Decipher (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #3) (18 page)

All I could do was blink at her.

Fuck, she was efficient.

And damn sexy when she spoke all professional. If she wasn’t going into corporate law, I had no doubt she’d rule any fucking courtroom that she stepped foot in. Between her ability to argue, her way with words, and her looks, she’d be a deadly opponent regardless of the guilt or innocence of her client.

The things she’d already had the magazine agree to were things that probably wouldn’t have even crossed my mind to ask.

“Is that okay? I know you’re not working and we could probably use the money, but I figured it would help the whole positive-PR spin if you donated the story proceeds.”

God, she was fucking smart. And beautiful. And sexy. I pushed away from the table and stalked toward her. “Of course it’s okay. I’m just wondering how the hell someone as sexy, smart, and beautiful as you ever fell for such a dumb fuck as me.”

“Well, it wasn’t for your vocabulary, that’s for sure.” She nodded toward Phoebe.

Her subtle hint to watch my mouth raised another question. “If someone’s not going to be involved in the photoshoot, what are we going to do for a babysitter?”

Alyssa’s slight smile twisted downward, no doubt at the reminder that getting a babysitter wouldn’t be as easy for her when she moved to Sydney. “Who do you know?”

“Only Eden. She’ll probably have to work though. They’ll be prepping for the Tassie race this weekend.”

“Maybe it’ll be easier to tell the magazine that we’ll do it another time.”

“No, it makes sense to do it sooner rather than later. I’ll call her and see what she says. It’ll only be a few hours right?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure when though. This afternoon sometime. Then I have to be at the airport by seven, too.”

I pressed my fingers to her lips. “No talking about airports. It doesn’t exist until at least six tonight, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dec.” She sounded as reluctant to discuss it as I was anyway.

“Okay, I’ll give Eden a call. You call the magazine and work out a time.”

“What ’bout me, Daddy?”

“You sit there and look cute.” I winked at her.

“That’s hardly going to give her the confidence to rely on her intelligence rather than her looks.”

I raised a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me eyebrow at Alyssa, but she just shrugged. “Well, shit, okay then, you sit there and do some maths.”

“I don’t know what’s maths,” Phoebe spluttered with her mouth full of toast.

Giving Alyssa a look that was supposed to convey the thought, “See, my way was better,” I quickly hunted down a piece of paper and pencil. “Well, then, why don’t you draw?”

“Draw what?”

“Something that makes you happy.”

“Okay.”

With her satisfied and the plan sorted, I pulled out my phone and called Eden. As soon as I told her the reason why we needed a babysitter, she wouldn’t let me tell her it was okay if she couldn’t.

“I was leaving at lunchtime anyway.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I believed her statement. It would have been just like Eden to tell me that even if it was utter bullshit, just so that she’d get her way. 

“Besides, it sounds like Alyssa has organised a kick-arse deal with them. It’d be stupid to have to give up something like this, something that could be a positive, just because you can’t find a babysitter. Just let me know when you want to drop her off.”

“Thanks, Edie, you are a lifesaver.”

“I actually thought you were calling about something else,” she said.

“Like?”

“Like a certain phone call this morning.”

A lump rose in my throat. Should I deny it or admit I’d basically tried to trade my balls for a job?

Eden didn’t let me do either. “I think it was a step in the right direction. Even if it doesn’t mean anything happens with Sinclair Racing, at least Danny will be more likely to help you find your feet somewhere else.”

Her words sent any hopes that had been building in me plummeting to the floor. It seemed the best I could wish for was a driver role at a team that wasn’t completely terrible. All of the top teams had their drivers stitched up tight. Except Wood Racing.

My silence must have warned her of my shifting mood.

“It’ll work out for the best, Dec. Just trust me.”

I wasn’t sure I could, but it was just easier to say, “Sure thing, Edie. I’ll text once I know what time we’ll need you.”

Alyssa was still on the phone when I headed back out of my office. Phoebe was colouring in her drawing, but she held up what she’d done so far. On the page was a picture with three blobs, each with hands and faces, and a small square, standing next to a big square filled with a pattern of circular shapes.

“That’s nice,” I said. I had no idea what it was, but I figured telling her that in such a harsh fashion wouldn’t be good for her confidence. “What’s that bit there?” I pointed to a circle inside the square, hoping if I could weed out some clues, I could guess the scene.

“Silly, that’s da window.”

Fuck, well, that gave me some frame of reference at least. “It’s a lovely house with all those windows.”

“It’s your castle, Daddy.”

“And that’s us, is it?”

She gave an exaggerated nod and pointed to each of the blobs with hands in turn. “That’s you. And that’s Mummy. And that’s me.”

There was one part of the picture I still didn’t understand.

