Throttled (Dirty Air Series Book 1)

by Lauren Asher

  My chest tightens at the two of them looking at me. I never in a million years would have imagined them getting along like this, willing to put aside their differences to make me happy.

  The two of them lose the game after a total of nine points.

  Unfortunately, they couldn’t decide who cares more about me. No, I’m just joking. They couldn’t agree on who deserves a World Championship more, with Noah raising a red card while my brother raised a blue one.

  Yup, that happened. Jax and Liam may have won the game, but these two won each other over, a seemingly impossible task. And if that doesn’t deserve a trophy for the Constructors’ Championship, I don’t know what does.

  40

  Noah

  My phone rings on the nightstand. And thank God Maya left the suite ten minutes ago because the curse words flying out of my mouth are nothing short of abhorrent.

  I don’t know what pushes me to answer the phone. Whether because of brewing emotions inside of me or because I have a kink for masochistic tendencies. My finger slides across the glass, my head pounding to the beat of my heart.

  “Mother. What can I do for you?”

  Why hit her with pleasantries when she has the emotional intelligence of floral wallpaper. If you’re trying to make the connection, don’t.

  “My son.”

  A classic. Nothing like reminding me of who signed my birth certificate to manipulate me.

  “I’m busy and about to leave for my qualifier. What do you need?”

  “You can work on your delivery a bit, Noah.” Her voice carries like a melody through the phone. A siren who calls to men with wallets and trust funds, luring them in before ripping their hearts out.

  I grunt, unable to produce words.

  “Well, I’m spending time with Clarissa and Jennifer in Dubai, and we thought about visiting for the Prix. What do you think about getting us some tickets? Preferably in the VIP section with a better view, not that one near the stands.”

  Because God forbid, she actually has a view of the finish line. Grandstand VIP sections don’t come with complimentary champagne and Instagram street credit.

  Every time my mom asks for tickets, I get them. In the whole scheme of things, I never thought to say no because it was easy to do. Easy to give in to my toxic parents. Simple to not put up a fight, not wanting to make waves like my dad despite how sick it made me feel to be used over and over again.

  But like I did with my dad, I want to give her one last chance. Being around Maya has made me a forgiving person.

  “I can message my assistant. How are you doing?” I hold the phone to my ear, having no interest in asking about any tickets.

  She scoffs. “Is it that man who prattles on the phone forever?”

  If she means Steven, who likes to ask her about her day, then yes.

  “Yup, the same one I’ve had since I started with Bandini. Can you believe it’s been seven years since I began racing with the team?” Bet you a weekend on my yacht she doesn’t catch my mistake.

  “Nope. But with the end of the season means your birthday is coming up. How are you celebrating your twenty-ninth this year?”

  I’d say she blacked out for her entire pregnancy except she couldn’t drink. Surprisingly she remembers the month I was born, most likely because my father drops a large sum of money in her bank account as a “thank you for birthing my spawn” gift.

  “Actually, I’m turning thirty-one. But numbers blur after so many years.” Insert obligatory eye roll here.

  “Exactly. My mistake.” Her laugh sounds similar to nails scratching a chalkboard.

  I hate every second of this call, of the battle waging inside of me to not hang up the phone. But I want to show myself why I need to let go. Why I can’t fall back into a damaging relationship with my parents because their love is conditional. And if I learned one thing in therapy, besides the fact that crying makes my face puffy as fuck, is how love doesn’t come with conditions. No ifs, ands, or buts. It should make you a better person—not because you have to be, but because you want to be. I want to be the fucking best for Maya and myself. Need to love myself and all that jazz.

  “Yeah, your mistake. Did you know I met someone while competing this year?”

  “That’s sweet.” She distracts herself with talking to someone else in the background.

  That’s sweet. Although an upgrade from my father’s comments about Maya, she can’t say much more than that?

  “Clarissa is asking if you could also access some VIP passes for the after-party? We personally like the one with the champagne company, but we aren’t against others.”

  Looks like she can procure more than three words at a time. But like a gumball machine, she only works when you put money in her.

  “You know, I don’t think this is going to work.”

  Time to rip off the Band-Aid. Because why the fuck not, with everything else in the Slade family going to shit.

  She sighs. “What do you mean?”

  “You, me, your ex-lover Nicholas. The whole thing. I can’t do this to myself anymore, trying to be a son I thought both of you wanted. Instead, you only contact me when convenient. And shockingly you withheld your one-stop user card for the whole year until now. But in case you didn’t know, I got into the worst crash of my career two weeks ago. And how many times did you call on me to check? None. Hell, how many times have you called me this whole season? Besides the one misdial?”

  Her silence does nothing but encourage me.

  “I appreciate you for giving birth to me, for being whatever you tried to be. But it’s over. You should have protected me from him. The first time he hit me, you walked away because you didn’t want to threaten your allowance. Time and time again, you let me down. So, by all means, let it be my turn. I can’t get you tickets. Not now. Not next year. Not ever again. If you have an interest in calling me to get to know me as a person, let me know. If not, have a good life.”

