Page 50 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

Inters. Chase had asked to go onto intermediate tires instead of full wets, while the rain was still coming down in rivers. God, she hoped he knew what he was doing.

“What’s happening there?” Carter asked her, pointing to one of the monitors trained on the other teams’ garages.

Axel Nystrom and Kai Nolan had both gotten tangled up during their pit stops.

Their crews had been scrambling to get new tires ready, and they weren’t in position yet when the drivers had come in for the swap.

Those few seconds lost them both spots in the race.

“Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath. Then she looked at Carter. “Chase is now in ninth place. We’re in the top ten.” Which, when there were only twelve cars left in the race, wasn’t that impressive, but Carter didn’t need to know that.

Violet was too nervous to smile, but Carter did it for her, grinning as he watched the chaos unfold on the monitors. “Watch closely,” she told him. “This race is about to get very interesting.”

Keeping one eye on Chase out on the track, she explained the different kinds of tires to Carter, as concisely as possible, and how that would affect what he was about to see happening.

The other cars had already passed the pit lane exit.

They wouldn’t be able to change their slick tires for another lap.

“So Chase is on the right tires now?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. I think he’s betting on the rain stopping before the end of the race. If the track dries out enough, then he’ll be on the right tires, and no one else will be.”

Carter looked outside at the rain still coming down. “That’s quite a gamble.”

She sighed and shook her head. “That’s Chase.” All reckless optimism and faith. Whatever happened out there, she wouldn’t want him any other way. He was perfect just as he was.

As Chase approached Turn Four, everyone else in the garage seemed to realize the situation at the same moment, coming to cluster around the monitors with Violet and Carter.

“Shit, Chase just overtook Olivier,” one of the pit crew said.

“Chase is going to take them all out,” another one said in wonder.

Every time Chase passed another car, the garage erupted in shouts, the energy ratcheting up higher and higher.

First Olivier, then Rolando, Haneul, and Qian, all of them still struggling along on dry tires; Chase passed them all.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, couldn’t believe this could possibly be happening.

Unthinking, she reached out to clutch Carter’s forearm.

“Oh my god …”

CHASE WAS NAVIGATING Turn Nine and Ten when Emil broke onto the race radio.

“Uh, I don’t want to alarm you, Chase, but you are currently in fifth place.”

His whole body jerked, an involuntary response to a truly staggering piece of information.

“Copy,” he said. Understatement of the fucking year. But this race wasn’t done, and his gamble could still go spectacularly sideways on him. He’d only managed to pass those guys because they were stuck out here on the wrong tires. Once they hit the pits, that would change.

Up ahead, another group of cars—the fucking race leaders, he realized—were limping through Turn Seventeen, just trying to make it to the pits.

Emil crackled in his ear again as he blew past the pit lane. “Race leaders are in the pit. You are now in second place.”

Holy fuck. He was currently on the podium. Wherever Violet and Carter Hammond were right now, he hoped they were freaking the fuck out.

This one’s for you, Carter. And for you, Violet.

This might not last. The race leaders might be able to catch back up after their pit and steal this moment of glory from him. But maybe not.

Then, just like he’d hoped it would, the rain began to ease off. Typical mercurial Florida weather. Horrific downpour and ten minutes later, the sun was coming out like it never happened. His tires were finding their grip now that they’d warmed up and the rain eased.

“Eight laps to go,” Emil said. “Let’s keep it clean and bring it home. You’re in second, Chase. No need to blow it out.”

Except Liam fucking O’Neill was the only one ahead of him in first, so yes, he did need to blow it out.

Up ahead he could see Liam working like hell to keep his tires cool. Liam had made it into the pits when Chase had, and he’d made it back out before him. Liam had opted for full wet tires, but now that the track was beginning to dry, they’d be like driving on tank treads.

Liam took a big detour through the turn, hitting puddles in an attempt to keep his tires alive. Chase, on his inters, flew straight into the sweet spot of the apex and powered back out. He’d already taken half a second out of Liam and he wasn’t done yet.

The thing about coming up through racing alongside a guy is, you knew how he raced almost as well as you knew yourself. Chase was on the tires he liked, racing in conditions he liked, and he knew every muscle twitch Liam would make.

The rain disappeared entirely, making the track conditions wildly unpredictable, still soaking wet in spots, the rain steaming off the asphalt in others.

“Three laps to go,” Emil said. “On the last lap, you were a second faster than Liam. At this pace you should catch him with a lap to go.”

His earlier exhaustion was a distant memory. Now there was nothing but adrenaline pumping through his veins. He couldn’t afford a single mistake in these final laps.

Ahead of him, Liam’s car grew larger and larger as he closed down the gap. He was so motherfucking close he could taste it. The whipping white flag indicated they were in the last lap. He was almost out of time to make a miracle happen.

Liam was holding him off, but just barely. His tires were dragging him back as the track dried out.

They were closing fast on that motherfucking Turn Seventeen. This was it, his last chance to overtake. Chase positioned himself so Liam could see him in his mirrors. Yeah, I’m right behind you, asshole.

Liam dove to the inside to cut him off, just like in the old days. The inside of the track was terrible for Liam’s tires, but Chase knew he wouldn’t be able to resist making his trademark asshole move. Chase swung wide to the outside.

He could feel it, that subtle sensation that let him know his car was glued to the track. He had this. The car had this.

He rolled onto the throttle exiting Seventeen, and the power of the acceleration pinned him back in his seat.

