Throttled (Dirty Air Series Book 1)

My heart speeds up as Noah passes the finish line. Santi follows soon after, his car a red blur as he completes a cool-down lap. His performance on the track will frustrate him despite driving well. He still gets points for the Constructors’ Championship, but in the end, against these other guys, it’s not good enough. That’s the life of high stakes and large salaries. Plus, the pressure of a big racing team and a pricey contract are on my brother’s mind.

I meet Santi near the pit area. He smiles at the team when he gets out of the car, shaking hands and thanking the pit crew—an image of good sportsmanship. His jaw twitches while he signs fans’ gear at a crowd barrier. Not wanting to get in the way, I decide to meet him in his suite instead of waiting outside. Better for him to relax first.

By the time he makes his way back to his room, he looks calm. I get up from the small couch and give him a hug. His sweaty body plasters to mine as my lungs get a deep inhale of oil, sweat, and rubber. Kind of gross. I pretend to gag as I wrap my arms around him, my head barely reaching his shoulders.

“You tried hard. Fourth place is good, and you’ll be on the podium next time.”

He returns my hug. “I’m disappointed I didn’t try to cut around more. I played it too safe because I was scared of messing up the car.”

“You can’t race with a fearful mindset. You never have before, and you shouldn’t start now, not when you’re racing against the best. Think of it as another car with plenty of parts to fix anything.”

Despite today’s cautious performance, Santi has a rep of being ruthless on the track.

“You’re right, I’ll bring my best next time. Screw it.” He pulls away from me.

Santi beats himself up whenever he doesn’t place on the podium. I believe he can succeed next time out on the course, especially with plenty of races for him to improve his standing for the World Championship.

“I’m going to have to show up at the after-party to congratulate Noah. It’s what sponsors would want, and I don’t want to look like a sore loser.” He sticks his tongue out at me. “Top five isn’t that bad for the first one. I’ll bounce back.” A telling smile crosses his face. Santi cares about losing, but he won’t let it get in the way of his professionalism. What an adult.

Yay for team spirit.

“Then we better get going. Let’s go wish Noah a job well done.” I give him a mischievous grin.

Noah may put on a whole arrogant show, but he backs it up with his racing. His performance makes it obvious why fans love him.

I sense the excitement from the rowdy crowd once Santi and I walk up to the podium event. Groups of them gather around, bouncing along to the music streaming from the speakers on the stage, waving around face poster cutouts of Liam and Noah. I can’t imagine being so famous that people actually pay for big blown-up pictures of your face. Watching my own face staring back at me would make me die of embarrassment, right there on the stage floor.

Santi and I hang out in a VIP area off to the side, enjoying the show from a less sweaty and chaotic distance. My preferable choice. We have a full visual of the winners’ podium, including the perfect view of Noah spraying his champagne on Liam. I sigh at the display. Santi looks over at me and raises his brow. I cover up my laugh with a cough, embarrassment tinging my cheeks.

In F1, champagne is the messier equivalent of confetti launchers at other sporting events. Drivers shake bottles and splatter the contents everywhere. The crowd roars as champagne splashes on them, opening their mouths to capture droplets. Who needs Girls Gone Wild when you have F1 podiums?

Santi drops his disappointed mood, replacing his frown with a smile as all of them celebrate on stage. He even cheers when they announce all of the winners.

We find Noah, Liam, and the other winner outside of the press building after a post-race conference to say congratulations to them. I choose to give a thumbs up while saying hi, barely suppressing a groan at how awkward I look. Smooth, Maya. Killing it.

Noah lets out a gruff snicker at my attempt, along with Liam barking out a laugh, adding to my embarrassment. Can’t fault myself when I have no idea how to greet them.

I stand around awkwardly. Santi offers Noah and Liam a typical guy handshake and slap on the back move. Noah’s eyes heat up at the sight of me, swirling with deeper shades of blue than usual as they trail down my body. He flatters me. Either he sucks at subtlety, or he doesn’t care if I notice.

My breath hitches when I check him out in his red race suit. Tight material presses up against firm muscles, highlighting a strict workout schedule. His hair looks sweaty and unruly, with a few pieces sticking up in different directions, and his wicked smile shines. He makes wild look sexy. I glance away before he catches me staring at him like a weirdo.

Being around all these hot guys throws me off. I need to stop having these intrusive thoughts about Noah, especially since he’s my brother’s teammate. How do other women keep up with these men? My brain bombards itself with images of puppies and grandmas to avoid checking him out again.

