Chapter Sixteen
Echo
Ireland looks fake.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind when the shuttle bus leaves the airport and the city slowly gives way to narrow roads, rolling hills, old stone walls, and more shades of green than I knew existed.
Not Florida green either.
There are no palm trees, manicured lawns, or tropical plants forcing their way through cracked sidewalks. This is darker and wilder.
Wet fields stretch toward the horizon beneath a heavy grey sky, broken up by weathered fences and houses that look like they’ve been standing there longer than most countries.
The ocean appears between the hills every few minutes, dark and restless, white foam gathering where the waves slam against the rocks.
Each time the road opens up, the wind coming off the water hits the side of the bus hard enough to shake it.
I rest my forehead against the cool glass and watch everything blur past.
Near the front of the bus, Revel has spent the last twenty minutes trying to convince the shuttle driver to let him connect his phone to the speakers.
“I’m just saying, this whole experience would be better with a great soundtrack,” he argues, half-standing in the aisle like the word no has never once applied to him.
Andre doesn’t even look back from the front. “Sit down.”
“I am sitting.”
“You are literally in the aisle, you twat.” Thorne adds, shaking his head.
“My ass is still touching the seat.”
Reign reaches over from across the row, grabs the back of Revel’s jacket, and yanks him down properly.
Revel drops back beside Cece with an offended grunt, rubbing at his neck like Reign nearly strangled him instead of moving him a whole six inches.
“See how they treat me, mama?”
Cece pats his thigh. “Uh, like a problem child?”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds about right.”
Laughter moves through the shuttle.
I smile with everyone else, but it doesn’t quite settle.
They’re all buzzing.
Even Talon, although his version of excitement mostly looks like sitting with his arms crossed and staring out the window like he plans to personally challenge the entire island. Sayshen has been taking pictures every five minutes.
Lena and Bexley are passing a phone back and forth, already looking up places they want to see if Andre gives us any actual free time.
We only landed a little while ago, and Andre already has everything stupidly organized.
Airport pickup, luggage, gear transport, even the Airbnb he booked for all of us.
Wolfe is stretched out beside me, taking up way more of the seat than one person reasonably should.
I’ve got the window, and he’s half leaned back against me, head resting near my shoulder while I absentmindedly run my fingers through his hair.
Every now and then, he tips his head just enough to make it easier for me.
Needy bastard. But a cute one.
I smile and give a small tug.
He hums like I’ve rewarded him.
Across the aisle, Thorne is a few rows over with one boot braced against the seat in front of him, sketchbook balanced on his thigh. He’s half listening to Sayshen while his pencil moves across the page, brows pulled together in that way they always do when he’s focused.
He glances up, catches me looking, and gives me the smallest smirk before dropping his eyes back to the sketch.
I give him one back.
Things are at least a little better now.
Not magically fixed, because none of us are that fucking functional, but better.
I’ve talked with all of them, and everything that had been sitting there making shit weird is finally out in the open, and somehow the world didn’t end.
Wild.
Draygon is a few rows up, shoulder against the window, scrolling through something on his phone. He glances back between the seat and the window, catching me looking, and his mouth pulls into that quiet little smile that makes my heart jump.
Yeah.
We’re okay.
All of us.
Which should probably make me feel calm.
Instead, I’m sitting on a shuttle halfway across the world with three men I’m definitely not normal about, headed toward one of the deadliest races on the planet.
So naturally, I’m thriving.
The shuttle pulls into Douglas nearly an hour later, and the first thing that fucks with me is how normal everything looks.
Houses, shops, and old stone walls.
People walking down the pavement like there aren’t motorcycles about to come screaming through here at speeds no sane person should be doing between buildings.
Then we get closer to the Grandstand, and everything changes.
Team vans and transporters crowd the area around the paddock.
Bikes sit under awnings while mechanics move between toolboxes, tire warmers and stacks of equipment. Officials are everywhere, checking passes and directing people around, and the closer we get to Glencrutchery Road, the louder it becomes.
Engines firing and people shouting over each other.
The actual pit lane runs right alongside the road.
That’s honestly the part that shocks me the most. There is no massive purpose-built track sitting behind all of this.
That old road is the track.
The same stretch of pavement running past houses and sidewalks disappears out of Douglas, through villages and fields, then up into the mountains before eventually bringing them right back here.
I press closer to the window.
“Holy shit.”
