In the Fast Lane by Audra North Page B

The article that guy ended up writing made it sound like she’d tried to claw his eyes out. This was the same reporter who got punched in the face by Kenny Gomez and called it a gentleman’s disagreement. No way that doesn’t get to Kerri on some level.”
    Now the pack had just completed the hundred-tenth lap, and although Ranger had thought he might be bored with nothing to do, he’d found himself riveted to the scene on the track. The whole time, Grady had been communicating with Kerri, and he could hear another voice on the line, giving Kerri guidance on her position—which cars were close by, which ones were coming up behind her, trying to pass. It had taken him a while to figure out that Lee was the one providing all these details.
    “Where’s Lee, anyway?”
    “Spotting.” Grady pointed up to the skybox.
    Ranger didn’t bother to look. “Is spotting allowed in the box? It doesn’t seem like a good place to spot for a race.”
    “Not in. On top.” This time, Ranger squinted up at the box, and his eyes went to a balcony above, where a group of people were standing close to a heavy railing that looked like it had been installed for just this purpose.
    He gave a low whistle. “Isn’t that a bit rough, especially when he’s racing trucks, too?”
    Grady raised a brow. “We’ve all got more than one job around here, Colt.”
    Well, shit. Add another item to his list of things that were broken. It was hard not to feel like he’d never get this company out of the red. It was the only thing he needed to claim victory over Al at this point. He was damned sure that if Hart Racing made even a dollar in profit, he could point to that figure and claim it as a raging success.
    The thing was … the more he learned about Kerri and the team, the less important the money seemed. Racing was their life, and they loved it. The money seemed kind of a secondary success.
    No. Don’t go thinking that way. Al won’t accept anything less than numbers. Money. Profit.
    Right?
    For a second, Ranger faltered. Al had never actually said anything about money when he’d given Ranger the Hart project. Instead, he’d sat behind his fancy desk in his big office, squinted at Ranger, and drawled, You want to move forward, you have to go back first. Get back to your roots.
    Had he gotten it wrong?
    No. Don’t go trusting that guy. Al is all about money. He’s all about the kill. The win. Don’t go sowing hope where you’ll only end up with disappointment.
    He gave a heavy sigh.
    “Now with only seven laps to go, Meadows leads by an eighth of a lap, with Hart and Simms battling for second position.” The announcement boomed over the stadium PA system, and Ranger felt his pulse jump. Kerri had managed to hold on to second place position for most of the race, moving back and forth with Harlan Simms, another driver who competed in the Intercomm Series.
    It was nothing short of amazing. Everything he’d learned until now made him realize just how skilled a driver she had to be to maintain her place against these guys, how hard she was working. Grady had told him that temperatures in the car were often well past a hundred degrees, probably around one-twenty today. The racing suits that the drivers wore even had aluminum shields in the legs to protect them from getting burnt from the heat.
    “Holy shit, I think she might actually hold it at third!” Grady’s exclamation interrupted his thoughts. Grady was rising, straining to see the far side of the track, where Kerri and Simms had just entered the turn.
    He could hear Lee on the channel, spouting information fast and furious as the pack came out of the curve and zoomed past them on the straightaway.
    “Six more laps, Kerri. You got this. Don’t let up. Don’t let up.” Grady’s face was fierce as he spoke into the mouthpiece on his headset.
    Ranger found himself standing then, too, craning to see the action as the cars whipped around the track. He could feel his excitement