Fueled (Driven, #2)(137)

“Dirty air ahead,” the spotter says as Colton comes out of turn three and heads toward traffic a lap down.

“Ten-four.”

“Last lap fastest yet,” Beckett pipes into the conversation as he studies a computer screen several seats down from me that’s reading all of the gauges in number thirteen. “Doing great, Wood. Just keep her steady in that groove you’ve got. The high line has a lot of pebbling already so stay clear.”

“Got it.” His voice strains from the force of the car as he accelerates out of turn number one.

There is a collective gasp from the crowd as a car comes into contact with the wall. I turn to look, my heart jumping in my throat, but I can’t see it from our position. I immediately look to the monitor where Beckett is already focused.

“Up one, Colton. Up!” The spotter yells in my ears.

It all happens so fast but I feel like time stops. Stands still. Rewinds. The monitor shows a cloud of smoke as the car that hits the wall first slings back down the track at a diagonal. The speeds are too fast so the remaining cars are unable to adjust their line in that quick amount of time. Colton had once told me you always race to where the accident first hits because it always moves afterwards due to the momentum.

There’s so much smoke. So much smoke, how is Colton going to know where to go?

“I’m blind,” the spotter yells, panicked as the mass of cars and the ensuing smoke is so large that he can’t direct Colton. Can’t tell him the safe line to drive with his car flying close to two hundred miles per hour.

I watch his car fly into the smoke. My heart in my throat. My prayers thrown up to God. My breath held. My soul hoping.





Motherf*cker.

The smoke engulfs me. The blur around me now gray with flashes of sparking metal as cars collide around me. I’m f*cking blind.

Don’t have time to fear.

Don’t have time to think.

Can only feel.

Only react.

Daylight flashes on the other end of the tunnel of gray. I aim for it. Not letting up. Never let up. Race to where the crash was.

Go, go, go. C’mon, one-three. C’mon, baby. Go, go, go.

The flash of red comes out of nowhere and slings in front of me. No time to react. None.

I’m weightless.

Lifted.

Weightless.

Spiraling.

Spinning.

White knuckles on the wheel.

Daylight again.

Too fast.

Too fast.

“Fuck!”





I see Colton’s car rise above the smoke. It’s up on the nose. Spiraling through the air. I hear Beckett yell, “Wood!” It’s only one word, but the broken way he says it has lead dropping through my soul.

I can’t react.

Can’t function.

Just sit in my seat and stare.

My mind fracturing to images of Max and Colton.

Broken.

Interchangeable.





Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.





Stay tuned for the conclusion of Rylee and Colton’s story

in the third and final book of The Driven Trilogy,

CRASHED





Wow! Where do I even begin to start? When I started this writing journey a little over a year ago, it was more of a challenge to myself. Can I do it? Not only can I do it, but can I create a story that creates visceral reactions in the reader and at the same time makes them fall in love with Rylee, Colton and their story? When I finished Driven, I liked it—but that meant nothing— the question was, would you, the reader, be taken by it?

Never in a million years did I expect that response to be yes! At first I thought it was a fluke to be honest. I knew I was in love with Rylee and Colton and the boys—but that was a given—and then the messages and emails and posts started coming in. You actually loved them as much as I did—my damaged alpha and heartbroken heroine. I’ve always thought the job of an author is to make the reader feel in extremes—and you all let me know that I did just that, broken Kindles and all. (Seriously, I’ve received pictures of broken Kindles after they were thrown at the ending of Driven). So more than anything, thank you to my readers. Thank you for taking a chance on this independent author and her debut novel—flaws, grammatical errors, and all. Thank you for talking about Driven, recommending it to your friends, creating FB pages and posting reviews anywhere and everywhere to help get the word out. You have no idea how much that kind of support means to a self-published author such as myself. So once again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’ve read in numerous places that the second book of a trilogy is often the downfall—full of filler, fluff, and no real plot—all I can say is, I hope that Fueled lived up to and exceeded your expectations.

To the bloggers—the women who put endless hours into reading our books (good and bad), reviewing them, making collages for them, and promoting the hell out of them, just because of their love of books. For most of them, it’s their second job—the one they actually like—and they don’t do it for money or recognition, but because they love to be transported to another time and place. I’m not trying to kiss-up to them here, but rather thank them, because if it weren’t for their tireless passion, most of you would have had no idea that a book called Driven existed. So to the bloggers, thank you for pushing, promoting, joining Colton’s Cuties (aka the Driven Street Team), reviewing, and supporting the trilogy in general. Driven may have been a great story, but without you guys and your continued support, it might have lost momentum—so thank you!