She had to race. She didn’t just want to. She had to.
How could she explain it to anyone who hadn’t grown up as she had?
She. Had. To. Race.
She wasn’t fit for anything else. She certainly wasn’t prepared for anything else. She hadn’t even finished high school, and she’d never had a real job.
If she couldn’t race Formula 1, what then? Make money hustling at pool and poker?
She had to prove she was better than that. She had to show that all that work her grandfather had put into her starting at the age of eight when she’d raced her first kart had not been wasted.
It had to count for something. It just had to.
She had to prove that it wasn’t just a drawing of her grandfather that she carried with her. She was his granddaughter. She carriedhimwith her becausehe was in her. And that meant everything he’d taught her was in her too—his grit, determination, and integrity. She had to prove that everything that had happened after he was gone didn’t change that.
She drew one last cleansing breath and then turned on the water, waiting until it was the right temperature. When it was, she stepped in and held her head under the steaming hot water.
Racing Formula 1 was like her blood, her bone. If they were gone, so was she—not just a persona like that femme fatale at Drink and Dive—buther, thereal her.
CHAPTER THREE
ROCCO
Rocco stood alongside Dario in the parking lot of Maverick Racing headquarters and looked around. Nothing but miles and miles of desert.
Why hadn’t he thought to stop for another espresso on the drive out here? He was beat. He felt as though his head had just hit the pillow when Dario woke him up.
The team principal asked if they could move the meeting up and stop by today—New Year’s Day. It seemed something had come up.
It pissed him off they would change things on a moment’s notice.
Dario placed his hand on Rocco’s shoulder. “It’s a good sign. They want to sign you before someone else gets the chance.”
“It’s not like anyone’s been knocking down the door. You and I both know that.”
Dario grinned. “Yeah, but they don’t know that.”
Rocco was doubtful. He’d raced for just about every top flight F1 team there was. And over the past couple years, he’d burned bridges with all of them. Given the damage he’d done to cars with nothing much to show for it, he’d become more of a liability than an asset.
Maverick Racing must have some inkling none of those teams wanted him back. People talk. And they didn’t seem to think twice about moving up the appointment at the last minute—and on a holiday, no less.
Normally, at this time of year, Rocco would have been at home in Italy with his family. But when this offer from Maverick Racing hadcome through, he’d convinced Dario to come out a few days prior to the appointment to celebrate the New Year here. It was difficult being around his family right now, given it looked like he might not be racing this upcoming season.
It made it even worse that none of them would broach the subject. Not that he wanted to talk about it. It was obvious his grandfather had forbidden anyone to bring it up. Even his two nieces, not known for being quiet or tactful about anything, had been mute. But it didn’t matter. Rocco could hear the questions and the concern in his own head when he looked into their eyes. It was easier to be away from them.
Dario placed his hand on Rocco’s shoulder. “They want you, Rocco. You’re a proven entity.”
In some respects, that was a good thing. In others, not so much—especially if you were going by the past couple of years.
They walked toward the building, but Rocco stopped when he heard the roar of an engine—not just any engine—a Formula 1 engine.
Dario was about to open the door, but Rocco stopped him.
“Hold on a minute. Come on.”
He walked around the building. Out back was a makeshift track. He watched as a car zipped past.
It couldn’t be the car they planned to race this upcoming season. That was against regulations. It must be an older model they’d bought at auction.