  I wait, holding the phone to my ear, willing her to say anything. Closure is a funny concept. Everyone talks about how cathartic it feels, but no one describes the pain you experience before. The courage needed to push through tough situations. How much it rips a person up to know they need to let go, not because they want to, but because they have to.

  My whole life, I lived chasing an unattainable prize of my parents’ love. I sped down racetracks and life, willing it to go faster, but now I want to slow down. Enjoy the moments with people who matter, who want to remember my birthday, or who know five facts about me that can’t be googled.

  The dial tone greets me.

  I clutch my phone, my lungs taking in the fresh air. For once, I have no ill will toward her, only wishing her the best. Everything falls into place. My therapist said I needed to face my past to embrace my future. Looks like I went to hell and back, scoring an angel along the way.

  41

  Maya

  “Let me get this straight. You invited my parents to the final Grand Prix two days ago? And they said yes?” I struggle to get the words out.

  Noah dropped this bomb on me while we watched a movie on our hotel couch. He casually mentioned how my parents boarded a flight last night to come visit us, like we all planned it.

  “Yes. Can you believe it? They want to see their two kids after months of being away.” His eyes sparkle.

  “But why would you do that?”

  “Why not?” His lips tip at the corners.

  I tilt my head at him. “Don’t answer a question with a question.”

  “Can I answer with a kiss instead?”

  Noah pulls me onto his lap, the couch dipping under our combined weight. His lips press against mine, a tingle spreading to my spine as our tongues caress, teasing each other. The charged energy between us never wavers. A constant current, all at the touch of our hands or the press of his lips.

  I break the kiss. “Under all that attitude, you sure have the biggest heart.”

  “Sh. Don’t let anyone in on
our secret.”

  Noah kisses me stupid, my mind blanking as he shows me how he feels. I love everything about this man. He continues to throw me for a loop and surprises me whenever he can.

  His lips move from my lips to my neck before trailing down the V of my polo.

  “As much as I want to continue, we have dinner plans with your whole family tonight.”

  “They are here?” I rush to stand, leaving a lusty Noah behind.

  “Better get a move on, dinner’s at seven.” His dazzling smile reaches his eyes, lines showing at the corners.

  I squeal and hug him before hurrying to get ready. Noah keeps to his side of the bathroom, thankfully, because he tends to distract me.

  “I still can’t believe you flew them out here. Santi thought about it, but my parents said no when he asked. How did you convince them?”

  “Are you keen on learning my tactics?” His eyes dance from the bright lights.

  I wave a hand in the air. “I became a victim of your skills a long time ago. Why hold back on me now?”

  He crosses his arms and leans against the vanity. “I asked them to do it for me.”

  My face must show the confusion that runs through me.

  Noah sighs. “I told them my parents aren’t coming, and it would mean a lot to me to have my girlfriend’s family here, no matter who wins. Because I would like to get to know them before I whisk you off on a two-week vacation. But most of all, it will make you happy, which in turn makes me happy.”

  Oh, wow. Okay, I didn’t expect that.

  I stride toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. Looks like I get to be the distractor today because Noah’s sincerity and kindness deserve all the rewards.

  We made it to dinner only ten minutes late. I count our delay as a success because if someone had seen my hair after our bathroom romp, they would have called me a lost cause.

  Santi scoffs at the role of a fifth wheel, choosing to become the life of the conversation instead of sitting back.

  “You know when I gave Maya some rules about our trip, I didn’t anticipate Noah being an issue.” My brother flips through his menu.

  “Isn’t the first rule to never underestimate your enemy?” Noah holds back a smile.

  “You got me there. I thought you were too much of a jackass for Maya. She tends to go for the nerdier guys.”

  “That’s so not true. Name a nerd I’ve dated.” I cross my arms. Seeing as Noah has slept with enough women to populate a small island, he can sit and handle this conversation. Mainly because I don’t believe my brother’s words.

  “Xavier, for one.”

  “How was he a nerd?”

  “Well, he did like to remodel those computers,” my dad chimes in. Great, did everyone think Xavier was geeky?

  “He also loved watching The Twilight Zone with Mami. Talked about how he posted on Reddit boards about it and stuff.” Santi hits Noah with a smirk.

  I see what he does here.

  My mom smiles at the memory. “Such a sweet boy, offering to read the Bible with me.”

  My brother shoots me a look. All right, the Bible study group was a bit weird.

  My dad joins in on the fun because why the hell not. “Don’t forget about Felipe.”

  “What was wrong with him? Do you all have chisme sessions without me?”

  “To be fair, he was gay.” My brother hits me with a family secret I had no clue of.

  Noah chokes on his wine. “You dated someone without knowing they were gay?”

  My eyes narrow at him. “Seeing as this is all news to me, clearly not.”

  “Sorry. We have to air all two pieces of Maya’s dirty laundry in case Noah wants to run in the other direction,” Santi says before sipping his wine.

  My mom butts in, ending Santi’s game. “Noah won’t run. He’s liked her since Barcelona.”

  Noah and I look at my mom with wide eyes.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. The way you looked at my daughter is one I recognize in my own husband. You two were just too stubborn to admit it.”

  My dad grumbles under his breath.

  “What’s that, mi amor?” She smiles at him.

