Grip
A Driven World Novel
Lacey Black
Table of Contents
Introduction from K. Bromberg
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
KB Worlds
Books Also by Lacey Black
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by K. Bromberg
Grip
A Driven World Novel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
© 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Published by KB Worlds LLC.
Cover Design by: Tugboat Designs
Cover Image by: Golden Czermak/Furiousfotog
Editing by: Kara Hildebrand
Formatting by: Brenda Wright/Formatting Done Wright
Published in the United States of America
Introduction
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the Driven World!
I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Grip is a book based on the world I created in my New York Times bestselling Driven Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.
This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.
I truly hope you enjoy Grip. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.
Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.
Happy Reading,
K. Bromberg
Prologue
Mack
Three years ago
My hand is shaking as I return the old landline telephone to the cradle on the desk. I can’t believe that just happened. The phone call of a lifetime, of my lifetime.
“Well?” Jim asks from across the desk.
Jim Stanley owns the small dirt track I race at every Saturday night. He took me under his wing barely eight years ago, when I was a cocky sixteen-year-old kid with a chip on my shoulder and the desire to race coursing through my veins. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a drunken father passed out in the trailer we shared when I showed up one Saturday night, watching from the outer fence, as the stock cars bumped and raced around the oval for the checkered flag.
That was the night I fell in love with racing.
And Lena, Jim’s daughter.
She was this tall, skinny girl with long, dark hair and knobby knees. Lena was practically hanging out of the concession stand, watching the action on the track. I could see the way her face radiated joy, her smile outshining the excitement happening just a hundred yards away. That was the moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She was a year older than me in school and recently moved to Brenton, Kansas. No one really knew much about her, but after that night, I knew I had to make her mine.
“Mack?” Jim asks, pulling me back to the now. To the phone call that has altered the course of my future.
“He’s offering me a ride.”
I still can’t believe it.
Jim stands up, a wide smile brimming across his aged face as he approaches my seat. “Mack,” he says, the emotion of this moment caught up in him as well. I stand up and am immediately engulfed in his arms. “I’m so proud of you.”
Five words I’ve never heard before in my life.
Words I’d longed to hear from my old man, but never did. Words that seem to mean even more coming from Jim Stanley, the man who stepped up when everyone else was ready to turn their backs. When my own father drank himself into a grave just a few short years ago.
“When do you go?” he asks.
“Tomorrow.”
Deep breath.
His smile slips for a split second, but I catch it. I’ve practically lived here at the track, first as a boy covered in dirt and cleaning the pits, and then as a man, racing every Saturday night. Through it all, Jim has been there, offering me more than just a job. His guidance, expertise, and even his love. Jim is the closest person I have to a real father, and the thought of leaving him, leaving this place, hurts.
Jim places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “You better go get packed up.”
I nod, a ball of emotion suddenly lodged in my throat. “Thank you for what you’ve done.” The thought of leaving Jim and this track, the one place that has always felt like home, terrifies me, but not leaving, passing up this opportunity, might terrify me more.
He scoffs. “I didn’t do anything.”
I blow out a huge breath and laugh. “Didn’t do anything? You don’t think I know you made a call?”
The look on his face confirms my suspicions. Jim is unable to mask his guilt as he grins up at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I do know. Jim Stanley is a former crew chief for open-wheel racing. He worked with racing legends like Mario Andretti and Emerson Fittipaldi. His wall is covered with photographs and his cabinet full of trophies. Jim Stanley is a legend in his own right, and even though he retired right before he bought this old, closed-down track eight years ago, I have no doubt he still has the connections needed to have me seen.
Instead of arguing with him, I throw my arms around his shoulders and hold him close. He smells of soap and motor oil, and I can’t help but
