Page 22 of Austin

We all turn toward the wall where Pyle is. She looks like she’s startled by her own voice. It’s reminiscent of how she was acting when she was caught crossing the line the other night, causing the race to have a false start. She seems timid, but I know she’s as feisty as a tomcat.

“Who are you?” Missy asks. If she wasn’t permanently frozen with botulism, she’d be displaying lines across her forehead.

“My name is Jalynn.” She looks at me, realizing I’ve finally learned her name. “I might only be Bryce’s assistant, but I also have a degree in journalism. I know people in the San Francisco races. I mean, I’m no journalist … yet … but I can go and scout the scene, be a firsthand account, kind of undercover. Reporters will never get the name of the guys behind the races.”

Missy makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “But will an unsuspecting mouse like you be able to accomplish that?”

Jalynn’s face turns a light red at the insult. This is the girl I remember from this weekend. More like a rat than a mouse. Get this girl riled up, and she’ll give up names just to prove she’s right.

I lean across the desk. “I hate to take Missy’s side on this one because I hate Missy, but she’s right. You don’t belong at those races.”

Jalynn crosses her arms. “Why? Afraid I’ll be able to do more than your journalists?”

I grind my teeth so tight, I feel my own face growing redder by the second.

Bryce is staring at me with squinted eyes, forcing me to look the other way.

He speaks up, “While that is very ambitious of you, we already have reporters working on the story. Jalynn can assist since she’s so knowledgeable on the topic.” He rises from his chair, adjusting the button of his jacket. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a print division I need to be running.”

I laugh in the back of my throat at that comment and the fact that he is marching his ass out of the room with Jalynn in tow.

Missy pushes away from the desk, the unhappiness of being superseded by Bryce written across her face. She stands up and walks out of the room with her binder under her arm and her head tilted up further than it should be.

I, on the other hand, am still here.

“Would you like a flask?” Stefanie asks.

“Next time I get called into one of these meetings, remind me to drink the bottle first.”

6

JALYNN

I can’t get to my desk fast enough. My heels shuffle along the padded carpet in the hallway, causing me to almost fall when my stilettos get caught in one of the threads. Working in the plush environment of Executive Row can have its downside.

“Are you out of your mind?” Austin’s words are heard before he even reaches my desk.

I look around to make sure no one sees him addressing me like this. Sure, I should let them think he’s a prick who yells at employees, but I don’t need anyone knowing we have a history, albeit a short one.

“Will you keep your voice down?” I hush him, glancing at Bryce’s closed office door.

Austin doesn’t seem to be intimidated. He comes around my desk and gets right up in my face. “You excited to tell the world that Austin Sexton is the man behind the races?”

I step back. “Oh, give me a break.”

“A big break. Like the one you’re gonna get for outing me as Falcon. You’re more of a Pyle than I even thought.”

My jaw literally drops at his insinuation. “You self-indulgent asshole. I’m doing you a favor.”

He leans in closer, and I cross my arms in an attempt to keep him at a distance.

“How so? What’s your end game? You want money? Because I got plenty of it, baby.”

“What you don’t have is class,” I say too loudly and then bring my volume down to a shouting whisper. “I don’t want your money, and right now, I’m thinking twice about helping your sorry ass. I did that, so Bryce would put me in charge of the investigation and not someone else. It worked, so you’re welcome.”

His brows rise as he gives a sarcastic laugh. “You think Bryce fell for your little scheme? I already told you, he knows I race cars. He hates it, but he knows. He only gave in to save me from one of Missy’s cronies doing the work.”

I slap him upside the head. “Exactly! God, it’s a good thing you’re good-looking because, sometimes, you act like a real idiot.”