Page 41 of Downforce

I look from the guy now on the ground up into a familiar pair of hazel eyes that I’ve never seen this angry.

“You have two seconds to get your sorry arses out of here or I will finish beating you all to a pulp,” Max seethes.

CHAPTER 13

Max

I’m grateful for many aspects of my chosen career. Being able to travel the world is one of them. Affording me the opportunity to travel to Japan, during cherry blossom season, specifically.

Yes, I’m a sucker for the angelic pink leaves that grace this land for only a short few weeks out of the year. It’s as if the highly delicate blooms are playing hide-and-seek with us. Those of us fortunate enough to catch their stunning allure are remain in awe and left wanting until we get to see it again.

This, and not the potential sponsorship interview Edwin scheduled, is why I chose to arrive in Japan early. The interview turned out to be a bust, to which Edwin responded by asking me if I wanted to meet some acquaintances of ours at a club that stayed open late in the city. A club I’ve been photographed coming out of more than once in my career.

I have no doubt the owners like to make a show of professional athletes and well-known names frequenting their establishment.

I passed on the offer. Instead, I chose to take a walk to stretch my legs after my long-haul flight to observe this year’s crop of blooming cherry blossoms.

This reason and more are what has me walking the streets of Tokyo and into Asukayama Park at night. I didn’t think much of it when I heard voices up ahead on the pathway that I’ve chosen to stroll. Between the Grand Prix and spring, the influx of tourists is inevitable.

Except, as I get closer, my spine straightens and my eyes narrow in on a woman who’s turned, facing off against the three men who stand before her. Dressed in a light blue and white pantsuit, I notice that her feet are slightly parted and knees bent, hands up in front of her but not quite balled into fists.

I don’t have time to give my feet the directive before they swallow the distance between us. She’s in a defensive stance, which means she feels threatened.

It’s not until I’m a few feet from them that my eyes widen and anger takes over my whole body.

Annalise.

I recognize her at the same time I hear one of the guys calling her a bitch. I don’t hesitate, pause to gauge the situation, or flinch as my fist crosses the bastard’s jaw.

He goes down.

I bark out my order for them to leave before either one of the two standing assholes can figure out what happened. The stunned expressions on their faces relays they aren’t much of a threat.

Two dipshits who were following the wrong mate.

I scowl as I watch them help their friend up and profusely apologize for bothering my girlfriend, before they trip and stumble over themselves to create the distance I’ve just demanded.

I don’t move a muscle until they’re at least twenty feet away and no longer looking back.

“Bastards,” I grunt.

“I could’ve handled that on my own.”

Annalise’s words pull my gaze back to hers, and I narrow my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing out at night by yourself?”

That probably isn’t the right thing to say at the moment, nor is the harsh tone I asked it in, but I’m livid and can barely see straight. She put herself in danger out here all alone.

I also notice she hasn’t dropped her defensive stance just yet. A piece of me is almost proud. But that’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t have to defend herself if she wasn’t by herself in a park in the middle of the night.

“It’s not the middle of the night,” she replies when I express my thoughts out loud.

“It’s barely ten o’clock. I was—” She stops, shaking her head as if coming out of a spell. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. What are you doing out here at night by yourself?”

“This isn’t about me,” I say, still seething. “What the hell? Your date couldn’t bother to walk you back to your hotel?”

The questions come out of nowhere. All I feel is anger mixed with something I shouldn’t feel.