The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  ‘Reilley Bennett, stalker extraordinaire’ had a nice ring to it.

  I jumped in the shower, gave myself the Devon-Gray-induced orgasm I’d put off to answer Simon’s call, and reapplied my makeup. After firing off a few emails and returning a couple of calls, I left my room and went back to my rental car. I happened to know Devon stayed with his parents when he was in town. And I also knew—because, duh, awesome researcher here—where they lived.

  Forty minutes later, I pulled up outside number one hundred and twenty-five Swanson Street and turned off my engine. Two cars were parked in front of the family home. A brown SUV with a dent in the fender, and a red Mazda, neither of which belonged to Devon. He’d driven away from the track in a dark-blue pickup truck which I thought very fitting. I didn’t know why, it just seemed to suit him.

  I turned up the volume on the radio, opened a magazine—I’d come prepared—and settled in to wait for Devon.

  Three hours later, I had a numb ass, an aching back, cramping knees, and zero payoff in the form of one Devon Gray. I’d read the magazine—twice—counted the cars that drove up and down the street—thirty-seven—and even helped a little old lady pick up her groceries when the handle on her bag snapped. All with one eye on Devon’s house, of course, in case the slippery so-and-so snuck inside before I could approach him.

  Where the hell was he? He’d left the track over six hours ago, and the sun had almost set. I didn’t want to sleep in my car, although that wasn’t out of the question. At least it was summer in Australia, so I wouldn’t freeze to death. I would have a bathroom challenge to overcome, though. It was okay for guys. They could stick their penis into an empty soda bottle, and bingo! For women it was a little trickier. I found myself wishing I had that disgusting stand-to-pee device with me that I’d bought when I’d gone to Glastonbury last year. I swore I’d never use that horrid thing again, but, well, needs must be met. The house I’d parked in front of had a couple of well-established rhododendron bushes. In a pinch, I could pee behind them without being arrested for indecent exposure.

  As more time elapsed, my level of irritability increased. If Simon hadn’t given me a ridiculous deadline, I’d have gone back to the hotel and returned tomorrow morning, but I couldn’t risk missing Devon. If I didn’t catch him before he flew off to Bahrain for the next race, my window of opportunity would be lost.

  I cracked my knuckles, a terrible habit I’d had since middle school. My mom often warned me if I kept it up, I’d get arthritis. Such a charming mother. That reminded me. I really needed to give her a call, although she could easily be somewhere without a signal. My mom was a free spirit, impossible to tie down. She was probably building mud huts in Africa, or deep in the Amazon rainforest with the natives. Still, her parenting style had enabled me to grow up extremely independent and very conscious of my privileged life. I loved how she refused to conform to societal expectations of motherhood.

  Darkness had fallen, and my eyes were getting tired. When the same song came on the radio for the third time, I changed radio stations. Right when my hope of seeing Devon hit an all-time low, a set of headlights from a car traveling in my direction almost blinded me. I held my breath.

  The car pulled into the driveway of Devon’s parents’ home. Except it wasn’t a car. It was a truck. And inside sat Devon Gray.

  Before he could even cut the engine, I clambered out of my car and jogged across the street. He didn’t appear to see me as he got out. He reached back into the truck, and I was treated to a rather delicious viewing angle of his peachy ass encased in tight denim.

  “Well, handsome, that was worth waiting for.”

  Devon

  When I heard Reilley’s voice behind me, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Except following me home was a new tactic she hadn’t tried before. A dart of horror pulsed through me as I contemplated the possibility she’d followed me to Charlotte’s home. That would raise all sorts of questions I was not prepared to answer. That I refused to answer. Except I’d learned that ignoring Reilley only increased her determination to get me to talk.

  I grabbed my backpack, but as I withdrew from the truck, I didn’t duck down far enough and hit my head on the top of the doorframe.

  “Fuck,” I bit out, rubbing the offending part of my skull.

  “Aww, poor baby. Do you want me to kiss it all better?”

