Braking Points Read Free Page B

total was especially impressive because of the reconfiguration in the American Le Mans Series GT ranks this year, which combined former GT1 and GT2 classes into GT—resulting in double the competition. Mike would be justified in being angry with me for dashing his championship hopes.
    But Mike merely shrugged. Large and muscular, with olive skin and brown hair and eyes, he could look imposing and angry, especially behind the wheel. At heart, however, he was as gentle and mellow as a giant teddy bear. “You were due. You hadn’t wrecked all year. I banged the car up some, remember?”
    â€œI sure as hell haven’t forgotten, since I got the bill.” Jack’s steps shook the motorhome as he walked from the back room through the kitchenette. “And you, Kate.”
    I swallowed and looked up at him. Up and up and up.
    As was his habit, Jack stood in the middle of the room, feet wide, fists to hips. Tall and reed-thin, his attitude and power made him as intimidating as men twice his bulk. He was fair and direct, and he didn’t believe in sugar-coating. Today was no exception. “Screwed that one up, didn’t you?”
    I winced. “I don’t know how it happened. Coming out of the Carousel, Miles did something—or didn’t do it. I was on top of him. It was hard not to pass. I was afraid I’d get stuck if I didn’t get around. I couldn’t tell it had rained hard there, and he squeezed me in the corner.” I paused, remembering. “Maybe I hit paint, too.” I looked at my feet. Shit, I did screw up.
    â€œYour hands on the wheel.”
    I looked at Jack again. “So my fault. I’m sorry.” He didn’t care what other cars did, only what we’d done—if my hands were on the wheel, to him any accident would be my fault even if I couldn’t have avoided a wreck with a miracle. I felt less anger and more shame as I realized Miles and I shared the blame.
    Aunt Tee patted my knee.
    Jack snorted. “Damn right it is. I don’t pay you for rookie mistakes like that.”
    I hung my head, feeling my face burn. The silence lengthened. Jack wasn’t likely to fire me for a single accident—every driver wrecked at some point, and I’d been pretty clean so far that season. But “wasn’t likely to” didn’t equal “for sure wouldn’t.” My stomach fluttered.
    â€œBut I’d be a fool to expect you’d never make them—either of you.” He looked from me to Mike.
    Mike winked at me and addressed Jack. “Doesn’t that conflict with your ‘Don’t hit shit’ mantra?”
    â€œLittle known corollary, ‘Shit happens when you’re racing.’” Jack shrugged. “Just don’t let it happen very often.”
    My stomach settled and breath came more easily. Some of the weight I’d felt pressing on me lifted.
    â€œYou’re mellowing,” Mike said.
    â€œThink I’m being too easy on her?” Jack turned to me. “Am I?”
    I fumbled, looked at my feet. Finally met Jack’s eyes. “Maybe?”
    â€œYou’ll be disappointed in yourself enough for both of us. Besides, folks outside the team will be harder on you. Least you’ll know we’ve got your back.” He looked from me to Mike. “You two square?”
    â€œSorry again, to everyone.” I made a point of meeting Mike and Jack’s eyes.
    Mike pulled me off the couch for a hug. “Hell yes, we’re square. Kate’s my wingman.”
    â€œI only helped get you a date once.” I smiled and pushed him away. “Let me go change.” I finished the bottle of water as I headed to the back room.
    â€œIt was a good date. And I’ve got other plans.” Mike’s voice carried as I closed the door behind me.
    I sank down on the bed, feeling like a fraud for going out to race and returning without the car. The buzz of race engines