Chapter 29 Brake it!
Zayd
I plated the salmon salad carefully andadded enough glazing just the way she liked it. Yes, I was making the meal for Amrah. I have been making food for her ever since she arrived this building but she doesn't know it.
She probably thought Khelani made them. My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen.
Liam Montgomery.
I wiped my hands on a towel and answered. "Yeah?"
"Zayd." Liam's voice was calm but firm—his business voice.
“I need you at the garage. Now would be preferable, please. I know you told Chris thirty minutes."
I checked the timer on my phone. "Twenty-three minutes now. I'm almost done packing up."
"Good, I need you to be Chris's navigator for this race. The Stripes are definitely up to do something and I can't afford to mess this up”
I sealed the last container and started arranging everything in the insulated bag. "I only do that on special notice, you know.”
I will check the engine and make sure he wins as usual.”
"Please, you are the only one that can help me right now, Chris needs you to win. The Monts 0.5 is a beast, but it's temperamental. You are the only one who can read the car and the track well enough tomake us win."
I was silent for a moment,
"Please, Zayd." Liam's voice softened. "I'm asking as an old friend, not as a Montgomery."
That was playing dirty. Liam knew I couldn't say no when he asked like that.
"Fine. I'll be there as soon as the pickup is done."
"Thank you. I owe you one."
"You owe me several," I corrected and hung up.
I recorded a quick voice message for Khelani and grabbed my jacket and headed for the door with the meal bag.
The garage was tensed. Chris had just finished the promotional shoots with Monts 0.5 that sat in the center. The exterior had sleek lines and sharp angles.
The crew was buzzing around it, taking a few more shots. The Stripes were on the other side of the circuit with their racer and his navigator already waiting by a red sports car.
Why all this fuss for a non-professional race?
Chris’s weary eyes lit up on seeing me walk in.
"Zayd." Liam nodded. "Thanks for coming."
"Don't thank me yet." I threw back curtly and strolled to the Monts 0.5, running my hand along its hood.
“Let me see what we are working with."
I lifted the hood and started checking the engine outer layout and the connections that could easily affect the speed and break.
"Everything good?" Chris appeared beside me, trying to sound casual and failing.
"It will be." I closed the hood and looked at him directly.
“But you need to listen to me during the race. Else, I might as well go back for a nap”
His jaw tightened. "I always listen."
"Bullshit."
He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, clearly still pissed about earlier.
I gave him one last bored glance before turning to Liam.
“Let's be done with this."
Liam gave a sharp nod. "They are getting impatient. Let's move."
The cockpit of the Monts 0.5 was tight obliviously designed for speed, not comfort. Chris slid into the driver's seat while I settled into the navigator's position, pulling on the harness and checking the readouts on my tablet.
I glanced at Chris. "You ready?"
He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. "Born ready."
I didn't respond to that. Instead, I pulled up the track layout on my screen and started analyzing. The Stripes had two cars, one would try to box us in while the other made the run.
“Bunch of cowards” Chris cussed under his breath.
"They are going to try to sandwich us at the first turn," I told Chris.
“Don't take the bait. Stay outside and let them think they have control."
"Outside line is slower," Chris argued.
"It's also safer."
The starting lights began their countdown.
Green.
Chris started and the car flared forward with a roar. The acceleration was brutal from 0 to 100 in 2 seconds.
I checked the data streaming across my screen.
"RPMs climbing too fast. Shift to third."
Chris shifted, smooth and precise. Whatever anger he had at me, he wasn't letting it affect his driving.
"Stripes on your six and eleven o'clock," I reported, watching the proximity sensors.
“They are setting up the box. First turn in thirty seconds. Hold your line."
"I see them."
The first turn approached fast, it was a sharp right-hander that could make or break the race. The Stripes moved in, one car pulling alongside us, the other dropping back to cut off any retreat.
"Now, Chris. Brake hard and cut inside."
"That's not…”
"Do it” my voice was dangerously low.
He hesitated for half a second before slamming the brakes. We cut inside, but the timing was off. The Stripes' car cut off our rear quarter panel.
"Fuck!" Chris fought the wheel, correcting the slide.
"I told you to brake!" I snapped, already analyzing the damage readouts.
"I know how to fucking drive, Zayd!"
"Then drive like it!"
We rocketed down the straight, the Monts 0.5 screaming as Chris pushed her to 240 kilometers per hour. The Stripes were right behind us, aggressive and relentless.
"Second turn coming up. This one is narrower so brake at the 100-meter marker, downshift to second, and apex late."
"Late apex will cost us time."
"It will also keep us from getting rammed. They are going to dive-bomb us."
I watched the Stripes' telemetry. They were accelerating, not braking.
Fucking retards.
"Brake."
Chris braked.
One of the Stripes' cars didn't. It flew past us into the turn, completely missing the apex and slamming into the barrier with a sickening crunch of metal and fiberglass.
"Good!” Chris hit the wheel.
"Focus. The other one is still on us, and he is pissed."
The remaining Stripes car was driving erratically now, swerving and brake-checking, obviously desperate and dangerous.
"He is going to try something stupid," I warned.
"Stay alert."
We entered a series of quick left-right turns that required precision. The Stripes car pulled alongside, trying to force us into the wall.
"Hold your line," I commanded.
“Don't give him space."
Chris held firm, but the Stripes driver jerked his wheel right, deliberately sideswiping us. The impact sent us slipping toward the outer barrier.
"Countersteer!"
Chris yanked the wheel, but overcorrected. We spun twice before slamming backward into the wall.
The world went silent except for the ringing in my ears and the hiss of the dying engine.
"Chris?" I turned to look at him.
“You good?"
He was gripping the wheel, breathing hard, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."
I unbuckled and kicked open the door, rage building hot and fast in my chest.
I just hope this wasn't about me…