  I spun around, sending a glower her way that would have had most people scuttling for cover. Not Reilley, though. She dramatically swiped the back of her hand over her forehead and pretended to faint.

  “Is that your sex face, Devon? Cuz if it is, boy oh boy oh boy, it’s hot.”

  I rolled my eyes. Reilley had been upping the flirtation in recent months. In another life, I would have been flattered. She was a very attractive woman, like runway model attractive. Ivory porcelain skin, piercing ocean-blue eyes, defined cheekbones so sharp they could slice through bone. Full rosy lips, long dark hair with caramel streaks running through it, and a body made for staying up all night and fucking.

  But I wasn’t in another life. I existed in this one, and Charlotte’s accident had thwarted any possibility of a relationship with another woman. It would be based on a lie, because I dare not share the details behind how Charlotte received such life-changing injuries. And hiding her from another woman wouldn’t be possible.

  Besides, I didn’t want to hide Charlotte from another woman. I’d caused enough damage. Robbing her of her identity, even by omission… she didn’t deserve that.

  “Aren’t you bored of following me around?”

  She violently shook her head. “Nope. Not even close. I mean, you’re very pretty to look at, so it’s not exactly a hardship, even when you’re being a little shit to me.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Pretty?”

  She giggled and aimed a faux punch at my upper arm. “Gotcha.”

  I tried really hard not to react, but I couldn’t help it. My lips twitched. The barest of movements, but Reilley noticed. And, of course, Reilley commented.

  “Wow, Devon, was that a smile? Or gas? Yeah, it was probably gas? Do you need an antacid?” She pretended to riffle through her purse.

  “You are one irritating female, you know that?”

  She grinned, showing me a set of perfect white teeth. “Tell you what. It’s getting late, and you’re probably tired after the race today, and then being late home and all. Have dinner with me, tomorrow night.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Reilley—”

  “Oh, come on, Devon. What’s it gonna cost you? One dinner. You’ve never let me pitch my concept for the book. Not properly. You’re always running away. And who knows, if you allow me to share my plans, you might find yourself coming around to the idea.”

  “I’m busy, Reilley,” I said, although I did find myself tempted. Not by the book—because that was never happening—but Reilley, for all her annoying stalkerish habits, amused me, and my life was seriously short on laughter. I would never let on that was how I felt. Reilley would be all over a weakness like that in a heartbeat, but it might do me good to sit down and have dinner without being asked how Charlotte was, if there was any change, or how I was coping.

  Answers to the above…

  She’s well, thank you.

  I’m afraid not.

  I’m fine.

  My family meant well, really, they did, but questions like that only served to remind me what a disastrous error of judgement I’d made, a mistake for which I’d never forgive myself.

  “You gotta eat, right?”

  The words not with you were on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I found myself saying, “All right. You win. One dinner. But I’m never agreeing to the book, Reilley, so if you think you’re going to persuade me over a bloody steak, you’re very much mistaken.”

  “We’ll see.” She grinned, winked, pirouetted, then danced down the driveway. “Night, Devon. Sweet dreams. I hope they’re of me.”

  I slowly shook my head. The woman was a force of nature, f
or sure. She got into her car, and as she passed by the house, she stuck her hand out the window and waved. I didn’t return the gesture, but I did watch through narrowed eyes until her taillights disappeared from view.

  I trudged inside, bracing myself with a deep breath for the inquisition.

  “Devon, is that you?”

  “Yes, Mum.” I poked my head inside the living room. My entire family was there, and they all looked at me expectantly. Mum, Dad, my sister, Diane, and her husband, Joe. Only the kids were missing, but that’d be because of the late hour. It was way past their bedtime, and they’d already be upstairs fast asleep.

  I flopped into a vacant chair and swiped a hand over my face.

  “How is she?”

  Mum was the first to ask. As always.

  “The same.”

  As always.

