Page 41 of Rear View

Xavier

I shrugged into my racing suit, then sealed myself in.

The scrutineer walked around our car in the Parc Ferme, doing her final pre-race inspection. She’d done her engine checks before, eyeing the safety gear, tugging the harnesses and scanning the roll bar.

The gravel car finished its lap, reporting back on the stages and the ground conditions. All was clear. With the seeding based on lead stats, it meant Alec and I went first. The zero car headed out next, letting everyone know the race was getting set to start.

Being on home turf hit different. It felt good. Not just ’cause we knew it inside and out, but the fans, all of them, were there for us . And my girl would be one of ’em.

The Scrutineer gave a thumbs-up, then signed off on her forms, giving us the all clear—for that segment, anyway.

My phone buzzed against the car roof and my girl’s name flashed over the screen. I grinned. “Hey, darlin’.” Goddamn , I’d missed her. I eyed the crowd outside, curious where she and Miles would be watching from.

“Take it down!” she snapped.

My head jerked back. “What?”

“Take it down, now , Xavier!” she said, the words frantic and well past pissed.

My face must’ve said something was up ’cause Alec asked, “Everything cool?”

One head in the area turned my way before the rest followed.

I raised a hand, excusing myself, and stalked to the back of the Parc Ferme to get some privacy. “What’s going on, Ryah?”

“The picture you posted of me! Take it down.”

The wheels in my brain locked up and screeched to a stop. What the hell? “You serious right now?”

“You had no right to share that.” There was an edge in her voice, like she bordered on hysteria.

I stared into space, trying to figure this shitstorm out. “I’m a little lost with this one, Ryah. Fill me in here.”

“You should’ve asked!”

Yeah, I was gettin’ that much. “Didn’t know I had to,” I said, my tone flat.

“Well, you do!”

I dragged a hand through my hair. I had not one clue what the issue was, or who I was suddenly talking to, ’cause I sure as shit didn’t recognize her.

“Good to know.” I crossed my arm over my chest and gripped my opposite elbow hard. “I’ve gotta race in five. We done here?”

Her breath hitched. “Just take it down, please,” she said, her voice low.

I brought up my accounts one at a time and started deleting pics while the knot in my gut twisted tighter and fuckin’ tighter. “Yeah. On it.” I hung up.

* * *

The service park was packed with cars, crews and media while Alec and I waited between stages. I hated it. Wanted them all to fuck right off.

Our vehicle was hoisted, the crew under it working rapid-fire to change the wheels, ’cause my time wasn’t the only thing on the clock. It was chaos. But the controlled kind where everyone knew their role.

“What’d you say you heard?” Yara called.

I stretched my neck, wanting to be alone with the mess in my head.

To try to sort through what’d happened earlier with my girl.

Alec and I had done good on the first half of the day’s stages, but we weren’t finished yet.

And I couldn’t afford mistakes. “It’s clickin’ on the turns,” I said. “Check the drive shaft.”

Alec flicked the race card with the tip of his finger, watching them, then me. “How ya feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Bullshit!” he replied. “What happened?”

I shrugged. I might’ve answered if I had half an idea myself.

“X?”

Shaking my head, I turned away. “Don’t wanna talk about it now, man.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Let me know if that changes.”

My exhale was rough when I chucked my chin his way. “Maybe we go for a drink after this, yeah?”

He side-eyed me and shoved my chest. “If you’re gonna be crying on my shoulder all night, then you’re buying.”

My lip pulled up. “Dick.”

He laughed.

My phone rang and my gut clenched. When I scanned the screen, the hope in my chest morphed to rage real fast.

“The fuck do you want, asshole?” I answered.

Alec’s stare sharpened when it locked on me.

“Come on, now, son,” my old man taunted. “Aren’t you gonna tell me you missed me?”

“How’d you get this number?”

“I spent the last eight years in prison, boy. You don’t think I can find things that don’t wanna be found?” There was a shuffle through the line. “You know what I want.”

My laugh was menacing as hell and twice as dark. “Guess you can’t find everything, then.”

He loosed a laugh of his own. “Your race seems to be going pretty decent.”

I inhaled, good and slow, to steady my fury. So, he was watching. Message received. “You ain’t gettin’ Ma.”

“We’ll see about that.” That shuffle again. “Looks like you’re busy now. We’ll talk again soon.”

Ending the call, I chucked the phone onto a tool chest to my right, stretched my neck and paced across the room. How the hell had the day gotten shittier? Christ!

“Was that Peter?” Alec asked.

“Yeah.” My jaw ground hard, teeth aching from the force. “It was him.”

“Prick.” He thumped a hand onto my shoulder. “You alright?”

My lone nod was sharp.

His arm dropped. “You think he’ll be a bigger problem?”

Peter Bosch still breathing was a goddamn problem. “For me? No doubt.” For us? My throat tightened. Shit. I hoped not.

Rubbing my temple with the heel of my hand, I shoved the garbage that’d been my day to that box in the back of my head. The one that’d gotten me through living with Dad, Fallon’s death and juvie. I had a job to do, and a team relying on me. I’d finish the race and sort my trash later.

Yara checked her watch. “Dammit!” She whipped her arm around and called to the crew. “We’re shit outta luck, guys. Time’s up. Get the car down.”

I flexed my hands. Delays meant penalties and penalties meant time. No could do.

The team wrapped up and got the machine off the hoist.

Throwing on my helmet, I climbed inside. I locked myself into my harness, then two-footed the pedals as I eyed Alec. “Let’s do this.”

“You sure you’re good, man?” he asked.

No, I fuckin’ wasn’t. Between my old man, and dream girl… Jesus. The first one I could handle, but Ryah losing it on me, it barely made a lick of sense. I didn’t know what was up, but that reaction, it hadn’t been shy or self-conscious, that’d been fear.

“I’m good.” I pulled us out of the Parc Ferme and up to the stage start line as the clock counted down. I held my foot on the brake and revved the engine as I gripped the shifter.

Three. Two. One.

I snapped it into gear and punched the gas. Snow kicked up, filling the air.

Alec read off his pace notes. “Two right long into one left sharp.”

Pulling the e-brake, I cut the wheel, taking the first turn. I straightened out and cut hard, drifting into the second.

There was a click, click, click from the car, then a shudder and a groan.

I flicked my gaze between the side mirrors, checking over the vehicle. “You feel that?”

“Four right, short, two hundred,” he said. “Feel what?”

Clickclickclickclickclick.

I took a steadyin’ breath. That couldn’t be good. Either way, I shook it off, ’cause there was nothing I could do as I hit the throttle, cut the wheel and took the next turn.