Liam’s eyes gaze up and down my body. These guys boost my self-esteem by the second because they don’t give a damn about hiding their attraction. He gives me a lazy grin when he notices my lifted brow and crossed arms. But I feel disappointed when my body doesn’t have the same reaction to Liam that it does with Noah, my insides not heating up from a glance. Not even a flare of attraction. No racing heartbeat or warmth pooling inside of me at his perusal, only a basic acknowledgment of his good looks.

“I’m Liam. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet, but I saw you in the press conference and had no clue you’re Santi’s sister. You were a sight for sore eyes in a sea of old male reporters.” He takes my hand and gives it a kiss like a prince from the olden days. Oh, this one is full of pick-up lines. Hanging around him will be a good time.

I chuckle, snapping back into the conversation. “I’m making it my mission to attend as few of those events as I can. It’s surprising how they let you get away with taking shots at one another, and at the reporters too.”

Nothing short of a comedy roast each week with Liam and Noah teasing each other, their candidness pleasing reporters and fans.

Liam beams at me. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait for the dirty race moves, crashes, and losing streaks. That’s when it all gets exciting.” Liam cups a hand to his face, like he shares a secret, except his voice keeps the same volume level. “Noah here is a sassy one when he gets mad.”

Noah looks at Liam with a glare that gives me chills, a feeling running from the base of my neck to the bottom of my spine. His narrowed eyes are ones I’d hate to be on the receiving end of. No thank you. He can be intimidating as hell, but Liam seems unphased as he laughs and nudges Noah in the arm.

“Told you.” Liam winks at me. His blue eyes twinkle as he beams at me. He has this lightness about him that automatically brings a smile to my face.

Santi shifts his weight from foot to foot. A signal that he wants to get going, since we need to pack and get ready to travel to the next stop in the Prix. Blame the busy schedule and long flights.

“We’ll see you in Bahrain. Maya and I head out tomorrow morning on an early flight. We better get going because we need to pack and everything.” Santi runs a fidgety hand through his hair. He loves to pack three days before his flight ever leaves, so it must eat him alive to have put it off this long.

“Man, you’ll have to come on my private jet next time. Maybe we can shift around a few flights so you both can join.” Liam’s eyes sparkle as he pulls the slick move. He has this Devil Disguised as an Angel kind of look, with blonde hair, baby blues, and beaming white teeth. Although his exterior screams innocent, his eyes say everything but.

I give him a small smile in return, highly doubting that his invitation to fly in his jet has much to do with my brother. Probably has a lot more to do with me. Santi doesn’t notice Liam’s flirting, shocking since he bothered me all weekend about how these guys are after two things only: trophies and ladies. And preferably in that order.

“That’ll be cool. We’ll definitely take you up on the offer,” my brother says.

Noah gives Liam a side glance and crosses his arms. Did he just roll his eyes?

I don’t have a chance to analyze the situation further because Santi pulls me away.

My vlog picks up more followers after Santi put it on blast for a week while we were in Sakhir for the Bahrain Grand Prix—growing from a few hundred followers to a solid thousand. The idea hits me of posting YouTube videos of vlogs from each stop on our list. Last week, I filmed during our time in Bahrain, including a video from the practice sessions and interviews with the fans around the racetrack.

I edit and share a video of Santi placing fourth again in the Bahrain Grand Prix. Another loss for him, which makes for an unhappy brother. He says he’s worked out the kinks of his new car. We move along, ready to hit the next race, time passing quickly with all the traveling from city to city.

Followers comment on how they love seeing behind-the-scenes footage of F1 racing. Turns out a lot of subscribers enjoy that part of my vlog, asking for more webisodes. After all the positive feedback, I dedicate a portion of videos to F1 racing and related activities. Not exactly my original plan. But hey, give the fans what they want. The change helps my numbers increase within a short amount of time. Thousands tune in weekly for the new videos.

New follower requests flood my Instagram, including Noah, Liam, and a few other racers. I accept them and decide to keep my profile private from fans because I want to separate my vlog from my personal life.

Liam and Noah give my channel a shout-out on their own social-media platforms when I tag them in racing clips. My numbers skyrocket, blowing my mind. Amazing what two pretty boys can do. By the time we fly to the third race of the season, I already have over ten thousand followers. Ten points for Maya growing up! Look, Ma, I made it!

We land in Shanghai for the Chinese Grand Prix. Santi takes off soon after we get set up in our hotel room since he scheduled tons of meetings. I hang around the suite and relax after a long flight because my body aches from sitting upright for hours. Another race, another basic hotel suite. White sheets and understated color palettes have become a staple of my life.

