At Full Sprint (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) (16 page)

Catching her scent on the air, he leaped out of the window, sprinted through tight alleys, until he saw Circe and her pursuer. His growl sounded like a race car roaring by as he darted at the man, leaping onto his back and clamping his jaws around the back of his neck.

The man yelped, fell face first onto the ground, and Miles, seeing the terrified Circie on her bum, scooting away, dragged the limp body of her attacker into the shadows of a side street.

He emerged from the alley a man, running over to Circe, cool sand in between his sweaty toes, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed into her hair, kissing her and holding her tight. “I’m so sorry.”

*

“What the fuck!” Circe hissed it at Miles, hitting him on the shoulder with a balled fist. “Fuck you, Miles! Ew, you’re covered in blood!”

“Be quiet,” he told her. His head was darting left and right.

“What the hell are you looking for?”

“A laundry line.”

“Why? Let’s just get out of here!”

“How the hell are we going to do that when I’m bloody naked?” he asked, irritation in his voice. She looked at his face properly for the first time, and saw that he was bleeding from a deep gash beneath his right eye.

“Damn, Miles, you’re going to need stitches there.”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. The two kept low as they weaved through two-story buildings in the unknown town they were in. “Help me look for clothes on a line.”

“Nobody leaves laundry out overnight!” Circe whispered.

“There’s got to be a bloke around here who lives alone.”

Taking alleys between buildings, and hugging the walls, eventually they spotted a line, strung between two buildings overhead.

“I’m going to lift you up, Circe. You see if you can reach any of those clothes.”

Circe looked at Miles and then up at the line. She saw some fairly traditional looking clothes – a long-sleeved loose shirt, and equally loose, light-colored trousers.

“Miles, I don’t think you can-”

“I can,” he said, and he turned her around, grabbed each of her hips with his hands. “But it might hurt you a little.”

“You’re going to lift me up like
that
?” Circe shook her head. “No, that’s not going to work.”

“It’s going to work, damn it.” She felt herself hoisted into the air by just her hips, and gasped loudly. “Quiet!” she heard him say below her. She reached up, grabbed hold of the clothing, and then he lowered her back down.

His arms hadn’t even trembled.

“Wow,” she said. “Does that come from being a shapeshifter?”

He nodded quickly, putting on the clothes. They were too big for him, but it wasn’t like they had a choice.

“Is every shapeshifter like that?”

“Probably,” he said. He took her hand again and, sticking to alleys and backstreets. From what Circe could gather, looking around as they frantically zig-zagged through the settlement, this was a small town, more a collection of houses, farms and simple stores than anything resembling the all-glass-and-steel stadium city they had been kidnapped from.

“Miles, where are we going?”

“Looking for a car.”

Circe blinked. “But we just passed one!”

Miles turned back to look at her. Sweat and blood was dripping off his chin. “Yeah, but it’s a shit model. We can do better.”

“Miles!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, nodding, going back the way they came. “Come on then.”

“Can you even hotwire it?”

“Of course I can. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you pick up a few things along the way.”

They rounded a corner, and sure enough, on a narrow street, was a crappy four-door covered in dust. It looked to be a model from the eighties.

“Will it even still work?”

“Only one way to find out.” He walked up to the car, and was about to elbow the window through when Circe put her hands up.

“The fuck are you doing, Miles? Try the door first!”

He looked at her for a moment, before pointing at her, his mouth pulling into a grin. She watched as he tried the door, but it was locked.

“Oh, all right,” she said, waving dismissively at him. He smashed the window through with his elbow. It was a surprisingly quiet thump and crack, rather than the cacophony she expected to hear.

“Did it hurt?” She climbed into the car, and watched as he strode purposefully around the hood.

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Rea-”

“Okay, okay, it did, but don’t tell anyone.”

Seconds later, Miles had the car started, and he sped out of the town, found the sand-swept motorway, and drove toward the brighter patch of sky in the distance, with telltale human illumination on the rolling underbellies of clouds.

*

It’s been a week now since we were kidnapped. I’m glad it was all over as quickly as it was. The police never found them, of course.

It still weighs heavily on me that I watched Miles kill a man. That man would probably have killed me. I don’t know how I feel about being with a man who has killed before. It’s a big deal to me. But soldiers kill all the time, right? Do their wives and girlfriends have problems reconciling that? Police officers sometimes kill. What do their wives think?

Is it a problem with me that I have a problem with it?

I can’t believe I’m writing this.

Killed.

Kill.

Murder.

Am I in a movie?

My life’s never been in danger before. It was that night I was taken. It probably still is due to my association with Miles.

If they knew who he was that night, then they’ll *still* know who he is now, right?

I know the best thing to do would be to leave him.

But I really don’t want to do that.

I don’t want to work on this bloody interview anymore, either.

I’ve learned too much about him. There’s too much I can’t write about. It would be dishonest. It would be difficult.

I’m not as invested professionally anymore, either. I almost don’t care about it anymore.

What the hell am I going to do?

Forsake a great career for a man who almost got me killed? But I feel so strongly for him…

I was angry at him those first few days. I don’t know why I’m writing this. I could just go back and read my entries from then. But I didn’t talk to him for days.

He’s been off too. I think he might be rattled, though it doesn’t seem his style to be rattled. Maybe he’s plotting revenge. I have no idea. We haven’t exactly been chatting like we used to.

What a rollercoaster! The down followed the up so fast. I don’t know what it means for us.

I mean, we’re talking again, now. It’s cautious. I know he feels terrible. I know that he’s beating up on himself for putting me in that position. Fuck, for putting himself in that position.

