Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) (12 page)

“Don’t worry about your brother,” Dad says, putting an arm
around my shoulder, “He’s a consummate racer, Siena. If he thought he couldn’t
handle a race, he’d say so.”

A jolt goes through me as the announcer heralds the start of
the race. I look on in horror as the score of F1 cars roar to life, engines
ripping deafeningly, sending a thick cloud of exhaust up into the clear blue
sky. This can’t be happening. I have to stop them. I have to go to Enzo and
explain myself, beg his forgiveness for having kept such a secret from him. If
something happens to him—if he’s too distracted to drive, too angry to keep
from crashing...how could I ever live with myself? There has to be some way—

But the flag comes down, and the race is underway. The cars take
off in a pack, and I’m too late to do a damned thing.

I stand paralyzed in the midst of utter chaos. The cacophony
of roaring engines and screaming fans is drowned out by the pounding of my own
heart. Each car on the track seems to be moving in slow motion as I look on,
fearing the worst. It’s like my every cell is digging its heels into the
ground, trying to keep the earth from spinning onward. But it’s a useless
endeavor—I’ve missed my chance to keep this race from happening. Whatever goes
down next is out of my hands.

Enzo’s emerald green car easily secures the inside track,
having rocketed into the race from pole position. But Harrison’s car pulls up
right alongside Enzo’s, already giving my brother a run for his money. The rest
of the pack fills in around the only two drivers I give a damn about today, and
I lose sight of my boys. In a rush, the world surges back into real time. In a
haze of sound and fury, the cars disappear around the first turn in the track.

“At least his driving is under control, unlike his temper,”
my dad grumbles to Gus, “See, Siena? Nothing to worry about. Hey—Siena! Where
are you going?”

There’s no time to stop and explain myself to dear old dad.
Not now. I take off like a shot through the pit, ducking around moving parts
and hassled technicians. There’s no way I’m going to get a direct line to Enzo
at this stage in the game. I can’t reason with him while he’s tearing around
the track, he could lose control. I need to intercept my brother the second he
pulls into the pit, I have to get him to hear me out, even for a second.

“Hey! Siena!”

“Watch out!”

“What are you doing down here?”

I hear the harried voices of Ferrelli’s pit crew members
barking all around me, but I’m not about to let them boot me out. I’m Siena
Lazio, dammit—daughter of Alfonso Lazio, sister of Enzo, and soon to be one of
the owners of the team itself. I have just as much right to be here as anyone
else, more even.

But just before I can hurdle over a spare tyre, a strong
hand closes around my arm, and I turn to find myself face-to-face with Gus. His
usually amiable face is stern and clouded.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you don’t cool it,” he
tells me.

“You don’t understand—”

“Hell if I don’t! You think the rules don’t apply to you,
just like your brother and father. But this is still my pit, Siena. And I won’t
have you getting yourself hurt on my watch.”

“Let go of my arm, Gus,” I shout over the riotous noise.

“Not on your life,” he says, “I don’t know what’s gotten
into you and your brother today, but whatever it is, you need to settle it some
other time. Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be underfoot down here?”

“Underfoot? Please don’t talk to me like I’m still a child,
Gus. I’m a part of this team, too. Why doesn’t anyone treat me like I am?”

“Because you insist on getting involved on your own terms!
If you’d just do your job and leave it at that—”

“How could you let him get into that car, Gus?” I cry,
wrenching my arm out of his grip, “You’re supposed to be in charge around here.
You’re supposed to keep him safe.”

“He’s as safe as he ever is, Siena,” Gus says, exasperated,
“Just look.”

I turn to the gigantic screen that hangs above the track.
The cars may be out of sight, but their progress is transmitted through the
towering monitor. On the other side of the course, Enzo’s holding onto his
lead. His car hugs the inside track steadily, and the other cars are hanging
back—even Harrison’s. He’s whipping around the course at breakneck speed, but
it doesn’t seem like he’s driving erratically. His steering and control are
perfect as ever—or so it seems from where we’re standing now.

