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She waved her hand. “I don’t know. On one of my street cars? What would be the point?”
“To intimidate you, maybe.”
“Do I look intimidated?”
“No, but you aren’t saying it couldn’t be one of your competitors.”
She wasn’t. There was no need to get into the gory details with him, but not everyone on the circuit loved sharing the track with a woman, let alone a woman of color who had set three records in the past year. The quiet grumbling she’d grown used to had been getting louder. And the grumbling had morphed into crude jokes, exclusions from social events, and, just last week, the delightful anonymous gift of a hot pink dildo left on her desk. The sex toy hadn’t fazed her. But the fact that someone had accessed her locked private office had.
Ryan was watching her face. She turned to meet his gaze full on.
“It’s a competitive business.”
“And you’re not one of the boys.”
“That too,” she allowed. “But, again. This didn’t happen at a race. Someone did this at my home track.”
“Another club member?”
“Or a guest. Or a club employee. Does it matter?”
He gaped at her. “Of course it matters. You could have been killed—or seriously injured.”
She noted he didn’t saywe.His concern was about her. Brotherly concern, no doubt.
“That’s a bit dramatic. If that barrier hadn’t been there, I’d have been able to course correct more easily. Bad luck and timing played a big role.”
“Bad luck,” he mused, then frowned. “Still, Jake’ll look into it.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
He cut her off. “It happened on a private road that, according to you, is jointly owned by the club and Potomac. We have a duty to investigate.”
Ah, not brotherly concern. Lawyerly concern.
“Well, I need to call the garage and have them send over a tow truck for poor Marie.” She cast a rueful look at the crumpled car tangled up in chicken wire. “And I’ll have maintenance come out to repair the fence. Can you get someone from Potomac to pick you up?”
“Sure. Of course. Or I could walk from here. But I’ll wait with you.”
She was about to tell him there was no need when she was distracted by a family of deer hightailing from the path across the road. She squinted at the path, which led from a long-abandoned farm that the club had recently purchased. A trio of men hurried up the rocky trail. She grabbed Ryan’s sleeve with one hand and pointed with the other.
“Are they armed?”
He cocked his head. “Sure looks like it.” Then he frowned. “This feels wrong. The barrier. Armed exercises. This stuff is supposed to be confined to the campus proper.”
Her heart filled her chest and her throat squeezed. Ryan met her frightened gaze and pulled her from the stump, dragging her back into the dense flowering hawthorn bushes. Thick thorns tore at her hands and face as they retreated behind the curtain of foliage. She stifled a yelp.
They crouched low and watched as the three men vaulted over the barrier and took aim at the Porsche as they drew closer. Leilah couldn’t make out their facial features, but they were all tall and broad-shouldered. All dressed in olive green pants and gray sweatshirts, hoods up over their heads.
“Empty,” one declared after pointing the barrel of his rifle into the passenger compartment.
One of them swore loudly, then barked, “Call it in.”
The third man pulled a phone from his pocket.
Ryan gripped Leilah’s arm, and she turned to look at him. He put a finger to his lips and then pointed to the woods behind them. She nodded and slung her tote straps across her chest.
They backed through the thorny bushes. He set the creeping pace, slowly, slowly. She was desperate to hurry but understood that speed had to bow to silence. When they emerged from the brush and stood, he said, “Go!”
