Page 89 of First in Line

“Perfect. I’ll pass it along to my team principal. She will be in contact with you soon,” he decides before handing the binder to his PA. “Madeline, as soon as we land, I want you to send this to Pattersen. I want her opinion on it ASAP.”

“Of course, Mr. Pryce,” she agrees with a nod.

“Thank you, sir,” we both say at the same time. “And sorry again for throwing the binder at you,” Evie continues with a wince.

“If the promises you’ve made are true, then you’re forgiven.”

Without another word, he exits the car. The PA follows him, offering us a sideways look and a small smile as she slips out. The bodyguards are waiting for them, and they get escorted all the way to the helicopter.

We watch it take off from inside the car, still stunned by the surreal moment we just experienced. The only thing that breaks us out of this stupor is the partition that lowers behind us. When I turn, I find the driver twisted to the side. “I have instructions to drop you off wherever you’d like. So, where to, kids?”

Evie gives him the name of the hotel we’re staying at, a small place away from the strip, and he drives off.

We don’t talk as he gets us there, both ruminating on what was discussed. March to September is a long time. Seven months. Although we’ve been through so much together over the years, we’ve never had to do long-distance.

But we’ve dealt with worse, haven’t we? I’m sure we can make this work as well.

The loud rotor of the helicopter vibrates in my ears as we make our way toward the private jet. Wesley walks beside me as his assistant follows behind.

Once we arrive at the plane’s stairs, the chopper takes off behind us and flies away. I let Wesley climb first, then Madeline, and then follow them into the jet.

“Thank you again for letting me tag along,” I tell Wesley as I take a seat across the aisle from him. His assistant sits a couple of rows behind us and has already taken out her laptop and is typing on it.

“Of course. Mi plane es su plane, Jackson. Tell you what, if you win all the races this year, this plane will actually be yours.”

I offer him a dubious look. “You’d give me your own private jet?”

“For all twenty-four trophies? Absolutely.”

“Madeline, can you write that down?” I ask with humor.

“Already done and backed up.”

Wesley and I exchange a grin, amused by her professional tone. “In all seriousness, though, you plan on winning this one as well, right?”

“I haven’t lost in Monaco in five years.”

He chuckles with unmasked satisfaction. “So, we’re on our way to our eighth win in eight races. It has to be a new record.”

“It will be for me, which is the only thing that really matters, isn’t it? As the best racer in the world, and everything.”

This time, he laughs frankly. “You were always so confident. Even all those years ago in Vegas… You promised you’d get me more trophies than my shelves could hold. And you should see my trophy room… It’s overflowing with them.”

“I take it you don’t regret your investment?”

“Are you kidding? I’d rather lose my entire company than you and your golden touch, Jackson.”

The flight attendant arrives with two glasses of champagne, which she hands to us. “The plane will leave in five minutes, sir.”

Wes nods, and she returns to the front of the cabin.

“I still have it, you know?” he says after taking a long sip.

“Have what?”

“That red binder.”

“You do?”