Dad gave me a curt but pleased nod. “I certainly hope so. There are no second chances out there, Mackenzie.” The sudden bleakness on his face gave me the chills. No, I supposed there weren’t any more second chances for Cox Racing.
I left my father’s office feeling bolstered, worried, and also a little dejected. I wanted to do my best, but I was scared my best wouldn’t be good enough, and I was worried that Dad would push me away if I failed. Not intentionally, of course, but his priority was the team and making sure all of us reached our peak performance. He had a lot on his plate, and I couldn’t be both a daughter and a rider to him. Not when so much was on the line. I was fine with that most of the time, but sometimes…I just wanted him to be a dad and nothing else. I wanted him to forget about the business for five seconds, forget about the never-ending stress that came along with running it, and just be proud of me.
Even if I lost.
* * *
I was an anxious ball of energy when we arrived in Daytona one week later. I’d been there several times before, helping out and watching the event with my father, but this time I was competing, not observing. I was practically bouncing off the walls with nerves; the excess energy coursing through me was so chaotic and frazzled that I could barely sit still as I met with fans and signed autographs. It was a little surprising that I had fans at all, since this was my rookie year, but there were dozens of young girls coming up to me with stars in their eyes and their dreams plain as day on their faces. It made me happy that at least in this one small way, how I finished the race didn’t matter—I would still be an inspiration to these girls even if I was dead last. Oh God, please don’t let me come in dead last.
As fate would have it, Benneti Motorsports was given the spot next to ours for the prerace publicity, and while I tried to ignore the models and giggling girls fawning all over Hayden and the rest of the team, bursts of laughter kept drawing my attention to their stall. The latest batch of laughs was coming from a group of preteens. Hayden was doing some sort of complicated handshake with one of them; he seemed perfectly at ease around kids.
Hayden noticed me looking his way, and my breath locked in my throat. With more effort than I cared to admit, I pulled my eyes from him and focused on the girl in front of me. Holding one hand to her chest, she said in a rush, “Cox Racing is my family’s favorite team. Your dad is seriously a legend; you must be so excited to race for him!” I was about to answer her when she leaned forward and whispered, “But why didn’t your dad hire Hayden Hayes? He is soooooo hot! I don’t know how you’re going to race against him. I would be too distracted.” She used her photo of me to fan her face and I—very carefully—yanked it from her fingers.
“I’ll manage somehow,” I murmured as I signed my name over my face.
When the social part of the day was over with, I decided to explore the grounds; I was still way too wound up, and I needed to calm down before race time. Control, Kenzie. Control.
I instantly regretted my decision to sightsee when I heard a familiar voice shout, “Hey, princess!”
Before I could stop myself, I snapped my head around to give Hayden a bone-chilling glare. “That’s not my name,” I hissed.
Hayden’s smile was cocky as he jogged to catch up to me. “Are you sure? It fits you.”
Shaking my head, I trudged forward, determined to ignore him. No good could come from me engaging this man in conversation. And I shouldn’t be talking to him anyway. He was a Benneti. If someone saw us…I’d be fired. Hayden would be sacked too. But even with all that running through my head, it was surprisingly hard to ignore Hayden when he was only a few inches away from me. Like a shadow blocking the sun from my eyes, or a fly buzzing around my head, his presence was just too intrusive.
“So…did Daddy prepare you for this? Because it’s nothing like squirreling around the track in the backyard, sweetheart.”
With fire in my eyes, I spun around to face him. He hadn’t expected my sudden movement, and we ended up colliding. Stubbornly, I refused to step away. “What the hell do you want, Hayden?”
His face was mere inches from mine now, and I could clearly see every perfectly crafted detail that made him so frustratingly attractive: the light stubble along his jawline, the subtle yet sexy scar through his eyebrow, and the random streaks of gold and blue that highlighted his emerald eyes. My chest was rising and falling against his at an ever-quickening pace, and I could feel my heart pounding against my rib cage. A crackling energy was zipping through my body, faster and faster. It was an oddly familiar feeling, like I was about to start a race. Experiencing that sensation because of him was disorienting. I wanted to pull him closer; I wanted to shove him away.
