The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  Tate’s car had also been damaged, and the two drivers made their way back to the pits, Jared driving his car on three wheels. I had no idea how he’d take this disastrous ending to his first Grand Prix. Drivers were volatile at the best of times, let alone after suffering such a heavy disappointment, and getting caught up in a serious and, frankly, terrifying accident.

  Angus ran outside along with Mark, to direct Jared into the garage. He pulled up, ripped off the steering wheel, threw it on the ground, and launched out of the car.

  Okay, disappointed wasn’t the right description. Fucking furious was much more appropriate, and although he still wore his helmet which hid his face, his body language screamed pure rage.

  I expected him to march out the back of the garage and straight into the team motorhome. Instead, he spun on his heel and stormed down the pit lane.

  Where the hell is he going?

  Jared dragged off his helmet and tugged out his earplugs. I caught sight of him on the TV screens, the cameras eagerly following the ensuing drama.

  I’d never seen a man so angry, his face beet red, his eyes locked straight ahead. Angus sprinted after him, and he wrestled a hold of Jared’s arm, but Jared launched his shoulder in the air and shook him off. I spotted Devon running, too, and then realization hit me.

  Shit.

  Jared was going to confront Tate.

  I ran down the pit lane toward Tate’s garage. Getting involved meant overstepping the mark. Angus and Devon would have the matter in hand, but somehow, I hoped that, if I could get Jared’s attention, my presence might calm him down.

  By the time I reached Tate’s garage, he and Jared were standing inches apart, yelling at each other. Both of them had adopted an aggressive stance, with a lot of finger poking going on. TV cameras and reporters jostled for position. Two drivers having a full-on row was a juicy piece of gossip. The rookie American going up against England’s prince.

  “Are you trying to fucking kill me?” I caught Jared hollering as I skidded inside.

  Tate spread his arms wide. “No, man. Jeez, it was an accident. I got the message one of the leader cars were approaching so I lifted off the gas pedal.”

  Jared scowled, his fisted hands shaking with rage. “You were on the fucking racing line, you dick. In a fucking monsoon. What the hell did you think was gonna happen, huh? Or is this some kind of sick joke for rookie drivers?”

  Tate’s mouth formed into a flat line, and he poked Jared in the chest. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re insinuating, mate, but don’t come onto my patch and accuse me of unprofessionalism.”

  Jared smacked Tate’s hand away. “I’m not your goddamn mate.”

  Dad chose that moment to appear. Just as well, really, because with the amount of testosterone flying around, anything could happen. He shoved in between both drivers, one of his hands on each of their chests, keeping them from coming to blows. He switched his focus to Jared. “That’s enough. Both of you. Back to the garage, Jared.” When Jared held his ground, Dad barked, “Now!”

  I caught Jared’s eye as he stormed past me, but other than an angry glare, he paid me no attention.

  Devon slung an arm around my shoulder, grinned, and whispered, “Goddamn high-maintenance drivers,” in my ear.

  His jokey manner brought a smile to my face, but Jared’s fury, and the unexpected and disappointing end to my first race as pit crew, left a sour taste in my mouth.

  We walked into the garage, Jared nowhere to be seen. As we were still in the middle of the race, Lewis’s team all rushed back to work. Jared’s team, however, were at a loose end, although everyone would stick around to cheer Lewis on to a hopeful win.

  I sidled up next to Angus. “Mind if I split for ten minutes?”

  He looked down at me, his eyebrows raised. “Like that, is it?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe a woman will have a chance of calming him down?”

  Angus chuckled. “You don’t fool me, kid.”

  I offered up a twisted grin and playfully bumped shoulders with him. “On the hush-hush, right, Angus?”

  He made a zipping motion across his lips. “Mum’s the word, kiddo. But do me a favor? Be careful. Jared’s a nice guy, but he’s a racing driver first and foremost. You’ll always come second to a guy like him, and I want more than that for you.”

  “Nothing’s going on, Angus. I swear. He’s miles from home with no friends or family nearby. I’m offering a shoulder, nothing more.”