“See?” Gus says, “He may have a temper, but he can drive
through anything. Everything’s going to be OK.”

“Everything’s always OK until it’s not,” I tell him.

“This has been an emotional season for your brother,” Gus
tells me, “With your dad’s condition—”

“You know about that?” I ask.

“I’m your father’s best friend. Of course I know. You should
cut your brother some slack. He’s got enough to deal with right now.”

I don’t say another word to the Ferrelli manager. My feet
carry me as close to the track as I can get without leaping onto it. I keep my
eyes glued to Enzo’s car as lap after lap goes by. F1 races are incredibly long
affairs, but the laps fly past. Time loses all meaning as I wait anxiously to
steal my brother’s ear for a moment. His temper on the track is like a ticking
time bomb. If one little thing doesn’t go his way out there, it could all be
over.

It isn’t until a quarter of the race has gone by that I
start to become aware of anxious murmurs in the pit around me. The pit crew
members stand around, looking anxiously out onto the track. Dad and Gus are
standing side by side, wearing almost identical grimaces.

“What?” I say, turning toward my dad, “What’s wrong?”

“He should have come in by now,” Dad mutters, his brow
furrowed. “That was the strategy we agreed on. But he just keeps moving.”

My chest tightens as I whip my gaze back around in time to
catch Enzo soar past the pit at top speed. It’s almost as if he’s in the race
alone, he’s outpaced most of the other cars by so much distance. There’s only
one other car that’s neglected to drop back yet—and of course, that car belongs
to Harrison Davies. Harrison’s gunning for Enzo’s first place spot, and Enzo is
not about to back off. Not today, of all days. Not when he’s just discovered
that Harrison’s been whisking his little sister away in the dark of
night...regardless of the fact that his little sister was more than happy to
go.

“Give him space, Harrison,” I whisper, my fingernails biting
into my palms, “Don’t do anything stupid...”

But of course, the two of them are too far off to hear my
pleas. They probably wouldn’t heed them even if they heard me. They soar on
past, racing laps around the other cars. Just when it seems that they’ve
reached the peak of their baseline speeds, they seem to pick up the pace even
further. They’ve both decided that they’re going to take home first today. And
I don’t want to know what extremes they’re both willing to go to make that
happen. My head is absolutely swimming with anxiety and fear, but I refuse to
look away from the race. No matter how lightheaded or fearful I get, I need to
be on hand when Enzo pulls into the pit.

“Finally,” Gus sighs, as my brother gets ready to soar into
the pit for a spell.

I hold my breath as Enzo and Harrison simultaneously
disperse, way too far into the race for anyone’s comfort. They break off from
their trajectories in almost perfect unison and head off to their respective
pits. As the vibrant green car screeches to a halt before us, pit crew members
fall upon the vehicle like a swarm of worker bees. As I lunge toward my
brother, Dad steps in my way, blocking me.

“Leave him alone Siena,” he cautions me, “Your worrying
isn’t going to do him any favors now.”

“Dad, I have to talk to him,” I plead, “You have to let me—”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Dad interrupts, “He’s been
racing incredibly so far, whatever mood he might happen to be in. If you
interfere now—”

But I don’t stick around to hear the rest of his
protestations. I tear past my father and push my way through the thick crowd of
pit technicians. The smell of sweat and exhaust overwhelms me as I battle my
way to the side of Enzo’s car. I place my hands firmly on his ride, planting my
feet lest any crew members try and shake me off. I watch Enzo’s dark eyes swing
my way as I latch onto his car, holding on for dear life. I’m almost scared
speechless by the furious anger that smolders behind his dark gaze. I know for
a fact that my brother’s never been this angry with me. I just wish that he
would let me explain.

“Enzo!” I scream, knowing he can barely hear me over the
chaos that surrounds us. I’ll just have to hope that he can read my lips and
know my heart “Enzo, I’m sorry. Please be careful,” I shout, “We can talk about
everything after the race, just please keep your head on straight. You’re doing
an amazing job, just don’t do anything stupid out there. I love you so much. I
would never do anything to hurt you.”