  “You’re late, darl.” She patted my arm lovingly. She meant well, they all did, but I could scarcely muster enough energy to breathe, let alone talk about Charlotte. It had been a heavy weekend, and visiting Charlotte always wiped me out. I just wanted to sleep, to let unconsciousness take over. The only state of being where I got any peace.

  “Yeah.”

  That was me. Man of few words, especially when the questions asked weren’t ones I either cared to answer, or could be bothered to answer.

  “Who were you talking to outside?”

  This from my sister.

  “What?” I said, feigning confusion.

  “The girl. Young, pretty. I heard your truck, and when you didn’t come inside straight away, I looked through the window and saw you.”

  “Are you spying on me again, Di? Making sure I’m not sitting in the truck sucking on a pipe attached to the exhaust?”

  She gasped at my cruel words. I’d never commit suicide. I wasn’t the type, but after Charlotte’s accident, there had been some very dark days where my family had watched me like a hawk. I couldn’t visit the dunny without one of them knocking on the door after I’d been in there for thirty seconds. The last couple of years they’d backed off, though, so my strike at Diane wasn’t a fair one.

  “Jesus, Devon,” Joe said. “That’s fucked in the head. And not remotely funny.”

  My sister’s eyes filled with tears, whereas Mum and Dad simply looked stricken. Joe glared at me, his message clear. Apologize or I’m gonna rip your head from your body. Like he’d stand a chance.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.” I lumbered out of the chair, my back stiff, legs aching. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

  The second I closed my childhood bedroom door behind me, I finally found the solitude I’d been craving. I stripped off down to my boxers and lay on top of the bed, my arms braced behind my head. The window was open, but there was hardly any breeze. I didn’t mind the stifling heat, though. I preferred that to the freezing cold.

  Not for the first time, I wondered whether I should stay in a hotel when I was in town. The thing that stopped me was Mum and Dad’s reaction. They’d be gutted. They barely saw me all year as it was, and in the end, I would still call by to see them, so staying in a hotel wouldn’t stop the incessant questions about Charlotte or the sad eyes following me around the house.

  A tap on my door brought my head up. I grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it over my head. “Come in.”

  Di’s face appeared. “Got a minute?”

  No.

  “Sure.” I shuffled over, making room for her to sit on the bed.

  She pinched the skin at the base of her neck. “I’m sorry, Devon. It’s just that I worry for you. Every day I live in fear that you’ll never be able to leave this behind. That you’ll waste your life caring for a woman who will never recover from her injuries. I know you feel responsible, but it was an accident. Why should you give up a chance at happiness? Why shouldn’t you have a girlfriend, maybe even one day a wife, kids? A life of your own.”

  “You don’t understand, Di.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words to explain the constant ache in my chest, the inability to ever take a full breath, the persistent knot in my stomach.

  Regret gnawed at my insides, like a rat that hadn’t eaten in a week discovering a juicy bone.

  “So, who is she? The girl outside.”

  I let my head flop against the headboard but couldn’t prevent a huff of irritation from spilling out. “She’s no one.”

  Di chuckled. “That’s not what your body language said.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Since when did you become an expert?”

  “I’m not an expert. I know you, that’s all. She’s very beautiful.”

  Understatement of the century.

  “She’s an author. She wants to write a book about me. I won’t give her an exclusive. Hence her resorting to stalking tactics.”

  “A book? About you?” Di’s eyebrows shot up. “Does she know how boring you are?”

  “Hilarious,” I drawled.

  Di laughed.

  “She wants to focus on motor racing, a behind-the-scenes exposé at what goes on rather than from a driver’s perspective.”

  Di’s lips twisted to the side. “It’s certainly different. I can see how rabid racing fans would eat it up. Maybe you should do it. Fifteen minutes of fame and all that.”

  I snorted. “Who needs fame. No thanks. I’ll stick to living in the shadows and doing the best job I can. Anyway, I can’t risk giving someone carte blanche access to my life. I don’t want Charlotte dragged through all of that.”