  Liar.

  He nodded. “I’ve got your back, kiddo.”

  Have I mentioned how much I love Angus?

  He was one of the few people around here who at least tried to remember I was an adult. It wasn’t that I’d decided to keep secrets from Dad, just that I didn’t need a grilling about something I wasn’t sure I understood yet, namely whether anything was going on with Jared and me. Although if Dad asked Jared that question, undoubtedly Jared would reply with a resounding “Absolutely nothing”.

  Heading out back, I opened the door to the motorhome where I found Jared pacing. He’d stripped off the top half of his race suit and removed his fire-retardant T-shirt. His chest glistened with sweat, his hair damp and mussy. Despite his deep rage, I couldn’t help staring, my belly clenching with desire. Angry Jared was hot. The timing was absolutely not appropriate, but I couldn’t help drinking in my fill of him.

  He stopped and glared, anger darkening his expression as his gaze collided with mine.

  “Not now, Paisley,” he snapped, resuming his pacing.

  Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it then I crossed my arms over my chest. Tension thickened the air, Jared acting like a caged tiger—raging, vexed, completely hacked off. And I didn’t know whether he would allow me to to calm him or decide to rip my throat out.

  He raked a hand through his hair as he stomped around the small space, muttering to himself.

  “What can I do?” I finally asked when at least five minutes had passed by without either of us saying a word. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

  Those gorgeous chocolate irises turned my way, fury raging, pupils dilated.

  “Go away, Paisley. Leave me alone.”

  “No.”

  He clenched both hands into fists. “I said fucking leave. I won’t tell you again.”

  I took a step forward. “Rail on me all you like, Jared. That’s what friends are for. I’m not surprised you’re angry. You’re entitled to be. But I won’t let you push me away. Being alone right now is the very last thing you need.”

  “You have no idea what I need,” he gritted out, teeth clenched.

  “Then tell me,” I said gently. “Talk to me.”

  He made a frustrated noise, almost a growl. I barely had time to react before he was on me and his mouth crashed down on mine. Locking my hands behind my back, he pinned me to the door with his hips, his kiss hard, raw, almost punishing, nothing at all like the tentative touching of lips when I’d kissed him the day we’d first met, or even the kiss we’d shared outside my hotel room on Wednesday night. He was far from gentle, using his teeth and his tongue to assert his dominance, demanding my submission. I sank against him, a surging tide of warmth starting in my core and working its way to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes.

  Desperate to touch him, I struggled to free my hands, but he tightened his grip and bit hard on my lip as a warning. I tasted blood on my tongue.

  Oh God, this was so primal.

  His touch sent wild tremors racking through me, my body shaking as violently as if I’d spent the night outside in the depths of winter.

  And then as quickly as he’d come on to me, he let me go. Still lost in a haze of passion, I could barely focus.

  Jared muttered, “Fuck, no. Not happening.”

  What?

  By the time I recovered my senses, he’d gone.

  Dammit!

  Jared

  I somehow made it through the myriad of post-race press interviews and fielded a multitud
e of questions about my reaction to the crash. I fully expected a lecture from Jack, and I deserved it. I should have kept my cool instead of letting the red mist cloud my vision. Hardly the sort of press I’d hoped to receive after my first race.

  Once I escaped the clutches of a room full of journalists, I spent enough time with the sponsors to appease Jack, but the whole time, I couldn’t think about anything but Paisley. The feel of her pliant lips succumbing to me so readily, despite how rough I’d been. The warmth of her body filtering through the unshapely race suit. The crush of her breasts against my chest.

  I’d resisted her for so long, but now I’d had a real taste, I wanted to own everything she had to give and then demand more.

  What the fuck have I done?

  After what had happened with Tate, I was so enraged I didn’t think; I acted. And now I’d been left with the consequences of those actions. Paisley made it abundantly clear she wanted me, and the only leverage I had to keep her at bay was by maintaining a friendly, but polite, distance. After Wednesday night’s kiss, I’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again, yet a mere five days later, I’d thrust my goddamn tongue down her throat.

