Free To Betray A Brother by G.W. Gibson Page B

circuit, and Bryce unlocked the entry gate.
    "I forgot. You work here, don't you?" Penny said, her head cocked to one side.
    "Yeah, a few hours a week. The money helps pay the bills though not too much else,” he said as he remounted his bike.
    They parked up on the side of the track. Bryce removed his helmet and pulled a bottle of water from his satchel and offered it to Penny.
    She shook her head. "No, thanks.”
    He pulled a stop watch from his pocket. "Three laps each. We compare times and then look at how to tighten your lines. You ready?”"
    "We’ll try it your way, but don’t you think I will have an unfair advantage?" She cast her eyes from his Norton to her Aprilia as she spoke.
    He grinned. "Ha. Easy. Three laps each on each bike, if you’re game? "
    Penny grabbed her helmet and headed for the Norton. She’d forgotten how infuriatingly clever he could be. I’ll show him.
    She slipped her helmet on a sat for a few moments. “You know I’ve heard and read a great many things about Commandos and Nortons in general, not all of it flattering. Here goes nothing." She punched the starter button, accelerated off, and settled into the bike doing a warm up lap before getting down to business.
    Bryce watched Penny slid from side to side on the saddle. She crossed the start/finish line, and he pushed the button on the stop watch. Sitting in the stands he could watch her ride, getting the best view of her form and the lines she took. Penny accelerated hard, braking as she picked her lines through the track. He made a mental note. She crossed the line. Three minutes, six seconds. He wrote the time into the notebook.
    She pulled up after the last lap and wandered over to where he sat, her hair damp and stuck to her face.
    "Well?" she asked, eagerness threading her voice.
    He handed her the sheet.
    Penny read his scribbled notes. "Three minutes, six seconds, three minutes four, and three minutes three. They’re fairly respectable times, considering your big old beast is not really a racing bike and handles like a barge.”
    Without a word Bryce handed her the watch and headed toward his bike.
    The Commando flashed over the line with Bryce barely tucking himself down to reduce wind drag. He selected lines different to those she had chosen.
    She held the watch up as he crossed the line, the blood drained from her face leaving her pale. His times must have been better than hers. She shook her head in disbelief as he crossed the line again. He grinned into the wind. Game on!
    By the time Bryce pulled up Penny sat ready on her bike. She shoved the watch and notebook at him. "Here!" she shouted as she accelerated off.
    He kicked his stand out and watched. She rode hard, the bike dove as she milked every ounce of skill to get the best time possible. She was fast, and Bryce couldn’t help admire her determination. He looked at his times. Two minutes fifty-eight seconds on his first lap with no warm up. Two fifty-seven on the second. No wonder she was riding like the wind. Nothing like a bit of healthy competition.
    Penny completed her laps and pulled up, lifted her visor, and looked across at him, a fire burnt deep in her eyes. He passed her the notebook. She closed the cover without looking at his notations. "You think I can do better, don't you?"
    He nodded in response but didn't say anything, instead handing her a bottle of water. He watched as she drank deeply, some spilling from the bottle and running down the long column of her neck. Right now, Penny was the sexiest woman on the planet. His loins stirred in agreement as his eyes followed the rivulet as it disappeared behind the collar of her jacket. "Let's both go out onto the track."
    "In a race you mean?" Penny wiped the water from her lips.
    "No. I'll follow you. Get a feel for how you think. We'll do a couple of laps and then swap. You follow me, pay attention to how I pick my lines though the track. Then we'll sit down and talk about what we do differently.”
    They