Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4) (31 page)

BOOK: Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4)
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I heard the crunch of metal on concrete behind me and felt bad. Just not for Hunter.

Instead, I felt terrible for Danny, who’d have to pay for the repairs; for the guys in the Sinclair Racing pit, who’d all worked so hard over the weekend to ensure the car was at its best; and for every other person whose hopes and dreams for the weekend were resting on that arsehole’s shoulders.

The yellow flags came out along the track and my stomach began to flutter at the possibilities that had just arisen. We were so close to the finish, just a few laps remaining, and the field was about to be bunched up by the safety car. I could almost taste a victory sweeter than any of my entire career to date.

A victory with my wife and little princess watching.

A victory that I’d had a huge role in orchestrating.

When the cars bunched up, I sat impatiently on the arse of second, twisting the wheel from side to side occasionally to keep the tyres warm.

“Relax.” Morgan’s voice sounded anything but calm as he issued the command.

“That’s easy for you to say,” I murmured in response.

“Just finish. That’s all you need to do now, squirt. You’ve already proven yourself to everyone watching.”

I clenched my fists tightly around the steering wheel as the lights went off on the safety car. My heart was in my chest, and I could barely even breathe. All I could do was concentrate on the bulk of metal and machine surrounding me.

I felt the car as if it was an extension of my own body. The dents and scratches that Hunter had caused were nothing more than bruises and battle scars. For the weeks after last year’s Bathurst, I’d battled with injured ribs. I’d managed. This was no different. The scratches and scrapes wouldn’t stop me from achieving what I wanted to.

The safety car peeled away and we were racing again. The car in fourth place tried to take me around the outside, but I was too quick. I darted forward, with the car in front of me squarely in my sights. There were only two laps left in the race, mere minutes to stake my claim after hours and hours on the track.

I stuck to the bumper in front of me like glue, refusing to let him shake me and taking advantage of his slipstream. Slowly, the car behind me slipped further away, until there were spots on the track when I couldn’t see him in my rear-view mirror at all.

Before I knew it, I was on the final lap. My heart was still thumping wildly somewhere behind my Adam’s apple as I came around the final few turns. I pounced on the driver in front of me as we hit the chase, running through it side by side. He had the speed, but I had the racing line. I darted around until we were side by side again on the run up to the start/finish. I watched as the chequered flags waved excitedly just ahead of me, signalling the arrival of first place.

Crossing the line without claiming the ultimate win didn’t affect me the way that it would have just one year earlier. I was easily able to concentrate on what I had achieved, rather than what I hadn’t. Everything that had happened over the last year led me to where I was and I couldn’t have been happier.

I’d finished the race. That alone was huge. It no longer mattered what position I finished in, just that I finished. I had achieved what I had set out to, and I hadn’t let Alyssa’s hard work be in vain.

That I’d finished on the podium with my pride intact was fan-fucking-tastic.

As I climbed out of the car, I could hear camera shutters whirring all around me, but I only had eyes for two people.

Morgan and Dane raced out, followed closely by the boys from the pits. I was slapped on the back and congratulated repeatedly, but I walked past them all in a daze. At the back of the rabble, Alyssa stood, wearing a small, triumphant smile and a look in her eyes that told me she hadn’t doubted my ability for a second. Phoebe was perched on her hip, shouting loudly to be heard over the din around them.

The sounds and people around me faded to white noise, a slight humming with only a few key words standing out.
Third place. Terrific achievement. Rare accomplishment for a privateer.

Instead, I heard Phoebe’s words as if she were shouting them to me across an empty room. “Yay! Daddy won!”

I took another step forward and it felt like time stood still. It was like a dream where no matter how fast I could run, it wasn’t fast enough. I wanted to already be by Alyssa’s side, but instead I had to cover a great distance. Another step through the crowd and slowly my boys began to realise what I was after—or more specifically
who
.

My path cleared gradually and the faces whirled past me in a blur as I broke into a run toward the two people who meant the most to me.

As soon as I was close enough, I hugged the two of them tightly. I gave them each a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to say something meaningful or poignant, or just . . . anything.

But I couldn’t.

I was completely lost for words. When I met Alyssa’s eyes though, I realised there was nothing more that needed to be said.

Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.

And the rest of our lives were only just beginning.

 

EPILOGUE: SWEET VICTORY

 

I RAN MY finger over the photo on the wall across from Phoebe’s room—a picture of me on the podium as champagne flowed freely. It was my permanent reminder of the sweetest victory I’d ever experienced, and she’d insisted I hang it where she’d see it every day. I could never have guessed my placing third would mean so much to her.

Even now, almost six years later and heading toward her tenth birthday, she wouldn’t let me move it. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a win or placing in the rest of my career as a driver that meant more to me than that one either.

The days, weeks, and months that followed that meeting were some of the most interesting I’d ever lived through.

 

WHEN I’D returned to Sinclair Racing after placing third at Bathurst, I didn’t think I’d ever seen happier faces. Everyone had congratulated me and slapped my back. I didn’t think a single person was upset that Hunter had crashed or that I had beaten him in our little bet.

