Page 23 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

Luca hadn’t come back. While everyone else returned to the hotel, I stayed behind to find him, but his trailer was empty.

So I did what I always did: walked the trailers, cross-referencing the notes on my phone from every race so far.

Though doing it in the dark felt far more suspicious.

And thrilling.

I was so close.

With Pedro refusing to help, I had no choice but to do it alone. And I would.

I crept between the trailers, sticking to the strip of shadow cast by the floodlights on the far end of the lot. Only a skeleton crew remained, completing final checks before we left tomorrow.

The cargo would be leaving later tonight. I had the schedule down now.

When the last metallic rattle of the shutters died out, I finally came out to analyse the seven Ciclati trailers.

They all looked the same: huge sheets of metal with large sponsors across in team colours. I only cared for the red and green Ciclati ones. Even slight differences in the weight could mean contraband was being transported.

On my phone, I scrolled through my photos, checking each trailer’s weight from the first night we landed, ready to compare.

They were all the same and I was losing hope until I found the rear-end of CICLATI 6.

1896kg.

My eyes narrowed and I ran my fingers over the eight. Was that right? It didn’t seem…

I flicked onto my camera roll and dug through the pictures until I found Wednesday’s CICLATI 6.

1682kg.

I’d thought so. I’d admired that Luca’s number was within the measurement.

But 200kg difference? That wasn’t some spare bolts. This was something.

I fingered the lock bigger than my palm, turning it as much as I could.

That would need a mighty big saw and with my upper arm strength… a chainsaw. Which wouldn’t scream suspicious at all.

Fuck.

When my phone rang, I jumped and dropped it to bounce on the ground.

It continued to ring and I threw it up to my ear, hissing, “What?”

“Shut up!” Fia cried. “You and Luca Mendes? Stop it. No way.”

I loved her. She was one of my favourite people in the world, and if she were more mature, I would certainly tell her. But she was sixteen, and I knew what I was like at that age.

Turning down the volume, I poked my head around the side of the trailer to see if anyone had heard and was about to herd me out of the trailer park.

There was no noise.

I kept to the shadows.

“Yes way. I can’t really talk right now—”

She practically screamed down the phone. “Why didn’t you say anything ? Is it serious? Like, are you going to marry him?”

I choked on air.

“Dad loves him. Dad would be psyched.”

Dad was not psyched.

“I think it’s a bit different when he’s with your daughter.”

“He is so cute,” she said and sighed whimsically. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Fia didn’t like boys her own age. Whenever I teased her about boys in her class, she would gag and say they were too immature for her. Like sister, like sister.

“I will take it to the grave,” I said. “I’ve got to—”

“If he hurts you, I’ll have him,” she warned. “As in, I’ll take that fucker down —”

“Fia, not a conversation for this second, I don’t think,” I said and immediately regretted it by what I assumed was her stunned silence. “I’m sorry, I really need to go. We’ll FaceTime tonight?”

She sounded appalled. “Absolutely not. Go and enjoy your boyfriend. I have no life updates. Mum and Dad are arguing because he’s a grump. If anything, with how pissy he is at the minute, I thought you might want to rant.”

That perked up my ears.

“What’s he so pissy about?”

“Why are you whispering?” she laughed. “Is Luca in the shower? Can I say hey?”

“Absolutely not. Why’s he pissy?”

She sighed. “Something ridiculous like shipment delays for next season’s bike. You know what he’s like at this time of year. Contracts, bikes…”

“Don’t you mean all year?” I asked, half distracted by my sister, half listening out for any noise.

There had been no reaction in the night to the noise, so I braved a step out into the floodlight, through to where Luca’s trailer would be. It was time to be brave and face my new boyfriend.

She laughed. “Okay. Yeah. I guess. Anyway, go and enjoy your loverboy.” And she hung up.

I was halfway into a relieved breath when a shout made me freeze.

“Hey!” a man barked.

My stomach flipped. I knew these trailers by heart now. Of course, the one time I found something was the only night someone cared.

I slid my phone into my jacket pocket, turning on my heel as casually as I could.

A figure blinded me with a torch, forcing my eyelids to screw shut.

“Staff only,” he grunted. “You’re not allowed back here.”

I blinked, trying to glare at him, or smile, or do anything charismatic or threatening to get him to let me leave.

“Looking for Luca Mendes’ trailer,” I winced.

He lowered the light.

Every time I blinked, my vision remained bright red.

When he didn’t speak, I lifted the StormSprint lanyard around my neck.