We made love today and that was cathartic. It was a release I needed, a reminder of life. Of love. Of what could have been lost, and of what I – we – still have.

What should I do, dear diary?

What should I do?

“I
’m retiring from Formula One,” Miles said. The sea of reporters gasped in unison, and it was as if all the air was sucked out of the room in an instant.

After a quick pause, the silence erupted into shouting, questions being hurled at Miles left, right, and center.

Taking in the din for a few moments, Miles then put his hands out and gestured for quiet. It took a few minutes, but eventually the crowd settled down.

“There is nothing to it, ladies and gentleman. It is simply a phase of my life that is now over. I wish all my colleagues, fellow racers, and crew members every success. I would like to apologize to my good friend and team owner Richard Ford for putting his excellent team in such a tangle. He has put up with my endless dramatics, my difficult, often boyish behavior, and he is without a doubt the best owner and manager a driver could ask for.”

Miles looked at Richard. With a nose like a prized strawberry, the man looked ever jolly, and he was not wearing a sour face now, despite the bad news. He waved at Miles, and Miles waved back. He felt a sentimental string tugged in his heart, and was surprised. Beyond his feelings for Circe, he didn’t know he had any others to pull.

He continued: “But I am certain they will quickly find a replacement. The team is the best in Formula One. The cars are the best. It follows that they’ll have their pick of the best. The best drivers. I will not be answering any questions, as, truthfully, there is nothing to tell.” He offered an exaggerated shrug, got up, and exited the press room at the Shanghai International Circuit, just one hour before the Chinese Grand Prix was set to start.

Pushing past reporters who had somehow made it into the ‘unrestricted’ drivers’ areas, he weaved through corridors, taking a series of fire escapes until he was spit out into a loading zone. In front of him was his rented Focus. In front of that was Richard Ford.

“How did you get down here so fast, old man?”

“I took the lift, dear boy.”

Miles looked at the floor for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For putting you in such a pickle.”

“I don’t care about that,” Richard told him, waving his hand. “That’s business. I came down here to say I’m going to miss you. I know you young men these days all like to hug each other all the damn time, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d settle for a handshake.”

He stuck out his hand, and Miles gripped it hard. “It’s been wonderful racing for you these last seven years, Richard.”

“Oh, I doubt very much that you raced for
me
, Miles. But thank you. Are you off with that woman, that Ms. Cole?”

“That’s the plan,” Miles said. “Only, she hasn’t been made aware of it, yet.”

“Well, they’re playing your announcement on the television, so she’ll find out soon.”

“I know.”

“Good luck with that, Cheat. Maybe time to lose the nickname, right?”

Miles laughed. “Yes, indeed. Don’t need it anymore. Goodbye, Richard.”

“Au revoir, Cheat.”

Miles climbed into his altogether pedestrian vehicle, and watched as Richard waddled back into the building. He fingered the breast pocket of his jacket idly for a moment, before taking a deep breath and exhaling.

He was going to do it.

Twenty minutes later, after pushing the small family car to its absolute limits, Miles arrived at his hotel, a positively gaudy building that had all the charm of a jewel-encrusted slab of concrete.

He tipped the valet generously – now was not the time to be stingy. He rushed in, wiped sweat from his brow and upper lip, and inserted his keycard into the elevator, telling it to go up to the upper-most penthouse. His heart was racing. The blood thundered in his ears. He fidgeted at the lining of his pockets.

When the elevator doors opened, Circe was waiting for him. “Miles! I just saw you on the news!”

He nodded at her.

“Is it true? You’re retiring?”

“Come here,” he said, and he walked to her, picked her up in his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from her mouth. He took her onto the large balcony, and laid her down on the sofa there.

“Circe,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, but he was interrupted by her.

“Why are you retiring?”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I’ve pissed off a lot of people. But it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you. I can’t have that happening again. I won’t. You’re mine, and mine to protect, and I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

“But you can get bodyguards-”

“It’s not enough. No risk is acceptable. When I was taken, and I learned they had taken you too… I knew I had to retire. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. No, no, please,” he put up a hand. “Listen to me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, Circe. Racing… it doesn’t do it for me anymore. Shifting? I still like that, but it’s not what it used to be. Not unless I’m with you, and you’re watching me run.”

“Miles,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not afraid. I don’t want you to give up your life for me.”

“I’m not giving up anything but a distraction. Babe, when I first met you, I told myself that you might be a distraction. You were so beautiful, so innocent. Your eyes stole me, planted a seed in me, but I didn’t know it. In Kuala Lumpur, I thought you were definitely becoming a distraction. I was thinking about you the entire time I was racing. I nearly finished second. Can you believe it?
Second!”

He smiled at her, and she touched her lips with her fingers, trying not to laugh back.

“I told myself that I had to race! That I had responsibilities to my team, to the fans, to the sport! But I realize now that I was wrong. All that other shit…
that
was the distraction!
You’re
my responsibility, Circe. You’re my priority. You’re mine, too. You told me so. I claimed you.”

“I want to be yours,” she said, her voice low. “And I
do
want you to be mine as well. All mine. Only mine.”

“That’s why I’m retiring. That’s why I quit. We were meant to be, Circe. Don’t you see that? I don’t know whether our mates in life are fated or not, but I do know that between us…” he pointed at her and then himself. “That we had a connection from the start. Maybe we didn’t know it. But it was there.” Miles smiled before planting a heavy kiss on her lips. “So, I’ve come to ask you for something, babe.”