“And what’s this down here?” I pointed to the square right next to the person she’d said was her.

She sighed. “Daddy, you’re silly. That’s Emmie’s stone.”

My stomach twisted. I was glad that Alyssa had never hidden the truth from Phoebe, and that Phoebe understood as much as she could about the situation considering her age, but I hadn’t considered that she might have the expectation that we could somehow bring him with us when we moved. Alyssa had explained to me how they went to visit him every couple of weeks, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Phoebe expected that to somehow continue. How did we explain to her that Emmanuel’s grave had to stay in Brisbane?

Because I didn’t want to ruin Alyssa’s mood before the photo shoot with questions that were so depressing, I stuck the picture to my fridge with a magnet, and then distracted Phoebe with something else. When Alyssa got off the phone, she nodded and told me it was all set up.

Within half an hour, we had everything lined up for the photo shoot.

Just as we were getting into the car, my mobile rang. Seeing the name that flashed up on the screen, I told Alyssa who it was and asked her to get Phoebe sorted in the car. I headed just outside the garage door so I could talk without risking Phoebe trying to chatter over me.

“Danny,” I said in greeting.

“I hear you’re having a photo shoot with
Woman’s Idea
this afternoon.”

Fucking Eden. Does she ever keep her mouth shut?

“Yeah.”
What’s it got to do with you?

“I think it’s a great idea. Getting your image into a more positive light will only help your case in the longer term.”

I don’t remember asking your fucking position on the matter
.
I sighed. I’d all but begged him for a job just that morning. The mere thought of the way my effort was basically dismissed had put me in a foul mood, and I needed to shake it or I would just cause myself more trouble. Despite the fact that I knew I needed to fix it, my tone was still a little snippy when I said, “I’m in a hurry, Danny, was there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually there was. I was wondering if you can come in to the offices to see me tomorrow?”

I blinked. Swallowed. Wondered whether I’d misheard. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Around nine if you can make it?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, I repeated my last line again.

Alyssa was practically jumping out of her skin with anticipation when I approached the car. “What did he want?”

“He, uh, he wants to see me. Tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“Maybe.” Despite the fact that I was trying so hard not to get excited, I couldn’t help the little bubble of hope that grew in my chest. He wouldn’t want to speak to me if he didn’t have something to tell me, right? For good, or for bad.

“Let’s get to Eden’s,” Alyssa said, drawing me from my thoughts.

When I turned on the ignition, I took a second to put things in perspective. I had a great family and awesome friends that I’d never really appreciated before. Regardless of what Danny said, none of those things could change.

I’d already hit rock bottom, and now the only way to go was up.

CHAPTER TWENTY: GOOD MORGAN

A LITTLE BEFORE one, I pulled up in front of the block of flats that housed Eden’s swanky little inner-city Sydney apartment. Of course, despite it being so expensive, there was no off-street visitor parking. Although it meant arriving in the city during the lunch rush, and having to fight to find a place to park, I’d wanted to make sure we had plenty of time for Alyssa to get comfortable before we’d have to leave Phoebe there.

So that they wouldn’t have to be in the car while I drove around to find a park—or listen to the swearing that would no doubt occur when I couldn’t find one—I pulled into a loading zone in front of the building so that Alyssa could unload Phoebe and take her ahead while I found a spot.

After lucking out and finding a park just up the road, I walked back to Eden’s building. When I got there, I found Alyssa out front—with Phoebe perched on her hip—looking flustered and more than a little frustrated.

“What number apartment was it again?” she asked when I was close enough.

“Seventeen,” I said, confused because she’d double-checked it with me before climbing out of the car.

“That can’t be right,” she said. “There was a man there . . . And before he opened the door, he grumbled something about not being allowed to have any afternoon delight, and didn’t people respect the concept of privacy anymore. He opened the door wearing black silk boxers, Dec. Not to mention that he was . . .” She glanced at Phoebe to make sure she wasn’t paying too much attention before nodding down toward her crotch. “You know.” Her eyes widened, as if she was trying to psychically force the information into my mind. “He was excited.”

Eden had said she was planning on having the afternoon off. Surely she couldn’t . . . She wasn’t . . . I was sure Morgan would still be at work but maybe . . .

Oh shit.
I realised that in the excitement of picking outfits, packing so I could take them straight to the airport, getting some entertainment organised for Phoebe, I’d completely forgotten to text Eden the time we’d be at her house.

“Was he blond?” I dreaded the answer. God, if I’d interrupted Morgan’s chance for afternoon delight before he needed to go away with the team, I’d never hear the end of it.

Alyssa nodded.

My suspicions confirmed, I chuckled.
Great.
“Well, that’d be the wonderful Morgan McGuire.”