I eventually head over to the Bandini motorhome, located right next to the Shanghai racetrack. Easy access allows the crew to take breaks during busy days. It runs like a mini headquarters, with suites for the racers to hang around, along with meeting rooms for pre- and post-race consultations.

While grabbing a snack to eat, I run into someone. My eyes meet a pair of green ones that belong to a woman about my same height. She looks about my age with her blonde hair wrapped up in a top knot, golden pieces escaping the haphazard hairdo. Dressed casual, she rocks a white slogan T-shirt, jeans with more holes than fabric, and white Adidas. She gives off a California beachy vibe from American television shows.

“Oh, sorry about that. I’m such a clumsy person.” Her neck and chest turn a shade of pink that contrasts against her tan skin.

“It’s no problem. I run into things all the time too. I haven’t seen you around here before.” That sounded weirder out loud.

“I’m Sophie. You probably haven’t because I just got here.” She offers her hand and I take it.

“Maya. I haven’t seen anyone my age except my brother. Glad I ran into you—literally.”

She laughs. “It’s my first time joining the race. I wrapped up my classes early for the year to spend time with my dad while he tours. Can’t say no to a free vacation.”

“I graduated in December! And who’s your dad? I guess he’s with Bandini then?” I wave around the lobby of the motorhome that bustles with activity.

She fidgets with her gold star necklace. “My dad is the team principal. He’s the one who runs the show around here.”

“Oh, wow. And you’re going to be here for the rest of the season?” I try not to sound too excited because I don’t want to scare her off yet. But the idea of a new friend sounds nice.

“I’m going to try to convince my dad to let me take my fall classes online so I can stick around for the whole Prix schedule. It’s my first time around since I was younger, so I have to take advantage.” Her smile makes the dimples in her cheeks pop out.

“Nice, we can hang out since I’m going to be here for the whole season. It’ll be awesome to have someone my age keeping me young.” I smile at her.

“What’s the deal with everyone around here? Spill the deets.” She abandons her previous nervousness. Does she get tense when people bring up her dad and his job? He keeps Bandini up and running because team principals are bosses without owning the company.

We both pull out a chair at one of the nearby tables, ready to chat and eat.

“If you’re not yet aware, my brother is Santiago Alatorre.”

Her eyes bulge out of her head. “No way. I can totally see it now that you mention it though. He’s got that young Spanish hottie vibe going for him.”

I hold back a groan. Can’t say I think of my brother in that way, nor will I ever.

“Yeah, we both have the typical dark hair, brown eyes thing going for us, even though I’m the better-looking sibling. But don’t tell him that. These racers and their egos, fragile little things.” I give her a cheeky grin.

“He’s the new guy around here. Must be a lot of pressure to keep up with some of the best. How’s he getting along with Noah?”

“Uh, it’s been all right so far. They haven’t crashed in the past two races. Go team.” I do a cheerleader arm pump.

Sophie lets out a snort. “My dad was stressed to sign your brother on. He worried about how Noah would take it since he’s been with Bandini for years. An original Bandini boy. The team doesn’t take on young drivers, it’s like their standard, but your brother’s a World Champion now, which makes him a hot commodity in this industry.” She lifts one brow on command.

I lift a shoulder. “Yeah, he’s grateful to be a part of the best team. I still think it’s crazy he’s one of the youngest members to ever join Bandini. But Noah has handled the transition okay, seeing as he hasn’t chewed out my brother yet. Well, besides after the first press conference.”

She waves her hand at my words. “Those meetings are fifty percent serious and fifty percent drama. Fans love to watch, sitting on the edge of their couches—” she looks at me pointedly before continuing—“Be careful with Noah though. I hear all kinds of stories from my dad and other people.”

“Like what?” I lean in, not wanting to miss a word of Sophie’s insider info.

“He’s cocky, self-assured, and kind of a jerk. Plus, he sleeps with lots of groupies. Yuck, yuck, and yuck. He’s the guy your dad threatens to bury in a cement block. Well at least my dad would, said so himself before I joined the tour.” Her nose scrunches. Seems like her dad may be slightly overprotective. “But Noah has a right to be confident, being a three-time World Championship winner and all at such a young age. He can race for years to come if he wants.”

“Lovely. Nothing like a good playboy story to start the year off strong.” Sarcasm weighs my words down.

“My dad has dealt with one too many phone calls from sponsors who were concerned with his behavior. But what can my dad do? Noah remains a professional out on the track and he has proven to be one of the best racers out there. He could just chill with the confidence sometimes.”

“You know, Sophie, I think you and I are going to get along fine.”

She returns my smile. We clink our water bottles together, cheering to our new friendship.