AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER ONE
Dalton Hughes leaned on the wing of the Porsche 911 GT3 Cup car and savored a sip of his coffee. This was his favorite time of day. Early morning, the sun shining, the air crisp. The snow on the Austrian Alps sparkled in the distance. Today was a new beginning. A new season stretched out before them. At this moment, anything was possible.
He caressed the wing of the powerful sporting machine. The car was as special as the morning. A mechanical wonder, designed with exceptional track control, air-cooled brakes and engine. The car was sexy, and never failed to rev his sense of tradition and victory.
Settling more comfortably, he scanned his surroundings. Red Bull Ring was one of his favorite tracks. He’d won here quite a few times back in his racing days. Now, as a coach and team manager, it was the ideal place to see what this year’s crop of new drivers could do. The surroundings and the facilities were top-notch, but it was more than that. This place had a unique, exciting energy.
The crew felt it, too. They were positively giddy at being at a track again. The winter in Mullenbach, Germany, had been long. Being on the road again brought smiles to everyone’s faces.
“Do you know where the router is?” Greta Willem, his second-in-command, skidded to a halt in front of him and tapped her foot impatiently. “We need to get the laptops online. Also...” She paused when one of the mechanics used the air gun to remove a tire. He stopped, and she started speaking again. “We’re missing the—” The air gun went off again. She waited. It stopped. “The cords to the—” The air gun started again.
Dalton looked over Greta’s shoulder at James Macht, a gifted mechanic with a comedic sense of timing. He responded with a grin and a wink at Dalton.
Greta turned, but James used the air gun on the tire one last time and then walked away without a backward glance. Greta refocused on Dalton. “The cords to download the data from the cars.”
Dalton bit back a grin. James loved to wind up Greta. They all did. She was more intense than an F1 coach on race day. With the nervous energy coming off her, he’d have sworn she must’ve inhaled an entire pot of coffee this morning, but she didn’t touch the stuff.
“Look in the cabinet at the back of the new office, under the cushion seat.”
She turned and zoomed back through the garage toward the trucks.
“Wound a bit tight, that one.” Gus Richards, the head mechanic, shook his head. “It’s going to give her a heart attack.”
Dalton grinned. “She’s twenty-seven. I think she’ll be fine.”
Gus shrugged. “You’d think so but, man, she’s just a jumble of energy. She makes me jittery.” As if to prove his point, he strolled slowly toward the large workbench with the video screens on the wall above it. Gus thought everyone was dying, mostly because he was in his sixties, and death was on his brain.
“Dalton,” called Mario Bauer. His lead engineer stood in front of an identical setup to Gus’s on the other side of the room. His expression was grim as he jerked his head to the side, beckoning Dalton over.
Dalton’s shoulders tightened as he made his way across the garage. “What’s up?” he asked warily.
Mario leaned over and spoke quietly. “Rory isn’t here yet.”
Dalton’s good mood sputtered. His brother’s tardiness was not a good sign. “When did you last speak to him?”
“This morning at breakfast. He was fine then.”
“You sure? You know how good he is at hiding it.”
Mario insisted, “I know the signs to look for. Rory was stone-cold sober. He was in a good mood and excited about the start of the season.”
“So, where the hell is he then?”
Mario shrugged. “He was supposed to pick up his driver, but he didn’t show. I asked Timo to pick up Moore when he picked up the other two.”
“Thanks.” Dalton stared unseeing at the wall of screens in front of him. “Did Rory say anything at breakfast that might give a clue where he went?”
“Said he was going back to his room to get his stuff and then he was going to pick up his driver. As he was leaving the dining room, he got a call. He waved and left, still chatting on his phone.”
Dalton drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Was his car still there when you left?”
“Yes, but I left directly from the dining room about five minutes later.”
“And you’ve called his cell?”
“Multiple times. Straight to voicemail.”
Dalton pulled his cell out of his pocket. He used the Find My Phone app and looked for his brother’s location. The app focused on the moving target on the map. His brother was on A9, driving away from the track and, it appeared, quite fast. Dalton cursed silently.