He nodded and aimed the torch the way I’d intended to go.

A guy in hi-vis stood in the space of the all-consuming light. “That way. It’s neon green. Got his name plastered on it… like all the others.”

I smiled sheepishly, trying to look innocent enough to bypass all of his suspicions.

“Bay 16,” he added and clicked his torch on and off in impatience.

With a nod, I started to walk in the direction I needed, but my scolding wasn’t quite over.

“All the trailers are about to move,” he called forward, a few metres behind me as he followed. “It’s dangerous to be snooping around out here.”

“Just looking for Mendes,” I repeated.

He huffed.

There were another two minutes before I got to Luca’s trailer and I spent them going through my overstimulating social media.

It had blown up since the photo had come out… and I may have reposted it.

Pedro had liked it within half an hour.

I looked at the notification, thumb hovering. Could I block him now? If I had proof?

But there was nowhere for me to get a bloody chainsaw, was there, so…

I was the only one who could get details from him. And I had to keep him sweet.

At the top of the steps to Luca’s door, I turned my lips into a somewhat smile, as if I was grateful for my overbearing escort.

I knocked hard. Again. Then again.

“What do you want, Everly?” Luca’s muffled voice came from deep inside, but there was movement.

“By my knocking, I think it’s pretty obvious I want you to open the door.”

He grunted and when I worried he wouldn’t let me inside, I hissed through gritted teeth, “I would really appreciate you letting me in right now. ”

When the door opened, his eyes looked heavy and his mouth was in a fine line, completely unapathetic.

But then he saw my chaperone.

His spine straightened and his eyes narrowed on the man as he moved before me.

“We okay here?” he asked gruffly, the threat clear.

The worker nodded and wandered off.

He turned and looked me over quickly before ushering me inside and closing the door behind us.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding me at arm’s length. “Did he—”

“Nope,” I said before he could open that can of worms. “I just couldn’t find your trailer and he helped me.”

His brows narrowed for a second, and he gave me another once-over before releasing me and walking to his double bed.

The trailer was wider than I’d imagined. His set-up was all in his team colours. He was so bloody cute, lying back on his bed.

But a pang of concern pierced my chest. Did he spend most nights like this — all alone?

No, it was probably the opposite.

It was more likely that he spent no nights alone. With girls like Hollie, the beautiful blonde grid girl I knew he’d hooked up with.

That pang of concern grew to a lump in my throat.

His attention was on the TV; a fight in Istanbul, similar to the charity match he’d have in a couple of months.

Tyler Wells VS. Augustin Trint.

Luca had mentioned it the other day.

“Can we talk?” I asked, turning to face him.

His jaw ticked.

I shouldn’t have kissed him. He was such a proud man, and I shouldn’t have used him in that moment; I shouldn’t have stuck my tongue down his throat when that expressly went against the ‘we are friends’ motion.

“You didn’t come back,” I said, sitting on his bed. “You just left.”

His arms folded over his chest. “I did, yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have to race.”

“I came by earlier, but you weren’t here.”

“I was getting a massage.”

“A massage?” I asked, head reeling back until I was leaning against the headboard. “From who?”

Nope. No, I had to reel back that spike of jealousy. Not reel my damn head in shock.

“Our sports masseuse,” he said, and there was the slightest turn of his lips. “She’s excellent.”

Was he smiling at the thought of a massage? That was weird. Or was he smiling at the fact that it was a woman? This particular woman?

Not that I was particularly able when it came to massages, but—

“Right. That, um, the kiss…”

“It’s all I see on every feed,” he said, watching the TV. “Including your social media.”

“Maybe we should talk,” I said, straightening the sheet beneath me. “This will benefit both of us.”

“I really am not in the headspace to talk,” he grunted. “I just want to watch the fight.”

“Okay,” I said and took off my shoes. “That’s fine.”

When I got under the covers next to him, he only glanced at me, frowning. Then he heaved another sigh and put his arm around me, letting me cuddle into him.

“There are five rounds,” he said. “We’re already two in. Between the rounds, we can discuss.”

He pretended to watch, but he softened in our embrace. He didn’t react to what happened on the screen, even when a nasty crack meant there was a short break as one of their noses had broken.

“This is brutal,” I commented, cringing when they restarted and immediately took each other to the floor.

“It is.”

“Is this how you fight?”

“It is.”

“And you’re going to fight again?”

“I will.”

“Luca,” I said and turned to him with a worried chew of my lip.