“I wouldn’t say no,” she says.
“You can,” I whisper. “You can always say no.”
Chapter Nineteen
FOR THE second stage of the Impulse Cup, the drivers leave according to the order in which they arrived at the first checkpoint. Ace gets a head start, which pisses off every cell in my body. Catching up with him, especially with the stages ahead, will be a major pain in the ass. The announcers say the same thing, their voices blasting through the speakers.
I cringe at the confirmation of my suspicions as Zamara and I walk side by side to the paddock. Our steps kick up dust. So much for yesterday’s rain. The air is so dry my pores are shrinking from the lack of moisture. Even with aviators on, I still squint at the amazing glare of the morning sun, and reports say it will only get worse as the blazing orb climbs higher. The same camera drone that tailed me last night hovers above us. My killer problem may just have added some spice to an already action-packed race. The citizens of Terra One must be eating up the drama. I wouldn’t be surprised if some betting action on the side happened. How will Viper die? What word will be carved on him? At what point during the race will his body be found? Just some of the possible odds. I have a hundred imaginary credits on he’ll be dead by the end of the second stage.
I don’t know where to even begin searching for the killer. With no evidence and no leads except Viper being next? Short of attaching myself to his hip, I’ve got jack shit. My hand dangerously tightens around the cup of the blackest coffee I’ve ever seen. The breakfast tent has nothing on Magda’s diner food. The fact that she refuses to be the food sponsor of the IC breaks my heart every year. I wave at Viper when we pass his STi. He came in twentieth, so he has a way to go before being able to leave. I’m eleventh, and I still have to wait at least an hour before revving my engine. I worry my lower lip. My feet itch. Zamara gives him the thumbs-up. He grins before ducking under the hood of his car.
“Remind me again why the first come first go rule is being enforced here?” Zamara asks, taking a sip of her coffee, then sticking out her tongue. “Gods! What did they put in here? Battery acid?”
“Don’t ruin my morning.” I swallow a gulp. The banana I snagged from the cooler acts as a great buffer for the lining of my stomach against the growth-stunting drink I sent its way. “It’s the Organizer’s way of keeping things interesting. It’s stupid if you ask me.”
My mood lightens when I see my GT.
Screw has her warming up by our truck when we arrive. The temperature dropped late last night, so the engine needs to stay on from now until I leave or I’ll stall at a critical moment. Can’t have that.
“How is she this morning?” I run my free hand over the gleaming roof.
“She’s a little cranky waking up.” Screw pops the hood. The deep purple under his eyes worries me. “But she’ll be ready for your start later.”
“Did you get enough sleep?” It’s a stupid question judging from the grunt he sends my way, but it had to be asked. I enter the car and rev the engine. “The next forty-eight is going to be a bitch on all of us. Make sure to stock up on energy drinks and electrolyte packets.”
“Well, look who’s all bossy this early,” Mac says, wheeling closer. He looks as bedraggled as I feel. Zamara has the tendency to hog the sheets.
“Hey, Mac!” She sits on his lap and rides with him to my side of the GT. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Sleep is for amateurs.” He gives Zamara a peck on her rosy cheek. I growl at them in warning. “I was up looking at the competition for this year. Based on the lineup, it might be a stiff one, especially since Ace has an hour of lead time.”
“I’m guessing that’s not the only one stiff this year.” I rake my gaze over Mac.
The poor guy’s complexion turns blotchy.
Zamara swings an arm over his shoulders and hugs him closer. “Don’t tease him like that. You know he can’t take it.”
“If you don’t listen to me, you’re going to lose again,” Mac says.
“Okay, Dad.” I step out of the GT. “Did you get all the blood out?”
Screw scowls at me. “You mock me.”
“Okay, now that mocking Screw’s talents is out of the way.” I face Mac, hands on my hips. “What do you have to tell me about this stage?”
By the time Mac finishes briefing me and Zamara on what to expect during the next two days, my name blasts through the speakers. I appreciated him scolding the princess over the importance of my earpiece and what she can do to become a more effective navigator. Zamara couldn’t even look my race analyst in the face, she was so ashamed.
I ease the GT onto the starting grid—an orange line made on the ground by marshals using spray paint. Traffic cones lining the flats will lead us toward the country road we are to follow all the way to the next checkpoint. The rest of the team will use another road, which will intersect with ours during crucial portions of the course like refueling stops.
Zamara sits in the passenger seat fidgeting with the zipper of a spare jacket I lent her. She needs the added protection of the Kevlar from the straps. I saw the bruises on her chest when she was changing this morning.
“You nervous?” I ask no matter how obvious the answer.
“Aren’t you?” She glances at me, a pink blush across her