  I expected to find her hanging around, but since I’d walked out and left her in the motorhome, I hadn’t seen her at all. I almost asked Jack or Devon or Angus where she was, but I didn’t dare in case they saw right through my passive interest.

  Glancing at my watch, I figured it would be another half hour or so and I should be able to escape back to the confines of the hotel.

  “Jared, a word.” Jack appeared at my shoulder and cocked his head, beckoning me to follow him.

  Here we go.

  Oh, hang on. Was this about Tate… or Paisley?

  We walked back to the motorhome in silence. I tried to read his body language, but Jack had mastered hiding his emotions. This was not how I wanted to start what I hoped would be a long career with Nash Racing. Crashing the car causing tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, coming to blows with a competitor in front of the entire racing community, not to mention the press and the millions watching worldwide. Oh, and furiously and roughly kissing his daughter, although I prayed he didn’t know anything about the latter.

  “Sit down, Jared,” Jack said. He wandered over to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out two beers. He twisted off the caps and handed me one.

  “Thanks.” I took a welcome drink. I rarely drank during the racing season, but I needed this after today.

  “Not the most auspicious of starts,” Jack said.

  I opened my mouth to begin my defense, and then I saw his eyes twinkling. Thank Christ. I grinned and shrugged. “He fucked up. You know it and I know it.”

  Jack nodded. “Agreed. He should have moved out of the way, not slowed down on the racing line. It would have been bad enough to do that in dry conditions, but with the weather we had today, it was reckless. You’ll be happy to know the stewards agree with you. Tate will take a five-place grid penalty at the next race.”

  I felt vindicated by my anger, even though the way I chose to display it wasn’t exactly professional. “I should have dealt with things differently. It won’t happen again, Jack.”

  “Damn straight,” Jack said, laughing. “Before the crash, though, you were killing it. Lewis wasn’t disappointed at what happened, that’s for sure. He had a much more comfortable race after you crashed out.”

  I laughed, too. “Fucking teammate, my ass.”

  Jack clinked his bottle against mine. “Drink up, kid. Go back to the hotel. Get some rest. We’ll do a full debrief tomorrow, and then it’s off to Bahrain. Onwards and upwards.”

  Paisley was nowhere to be seen either that day or the next, and after several internal arguments, I caved. I assessed my options and figured Angus would be the best person to ask. He was her boss after all. Asking where one of my mechanics’ was shouldn’t be taken as odd. Lewis had taken to giving me the stink-eye every time I even glanced in Paisley’s direction, and Devon had already left to visit family and friends. I wouldn’t see him again until Bahrain. Strange for my engineer not to be at the post-race debrief, but apparently Devon shooting off straight after the race was something Jack had agreed to for years. Devon only made it back to Australia a couple of times a year, so I totally understood his need to connect with those he loved. I missed my family like hell.

  I took the spare seat next to Angus as the rest of the team gathered. Chairs scraped against the tile, and loud chatter filled the room. When a team had one winner and one very sore loser, it created a weird dynamic at the debrief. There was joy and excitement for the driver who’d won, but the atmosphere zinged with a repressed vibe as no one wanted to make the losing driver, or their crew, feel bad.

  I leaned toward Angus and tried to keep my voice as casual as I could manage. “Paisley not around today? She sick?”

  Angus didn’t even look at me. He stared straight ahead, his gaze on Jack in conversation with a couple of the team.

  “She’s fine.”

  I glanced around. “Where is she? Everyone’s here. Why isn’t she?”

  “She’ll meet us in Bahrain.”

  Okay, he was clearly dodging the question. Except I wouldn’t quit until I got an answer.

  “Where is she, Angus?” I said in a determined, don’t-fuck-with-me tone.

  Finally, he turned his head. He sighed. “Jared, I like you. I really do. You’re a top guy and a fantastic driver. But like I said on your first day, cast your line somewhere else.”

