"10.5 minutes! Not bad! Not bad at all. But if you want to gain an advantage over your opponents, you'll need to push for at least 7.5 minutes," Philip said as he helped Patricia off her horse, Liberty. "Speed matters in derby racing, but it's not just about speed, it's also about flexibility. You have to anticipate the unexpected and be ready to adjust on instinct. Remember the trick I pulled on you? The 'slow and swerve'? It's one of the first techniques every derby racer learns. But there are many more, and I'm going to teach you all of them. But that's enough for today, though."
The two of them walked back toward the ranch house, the golden afternoon sun casting long shadows over the training field. Patricia's muscles burned with exertion, but there was a thrill, an old, familiar energy stirring in her veins.
"I assume you already know the competitions you'll be facing?"Philip asked, glancing at her as they strolled.
"Yes," Patricia said, rolling her shoulders. "The Speed Race, the Hurdle Race, the Obstacle Race, and the Marathon. Four competitions."
Philip nodded approvingly. "Exactly. But the motherload of them all, the true test of a racer, is the Marathon Derby. That's why it's the last competition of the season. It determines who has not only skill but endurance, resilience, and heart. Your father excelled in all four fields, but the Speed Race was his specialty. He could cross the finish line in three to twenty minutes, depending on the track length. He shattered every speed record. Not even Riccardo has managed to break them."
Patricia's chest tightened at the mention of her father. She had heard those stories countless times, but they never lost their weight.
Philip's voice dropped slightly, laced with reflection. "But Riccardo... Riccardo is a monster when it comes to the Marathon. No one has ever beaten him. The only racer who came close was your father. And that..." he hesitated, "....didn't end well for him."
A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken memories. Philip shook his head, as if shaking off the past. "But enough of that. I believe in you, Patricia. You can do this. You can be even better than your father. And I'm going to make sure of it."
Patricia scoffed, offering a small, self-deprecating smile. "Don't flatter me, sir. I'm rusty, I never thought I'd be here again. I quit derby racing practice long ago, after Dad…" she trailed off. "It'll take time to become what you expect me to be."
Philip slowed his pace, looking at her with a knowing smile. "But Simon taught you everything he knew, didn't he? He always told me what a phenomenal racer you could be, if you embraced the challenge and thrill of the sport. That's what I'm here to cultivate, Patricia. I'll make sure you bloom into a champion."
She felt heat rise to her cheeks but managed a quiet smile. "Thank you, Mr. Saccoth. I promise, I'll do my best not to disappoint."
Philip chuckled, confidence shining in his gaze. "I know you won't."
As they arrived at the house, Patricia led Philip into her study. A maid entered moments later, setting down a tray of refreshments before swiftly retreating, leaving them alone with the weight of their conversation.
Philip took a slow sip of his tea before speaking. "It was Rockworth who tried to harm you on that track during the race."
His tone was casual, but there was an edge to his words, an unspoken warning.
Patricia's eyes snapped up to meet his. "Rockworth?"
"Yes. Governor Brian Rockworth, the governor of Messi State. He orchestrated the sabotage and sent someone to threaten you at your house, the one who threw that rock through your window."
Patricia stiffened. 'How does he know that?' she thought, feeling a ripple of unease crawl down her spine. She had never told Philip about that incident. Had he been watching her? Listening?
Philip let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the bewilderment flashing across her face. "You're wondering how I found out, aren't you?" He leaned back slightly, studying her. "I have connections in deep and high places, my dear. Your father didn't choose me as your ally for no reason. I also know you're investigating the Black Tulip… and some of my fellow club members. If you want to succeed, I can help, but you need to tell me what your plan is."
Patricia kept her expression neutral, but her thoughts raced. 'Isaac was right. Congressman Saccoth is dangerous. Even as an ally, I'll have to tread carefully. But he's already proven his worth. There's no denying that he could be invaluable to our case.'
Philip's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You should know, you're not the only one after the Black Tulip. Montenegra's highest ranks are also in pursuit of it. If you're not careful, everything could go up in smoke."
Patricia tapped her fingers on the desk, considering. "What do you know about the Black Tulip?" She paused. "Beyond the fact that Jonathan is the damn thing, what else?"
Philip smiled slightly, swirling the last of his tea in the cup before finishing it. "That depends on what you want to know, my dear. But just as you are cautious, so am I. You don't fully trust me yet, and I don't blame you. So I can only share what I know once you let me into… the game."
Patricia didn't miss the way his gaze sharpened, a silent challenge, an unspoken test. 'This man is calculating. Dangerous. If I ever misstep, I could end up in his crosshairs. I need to stay one step ahead.'
She exhaled slowly, folding her hands on the table. "You're right, Mr. Saccoth. I don't fully trust you. But because of your friendship with my father, I'll honor his wishes and involve you in my plans."
She leaned forward, her voice lowering slightly. "I plan to dismantle Montenegra's network from within the club. It's a breeding ground for his operations. You, yourself told me that, you are also involved but not willingly. The only way to destroy his network is to bring it down piece by piece and I already have got enough evidence to prove that some of his sweet members are moles and jackals that are starting to nibble away the hand that feeds them. So I am going to use that evidence to bring chaos into the club so that it can tore itself inside out."
Patricia met his gaze directly, unwavering. "So tell me, Mr. Saccoth....are you willing to help me?"
Philip studied her for a long moment before replying. "Start with Williams and Wilby."
Patricia raised an eyebrow. "Williams and Wilby?"
Philip nodded. "They're partners in crime, but their loyalty isn't mutual. Drive a wedge between them, and you'll gain leverage over the rest. But stay away from Rockworth...he's a jackal, a bloodhound, and an old enemy of your father. He won't stop targeting you until he is satisfied that you are no longer breathing."
