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“Sorry, my German isn’t great,” she said with an apologetic smile. Her company was an American one and they operated in English. Truth be told, everyone in Germany mostly spoke English to her so there was no real need to learn the language.
“No problem. Can I get you something to drink?”
She normally wouldn’t order a second glass of wine, but her encounter with Dalton Hughes had thrown her for a loop, so she ordered another glass of red. “I just had one at the bar, but I don’t know the name of it. I told the bartender something dryish, if that helps,” she said.
The waiter smiled. “I will find it. Would you like dinner?”
When she nodded, he proceeded to tell her the evening’s specials and then disappeared to get her wine and bring her some water. Greer leaned back in the chair and stared unseeing at the closed laptop.
“I don’t know, Jack,” a man said as he and another man came in and sat down at a table next to hers. “I’ve heard the rumors, too. Hughes may deny them, but I have it on good authority that he’s on the ropes. No cash. His father spent money like he had a printing press in the backyard. I think they were going to have a hard time making it through this season before today’s accident. Now they’re dead in the water.”
Accident? A man died. Not sure “accident” really covered it. She glanced up and froze and then quickly opened the laptop. She ducked down behind the device. Jack fucking Roundtree. She’d known him in the U.S., back in her racing days. He was one of the biggest gossips around. She did not want him to see her and tell the world she was here. The news would likely get back to her father and he might call, or worse…show up. She wouldn’t put anything past him. She might not have seen him in seven years, but she sure as hell knew he hadn’t changed.
She also didn’t want to explain why she quit racing or why she was back at the track. Biting her lip, she realized she’d been a fool to think she could get through this investigation without attracting attention. This assignment was going to be so much harder than she thought.
Jack set his beer stein on the table and slouched in his chair, with his back to her. “Aw, Clyde, don’t say that. I like Dalton and his brothers. His sister ain’t bad to look at either. And she can race. I’d be sorry to see them go.”
Racing gossip. She’d hated it when she was racing, but it could come in handy for her now. Fastest way to get the lay of the land. The other teams thought Hughes Racing was in trouble. That would kill Dalton. Her stomach dropped. He’d fight tooth and nail to keep the team going for his brothers and sister. She’d cut herself off from the racing world, so she had no idea if Niall and Cormac were still in the game, or if they’d gotten out. They weren’t directly involved with the team she didn’t think, but there’s no way they’d want to see the team go under either.
“Don’t bullshit me,” Clyde said. “You like ’em alright, but it means one less team on the grid that are actual contenders. You know and I know with them gone it’s down to Claasen, us, and maybe two or three other teams. We need the win.” Clyde chuckled wryly. “Things aren’t exactly raining cherries on this side of the paddock either.”
Jack and his friend must be part of a British team. She sneaked a glance at them. His friend was a driver too, if she had to guess. The man’s hands were too clean to be a mechanic.
The man named Clyde was the bigger of the two, tall, bald, and fit. Jack was shorter and wiry. Judging by his salt and pepper hair, he must be older, although with Clyde’s shaved head, it was hard to tell.
The waiter returned with her water and her wine. She quickly placed her order for the house-made stew, and then the waiter turned and took an order for more beer and some menus for Clyde and Jack.
“This whole thing with Hughes sucks. We’ve lost a day of practice already,” Jack grumbled.
“That’s the least of our worries. Hughes isn’t the only team in need of money. You still haven’t paid me.”
“You know I’m good for it, Clyde.”
“Do I, Jack? I’m not so sure. Diana tells me you’re into your retirement savings.” He shook his head. “Not good. We need to win this year, or we’re gonna be in trouble. The only other option is to take on more drivers, and I’m not sure I can afford the extra mechanics and engineers that would have to come with it.” Clyde shook his head again. “We really need to win, or Johnson Wright Racing is over.”
“Shit,” Jack said as he glanced up at the man entering the dining room. The tall, blond man strode directly over to their table. Jack said, “Claasen. How are you?”
Greer raised her wine glass to her lips as if she could hide behind the rim and not look like she was unabashedly eavesdropping.
The man’s easy smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Gentlemen. Nice to see you. How are things?”
“Not bad. Today was a waste,” Clyde said, “but at least the track will be open tomorrow. Sorry about your Carrera Cup races. I caught the last one. Nasty business.”
Karl Claasen. He’d been just starting to make a name for himself when she’d bowed out. He was decent as a driver, winning here and there, but he didn’t really have what it took to go all the way. At least not that she’d seen. She didn’t think he’d recognize her but slouched more in her chair to keep the laptop screen in front of her face.
“It was a tough season. We didn’t have the best luck. But this season, the European Cup, it will be good, eh?” Claasen offered a toothy smile.
It made Greer want to roll her eyes. The guy was smarmy.
Clyde pointed to a chair at another table. Claasen grabbed it and brought it over. “How was today for you?”
“Fine, fine,” Jack said, quick to reassure their competitor.
“Bollocks,” Clyde said. “We only managed one session, and now it’s supposed to rain tomorrow but be clear on race day. That means a waste of practice time tomorrow. We’ll have to practice on rain tires and then race on slicks.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Jack supplied.
“Bah!” Classen snorted. “Maybe, but with Hughes bringing in rank amateurs, something was bound to happen.”
