T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Motor City

As the Grand Prix weekend begins, it seems that my wishes might just be coming true. Harrison and Enzo both have fantastic preliminary runs on Friday, their times rivaling those they reached before the Moscow wreck. As much as I missed spending time with both of them this week, I guess the extra practice in their renovated cars paid off. A little alone time is a small price to pay for those kinds of results.

My boys don’t disappoint during the qualifying race, either. They’re back to their old selves as they rip through the competition, passing Marques' time as if it were nothing. I can’t help but be a little smugly satisfied as Harrison secures pole position with Enzo right behind him. Marques may have gotten a few lucky first place finishes while my brother and Harrison were incapacitated, but in a fair race he has no chance at all. One of my boys is going to take home the championship, I just know it.

I’m gunning for Harrison to win the Detroit Grand Prix, even over Enzo—not that I’d ever say it loud out. He’s trailing just a bit behind in points, and is precariously close to falling behind Marques. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if that son of a bitch bested Harrison in this tournament. He doesn’t deserve to be driving in same league as Harrison and Enzo. Especially when Rostov and Landers, awesome men and drivers, have fallen so tragically out of the race.

Just after the qualifying race on Saturday morning, I pay a visit to Harrison’s trailer to congratulate him on scoring pole position. But when I slip into the tiny space, I find him sitting motionless on the couch listening to a sports radio broadcast.

“...still unclear as to what the specific injuries are, but the prognosis is grim,” an announcer is saying, “Alexi Rostov is unlikely to ever walk again, much less race. Sven Landers, for his part, has sustained such serious burns on his arms and hands that prosthetics are likely to be the favorable solution.”

Without speaking, I cross to Harrison and wrap him my arms around his shoulders.

“It isn’t right,” he growls, “Those two men should never have gotten hurt.”

“No driver should ever get hurt,” I tell him, “But that’s the nature of it.”

“By why do I deserve to walk away unscathed?” he demands, shaking free of my embrace. “Why am I still here, about to start from pole position in the next Grand Prix, while those two lay in the hospital?”

“You got lucky,” I tell him, “I don’t know what else to say, Harrison.”

“You are my luck,” he says quietly, “I honestly believe it. You’re the only reason I’ve come through all this alright.”

“Don’t go jinxing it,” I warn him, “You’ve still got two more races to run. And I’m going to need you in tip top shape so that we can celebrate the right way.”

“The right way?” Harrison asks, “What way would that be?”

I close the space between us, laying my hands against his chest.

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