Caroline shook her head. “You know, Shannon, if you do win, do you know what the caption will be under your picture? Biker Babe Wins. Better yet, you’ll have some bike bimbo with big tits and no future draped all over you and you won’t even remember her name, if you ever knew it to start with. You fuck anything that looks at you twice. You’re more famous for the notches on your bike stem than what you do in the saddle.” Caroline moved as Shannon rolled her bike to the side of the trailer but she didn’t stop talking.

“You know I don’t think people fundamentally change, but you’re the exception. There is not one shred of the Shannon Roberts I knew.

I don’t know whether to pity you or envy you.” Caroline did an about-face that any drill sergeant would be proud of. As she whirled, Shannon could practically feel the euphemistic slap on her face.

v

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, Caroline chanted to herself. She was good at holding her emotions in check but nothing could stop the crack from forming in her heart—again. Tears burned behind her eyes and choked her throat. She had been so angry when she saw Shannon unloading her bike she had gone off the deep end.

It was a total surprise when she saw Shannon. The talk on the circuit and from the race sponsor was that Shannon would skip this week’s race. Since the championship was won by the total number of points earned in the eleven races, the other riders were thrilled, believing this was their chance to gain valuable ground in the standing with their number one competitor out of the way—at least for this race. Caroline felt just the opposite. She was worried that Shannon was more seriously injured than she thought. After a day or two of worrying herself sick she finally talked herself into thinking that Shannon was sitting this one out because she didn’t want to risk a more serious injury if she was not ready to compete.

She had seen how Shannon gingerly handled her bike and saw

• 128 •


Descent

how she was favoring her left arm and shoulder. The race this week was a single track course, the first half predominately uphill and scattered with rock and brush hanging over the track. The second half was all downhill with a series of switchback turns, some of which were 180

degrees over some of the roughest washboard trails on the series, made more dangerous due to the fatigue of the rider. One lapse of concentration or slip of a tire could mean disaster.

Caroline didn’t remember exactly what she had said to Shannon, but the remnants of her anger still smoldered inside. She had seen Frank Striker’s wife sniffing around Shannon and then when she gave every indication she was going to ride in a race she had no business riding in, it was too much for Caroline’s taxed emotions.

She plastered on a smile when a man and woman approached asking for her autograph. He asked a few questions about her gear and bike but before Caroline had a chance to answer, his arm candy said,

“Do you know Shannon Roberts? Have you seen her? Is she going to race this weekend? She is so hot in those tight shorts.”

Her male friend jabbed her with his elbow and looked at Caroline as if to say “sorry” and looked embarrassed for both of them. Caroline simply nodded, too tired to say anything. He practically dragged the woman away from her, the questions about Shannon still spewing from her mouth. Several other race fans stopped and asked her questions or simply wanted a picture.

Don’t cry, almost there, don’t cry, almost there. Caroline screamed in her head approaching the elevator door. One, two, three, floor after floor she counted. Five, six, seven, eight steps to her door. She fished in her pockets for her door key. Where in the fuck is my key, she practically shouted, grateful for the empty hallway. She finally found it in her back pocket and inserted it into the lock. The green light flashed, the latch clicked, and when the door closed solidly behind her, Caroline fell to her knees and wept.

v

Shannon watched Caroline walk away, stunned at the venom she heard in her voice. Who in the hell did she think she was, questioning

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JuliE CaNNoN

Shannon’s decision to race this weekend? She was here to win the championship, not pussyfoot around over a few cuts and scrapes.

And what in the fuck did she say about the caption under my picture on the winner’s stand? Biker babe wins? So what? It would be true. But that crack about the babe and the notches on her bike was a bit much. So what if the women she slept with didn’t have a future? She wasn’t looking for anything other than that night, maybe the next. She knew what she wanted out of life. She wanted to win.

What would Caroline’s caption say? Practice makes perfect?

Caroline was famous for her dedication to the sport. Shannon had a life and lived it every day. There was more to Shannon Roberts than training and riding. She had a life, and a very full one. What did Caroline have?

And what is with that bullshit that people don’t change? She certainly had. Shannon was so deep in thought that her inspection of her bike and safety gear was more rote than real inspection. Caroline had graduated from Columbia University, one of the best colleges in the country, if not the world, not once but twice, with a degree in astrophysics. Shannon doubted she could spell it even with spell check.

And she was going to be an astronaut. Shannon stopped suddenly, realizing exactly what Caroline had accomplished. But what had Shannon done?

Sure she had won races, lots of them. But what would her legacy be when she was done? And she would be done, and soon. The competition was getting younger and tougher. At eighteen, nineteen, or twenty, they were fearless and healed a lot faster. When would they start whispering behind her back, “She’s embarrassing herself, she’s too old, too slow, not as quick as she used to be. She doesn’t have it anymore”?

Shannon didn’t go to college. Hell, she barely finished high school because of the fiasco in Caroline’s room. All she had wanted to do was ride. Even without a formal college education, she had done well for herself. She surrounded herself with people she trusted who knew what they were doing with the money she earned and her inheritance. She was financially set, and if she were careful, could probably do whatever she wanted for the rest of her life. But what would that be?

Shannon didn’t like what she saw in her future. She didn’t want

• 130 •


Descent

to be a has-been that didn’t know when to stop, when the competition had passed her by in the fast lane. She wanted to go out on top and she would do it this year, with this championship. Starting with this race, she would have no greater pleasure than beating the sanctimonious Caroline Davis.

• 131 •


• 132 •


Descent

ChaPTER SEvENTEEN

Ladies and gentlemen, riding for Bellow and wearing the blue leader’s jersey, Caroline Davis.” Even with her third place finish the race before, Caroline still led the series with the highest number of points.

Her concentration was so intense the only thing Caroline heard was the garbled muffle of her name being called. She didn’t hear the roar of the crowd or the ring of the starter’s bell but somehow knew when to shoot off the starting line.

Dig, dig, dig, she commanded her legs with each up and down stroke of the pedals. Stroke after stroke took her farther up the trail, her legs burning from exertion and her breathing heavy. Shifting eased some of the strain on her legs and she rose off the saddle, leaning over the handlebars for more traction and power.

Up, down, up, down, she commanded and before she knew it, she was at the top of the hill. Not sparing a moment to enjoy the view, she crested the trail and started her descent. Shift, shift, shift, shift, the popping of her gears was in direct synchronization with the up and down strokes of her thighs. Concentrate, easy, shift, brake, shift, pedal, hard turn, keep it tight, keep it tight, shift, pedal, pedal, were the commands in her head transferring to her body. Suddenly, she was out of the last turn and in the final straightaway. Dig, dig, dig, she chanted, this time out loud, and the roar of the crowd as she crossed the finish line drowned out any other sound. Skidding to a stop and breathing heavily, Caroline felt light-headed. Breathe in, out, in, out, she chanted

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JuliE CaNNoN

in her head and her well-trained body followed directions. She had beaten everyone’s time and the course record by an astonishing one point two seconds.

Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t unbuckle her helmet strap. After a few moments, a familiar face was in front of her, and Fran’s steady hands were doing the work for her.

“CD, you kicked ass, girl. If you keep this up, you’ll wipe out the competition and have them for lunch.”

Fran’s all-access pass blew around her head in the breeze, almost poking Caroline in the eye.

v

The knock on the door was unexpected. Caroline was in her robe.

Normally she and Fran shared a room but Fran had insisted on her own this trip. Debating on whether or not to answer it, she stared at the door as if she could see through it. She sighed and got up when the knocking continued with no sign of stopping. She peered through the peephole and quickly stepped back as if it were blistering hot. In a way it was.