“Morgan McGuire? You mean your teammate?”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” I said. “They must have decided to have some time alone before the team goes on the road again. And it looks like we coc—uh, interrupted them. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t recognise him from the promotional posters.”

A pink stain crept up her cheeks. “I never paid much attention to anyone else on the posters,” she admitted.

Despite the knowledge that she was mine, I couldn’t deny the rush of desire her admission caused within me.

“Morgan!” Phoebe said over Alyssa, obviously trying out the name.

“Are he and Eden . . .?” Alyssa asked.

I nodded. “For a few years now.”

“Wow . . .” Alyssa said. “Nothing like keeping it in the team.”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “They never really let it affect their race-day performance though, so I think Danny just lets it slide.”

Holding Alyssa’s hand, I led her back to Eden’s door. Once again, Morgan answered it and, not noticing me, gave Alyssa a curious glance. At least he was wearing pants and a shirt this time.

“You again?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up into a slightly worried smile. It was a look I recognised—one reserved for crazy-arse stalker fans.

“Yes, you arse,” I said, earning a kick to the shin from Alyssa for my language. “Now are you going to let us in, or do we have to stand in the hallway all day.”

“Squirt?” he said, his gaze spinning to me with surprise evident on his features. Then realisation dawned on his face, “Oh, then this must be the little woman and the munchkin.”

“Who’s a munchkin?” Phoebe asked.

“You are, munchkin,” Morgan replied, tousling Phoebe’s hair before cupping her cheek.

I could sense Alyssa bristle beside me and instantly understood why. Unfortunately, I couldn’t warn Morgan that she didn’t like unknown people being touchy-feely with Phoebe. Ruth, Alyssa’s mum, had explained it to me, how Alyssa still viewed Phoebe as the broken little girl who needed a new kidney to survive.

Morgan was just being Morgan though. He didn’t mean any harm and probably hadn’t even thought through the movement before he’d acted. He always exuded an air of confidence and people generally liked him; it was one of the reasons he
was regarded as being a gold mine to the family-friendly sponsors, despite his past being almost as chequered as mine.

“I’m
not
a munkchin,” Phoebe declared. “I’m Phoebe Castor Dawson!”

“You tell him, missy,” I said, laughing. Then I pushed my way past the still slightly dazed Morgan into Eden’s living room, ready as I would ever be for the first real collision of my two worlds. Eden might have been there to help Alyssa when they were worried about me, but that was different. Then, circumstances had forced them to at least be cordial. Now, there was nothing binding them besides their mutual friendships with me.

Eden flittered out from the bedroom at that moment and grinned at me. Her jeans-clad legs poked out from the bottom of an oversized short-sleeved flannelette shirt that looked at least three sizes too big. She was doing up the button on her jeans as she moved.

“You could have at least got dressed before we showed up,” I teased.

“Well, you were supposed to text before you showed up, buddy, so you’re lucky I’m not standing here in my birthday suit.”

“Sorry, I got a little distracted. So did you, evidently.” All of the buttons on her blouse were buttoned through the wrong holes.

She looked down at her shirt, adjusted the belt holding it tight around her waist, and then grinned at me. “Morgan hasn’t been formally introduced yet?”

I shook my head.

“Allow me,” she said, as if I could have stopped Cyclone Eden if I’d wanted to. “Morgan, this is Alyssa, Declan’s . . .” She seemed to struggle over the word. I wondered how I would have filled it. Love, life, future—any one of those words fit. Eden settled for “Partner. And this,” she pointed to Phoebe, “is—”

“Phoebe Castor Dawson,” Morgan said. “That introduction, I did get.”

Alyssa put Phoebe down on the floor. Ignoring Morgan’s disbelieving expression, I pulled the colouring books and crayons out of the backpack I had on. In no time at all, Phoebe was sitting at Eden’s coffee table colouring in a book of princesses.

Eden led Alyssa away to chat about something or other, no doubt trying to ensure the list of instructions for Phoebe’s care was set in stone. I watched with a goofy smile on my lips as they talked like old friends. It made my life easier that Alyssa and Eden had fallen into such an easy friendship. If nothing else, it meant Alyssa would have one more person in Sydney she could rely on.

“Boy, are you ever whipped,” Morgan said to me after pulling me away and offering me a beer. “Who’d have thought it? Declan Reede, the eternal bachelor, having a photo shoot that will all but declare him off limits.”

“What can I say? London changed me.” The grin on my lips wouldn’t be shaken, not even for his negativity.

“And playing daddy.”

“I’m not playing, man.”

“You know what I mean. It’s just a shock to see you being, I don’t know, Mr. Mum or something.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro,” I said. “You’d do the same.”

“Yeah, well, I might have to one day soon. No thanks to you, I should add.”