For a heartbeat he could see the yellow blur of Liam’s car to the left in his peripheral vision, but he stayed focused, willing the car to stick to the road, burying the accelerator to drag every last ounce of speed out of it …

Halfway to Turn Eighteen, he lost sight of Liam, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there, ready to surge back and overtake. He stayed on the accelerator, ripping through the curve, this time hard on the inside.

All at once, the fog lifted and he could hear it—the overwhelming roar of the crowd. The stands were on their feet, the ground vibrating with their stomping and cheering as he rounded the last turn into the start/finish straight.

It hit him in a rush, elation like he’d never known before. He wasn’t hallucinating. This was real. There might be a huge asterisk beside his name and this victory, but right now, he didn’t fucking care. Somehow, impossibly, he’d just made every dream he’d ever had come true.

Liam was gone, back behind him somewhere. It was just him and the car, an endless expanse of open track, and a waving checkered flag to lead him home to victory.

THE PINNACLE GARAGE erupted in elated screams all around Violet.

The pit crew raced out to the pit wall to cheer Chase on as the checkered flag came down.

The next thing she knew, Carter had swept her up in a bear hug, laughing and whooping with delight.

After that it was a blur. She hugged Leon and Imogen.

Then she hauled Rabia into her arms, both of them screaming and laughing as they gripped each other.

When Violet let go of Rabia and turned, Carter was there, watching them, still smiling broadly.

“Well, Mr. Hammond?” she asked, still breathing hard, feeling the triumphant smile glued to her face. “How’d we do?”

He laughed and shook his head, then extended his hand to hers to shake. “You’ve got two years, Ms. Harper. Let’s see how it goes.”

Inside, a wave of relief and euphoria rushed through her, but she returned his shake with the same level of confidence. “Thank you. I can’t promise you another day like this, but I promise it’ll be exciting.”

“I don’t doubt it. My god, what a thrill …”

He started to turn away. She should leave it. They’d gotten two more years, which was everything they’d dare hope for. She ought to be satisfied with that win. But fuck it. If you didn’t ask for it, you’d never get it.

“Mr. Hammond, there’s one more thing …”

Carter hiked his eyebrow. “I just gave you your team. What else do you want?”

“A real team principal. No offense,” she added quickly.

He chuckled again and dipped his head. “Understood. None taken.”

Bye, Reece , Violet thought.

Then Carter turned and extended a hand to Rabia. “Ms. Dar, congratulations. The team is yours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go find Corrine. I believe we’ve got some celebrating to do.”

“Don’t go too far,” Violet said. “You’re the team owner. The media is going to want to talk to you.”

Carter thought about that for a beat, then smiled. “So they will. Come find me when you need me, Ms. Harper.”

When he’d gone, Violet looked at Rabia. Rabia was still shaking her head, wide-eyed.

“Did he just make me team principal? It sounded like he did, but maybe I have an undiagnosed head injury and I’m just hallucinating.”

“He did. Congrats, Rabia. You’ve earned this.”

Rabia smiled at her. “So we have two years to prove ourselves, huh?”

Violet scoffed. “Not a problem. Hammond will get his money’s worth and then some. Pinnacle just became legendary . This is Miracle on Ice shit. They’re going to make a fucking movie about our team and this season. I’ll make sure it happens.”

She was almost delirious with elation. Did she know anyone with connections in Hollywood? She must. How did you go about pitching a movie there? Who knew, but she’d figure that out, the way she did everything else.

Her phone was already blowing up. Every journalist who had her contact info was reaching out, begging for an interview. Every media outlet in the world would be talking about Chase Navarro and Pinnacle tonight.

Suddenly Emil shouted over the din of the garage. “Uh, does anybody have the FIA regulations handy? I never read the podium procedure because I didn’t think we’d ever need it. I have to tell Chase what to do next.”

“I have it!” Imogen shouted, racing across the garage and waving her iPad over her head.

“You have to keep Imogen as your assistant,” Violet said to Rabia.

“Obviously. She’s the smartest person here.”

When Chase finally climbed out of the car and pulled off his helmet, the entirety of the Pinnacle pit crew and every staffer on site clamored at the pit wall.

Violet watched from the back of the crowd as he ran down the track toward them, all unconscious grace and barely contained energy.

She wanted to remember every inch of him in this moment, high on his triumph, his eyes bright with adrenaline, his smile glowing.

Even though he still had pressure marks from his helmet on his cheekbones and his hair was a sweaty wreck, she’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He reached the pit crew and launched himself at them, laughing when they lifted him up and dragged him over the barricades. The pit crew chanted his name as they passed him over their heads, and finally deposited him on the other side, right in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, his smile wide and his dark eyes glowing.

“Hi.”

“Thank you, Violet. This … I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”

She shook her head. “I just made you a star. This? Today? You did this all by yourself. You’re a champion.”

“And you gave me the chance to be one. I love you. So much I can hardly stand it.”

“You are …” She shook her head, unable to find the words.

Then she forgot all about words and simply flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him as tightly to her body as she could.

Her fingers curled into the rough canvas of his race suit, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss to his sweat-slicked skin.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

She felt him chuckle and he dipped his head so he could whisper in her ear. “So I just had to win a Grand Prix to get you to fall in love with me, huh? Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

She pulled back enough to look up at him and reached up to take his face in her hands. This face, this man, who’d become so unbearably precious to her. She was so, so grateful that he hadn’t given up on her, that he’d given her time to catch up to him.

“I was already in love with you, Chase. I have been for ages. I just didn’t realize it.”

The smile on his face grew impossibly wider, and the expression in his eyes softened.

“You’d better go. There’s a podium and a first-place trophy with your name on it.”

He ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers. “I’ve already got the best prize.”