Surprisingly—or maybe not so surprisingly, given his personality—Hunter arrived at work shortly after me. He laughed off our bet and refused to acknowledge the fact that he’d lost or that he was effectively welching on the deal.

It had taken him a little over an hour to confront me. There was little doubt that he wanted to approach me sooner, but didn’t want to do it around anyone else. He was up to his old tricks again, but somehow they didn’t bother me anymore. They couldn’t. It was like I was impervious to his bullshit. In fact, I even had a plan to deal with him. Well, a plan that Danny and I had hatched together.

It started with the new security cameras Danny had included in the sheds, and ended with ensuring I was down there alone. When Hunter appeared around the corner, ready to strike, I slipped my hand into my pocket and leaned against the conference table, waiting for him to act.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Hunter hissed.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Ducking and weaving like that on the track,” he seethed.

I shrugged, smirking at the very idea of him being kicked out of Sinclair. “I was just driving to the conditions you created.”

“Like fuck, you little shit! You knew exactly what you were doing. You made me crash.” He was trying to stay quiet, but I knew he could lose it at any time.

I laughed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh no, Hunter, you did that all on your own.”

“The marshals investigated me because of your stunts.”

“My stunts? The marshals investigated you because you were driving like a fucking lunatic. It was nothing less than you deserved.” In fact, he’d received much less than he should have in my opinion. The officials couldn’t do more than issue a warning, because he hadn’t caused any damage to any other vehicle. To top it off, there was no evidence that his erratic driving was malicious.

“Why didn’t you just stay the fuck off the track?”

I smirked. “I thought you wanted me there.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“What? Are you afraid of a little competition?”

“I’m going to fuck you up the first chance I get,” he threatened.

I looked around, dropped my wrench back into my toolbox, and held my arms out. Then I took a couple of steps to the right. I wanted to ensure his best angle was captured on the cameras. “We’re alone now.”

He laughed. “I’m going to fuck you up good and proper.” He didn’t move toward me though. He obviously realised I wasn’t going to bite, so he changed tack and began to talk about Alyssa. “Or maybe I should just fuck your wife instead?”

I tilted my head to one side and regarded him. He had a certain menace about him, there was no denying that, but I was done letting it get to me. There was nothing he could do to hurt me or my girls; I had too many people watching out for me now. How I had ever let him under my skin before was beyond me. He was all bluster and bullshit, and I found myself laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

My laughter seemed to be the catalyst for Hunter, who drew his arm back and swung at me. It connected with my cheek, just below my eye. It didn’t hurt, but the shock sent me staggering back half a step until I could right myself. People who’d been congregating nearby heard the scuffle and in an instant, the room flooded with people. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, Hunter was being escorted from the premises by security and Danny had his evidence in the form of a video of Hunter’s attack on the company CCTV.

Danny was on hand almost immediately to ensure that I filed a police report about Hunter’s actions, no doubt to ensure there was a justifiable reason to break the contract. In turn, Hunter threatened to press charges against me for Bathurst, but nothing more came of it before he disappeared. I could only assume someone warned him that the situation would be worse for him than for me if the reason behind my fury came to light.

It would have been nice to say that Hunter got everything he deserved in the years since, but I honestly didn’t know if he did. As far as the media was concerned, there was a whirl of controversy over his sudden departure from the Sinclair Racing camp. Alyssa and I organised an AVO against him, ensuring he would keep his distance from us.

The last we’d heard of him, he was in the United States, racing trucks or some shit.

After Hunter’s departure, Danny had been in need of a new driver. Morgan’s doctors were still unwilling to sign off on his injuries, which meant he was unable to drive for a little while longer—at least until the new season. Finding himself driverless, Danny did the only logical thing he could. He recruited a driver who’d come back from hiatus to race, and place, at Bathurst.

Dane Kent accepted the offer impossibly fast; probably because the time away from the track, followed by such a successful run at Bathurst, had rekindled his love of racing.

Even though I’d spent the better part of the year desperate to be back in the main seat, I wasn’t upset that Dane had been offered Hunter’s place. In fact, I’d been the one who’d suggested the placement. I’d been more than happy to continue my apprenticeship and complete the Micro Challenge to see out my year.

The main reason I was okay with it was that I had my own ideas for what the new racing year would bring for me. My small taste at team ownership had changed my entire perspective. On top of that, the persistent rumours that Wood Racing was struggling because Paige had been unable to secure a decent driver, and therefore the almighty sponsorship dollar, hadn’t escaped my attention. After consulting with Alyssa, and getting her agreement, we came up with a plan.

When I’d approached Danny with my idea, around the same time I’d suggested Dane as a replacement for Hunter, he’d been more than supportive. Between the two of us, we were able to knock out a deal with Paige that would see the end of an era for her, but the start of a new one for me. Emmanuel Racing, a subsidiary of Sinclair, was to be raised from the ashes of Wood Racing. Based in Brisbane, my team would operate out of the former Wood premises.

