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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NICO AND ROCCO

N ico stood in the paddock of the Barcelona racetrack, waiting for Casey and feeling sick to her stomach.

She’d kept telling herself things would get better after Vegas.

Let that first race be the first, last, and only disaster.

But that hadn’t happened. They’d kept up their losing streak putting in terrible results race after race, including this last one in Barcelona.

They hadn’t had one good race—not even a decent one.

This is it. They’re going to let me go. I’m out.

Casey had told her he needed to speak to her right now .

But there he stood, talking with a couple engineers while she waited.

She was too far away to hear what they were saying.

But she could tell it was bad. None of them looked happy.

Hardly surprising, given they’d put in another lousy performance here in Barcelona.

How much longer could she expect the owner to wait for her and the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick to get their acts together? Rocco hadn’t made it to the podium once. He hadn’t finished any race in the top seven, and she’d failed to earn the team any points at all. It was a disaster.

Nico looked around. Rocco was nowhere in sight.

That prick is just as responsible as I am.

She was sweating bullets and wanted out of this racing suit.

She wished she could go to her locker on the second floor and get a change of clothes.

But Casey had told her to wait here , where she was standing right now.

He wasn’t more than ten feet away, and she didn’t want to take the chance that he might turn around and find her gone.

She couldn’t risk making him any angrier than he already was.

Her cell phone was in that locker too. But she dreaded seeing the missed calls.

Shortly after that first race in Vegas, she’d begun getting random calls. They were from different phone numbers, and whoever was calling never left a voicemail. Charles had tried to convince her they were just spam calls until she told him they were all from Italy.

They had to be from Mickey. But how had he gotten her number?

She kept telling herself to answer when her phone rang. Just get it over with already. But she always copped out.

She glanced over at Casey. If only she could unzip the top part of the racing suit and let it hang from her hips. But the sweat stains on the long-sleeved flame-retardant shirt underneath kept her from doing so.

Yes, they were that bad.

Maybe if I take off the shirt, that’ll cool me off some.

There was a restroom only a couple feet behind her.

She watched as Casey moved farther away to look at something on one of the computers.

This was her chance. She quickly slipped into the restroom, removed the flame-retardant shirt, and zipped the suit back up.

She hid the shirt behind the wastebasket.

She’d come back for it later. She dashed back out and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Casey still at that computer.

She glanced at her watch. She was supposed to meet Charles and Mateo, a guy he’d met here in Barcelona, at a bar in about an hour. Nico suspected that by the end of the evening, Mateo might qualify as Charles’s newest boyfriend.

Charles had already begun what could qualify as a soft launch of such a relationship by posting photos of the man’s forearms, biceps, sculpted back, and thighs on social media. All body parts placed strategically near enough to Charles’s own to draw the inevitable conclusion.

Barcelona was the only race Charles had attended since that first one in Vegas. She’d been hoping they might do better. He planned to go to the race in Monaco, but now she was worried there might not be a race in Monaco—not for her.

Casey turned around and waved for Nico to follow him. They climbed the stairs to the third floor. Was there no chance of a reprieve? Some clemency? It felt as if she were walking the steps to the gallows.

The third floor was where the hospitality suites were located. During the race, they were frequented by sponsors and wealthy fans who could afford paddock passes. But now all those sponsors and fans had gone, leaving the third floor deserted.

Everyone’s focus was on the next race.

Nico followed Casey into a room and was about to shut the door behind her.

“Don’t bother,” he said, his voice firm.

He was right, of course. There was no one around to hear him when he lowered the boom.

She turned around, and that’s when she saw him sitting in a chair.

The annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick. He didn’t bother to look up.

Casey surveyed them both. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but whatever it is, it’s gotta stop.

A few more races like we’ve had so far, and we can kiss this season goodbye.

It’s one thing to have mechanical problems or bad luck because of some shit move another driver makes.

But this! Undermining each other the way you are!

It’s as though you’re more intent on beating each other than winning!

And you’re making dumb-ass moves to do it!