His mouth moves furiously for a moment, but I can’t make out
what he’s said.

“What?” I scream, squinting to read his lips.

“You already have,” he repeats, his gaze freezing the blood
in my veins.

He tears his eyes away from me, having decimated me with
three little words. I take a quivering step back from the car, numb in the wake
of Enzo’s dismissal. With a mighty roar, his engine kicks up to full strength
and carries him away from me, back onto the track. I hope for a second that
he’ll just finish this race without incident. That would be enough of a
blessing. I don’t care if he wins, as long as he makes it through unhurt. But
when Enzo sails back into the race from his pit stop, something crucial has
changed.

Harrison’s taken the lead.

“No...” I breathe, backing away from the track, “Harrison,
no...”

But no amount of wishful thinking can derail the course of
events unfolding before my eyes. Harrison is soaring around the track, his car
hugging the inside track. He’s unseated Enzo from that coveted spot, and I know
that he’s not going to give up easily. Harrison has no idea what state of mind
Enzo’s in, no reason to think that he might need to be more careful than usual.
He’s got his eyes on first place, and there’s no way he’s going to back down.
Why should he? In his mind, this is just another race. He has no idea that
Enzo’s just discovered us. No idea that he should be afraid for his life.

Around and around they go, Enzo gunning to close the
distance between him and Harrison. My brother inches up little by little, and I
can practically feel the heat from his outrage scorching along the track. Only
one of them can come out on top, here, and I’ve completely lost track of who
I’m even rooting for anymore. I don’t care which one of them wins, as long as they
both make it through OK. That’s the only sort of victory I’m interested in.

By the time the final laps of the Grand Prix are underway,
Enzo’s almost entirely closed the space between his and Harrison’s cars.
They’ve outpaced the rest of the pack by a long shot. Rafael Marques has taken
third place, but he’s too far back to pose any sort of threat to Enzo and
Harrison. Landers and Rostov are vying for fourth and fifth place, but no one
can be bothered to keep an eye on them, what with the drama unfolding at the
head of the pack. Harrison and Enzo are practically on top of each other. My
heart is lodged in my throat, but the closer they come to the finish line, the
more relieved I feel. So far their driving has been remarkably even. No dirty
tactics, nothing. Maybe I misjudged the situation? I should give my brother
more credit where credit is due. What kind of a lunatic would he have to be to
endanger himself over—

“Look out!” I screech, as Enzo veers sharply toward Harrison
on the track.

The sudden attack comes out of nowhere, and a collective
gasp goes up in the stands. Harrison drops back, trying like hell to avoid a
collision. Enzo roars into Harrison’s abandoned spot, stealing the lead back
with the most aggressive move I’ve ever seen him make. Enzo’s car jerks wildly
as he takes the lead—he’s lost some of his control in his eagerness to get back
in front of the race.

Harrison is not about to let Enzo get away with playing
dirty. He abandons decorum and decides to take on my reckless brother. The red
car swings around and draws even with its green rival. Enzo and Harrison are
racing neck and neck, barreling ahead at an insane speed. They’ve left behind
any consideration of safety or predetermined strategy. Harrison’s looking for
an opening, trying to get back into the lead. It’s clear that he’s trying to
win without engaging in any more foul play. Is he holding back for my sake, I
wonder?

With a sudden burst of speed, Harrison surges forward. He
must have been preserving this burst of momentum just in case of emergency.
It’s clear that Enzo wasn’t counting on Harrison’s secret reserve. The world
slows back down to a crawl as Harrison inches past Enzo, moving up beside him
little by little. Harrison is on the verge of securing himself a first place
victory, fair and square.

That is, until Enzo loses patience with the sight of
Harrison edging up to take away his lead. In a fraction of a second, my brother
lets go of every rational thought, every precaution and measure of safety. He
wrenches his car mightily to the right, just as Harrison is about to pull ahead
once and for all. The nose of the green car catches its red competitor straight
on, slamming right into its side. It’s a point-blank collision, the moment that
every F1 driver, fan, and loved one hopes never ever to witness.