At Full Sprint (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) Read Free Page B

lazy to catch up, a turbulent wave of weaving and screeching metal and rubber.
    Circe quickly located Cheat, in the twenty-second and last position, and watched as, in a dashing maneuver, he tricked two drivers into blocking right, and the gunned it up their left flanks.
    Twentieth.
    She watched as he then overtook one car on the outside of the first eighty-degree bend, and she thought for a moment that she might have seen his outside wheels lift slightly off the ground. He must have been pushing his machine to the limit.
    The cars were out of sight then, and she had to look at the giant screen opposite the stands to watch their progress. The radio in her left earmuff crackled to life, and she heard Miles ‘Cheat’ Cohen’s calm, baritone voice
    “Taking Charlie on the inside at three.”
    “Three?” Circe asked her boss, before covering her mouth in shock.
    “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us. We’re being relayed their conversations, but we can only communicate with each other. Three means corner three.”
    Circe nodded, saw Cheat overtake again. The next corner came up, and he was ahead of another racer.
    Seventeenth.
    “He’s overtaken five cars in four corners!” Circe gasped.
    “Just watch,” Ms. Jennings told her. “It’s magnificent.”
    Circe could see that her boss was clasping her hands together, and the veins on her stringy arms had sprung to life.
    “Johnson at chicane,” Circe heard. “On the outside.” She saw Cheat fake inside, and then dart around the outside to take position sixteen. Though she wasn’t a fan of racing, Circe was forced to admit to herself that there was something magical in this driving performance.
    Cheat passed another driver on a straight section before breaking late into Ascari – a sharp, ninety-degree right-hand bend – and failing to overtake again, pulling his car up short, and driving head-to-tail to the racer in front.
    “Shit,” he growled over the radio. The high-pitched shriek of his car was audible in the background.
    He gunned it around the second right-hand corner, before breaking late once again to take the unforgiving double-turn before the finish line was in sight. He passed the car then, and crossed the dotted line at position fifteen.
    “Wow,” Circe marveled. In one lap he had moved up seven spots. She thought she was starting to see the appeal in racing.
    “Inside at three,” she heard Cheat say over the radio. His voice was unbelievably calm and mechanical, and she watched as he overtook in similar fashion.
    “Outside at four.”
    “Inside at eleven.”
    “Inside at Ascari.” He outright bullied his way into inside position on the right-angle bend, and by the time he crossed the finish line for the second time, he was in tenth place.
    “Look at that,” Ms. Jennings cried. “Twelve overtakes in two laps! Unbelievable.”
    “Is it the car?” Circe ventured.
    “He has got the best car, yes, but it’s more than that. The moves he’s pulled off… ballsy. All risk. The man’s a daredevil with a death wish. Just watch him drive. It’s poetry on asphalt.” She clapped her bone-thin hands together, laughing. “There’s one for the groan-books.”
    Circe laughed with her boss, and continued to watch Miles ‘Cheat’ Cohen’s onslaught. He had second place by the seventh lap, breaking the world record for the lap – which he had set last season – by almost two tenths of a second.
    But by the penultimate lap, after over an hour of racing, Cheat was still in second place, narrowly tailing Hamilton. Circe looked at Ms. Jennings, and the older woman merely grinned at her.
    “He’s toying with Hamilton,” she told Circe. “He’ll take it from him at the last bend.”
    “That’s a bit risky, isn’t it?”
    Stephanie Lee Jennings’ bony, angular face erupted into the broadest smile Circe had ever seen. “Yes, it is,” the woman said. “It sure is.”
    Watching the two drivers on their final laps, Circe was sitting on the