Chapter 30 Adeline
Adeline's POV
Percy slows the bike to weave through the crowd. People turn to look, and most of them nod at him with respect. It's almost as if they can tell who is behind the helmet.
"Rider!" someone shouts. "You back?" And that is my confirmation that he is known in these parts.
Percy ignores them, pulling up to the starting line where a group of bikers are slowly gathering. He kills the engine and kicks the stand down.
"Welcome to my therapy," he says, pulling off his helmet.
I slide off, staring around wide-eyed. "You come here?"
"When the boardroom gets too loud," he admits. "When being a law firm owner, Percy Akilov feels like life is being sucked out of me, yes, I come here. Nobody cares about my last name here or how quickly I can get a criminal acquitted. They only care about how fast I can ride."
"For some reason, I don't doubt it at all."
He looks at me, his expression intense. "You’re angry, Adeline, and hurt, which is understandable. I brought you here so you won't let it consume you, so you can channel it."
He gestures to a sleek, modified Yamaha sitting unattended nearby. He tosses a set of keys to a guy standing next to it. He has to be a mechanic, seeing as he's wiping grease from his hands.
"My girl needs a ride, Marco," Percy says. "Put it on my tab."
Marco catches the keys, grinning. "The Ghost? I heard rumors about her." He looks at me. "Is she handled tightly?"
"She's right here, and she handles it," I answer for myself, and he chuckles.
"Feisty, I like her."
"That's my girl you're talking about, Marco," Percy says in a warning voice. Marco raises his hands in surrender before he steps away from us.
I look at Percy. "You want me to race?"
"I want you to feel something other than pain," he says softly. "There’s a quarter-mile sprint starting in five minutes. Buy-in is five grand. Winner takes the pot."
"I don't have five grand on me." He keeps forgetting that I'm just a junior partner.
"I do." Percy pulls a roll of cash from his jacket and tosses it onto the hood of the starter’s car. "Ghost is in."
The crowd murmurs, and I ignore them. I focus on the starting line, where three other bikers are already lined up. They look tough and experienced. I feel a spark in my chest at the challenge they pose, and I begin to feel the adrenaline trickle in, pushing back the helplessness I feel about my mother.
"Okay," I whisper. "Let's do this."
I mount the Yamaha. It feels different than Percy’s Ducati and my modified bike. It is lighter and twitchier than I'm used to, which makes it dangerous. I don't mind the danger at all, in fact, I welcome it.
I pull my helmet on, shutting out the noise of the crowd. Percy walks up to me and puts his hands on my helmet, leaning in so our visors touch.
"Don't think," he says. "Just ride. Leave everything else at the starting line. Your mom, Richard, the lies... leave them in the dust."
"I will." That was one true thing about tonight, at least.
He steps back, and I rev the engine to test it out. I decide that it will do. The starter girl walks to the center of the lane and raises a red flag. The world narrows down to the dirt path ahead of me and nothing else.
As I rev my engine to start, I think of my mother crying on the floor. I think of Richard’s betrayal. I think of Mason and his almost betrayal, so the anger builds in me. By the time the flag drops, I'm in the mood to go.
I tear off in the first gear, but the little devil on my shoulder tells me that I can do better than that, so that is what I do. My front wheel lifts off the ground, hovering for a terrifying second before slamming back down.
I shift gears to a second and then a third before the world blurs and I'm neck-to-neck with a green Kawasaki. The rider looks over at me, surprised to see a girl keeping pace. I take advantage of his momentary distraction to charge forward. I apply more pressure than needed to the throttle. Even the engine screams in protest, but I simply force it.
I channel every ounce of rage into the machine until it peaks in the fourth gear. I gain a few inches on the green bike, and I grin to myself. This is the high I spent all my life chasing. In those moments, I am not Adeline, the daughter that lies to her mother. I'm simply another racer who just happens to be the best because I cross the finish line first doing 160 mph.
I ease off the throttle, coasting into the cool-down zone. My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I’m shaking, but it’s not from sadness anymore. It’s from the pure, unadulterated high of survival. This is what I live for.
I turn the bike around and ride back to the start to hear the crowd cheering for me. I don't stop until I find my man.
I find him leaning against his bike with arms crossed and a proud smile on his face. I pull up and kill the engine. I take off my helmet and shake out my hair. I’m sweating, but I feel so much alive.
"Better?" Percy asks.
"Much," I breathe.
He walks over and pulls me off the bike, lifting me into his arms. The crowd whistles, but he doesn't care. He just kisses me.
"You were flying," he murmurs against my lips.
"I needed it," I admit. "Thank you."
"Anytime." He sets me down, keeping an arm around my waist. "Marco collected the pot. We made ten grand."
"Keep it," I say, glancing around the park. The high is starting to fade, and the exhaustion is creeping back in. "I just... I think I’m ready to go now. The noise is getting to me."
"Okay," Percy says instantly. "Let's get you home. We will pick up dinner and open a wine so we can celebrate at the penthouse."
"Not the penthouse."
"Fine, we can go back to yours."
"No," I stop him, stepping back. "Not the penthouse, Percy. I'm not going back to mine either. I have to go back to Mom’s."
Percy frowns, his helmet dangling from his hand. "Adeline, you said it yourself that she was a wreck. You can't fix this for her in one night. You need to sleep."
"I can't sleep knowing she's sitting on that floor drinking herself into a coma," I argue, the image of my mother's tear-streaked face flashing in my mind. "I shouldn't have left her. I just needed it, I needed this release, but now I have to go back."
"Fine." He nods, though he looks unhappy about it. "I'll follow you."
"You can't." The words taste sour in my mouth. "She specifically asked me not to bring you." She said, "Seeing an Akilov right now is too much," and I agree with her.