“Hey.” I grab her shoulder when we clear the S-curves. “I need you to concentrate.” She nods just as I flick my gaze at her. “And you”—I aim at Mac—“stop making her more nervous than she already is. You can evaluate her performance when we reach the second checkpoint.”
Before Mac can say a word, a loud crunching reaches us.
“What is that?” Zamara searches for the origin of the sound that seems to be coming closer.
“Car,” Mac says, suddenly pale.
“Car?” I ask back, then get what he means as soon as I spot the rolling hunk of metal we’re heading toward. And it’s right at another steep incline too. “Dammit! Hold on!” Not caring about the unstable terrain, I shift to third and gun it up the rise.
“RC, what are you doing?” Zamara yells at me as she grabs hold of her restrains. The tablet sails to the floor at her feet.
“Saving our asses.”
“Breaking would be nice too.”
“We’ll lose momentum if I do that.”
I clamp my jaw down as the flaming inferno that used to be a car sails above us barely clearing the roof of my GT. Zamara follows its trajectory by swiveling her head as if she can see through the chassis of my car. When it plunges the rest of the way down the side of the mountain, she twists to face the window and flattens her hands on the glass.
“Whoa!” she says a second after the explosion occurs. “Who do you think did that?”
I shrug as I steady my breathing without removing my foot from the accelerator. “Doesn’t matter. We’re officially in ninth.”
“Eighth, actually.” Mac finally finds his voice, unsteady as it is. This is why he can never be my navigator. He’s not even in the car with me and already he looks like he’s about to pass out or puke or puke, then pass out. Poor guy. I’m surprised he still has hair on top of that brilliant head of his.
“What do you mean?” Zamara’s question beats me to the punch.
“You’ll see soon enough,” he says.
We don’t have to wait long to find out what he means. At one of the few straightaways up Mount Mega is a stranded STi. At first I think it’s Viper. Panic chokes my throat. Then I realize the color is different. The pressure in my chest eases. The driver steps out of the car when we slow to a stop and points at his blown-out tires.
“The asshole didn’t think of using all-terrains,” I growl.
“What are you going to do?” Zamara points at the sorry excuse for a single-lane road. The potholes are the size of swimming pools.
I scan the area for what I have to work with, then quickly shift to reverse.
“RC….” Mac’s warning tone fills the inside of my GT.
“There’s no other choice,” I say when I stop at about a hundred yards from the STi blocking the way.
“What are you thinking?” Zamara asks, worry coloring her question.
“I suggest you close your eyes,” I tell her. Then I glance at Mac, who’s gone even paler now than when we started our assent.
“Is she thinking of an up and over?” comes Screw’s amused words.
“Exactly,” I say with a grin.
“Up and over?” Zamara blinks at me questioningly.
“Better that you don’t know.” Mac rolls his eyes.
No longer paying attention to anyone, I release the clutch and depress the gas, quickly shifting up until I reach the proper gear that will get me as close to a hundred kilometers per hour as I can in a short distance.
“RC!”
I’m really going to have to gag my navigator. Her squealing is working my patience hard. About a yard away from the STi, whose driver has run out of the way thinking I’m ramming into his car, I yank the steering wheel hard toward the mountainside. The front wheels bite into the rough slant and propel the car forward until we are tilted sideways. I ride the arch until we pass the STi, then set the GT back onto the path, catching a pothole at the last second, jostling Zamara. She bares her teeth at me when I whoop for joy.
“Didn’t I tell you?” I wink at her.
“Tell me what?” she hisses at me.
“Better than sex, baby.”
“I’ll take the sex, thank you very much.”
Her statement incites laughter from both my mechanic and my race analyst. I give the entire crew the finger before shifting to a lower gear in preparation for another inclined stretch. The laughs double in strength. Even Zamara joins in. The hilarity lasts about halfway up the mountain.
“All right, ladies,” Mac says when he finally regains his composure. “We’ve reached the first refueling station of the second stage. Wave.”
I glance to my right, and sure enough the truck with Screw at the wheel is parallel to where we are. Zamara does what she’s told and waves enthusiastically.
“Store the excitement, Princess,” I say as a thought occurs to me. We have time to make up. Can she do it? Here’s to hoping.
“Why?” Her lips screw into a pout.
“Mac, I want a rolling top up.”
“And the hits just keep on coming.” He rubs a hand over his strained expression. I’ve already put him through the wringer, and we’re a quarter of the way done with this stage. “What do you think, Screw?” He glances at our mechanic. He’s at the wheel, so it’s ultimately his call.
“If we want to catch up with the next driver, we’ll have to refuel on the go,” he says.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Screw?” I ask him. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s blushing when he sputters a reply.
“You’re only saying that because I’m agreeing to your insanity.”
“You’re my favorite enabler,” I tease.
“Will you two stop it already?” Mac scolds. “Zamara will have to do most of the heavy lifting.”
“What?” Her voice raises an octave. “What do
