Battle-Scarred Bodyguard

Prologue

SHOTS FIRED

ADRIENNE

Champagne corks pop, the sticky, fizzy mess flowing over my head, and I can’t help but laugh. It fills my lungs and overflows.

Today is the best day of my life.

I’ve just won the Los Angeles Grand Prix—one of the toughest races in the world, and I won it.

My family has a long history with the Los Angeles Grand Prix.

My dad, famous race car driver, Adrian Malone, has won the race twenty-seven times.

In fact, he holds the world record for the number of races won by far.

My grandfather, Adam Malone, won almost as many, and most think he’d still hold the world record if he hadn’t died in a crash at the very same event.

You would think there’d be a lot of pressure on me to be just as good as, if not better than, my dad, but that’s all on me.

He has never forced me to race. In fact, he forbade me from it after my first big crash landed me in the hospital with a concussion and a few broken ribs.

But I was hooked. Racing is my drug of choice, and the adrenaline that flows through my blood is the high I see myself chasing until the day I die.

With Dad’s impending announcement to retire, the world is waiting to find out who will be named the number one driver and head of Dark Horse Racing. My childhood best friend, Bobby, and I are the two names at the top of the list.

And I want it. Bad.

The name Malone is synonymous with Dark Horse Racing.

It’s the family business, my family legacy, and I’ve worked my ass off to get here.

And secretly, I think Dad loves the idea of handing that honor over to me.

Only, he can’t just give it to me, I have to earn it.

Which is why I raced my ass off today to be standing on this podium covered in champagne with my cheeks hurting from smiling so big.

I won.

I won a race that no woman has ever won before. A race no other driver for DHR has ever won besides my dad and grandpa. Today’s win goes a long way in my favor for taking over the family business. It’s not just one check in my column; it’s a hundred checks. It’s that big of a deal.

I stand perfectly still and bask in the moment.

The smile that spreads across my face is huge and genuine.

The crowd is cheering and chanting my name.

Mine, not my dad’s. Not my grandpa’s. It’s an incredible feeling, and I close my eyes, tip my face to the sun to let it all sink in, and say a silent thank you.

Unfortunately, that’s why I don’t feel the energy of the crowd change. I don’t notice something is wrong until the first bullet whizzes past my ear. My eyes snap open, and the next thing I know, I’m being tackled from behind by a mountain of a man, who also happens to be my new bodyguard.

“Fresa,” he growls. “I thought we talked about not making yourself a target anymore.”

“Whoopsies.”

He also hates my guts. It’s a shame, because he’s the best-looking man I have ever seen, and he checks every damn box on my whole entire list.

I guess it’s time I take all of those threats seriously. At least before it’s too late and I wind up roadkill before I can make all of my dreams come true.

My name is Adrienne Malone, and I’m determined to become the next face of Dark Horse Racing.