  More to the point, I don’t want Reilley somehow finding out what I did and using my staggering guilt and Charlotte’s pain as a juicy tidbit for her book.

  Di gave me a wry smile. “Fair dinkum.”

  I grinned. After so many years traveling the world, I’d had most Australian slang knocked out of me. Even my accent was a mishmash of Australian and English because I spent most of my time with folks from England.

  “Still want to come to Sara’s play tomorrow, or would you rather duck out?”

  Sara was my eight-year-old niece, and she was performing the lead role in a school production of Disney’s Frozen. She’d talked about it for weeks, her excitement escalating with each passing day.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Spending time watching Sara would keep me sane—and distracted—ahead of my afternoon visit to Charlotte, not to mention the planned dinner with Reilley. I didn’t need to spend all day moping around watching the clock and dreading every second that passed.

  “I’m glad. Sara is really looking forward to you coming along. She misses you. We all do.”

  Di patted my hand and left. I stared at the closed door for a few minutes. I missed my family, too, but when my career was over, I really had no idea where I’d settle. I’d spent so long moving from place to place, I didn’t have a clue where home was anymore. I rented an apartment in London, but I only spend six or eight weeks there a year. I guessed I’d be wherever Charlotte was, and as that was here, in Australia, I’d probably answered my own question.

  Blitzed with dread at the thought of the future that lay ahead of me, I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep. I’d made my bed, and now I needed to damn well lie in it.

  Charlotte lived in her prison—and she was mine.

  Reilley

  I checked my watch, then rearranged the silverware for the gazillionth time. Devon was late. And I didn’t mean a couple of minutes caught-in-traffic late. I meant the I’m-not-coming kind. The damned waiter sent me another one of those aww, she’s been stood up head tilts, and I knew, at any moment, they were going to ask me to move to the bar because there was a wait for tables.

  I couldn’t be more gutted. I’d spent forever searching the internet for a nice unpretentious place, one that didn’t have servers who arranged your napkin in your lap and spent ten minutes going over the menu, detailing dishes you had no desire to eat. Devon was a typical Aussie, a no-frills man wi
th no desire to impress others, who didn’t care for pomp and circumstance. A man comfortable in his own skin, at ease with who he was, proud of his heritage.

  Which was why I’d carefully chosen this mid-range establishment where you could get a decent steak for a fair price. It was popular, too. I’d been very lucky to get a table. I’d had to book it for seven-thirty, which was an hour earlier than I’d usually go out to dinner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And now it was eight-fifteen, hence the side-eye treatment from the staff. They’d probably booked it out again at nine-thirty. I would give him five more minutes then leave with as much of my dignity intact as I could muster.

  I poured another glass of water, relieved I hadn’t ordered wine. If Devon did show up, I wouldn’t want to be at the slurred words stage. I needed to be on tip-top form, professional but friendly, to work on getting him to trust me.

  And getting him to like me.

  I lifted my head at the exact moment Devon appeared at the restaurant entrance. Our eyes locked across the room. That might sound corny, but it was an accurate description of what happened. My heart started up with this thudding beat. Thump, thump, thump. I wiped my hands on a napkin. Last thing I wanted was to greet him with sweaty palms. That was neither professional nor sexy.

  I pushed back my chair and stood as he made his way over. I should be annoyed he’d kept me waiting so long, but I was just relieved he’d turned up at all. I stuck out my almost-dry hand.

  “You made it.”

  He shook my hand. His skin felt rough to the touch, and I had to stiffen my entire body to stave off a shiver of delight.

  “Sorry I’m, uh, late. It’s been a weird kinda day.”

  “Want to talk about it?” I asked with a goofy grin. “I’m a good listener.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “No.”

  A smile pulled at my lips. Devon was what my mom would call a ‘taciturn man.’ I preferred to think of him as a literary masterpiece. Every word spoken was important, none were wasted, and there was absolutely no filler.