“What?” I asked, glancing over at Eden. Was this his way of announcing a new arrival? “She’s not . . .” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word.

“Nah, man, but she’s clucky as hell, thanks to your little munchkin.”

“Uh, uh, uh, remember, she’s not a munchkin,” I said, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man,” he said. Before I could say anything more, he continued, “So the little girl . . .”

“Phoebe.”

“Yeah, Phoebe, is she . . . really yours? I mean, are you sure? Have you been tested?”

“Are you kidding me, dude? Tested? She’s not some fucking disease. Besides, I don’t need to have DNA work done to know. I mean, did you see her eyes? She’s mine. There’s no doubt about that.”

“Sorry, man, it’s just, well, you know as well as I do what some of these fangirls can be like.”

His words made me think of my father’s assertions that Alyssa had been trying to trap me or some shit. I sighed. “Yeah, I get it. If the roles were reversed, I’d probably ask the same thing. But trust me when I say it’s all legit, and that I’m actually happy about it.”

“That’s all I need to know, bro. How the heck have you been about the rest of the shit? It’s been odd not having you on the track. Especially after all the prep for Bahrain. It was so weird not having to worry about overtaking your arse.”

I shrugged. “It just makes it that much easier for you,” I teased, ignoring the first part of the question because I was still working it out myself. “Less
real
competition.”

“Yeah, right. As if you offered any competition.” He must have seen the brief pain that crossed my features, because he quickly changed the subject. “So what happened with you and . . .,” he trailed off and looked over in Alyssa’s direction, “anyway? Edie hasn’t really told me much. Says it’s your story to tell.”

With a sigh, I started to formulate an answer that would satisfy him without giving him all of the dark details. It was a story I was going to have to tell repeatedly over the next few months, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Basically, I left Alyssa behind when I left Brisbane,” I said. “What can I say, we were together in high school, had the cliché after-formal moment, and weren’t careful enough.” Even as soon as the words were out, I wanted to reel them back. I had basically called Phoebe an accident, which was exactly what my father had thought of me. I wouldn’t be him. She might not have been planned for, but I didn’t ever want her to think she was resented or loved less than completely. 

“Oh shit,” Morgan whispered, pulling me from my worry. He glanced at Alyssa again. “That’s
the
girl?”

I nodded.

“You were tapping that before you left?” he asked. His gaze trailed her body once again, this time with a more appraising eye.

I clenched my jaw and bit back the harsh words in my head. It wouldn’t pay to piss off Eden’s boyfriend in her apartment, or to alienate one of my few friends in Sydney.

“And you still left?”

I nodded. “I was a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not wrong,” he whispered again with a grin, his gaze roaming up Alyssa’s legs to her arse.

I punched his shoulder to draw his eyes off her. “I’ll tell Eden you were perving on her,” I threatened.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyebrow raised as if daring me to say a single word. “Well, I’ll tell your little woman about your life down here.”

“No point.”

For a moment, a victorious smile twisted the edges of his mouth.

“I’ve told her everything.”

“Everything?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

I nodded.

“That’s—”

“Brave?” I finished for him, cutting him off.

“I was going to say stupid.”

I shrugged. “It’s the only way I know to earn back all of her trust. I don’t want some bullshit I didn’t tell her coming back to bite us in the arse later, you know? That almost happened with that damned magazine, and I won’t let it happen again. I’ve only just found her again after so long apart. I’m not willing to throw that away over a past mistake—or a future one.”

“God, man, you left with a frank and beans and came back with an empty plate.”

“Fuck you,” I said, laughing. It barely registered with me that the words were a little louder than the rest of our conversation.

“Declan,” Alyssa called out, before inclining her head in Phoebe’s direction.

I nodded sheepishly. It was easy to fall back into old habits talking with Morgan. I turned back toward Morgan to continue our conversation but stopped when I saw he’d paled until he was as white as a sheet.

“Holy fuck,” Morgan whispered almost silently. “That’s the girl. From Brisbane. The girl you left behind.”

“Yes, Morgan,” I said, speaking slowly, as if trying to explain a very fucking difficult concept to a child. “That’s Alyssa.”

“Wait, I didn’t think you ever wanted to talk to her again? Didn’t she do something to make you hate her?”

I shrugged. “I know that’s what I said, but I’ve never stopped loving her. At least on some level. I know that now.”

“Holy fuck,” Morgan repeated. His face was growing paler, yet somehow greener, by the second.

“What is it?” I asked. “You look like you’re gonna barf.”

“I swear, I didn’t know,” he rambled, his eyes flicking between Alyssa and me in rapid succession. “Fuck, how was I supposed to know? When you said . . .” His hands came up to scrub his face. “Fuck!”