“By the way,” Mac says, sounding less agitated. “The odds against you winning this year just went up.”
“Why?” Zamara asks, finally speaking.
I remove the earpiece and replace my hand on the shift stick. I don’t have time to be thinking about the betting and what’s causing my odds to go up.
Into the next corner, I accelerate into the turn, twisting the wheel right and then all the way left. This sends the car into a drift that has me side by side with the yellow GT90. I catch a glimpse of Slipstream giving me the finger. I answer with a two-finger salute as I enter the corner from the inside and pull away from the GT90.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SHAKY LEGS and all, I wobble my way to my designated tent at the second checkpoint of the race. The fatigue of the last two days of driving nonstop without sleep hangs like a noose over my neck, ready to pull me under. The white tents at the drivers’ area are far less than at the first checkpoint. From what I hear, fifteen of the original thirty-three made it. No skin off my back. That just means less competition for me. Of those driving behind me at the next stage, Slipstream is the only real threat. He’s hungry for revenge after I passed him at Mount Mega. During the rest of the drive on stage two, I could feel him chomping at the bit.
Once I get some rest, I’ll go and see him. Afterward my attention will be on the rest of the frontrunners. I’m coming for Star next. She’s directly trailing Bedlam, who’s lost in his own battle with Ace for supremacy. I so desperately want to read the race reports, but my lids refuse to stay open any longer. A pulse has begun behind my eyes, thrumming there like an intense drumbeat. Will someone please make it stop?
“You owe me a kiss,” Zamara says outside my tent. She’s changed into another pair of jeans and a tattered T-shirt. Her hair is wet and combed away from her serious face, falling straight down her back. She looks clean enough to eat.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, almost like a sigh. Well, actually, it is a sigh. One from a place of sheer exhaustion. Prickles climb up my legs like a tiny invisible people are using spikes to make the ascent.
“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of your promise!” Her voice is rising to levels my poor ears can’t take.
I wave away her growing panic with a hand I no longer feel. The vibrations from my GT’s engine have rendered my fingers numb. You have to understand. Driving forty-eight hours, stopping only for a tire change is no joke. The second I got out of the car the first thing I did was pee. Gross, I know, holding all that in. But I did make good time.
“I’m sorry for not giving you bathroom breaks,” I clarify. My breathing has turned ragged for some reason. Please, racing gods, if you have any shred of compassion, don’t let this mean I’m about to get sick. The last thing I need is a cold during my takedown of Ace and Bedlam.
Zamara’s annoyance deflates faster than a hot-air balloon that’s just landed. “I have to admit, I’ve never peed in a bottle before.”
Nor should she have. She’s the boss’s daughter—princess of Terra One. But she wanted to be my navigator. The role comes with certain sacrifices. And boy, did she endure those sacrifices like a pro. She didn’t even complain when I suggested another rolling top up come refueling time. She says it gets easier the second time.
I eye my tent flap. Beyond is the makeshift bed I plan on spending at least a couple of hours on. Dead to the world.
“The kiss?” she asks sheepishly, probably catching my gaze shift.
“Don’t you want me to at least brush my teeth first? Maybe even take a shower?” I gesture at my grimy self. “You just spent two days in a car with me.”
The beginning scowl on her forehead tells me the truth more than her words ever can. She’s come to collect, and there’s nothing I can say that can convince her otherwise. So, swallowing because the inside of my mouth isn’t exactly the freshest place in the world, I take a step toward her. She tenses like a rabbit ready to bolt at any sign of danger. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so damn tired. The kind that reaches bone-deep and refuses to let go until you’ve given in to the rest your body is begging for.
I circle my arm around her waist at about the same time I take a deep breath. In a quick yank, her entire front is flush with mine. We’re touching from thighs to chest. Not overthinking the situation I got myself into for the price of refueling on the go, I lean in and take her lips. She’s stiff for about three seconds; then she melts against me. I actually feel all the bones in her body liquefy as I widen my stance to support her deadweight.
Two seconds later, her hands lock behind my neck and she gets into the kiss. I give her as much as she wants to take. She’s earned it as far as I’m concerned. Her chest crushes against mine and I feel her hammering heartbeat through her shirt. At the puckering of her nipples, I realize she’s not wearing a bra. I gasp then and step out of her hold. She blinks at