I’d ridden the high of my Bathurst result and the contract on Wood Racing for a long time. The euphoria of my career highs took me right through to Christmas of that year. That was when Morgan and Eden had used the staff Christmas party to announce a little surprise. They had wanted to wait for Morgan to make a full recovery before getting married, but had used that time for their own form of physical therapy. All that therapy earned them something else. They were expecting. Alyssa and I had given each other a secret smile, hoping that we might have our own announcement before too long.

It was only later that week, when Christmas day rolled around, that I discovered Alyssa’s smile had held a few more secrets than my own, and every career achievement took a back seat to the knowledge that I was going to be a daddy again—and this time, I’d have the opportunity to do it right from the beginning.

I threw myself into researching pregnancy and childbirth. I didn’t care if she’d been there and done that; I hadn’t, and I wanted to make sure I was prepared now that it was real and happening. Phoebe was beyond excited when we told her we’d have a new little brother or sister for her, due near her birthday. 

The new year brought our belated honeymoon to London, where I’d fussed over everything Alyssa ate, touched, and did. Whenever she couldn’t get a seat on the tube or a bus, I would growl and complain until people vacated theirs. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to make her pregnancy as comfortable and safe as possible. Truthfully, I probably pissed her off to no end. It was testament to her love for me that she didn’t snap at me for being over the top. Of course, that didn’t mean I escaped the hormones scot-free.

To facilitate the start of the new team, my little family had moved back to Brisbane soon after returning from our overseas trip. By March, we were settled in a new house in Ormeau, and Phoebe had started her prep year at school. Even though Alyssa never said it in so many words, I think she loved the fact that we were close to her family again. It was probably one of the main reasons she’d agreed to take the risk of team ownership.

As per our deal, Paige stayed on as team manager during the transitional year, but I was secure in the knowledge that I was ultimately her boss.

Initially, we’d run just the one car, but after three years of running a successful team, an opportunity had come up to purchase an additional CAMS licence from another dying company. We’d jumped at the chance to run two main cars, plus one in the production series. The business may have been a success, but neither Alyssa nor I were willing to overlook a new avenue for expansion. I was savvier with contracts than I had ever been before, and I had Alyssa to thank for that.

Even now, so many years later, Danny was still a silent partner. I’d offered to buy him out a couple of times, but he wasn’t silly. He liked the return on investment he received, without having to be hands-on running two teams. Ultimately though, he caused me no stress so I was content with the partnership. In fact, without the heavy mentoring he’d given during the first few years, Emmanuel Racing might never have been the success it was.

The only sad thing for me was that the current season was my final year racing. I needed to spend more time nurturing new talent and ensuring we were competitive year after year well into the future and long after my own retirement.

“Sweetie, it’s time,” Alyssa murmured from behind me, startling me away from my memories.

“Yeah?” I asked, placing my hand over her swollen belly. It wasn’t my first rodeo, but somehow the moment managed to make me nervous every time.

She nodded. “They’re very close together now. Just a couple of minutes.”

It would be easy to assume that having been through the whole baby thing before, it would get easier, but no. I was as unsure as I had been the other times, first with Brock five years ago, and then with Beth a little over a year after that.

My palms were sweaty as I grabbed Alyssa’s hospital bag and the car keys.

“Remember, you’re not racing now.” Alyssa grinned to let me know she was joking, right before biting her lip and folding in half as the pain of another contraction hit.

I placed my hand on the small of her back and massaged tiny circles until she stood again and shuffled forward a little more.

“Mum, Dad, we’re going now!” I called out, ensuring the babysitters knew they were up to the plate.

Curtis stepped out and helped me guide Alyssa into the car.

“You take care of my baby now,” he warned after she was safely in, pointing his index finger at me and giving me a stern look.

“I always do.”

He nodded and smiled. “I know.”

It had been a hard road, getting Curtis onside, but eventually we’d found common ground—Alyssa and his grandkids—and it was almost impossible to imagine how much I used to fear him or how much animosity had been between us.

“Stop daydreaming and let’s go,” Alyssa demanded, leaning across the car to shout through the driver-side window.

“Yes, boss.”

 

ALYSSA’S FACE was flushed and sweat made her hair cling to her. She was exhausted and showed the obvious signs of being awake for almost twenty-four hours straight. I didn’t care about any of that though, because in her arms she held yet another tiny miracle.

Each time I’d witnessed one of our perfect children come into the world, I longed to get right on to creating another. I couldn’t believe that I’d ever
not
wanted kids. I didn’t think I’d ever get sick of having more.

Alyssa, however, tended to disagree. In fact, I was certain she would declare that this time was her last, just like she had after each of the others.

As I plucked our son from Alyssa’s hold so she could go freshen up, I knew I had, at most, half an hour alone with them both before the horde showed up. It was times like those that I was glad we’d made the shift back to Brisbane. I thought about how lucky I was to be so close to family and friends.

I was contemplating how lucky I was and had become lost in the eyes of my third-born son when I heard Josh’s voice.

“Is he daydreaming again?” Josh’s laughter filled the air.

“He does it a lot.” Alyssa was smiling, the signs of fatigue washed away by the shower she’d had while I’d grown acquainted with little Parker.

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