Wolfe laughs quietly beside me. “Yeah. Pretty crazy.”
Back in Tampa, racing feels contained. Garage. Pit lane. Track. Barriers. Everything has its place.
The shuttle rolls past the paddock instead of turning in, and half the bus immediately leans toward the windows.
Revel shifts closer to Cece’s side to get a better look, careful not to crowd her.
“Look at that, mama.”
Cece glances out the window, then at him. “You know, I can see it without you narrating. I’d actually enjoy the view more if you didn’t speak.”
Revel grins. “Just making sure you’re getting the full experience.”
“I was. Until you started talking.”
He laughs under his breath and leans back into his own seat. “Mean.”
“Accurate.”
Outside, the Grandstand and team setups disappear behind us as the shuttle keeps moving through Douglas, then farther out onto smaller roads.
The sky gets darker the farther we go, thick gray clouds hanging low enough that I’m pretty sure we’re getting rained on before the day’s over.
The town slowly gives way to crumbling walls, green fields and stretches of forest.
Then we turn down a long drive and the house comes into view.
“Goddamn,” Reign says from somewhere behind me.
Yeah.
That about covers it.
The place is fucking massive.
It’s old, built from dark gray stone with ivy climbing around some of the windows and chimneys rising from the roof. Not quite a castle, but definitely old enough to look like one from a distance. Trees crowd around the property, and beyond them, I can see the gray ocean under an equally gray sky.
Sayshen leans toward the window. “Andre, you booked this whole place?”
“Whole place,” Andre confirms.
Revel looks up at it as we pull closer. “Okay, this is sick.”
“For once,” Talon says, “I agree with dipshit.”
The shuttle comes to a stop out front just as the first few drops of rain hit my window.
The doors open and everyone starts piling out, grabbing bags, stretching after the ride and looking around at the house.
I stay seated for another few seconds.
This is what I wanted.
A real position. A real team and a chance to prove I’m more than Evelyn Cooper’s secret daughter who showed up uninvited and made everyone’s lives complicated.
Forcing myself up, I head down the narrow isle between the seats toward the front of the bus.
“You planning on staying in there?”
I look toward the open doors.
Draygon is standing at the bottom of the steps, jacket open over a black shirt, tattoos disappearing beneath the sleeves. The wind pushes his dark hair across his forehead, and his eyes are already on me.
“Won’t lie, I’ve been considering it. Seems pretty peaceful in here.”
He huffs a laugh, “Until they realize you’re missing.”
“Well, then I’ll lock the doors.”
His mouth pulls into a small smile as he holds out his hand. “Come on, pretty girl.”
Fuck.
That nickname should not work as well as it does.
I take his hand and let him help me down. His grip is warm, steady, and for a second after my sneakers hit the ground, neither of us lets go.
Before I can reach for my bag, he grabs it from the step and throws the strap over his shoulder.
I lift a brow. “Wow. Chivalrous too? You’re really building an impressive résumé.”
He glances down at me. “You complaining?”
“Nope, I’m just deciding if I should be suspicious.”
“About me carrying your bag?”
“About you being nice without demanding something in return.”
That gets a low laugh out of him.
“I don’t need to demand anything from you.”
His eyes move over me slowly, and yeah, there’s no fucking mistaking what he means by that.
Heat crawls straight up my neck.
I lift a brow. “Cocky much?”
Draygon’s mouth tips into a smirk. “Very.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I know what I can get away with.”
His gaze drops again, lingering just long enough to make my stomach tighten. He steps in, one hand settling at my waist, and presses a quick kiss to my forehead before I can make another smart-ass comment.
That shuts me up for half a second.
Annoying.
Andre calls my name from farther up the drive.
Draygon glances toward him, then back at me. “Go. I’ll grab us rooms.”
“Us?”
“Fucking right. I want yours closest to mine. Easy access to what’s mine.”
I snort. “Subtle.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
He gives my waist one last squeeze before letting me go.
“Go handle your shit, pretty girl. I’ve got this.”
I head toward Andre before Draygon can say anything else that’ll make it worse.
After that, the day disappears fast.
Unloading. Inventory. Briefings. Going over the bikes we’ve been given by our sponsors and figuring out what needs changing before any of the guys start pushing them.
The bikes are the easy part.
I understand bikes.
I’ve got setup sheets spread across the bench while I work my way through them one by one, making notes for each rider.
Wolfe will want the front softened a little.