His eyes locked on my mouth and he licked his lips. “I just…there’s a hairpin turn in this one. It comes up fast…be ready.” He almost looked confused after he said it, like he wasn’t sure why he had. But odder still, there was genuine concern in his expression. Was he actually worried about me? Ridiculous. He didn’t like me, I didn’t like him. That was our…thing.
The thought that he might be worried about me was unsettling. It was strangely sweet, and that was something I was not used to from him. But it was also slightly condescending; he thought I couldn’t hack it. I was still buzzing off the energy between us, and having all this extra crap tossed on the fire was not helping anything. Not sure how to take what he’d just said, I spat out, “I know, asshole. I’ve already done the practice lap.”
Hayden’s face immediately hardened into stone. Good. I’d rather have him be angry. Turning around, I immediately stalked off toward the Cox Racing camp. I needed to get out of here.
Thankfully, Hayden didn’t try to follow me. He couldn’t let me go without getting the last word in, though. “Relax, Ice Queen. It was just a tip.”
I almost flipped him off, but my body was still churning with opposing desires—closer, farther. Hayden was a bad idea, a horrible idea. But…standing right in front of him, touching him like that, it had kick-started something in me. A prickly rush of adrenaline, screaming at me that I was about to do something crazy, dangerous…and exciting. It was a damn good feeling, like competing. And while I looked forward to that flood of endorphins before every race, I could not feel that way about Hayden. No, I wouldn’t feel that way. I would ignore it, and it would go away.
* * *
It felt like forever, but finally it was time to race. With the sighting and warm-up lap completed, the group of us were all lined up in our grid boxes. This was it, my first official race as a professional. My heart started pumping hard, and my breath sped up. Dad was expecting a lot from me; I needed to be amazing today. Trying to control the adrenaline—control myself—I took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out in ten long counts. It helped. Somewhat.
I’d had a really good qualifying round, and I was sitting in the tenth position. Hayden was a few spots in front of me, one position below Myles. Focusing on him relieved some of the pressure I was feeling, but it irritated me that I hadn’t bested his time. I consoled myself by keeping in mind that it was the actual race that mattered, not the qualifier. As soon as possible, I was going to slip around Hayden and stay in front of him. My backside was all he was going to see all race long. I hoped.
No, I could do this. One of the greatest things about a new season was the fact that everyone started over, which meant a rookie like me had as much of a chance to win as a seasoned pro who’d won five times in a row. All I had to do was stay focused, stay calm…stay in control… Please let me get a win today.
Heat waves rose from the pavement, making the ground before me seem to shimmer, like I was hallucinating or something. This was real, though, and my lifelong dream of competing at Daytona was about to come true. Knowing I only had a second or two until the bank of red lights shifted to green, signaling the beginning of the race, I flashed a glance at Hayden. Surprisingly, his black-and-red helmet was focused back in my direction, not straight ahead like everyone else’s.
Why was he staring at me like I was the starting line, like I was the prize? I was no prize for him to win.
I was just about to point a finger in the direction Hayden should be looking when he suddenly nodded his helmet and peeled out. As he streaked away from me, it took me a second to realize the race had begun, and everyone was moving…everyone but me. Spitting out a vile curse, I hurried after the pack. Goddamn Hayden Hayes.
Thanks to my delayed reaction, I ended up leaving the grid closer to the back of the group than I’d wanted to be. I noticed a familiar bike streak past me—Jimmy the traitor—and wondered why he was so far back in the starting line. As I picked up speed and sailed past riders, I forced myself to remain calm, in control. This was an endurance race, the only endurance event in the series, and in preparation for this day, I had specifically trained for distance: countless times around the track, endless laps in the pool, hours of surfing wave after wave, and miles on the treadmill. I’d taken my father’s advice to heart, and I was in tip-top shape; I was ready for this.