  He looks Noah in the eyes. “If he breaks her heart, I’ll run him over with the car he loves more than anything.”

  “Loved more than anything.” Noah sends me a wide smile that I save for my memories.

  42

  Maya

  Noah preps for the final Prix race despite the crash last week, all smiles and jokes as the crew works in the garage. Such a badass. He landed the third position on the grid after a decent qualifying round.

  Pit mechanics and engineers act as the backbone of a team, fixing any damage from Noah’s previous crash; the car looks brand new with not a dent in sight. Noah thanks the crew as his fingers graze the red hood.

  Worst-case scenarios flash through my mind as I hang out with Santi for his last race. I clasp my fingers in front of me, my sneakers rocking back and forth against the concrete floor. Abu Dhabi. The final Grand Prix and home of the infamous crash between Noah and my brother. With a close Championship standing between Bandini and McCoy, it all comes down to this race.

  Noah runs an unsteady hand through his hair while he talks to the engineers. Despite me asking him about his nervousness, he feigns indifference. He gives me a quick peck on the lips before he takes off with crew members toward the track.

  My brother tugs me in for a good luck hug.

  “Try not to crash into my boyfriend this time,” I mumble into his chest.

  “I was planning on knocking Liam out. Seemed like a safer bet because that guy can’t hold a grudge to save his life.”

  Our bodies shake from laughing. We break apart, and Santi hops into his car, waving at me as the crew pulls him away.

  I hang out in pit row, preferring to be close instead of lost somewhere in the crowd. Earlier, Noah reserved Grandstand VIP tickets for my parents so they could experience a Prix like real fans. My heart swelled at the look of appreciation my parents offered him, both of them unaware of how much it means to Noah to have someone rooting for his team. Noah, a man denied of love and affection, craves my family’s acceptance more than anything.

  Race cars zipping down the track do little to calm me. Noah’s car speeds by, a red blur with an engine reverberating off the walls. McCoy cars follow behind, creating a vortex of sound and dirty air.

  Noah deserves the World Championship, and honestly, I want him to win, hoping it can help us overcome these worries.

  Sorry, Santi. I’m loyal to my boyfriend, too.

  A few cars crash throughout the laps. One of the drivers from Albrecht can’t catch a break this season, leaving behind a crumpled mess of a car after turn three.

  Cars lap around the track. Sports announcers talk about Noah’s swift recovery after his tragic loss in Brazil, his racing a testament to his will to win. My heart taps against my chest, unrelenting during the first few laps. No hiccups yet. I take my first steady breaths once Noah makes it through his first ten laps with no issues.

  Round and round cars go, careening through the track. Racers complete laps in less than two minutes. The Prix rankings are close, with Bandini seconds away from McCoy, Santi trailing behind Noah with Liam in the lead. Noah’s engine roars as he pulls in for a pit stop to get new tires. His last one for this season. He takes off again, spitting himself back out onto the track, eating up any time lost.

  Noah completes his forty-fourth lap, only eleven circuits left between him and the winter break. His car hangs behind Liam, putting him in second place. He can’t win the World Championship if he keeps the runner-up position.

  His car jerks, the movement unfamiliar. Like he hesitates. Noah’s reputation for overtaking cars is missing, his usual swagger on the racetrack not coming out.

  “Maya, I need you to get over here.” Sophie’s dad waves me over.

  I don’t hide my surprise when he hands me the headset that communicates with Noah.
He presses the mute button, taking a deep inhale while rubbing his temple. His intense green eyes bore into mine.

  “Noah wants to talk to you. The nerves got to him, and he thinks you can calm him down. Help him out. His place in the Championship rests on you working with him. If he doesn’t get over this, he may never come back to race because fears like this can ruin a career.”

  Okay, no pressure. Understatement of the year. But I don’t have a second to linger on it. I grab the headphones, situate the microphone, and unmute myself.

  “Hi, this is Maya. Do you copy?” I try to imitate team radio videos that Noah and I have watched online.

  Noah’s chuckle sounds through the headphones. “Hi, this is Noah. I copy.”

  “Well, I’m going to be shit at this job. But hold on. There’s a red car behind you moving pretty fast. There’s one car in front of you also going exceptionally fast. About three clicks away.”

  “You’re nailing it. Keep it up. Not sure what three clicks means but…”

  I laugh into the mic. Can’t wait for sports announcers to listen in and comment on our conversation.

  Wanting privacy from the crew, I walk up to the railing that overlooks pit row. A television hanging above offers an overhead view of the track. Cars squeal in the distance. Useless lights blink all over the computer screen, offering me nothing but confusion.

  “Hmm, there’s an amazing driver with the number twenty-eight on his car. But he won’t overtake the driver in front of him. What’s going on?”

  Noah makes it past another lap. He holds back, not acting aggressive enough to win the whole thing.

  “Tell me more about this great driver. I don’t know if I see him out here.” His voice strains.

  My heart dips at the thought of him panicking in the middle of a race. “They say Noah Slade’s basically the best. Likes to break records, on the racetrack and in the bedroom. You gotta be careful with him.”

  He lets out a hoarse laugh.