Page 8 of Full Throttle

A drill whirred. Ranya sighed. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure, Hastings, but I’m in the middle of something—”

“Don’t hang up,” Dominic said quickly. “You’ll want to hear this. Trust me.” He switched the phone to his other ear. “When can you meet today?”

Chapter 3

Full Throttle

If you asked Juliette if she was often late, she would have said that lateness often happened to her. Train delays, a faulty car engine, trousers that split as she was dashing out the door…She’d even been late to her own birth, arriving four minutes after her twin brother, Capulet. Still, Juliette was prepared to admit that—this morning—there was nobody to blame but her own idiocy. And, possibly, whatever company designed her alarm clock.

“Move!” she called.

Startled students leaped out of her path. Her footsteps echoed off the stone. A low buzz of voices carried over the fields, and Juliette doubled her pace, ignoring the burn in her thighs. Damn. They were starting without her.

She broke into a sprint.

Left. Right. Another left. She’d lived at this Scottish castle for eleven years; nobody knew the training academy like she did. She darted through the kitchens—upsetting a tower of cream puffs—and then burst through a small door. The track loomed ahead, a twisting serpent of asphalt, along with a set of risers. Thirteen drivers stood on the track with helmets in hand. Juliette fetched up near the tallest one, who gave her a look of astonishment. Or a look of astonishment for Baz, at any rate, which was the twitch of an eyebrow.

“Where were you?” Baz demanded.

Her friend was facing forward, his brown hair mussed with wind. The cold January air had whipped color into his cheeks. Or he was nervous. Impossible to tell with Baz.

Juliette pulled on her balaclava. “Overslept.”

Baz’s eyebrow inched a fraction higher. “You didn’t set an alarm?”

“No,” Juliette said mildly. “Thought I’d enjoy the adrenaline rush.” She shot Baz a look. “Of course I set an alarm. It didn’t go off.”

“I called you,” Baz said. “Twice.”

Juliette glanced at her phone. There were indeed two missed calls, spaced about two minutes apart. “Weird. My ringer’s on silent.” She pocketed the phone. “You didn’t knock?”

“Didn’t have time.” Baz’s gaze flicked sideways. “Frederick bloody Von Galen was kicking up a fuss in the mess hall. Apparently, a first year ate the last piece of bacon. It would have come to blows if someone didn’t step in.”

Juliette glanced down the line to where Frederick Von Galen stood, holding his helmet to his chest as he sang the national anthem. His bleach-blond tips shone in the watery sunlight, and he was wearing a pink rubber bracelet. He had a lovely baritone for someone who was—and this was objectively speaking—evil incarnate.

Her eyes flicked to the stands, where hundreds of people packed into the rickety seats, sporting cardboard signs and cameras. Juliette scanned the first row, but the crowd was a blur of faces.

“Are they here?”

Baz nodded. “Over there.”

She followed his gaze to where her family sat. Her mother was speaking to her father, who was sporting a Shakespeare T-shirt that said, I Put the Lit in Literature. Her eldest brother, Benvolio, was blowing on a beverage that was almost certainly black coffee. Her sister, Rosaline, gave an enthusiastic wave.

“Capulet?” Juliette asked, although she already knew where her twin brother would be, and the grimace on Baz’s face confirmed it.

“Doubt he’ll get leave. They’re testing soon.”

Juliette looked away. Obviously Cap would be preparing for Bahrain. You couldn’t exactly miss preseason testing when you drove for the best Formula 1 team. Not that she spoke to her brother much about racing, because that inevitably led to discussing his teammate. And the idea of discussing Dominic Hastings…

Her stomach tightened.

No.

Not thinking about that.

The anthem ended. Drivers flocked toward their cars, exchanging good-natured slaps and fist bumps. Juliette pulled out a sleeve of biscuits from her jacket pocket. Baz looked at her as if she’d produced a severed head.

“Are you eating?”