Ignoring everything around me, I focused on the roar of the bike, the vibration of the engine connecting me to the rhythm of the road, and only let one thought permeate my brain—Find Hayden. Fear and worry melted away as every molecule in my body dialed in on absolute concentration. The sound of my breath echoed inside my helmet, mixing with the rush of air from the vents, while the near-nauseating blur of movement in my peripheral vision amplified as I accelerated to exhilarating speeds. God, I loved this.
My motorcycle was top-of-the-line and perfectly crafted for me. Almost as if it were alive and could sense my wishes, it responded to my every command. It took me mere seconds to find the sweet spot on the bike for straightaways—low and light, tucked in for optimum aerodynamics, the peak placement for efficiency and speed—and before I knew it, I was zooming past other racers like they were standing still.
Unlike in car racing, the track curved both left and right, adding to the difficulty. I had to concentrate on the now but maintain a keen awareness of the future. The turns were tight and deep, with my body hanging off the bike and my knee and elbow hovering just inches above the concrete that was ripping past me at breakneck speeds. One wrong move and I’d disrupt the bike’s balance, sending me and the motorcycle skidding across the track.
I kept the back of Hayden’s bike in my crosshairs as I blurred past other racers. There were more than forty of us in this fifty-seven-lap race today, but only one rider mattered to me right now. When I finally gained position so that I was right beside Hayden, my thighs were throbbing from keeping my muscles tense and tight for so long. I embraced the pain as I tossed a victorious glance his way. You tried to delay me, but I caught up to you, asshole.
As if he felt my glare, he flashed a glance my way. Then he did a double take. I nodded my helmet up in the same arrogant way he had at the start of the race. Hayden hunched over his bike and, amazingly, found some acceleration. I frowned as he pulled directly in front of me. Oh no, not today, Hayes.
Shifting my weight, I pressed for speed. Some part of my consciousness was aware of the racers we were passing, of the laps that were accumulating, but the bulk of my concentration was purely on Hayden. For a moment, everything else slipped away, and following his path was my only focus. I hated to admit it, but chasing him gave me a rush. You’re going down. Whatever it takes, I’ve got you.
I could tell by the feel of my bike that I needed to head to the pit soon. I wasn’t about to go in before Hayden, though. I was physically incapable of leaving the course while he was still on it. Luckily for me, Hayden was due too, and after two more laps, he pulled into pit lane.
As I rolled to a stop in my stall, my crew was already on their way to me with fresh tires and much-needed fuel. While they worked on my bike, my father approached me. “Keep it together, Mackenzie. This is where you tend to slack off.”
One of the crew gave me a thumbs-up that my bike was done, and I tossed out, “I know, Dad!” Not wasting any time, I started the bike and sped away. Jesus. That was really not the kind of encouragement I needed right now. How about “You’re doing great” or “You’ve got this”? That would have been much better than being reminded that even with all my training, the last part of the race was still a struggle for me.
Hayden had a really quick pit stop, and ended up pulling out right in front of me. Much to my annoyance, his rear was, once again, the focal point of my view. Shifting to look back at me, he lifted off his seat for a second, showing off the backside women fawned over. Then he gave himself a quick smack in the ass. Cute. Jerk.
Right before we reentered the track, I looked over at the boards. In the thick of racing, the other riders on the course had almost slipped my mind—Hayden was the only one I cared about—but I was curious where everyone was currently sitting in the event. I nearly stalled the bike when I spotted my number. I was right below Hayden. We were duking it out for fourth and fifth place. If I could hold on, I could easily finish in the top ten, and that was a record on this track for a female rider.
Pushing aside the potential history I could be making today, I refocused my attention on Hayden. Triumphing over him was enough to think about right now.