I’ve got news for you, you’re not the only two drivers on the track.

And I don’t need to tell either of you what we’ve got to show for your performances thus far—shit!

And with that car—a car that can win! Whatever it is that’s the problem between the two of you, you need to fix it. And fix it now!”

Glaring at them both, he drew a deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know how much longer the owner’s going to put up with this. So, I suggest you work your shit out before the next race and put in a decent showing.”

He stormed out and slammed the door behind him with so much force Nico felt the room vibrate like it would during an earthquake.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

She glanced over at Rocco. He had his head down and his arms folded.

She was trying to think what to say when he stood up and stomped to the door.

But when he pulled on it, it didn’t open.

He tried again.

“What the—” he yelled, looking down at the doorknob and pulling harder.

“What are you doing?” Nico demanded as she stormed over. “Step aside,” she said once she was beside him.

He didn’t budge, and he didn’t take his hand off the doorknob.

“That’s rich,” he said, glaring at her, “you telling me to step aside. When have you ever stepped aside?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she spat. “Now take your hands off and let me try!”

He didn’t remove his hands.

“Fine!” she hissed. She placed her hands over his, but a sudden spark shocked her and she quickly let go. He must have felt it too, given he released his grip at the same time.

They stood a moment, staring at each other.

I’ll do it.

Grabbing the doorknob, she pulled. And pulled. And pulled.

He stood, arms crossed, wearing not only his racing suit but a smug expression. “Do you really think you can open it if I can’t?”

She scowled and placed both hands on the doorknob, putting all her weight into it.

Hearing him chuckle, she let out an exasperated breath. “What is so damn funny?”

“You,” he said. “Forget it. The door’s jammed. I don’t suppose you have your cell phone on you?”

She shook her head. “You?”

He picked up his water bottle, which he had left on the table, and lifted his arms as if to indicate the answer was no.

Nico started pounding on the door. “Help! Somebody! Help!”

Rocco went over to a corner and sat down on the floor, leaning his back up against the wall. “No one will hear you. Everyone’s gone. The few people who are still on the first floor won’t be coming up here.”

“Well, how will anyone find us? I mean, if no one’s around …”

“Someone will notice we’re missing … eventually.”

“What does eventually mean?”

“A week or so.”

“What?!”

He laughed. “Are you always so gullible? The maintenance crew will be here in a couple of hours.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know some of them. Sometimes I come up to the third floor after the race to think while the crew is still packing up down below. It’s quiet. No one’s up here.”

“Oh,” Nico sighed. “Okay, I can do a couple of hours.”

Rocco scoffed. “I can do more than a couple of hours.”

She glared at him. “Is everything a competition with you?”

“Isn’t it with you? How are you any different?”

Nico turned her back to him and began to pace.

“I thought things were going to be different after …” he muttered.

She swung around. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled.

The words came out from behind his gritted teeth with such force, Nico could almost swear they’d achieved solidity and were sitting there on the carpet.

“I heard you,” she said. “You said you thought things were going to be different.”

“Well, if you heard me, then why did you ask?”

“You said different after . After what?”

He didn’t respond.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, I know.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“I do. You thought because you did one nice thing for me by jumping up on the hood of that car, I should be grateful.” Nico clasped her hands and held them against her chest. “My hero! Is that it? And then, what? I’m just supposed to make way for you out on the racetrack, is that it?”

He glared at her, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. I didn’t do it to be nice. I did it because it was the right thing to do. I would have done the same for any woman. Don’t go thinking you’re so special.”

“I don’t think I’m so special.”

“‘You are so full of shit, if you ever had an enema you’d evaporate into thin air.’”

Nico sputtered and then laughed. She stopped when she saw he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even crack a smile. Not even a hint of a grin.

He sighed, lowering his head as though he were speaking to the carpet. “I did it because of what you said.”

“What did I say?” she asked.

He looked up, clearly surprised.

She remembered. But she wanted to hear him say it.

He dropped his chin to his chest and stared at the carpet again.