Patricia breath hitched and she pressed her lips together and thought. 'Rockworth has already made his move. If he's relentless, I'll have to be even more careful.'
Philip continued, his tone slightly graver now. "Most importantly, stay in Jethro's good graces. He's your strongest shield against the bloodhounds. Don't fall short of his favor."
He hesitated briefly before adding, "As for the Black Tulip....it's a drug. And Jonathan is harboring it in his blood. That's what makes him so valuable."
Patricia's pulse quickened. "A drug? Do you know what it does? How it works?"
Philip shook his head. "No. But I know it's the centerpiece of Montenegra's so-called evolution. Your father was the one who cracked its secret, and he hid that discovery in one of his hard drives."
Patricia frowned. "If that's true, then the answers I need are in those drives." She paused before adding, "Before I met you and received the second hard drive, I was following a clue: 'Dogs and jackals look the same, but eventually, one of them will show its true nature. Don't be fooled...dig up the loot.'"
Philip rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Dogs are loyal. Jackals are not. You're already on the right path. Perhaps there's a 'loyal dog' in the club who once followed your father...one who holds the next piece of the puzzle."
Patricia's mind raced through possibilities. "Or maybe it's a 'jackal', someone who had leverage over my father, someone he entrusted the hard drive to as part of a bargain to conceal something."
Philip nodded. "That could be. But your father's clue will make sense in time. For now, let's focus on preparing you for the derby season. I'll return the day after tomorrow to check on your speed competition progress."
He stood, buttoning his coat. "I'll take my leave now. Work hard, Patricia, I know you'll reach your full potential."
Patricia rose, offering a small smile. "Thank you, Mr. Saccoth. I'll give it everything I've got."
Philip chuckled. "I have no doubt." He turned, pausing briefly at the doorway. "And when you hold the world champion trophy and finally take down Montenegra, it'll all be worth it. Justice will be yours."
With that, he left, stepping into his car. Patricia watched as he drove away, her mind still churning with everything he had revealed. As she turned back toward the house, her foot caught on an uneven patch of the path.
She stumbled, falling onto the rocky ground. A sharp sting flared across her left hand and knees, scraping against the gravel. But the pain wasn't what unsettled her...it was the sudden rush of unease, which caused her heart to race unevenly.
Something was wrong.
And she felt that it had nothing to do with the fall.
....
In a deep underground club, the music blared loudly, a relentless rhythm that pulsed through the walls and into the bones of everyone inside. The crowd moved wildly, lost in the electrifying beat, their inhibitions drowned in a haze of dancing, drinking, and illicit indulgence. Daylight didn't matter here, this was a world of its own, where chaos reigned supreme.
A man stepped into the club, his presence commanding despite the dim lighting. He wore a dark leather jacket over a plain shirt, jeans, and a cap pulled low over his face. Shades concealed his eyes, but his sharp jawline and confident stride turned a few heads as he pushed through the throng of bodies. He moved with purpose, weaving through the crowd until he reached the bar.
Sliding onto a stool, he whistled to catch the bartender's attention. Moments later, a young woman approached him, her outfit leaving little to the imagination. Her lips curled into a sweet, seductive smile as she leaned closer. "What can I get you, handsome? We've got... all kinds of options today. Just name what you want..."
The man smiled faintly. "A glass of vodka. And a mint."
The girl's smile widened. "Sure thing, handsome. But... can I interest you in a little extra something with that? That blondie over there seems to have taken quite the interest in you. Though, I'd hate to give you away." She gestured toward a corner of the room.
The man turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on a lean figure seated a few feet away. The blondie was young, barely in his twenties, with tousled hair and piercing brown eyes. He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a hint of his chest, and tight blue jeans that clung to his frame. His gaze was fixed on the man at the bar, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips.
The man held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the bartender, who had just set his drink down. "Thanks, sweetie," he said, flashing her a quick smile.
The girl blew him a playful kiss before moving on to serve another customer.
"Hey there, lone stranger..."
The man turned at the sound of a low, sultry voice behind him. The blondie had approached, his smile widening as he leaned casually against the bar.
"You," the blondie began, his voice dripping with charm, "are a masterpiece. A fine creation that God must've taken his time on. Handsome, buff, all pure muscle. You're exactly my type."
The man suppressed a grimace, bile rising in his throat with every word. But he kept his composure, he had a mission, and he wasn't about to let this derail him.
He sighed, his tone flat. "What's your name?"
The blondie chuckled softly. "Stevey," he said, his voice lilting. He leaned in closer, his hand brushing the man's shoulder as he whispered, "But my friends... they like to call me 'Poison Ivy.' And it's the last name you'll ever hear... Agent Phillips."
The man's breath hitched, his body tensing at the words. He turned sharply to face the blondie, his eyes narrowing. For a fleeting moment, he could've sworn the blondie's eyes shifted...turning from warm brown to an inky black, devoid of any white.
Before he could react, a wave of sluggishness washed over him. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. The room spun, the pounding music fading into a distant hum. He collapsed to the floor, his vision blurring as panicked screams erupted around him.
Through the haze, a figure stepped into view...a man clad in a silver suit jacket and black slacks. His skin was marked with intricate snake tattoos that coiled up his neck, face and onto his hands. He crouched down, his lips curling into a dark smile.
"Hello, Agent Phillips,"the man drawled, his voice light and chilling. "You and I... are going for a ride."
His laughter echoed in Isaac's ears, the last sound he heard before the darkness claimed him.
**********
Hello my dear readers. I hope you are enjoying yourselves as much as I am doing writing this novel.
I know I am still a bloomer but your support will really mean the world to me.
** Due to some obligations updates are mostly on Wednesday and Thursday so please bear with me and also enjoy.
Love you guys
Your girl
LV