  I pulled in my lips, wondering how much Paisley had divulged about what had happened between us before she’d fucked off to God-only-knows where. I didn’t want to slip up and share if she hadn’t.

  “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

  He hitched a shoulder. “Nothing, because you won’t get the chance.”

  I snorted. “She’s a grown woman, Angus, who can make her own decisions.”

  Angus nodded. “That she is. But even if you could convince me it’s a good idea for you two to hook up, Devon and Lewis won’t agree. And don’t even get me started on Jack. Everyone in the paddock knows you don’t touch Jack Nash’s daughter, so do yourself a favor and pick someone else. Formula One is full of gorgeous girls and hot-as-hell groupies. It’s a smorgasbord of totty for a handsome guy like yourself.”

  Angus’s reiteration of his earlier warning further ignited my interest. The first time he’d warned me off, I hadn’t cared all that much. Sure, my dick had been mildly interested in a brief fling, but once I’d found out who she was, that’d been the end of it. But after getting to know Paisley these last few weeks, my interest in her had grown.

  Now… Angus’s second untimely warning fired up my competitive streak.

  The team would meet up in Bahrain in just over a week. I could wait. And then it was race on. Paisley would see a very different Jared Kane from the one who’d tried to keep her at bay.

  If she wanted me, I was hers for the taking.

  Paisley

  Okay, I admit it. After Jared kissed me and then clearly regretted it, I decided to do a bunk. I didn’t want to face him, to hear a speech about mistakes and misgivings, and ‘Never gonna happen again’.

  It wasn’t unheard of for members of the crew to duck home whenever they could, and I’d taken advantage of that with the excuse that I was missing Mum. Dad happily acquiesced, although it’d mean missing the post-race debrief, but as a junior mechanic, it wasn’t crucial for me to be there.

  Jared had screwed me up with that kiss. The feel of his lips on mine, his tight, hard body pressing up against me, his thick erection sending a message of such promise, well, it was all I could think about. He was all wrong for me, and not because of who he was, but more what he was, namely a racing driver. It was one of the reasons I never dated any drivers. I’d had offers—and temptations—but I always refused any advances. I didn’t want to come second to a lump of aluminum.

  So why do I want Jared so much?

 
Alone, I walked through the arrivals hall at Bahrain International Airport. Dad had flown in yesterday, but I reaffirmed my ‘Missing Mum’ mantra by staying on an extra day. I’d even booked us in at a spa just to hammer the message home. There’d been a moment during our pedicure when I’d almost told her about me and Jared, but at the last minute I lost my nerve. Mum would tell Dad… And I had no idea how he’d react. Until I did, I had to keep quiet.

  And anyway, if Jared decided kissing me had been a big mistake, what was the point in upsetting Dad?

  Spotting the chauffeur holding up a card with my name on it, I headed on over, towing my suitcases behind me. He drove me straight to the hotel and waited while I checked in and dropped my bags off in my room. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wear my full race suit today. Just as well, considering the temperature had tipped one hundred degrees. I quickly changed into a Nash Racing T-shirt and a pair of white jeans cut just above the ankle.

  The closer the car got to the track, the faster my blood raced. Although desperately excited to see Jared, I didn’t have a clue how he would react to me.

  Well, I was about to find out because we’d arrived.

  I thanked the driver and, after stopping to speak to a few people, I arrived at our garage. My heart thumped at a million miles an hour—okay, an exaggeration. If that were true, I’d probably need to go to the hospital. Put it this way, my ribs were taking a battering.

  I spotted Dad focused on a computer screen, Devon to his left and Steve to his right.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Dad twisted around and beamed. “There’s my princess.” He half held out his arms, then dropped them to his sides as he caught sight of my face. He cleared his throat. “Good flight, sweetheart?”

  Poor Dad. He tried so hard, but twenty-two years of ingrained habit was hard to break.

  “Yeah, it was fine.” I took pity on him and kissed his cheek. “That’s from Mum.”

  Mum was a worse flier than me, so we wouldn’t see her at any races until the European season kicked in and she’d be able to travel around by train.