Lap after lap, I did my best to skirt around him, but as if he had a sixth sense for my location, he maneuvered his bike in such a way that I couldn’t slip by him. It was as infuriating as it was invigorating, and I knew that my inevitable win would be that much sweeter because of the challenge. And then, finally, on the very last lap, he made a fatal mistake: he left me an opening.
He was taking the turns slightly tighter than before, and there was a decent amount of room between him and the outside of the corner. If I increased my speed instead of easing up on my acceleration, I could scoot around him. It was risky. I would be going way too fast for the curve, and then I would need to hit it even harder after the turn, or else Hayden would just accelerate from the inside and cut me off. Staying full throttle like that, I could easily lose control of the bike and slide out. It was my only chance, though. Victory wasn’t for the faint of heart.
Halfway through the lap, as we approached the last hairpin corner, Hayden slowed as he set his body up for the turn. My heart started to race as I went against my natural instinct and increased my speed. My head was screaming that I was being stupid, that I should be braking as I swung my knee into position, but it was too late for me to listen to reason. I could finish in fourth place if I moved around him. Fourth! It was a too great a temptation to resist.
Committing myself to the action, I edged past Hayden in the space he’d left open. Praying that my bike stayed on the track and that I stayed on my bike, I leaned into the corner, slightly increasing my speed. Everything was exactly how it should be: My body was perfectly balanced as I hung off the inside of the bike, my tires were holding in the sweet spot, and the road was rushing beneath me like an asphalt river; it was so close, I could reach down with my hand and stroke the smooth surface with my gloved fingers if I wanted to. But then…I passed the point of no return, slipped over the razor-thin line of control. Before I could make a correction, I felt the bike’s weight shift, felt the tires lose traction and position, and saw the raging river of concrete rushing up to greet me.
My bike fell onto its side, pinning my leg to the ground. My shoulder, arm, and hand quickly followed suit. The blow stunned me, but luckily my leathers absorbed a lot of the impact, and, even more important, they absorbed the friction from the road; without them, my skin would have been ripped to shreds. The momentum of the bike dragged me toward the outside wall. I had just enough time to see it coming before I smacked right into it. The breath left my body and my vision hazed to black. No…I could not afford to pass out right now.
When I stopped moving, I blinked rapidly, trying to reboot my body back to alertness; I didn’t have time to fall into the oblivion of unconsciousness. Even now, rider after rider was passing me, taking my hard-earned spot. Feeling nauseated, I gathered up every
ounce of willpower I had and forced myself to stand, forced my shaky limbs to right the bike. I was dazed and a little delirious; it took an enormous amount of concentration just to point my bike in the right direction. My limbs felt on fire, I tasted the tang of blood in my mouth, and my entire leg was throbbing. Ignoring the physical pain and the pair of corner officials asking me if I needed help, I restarted the bike and made myself complete the damn race. Hayden was not crossing the finish line without me.
Chapter 4
While I usually loved the exhilarating relief that came with finishing a race, I was bone-tired, dying of thirst, sticky with sweat, and filled with crushing disappointment. My head was pounding and every muscle ached so much I was a little afraid I was going to split apart like overripe fruit. I was also limping a little, since putting all my weight on my ankle hurt; I was mildly concerned about that. I could not afford to get injured this year. Cox Racing couldn’t afford it.
I just wanted to turn my bike over for inspection and find a nice ice bath somewhere. But then I saw Hayden. He was pumping his fist in the air, playing to the crowd like he’d just won the whole damn thing. He’d only come in fourth, for God’s sake. I really couldn’t stomach the fact that he’d placed higher than me.
Once I was inside the assigned Cox Racing garage bay at the track, I hopped off my bike and eased it onto its mat. Taking off my gloves, I shoved them into my helmet and tossed the entire bundle across the room. My helmet landed on the concrete and spun, out of control, into the corner of the garage. It reminded me of my epic failure at the end of the race, and that pissed me off even more. I was ready for this entire goddamn day to be over.