Old Flame, New Sparks

by Day Leclaire

  “We’re soft up front where it counts,” Jamie reported in. “Grip into the corners is outstanding.”

  “Then let’s throw four on you and get you back out there,” Sandy responded. “Go easy on those brakes. Paps tells me they’re already glowing.”

  “You got it.”

  The second quarter of the four-hundred-lap race saw an unusual number of wrecks, the worst coming when Davy Ellis tagged the outside wall coming out of Turn Four. Overcompensating in an attempt to correct for the hit, he slid his car across the track into oncoming traffic and took out a half dozen of his fellow competitors. It was another one Jamie narrowly missed and it took a few minutes before he could catch his breath sufficiently to report in.

  “Focus, Jamie,” Paps ordered briskly. “You have to keep your emotions in check if you want to survive Richmond.”

  “I know. I know.” But the comment stirred a flicker of annoyance. Hadn’t he come in second in the spring? He understood the track without being instructed like a total newbie.

  “And watch yourself coming out of Turn Two. There’s only one hole and there were three of you trying to fill it a few laps back. Better to back off until you hit the straightaway. You’re beating them into the corners, so if you can get your nose under them, you should be able to pass without too much trouble.”

  “I can get back onto the throttle faster, too.” Which pleased him no end.

  “Then use your advantages, son, and stop screwing around in Two.”

  “Will do.”

  “You still have half the race to go. You can do it.”

  Determination filled Jamie. “I will.”

  Lap by lap ticked by and he hovered in the top five right up until a bad pit stop dropped him to fifteenth behind both Cole and Lucas. “What the hell happened?” Jamie demanded.

  “Catch can got caught,” Sandy responded. “I couldn’t let you leave the pits until we’d freed it. Better we lose a few spots than you get sent to the end of the lead lap.”

  “How many laps do we have left?” Jamie asked tightly.

  “Enough. Just hold on to your temper and work one car at a time,” Paps said.

  “That’s a little tough with so many lap cars between me and the front.” He took his frustration out on the wheel, whipping it back and forth to put heat in his tires. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t go down a lap, too.”

  “Everybody take a breath.” His crew chief’s voice came through his headset as cool and calm as spring water. “This sort of mistake happens more often than any of us like. The important thing is how we react to it. Jamie, you need to do exactly what I say. Take it one car at a time. You lose your temper now, you’re going to end up hooked to the end of a wrecker. Got it?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  But frustration ate at him, making him rash in his eagerness to drive to the front. More than once he used his bumper to move someone out of his way. He knew he needed to calm down, but the possibility of his first win dangled in front of him just out of reach, taunting him, and it filled him with reckless abandonment. He didn’t care what it took, or how hard he had to drive, he wanted that win. He had to have it. More, he intended to get it, no matter who he had to move aside to get there.

  “NASCAR’s issued us a warning,” came Sandy’s voice, the tone deliberately detached. “Next time you bang bumpers, they’re going to park you for rough driving.”

  “Got it.”

  He backed off after that, forcing himself to be patient as he worked his way back into the top five. As the final laps wound down, he took fourth from Lucas, maneuvering around his teammate with exquisite care. Hutch Matheson gave up third to him without too much of a fight. And then he caught up with Cole, who was in second. Jamie waited until they were heading into Turn Two to dart toward a hole that opened up. To his horror, Cole went for the same spot.

  They hit with a jarring thud. There was an earsplitting screech of metal and Jamie had just enough time to brace himself before they slid into a synchronized spin straight into the wall along the backstretch. The force of the hit knocked the wind out of him, and he sat, stunned, for a full thirty seconds, feeling sicker than he could ever remember.

  He keyed his mike as the full realization of what he’d done sank in. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry,” he stammered. “Did I…Did I knock Cole out of the championship?”

  “Are you injured?” He cringed at the sound of Sandy’s crisp response.

  “No, no.” He watched Cole refire his car and limp toward pit road. His own car had stalled and it took him a half-dozen tries to get it started again. “I’m fine. I’m heading for the garage.”

  “I’ll see you there,” was all his crew chief would say.

  “Tell me about Cole first.” He waited for the line of cars following the pace car to stream by, then pulled low on the track and worked his way around Turn Four to the entrance to pit road and the garages.

  “He’s out,” his grandfather announced. “Of both the race and the championship run. He’s gone to the garage.”

  The next twenty minutes were the worst of Jamie’s life. The instant he parked his ride in his garage stall, he wiggled out and went in search of Cole. Pit reporters blocked his path, but he shoved his way through them, without comment. He found Cole coming out of the 199 garage. One look warned he’d have been wise to wait until his teammate had had time to cool down. He vaguely saw his mother pushing through the crowd toward him.

  “Cole.” He approached the other driver, utterly miserable. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take you out. You gotta know that. I’d have done anything—”

  “I don’t want to hear any lame excuses,” Cole snapped, his temper solidly out of control. He grabbed Jamie by the front of his uniform and gave him a hard shake. “NASCAR warned you, you arrogant fool. But you were so intent on getting your first win, you just didn’t give a damn who you hurt or who you knocked out of your way.”

  “We were both going for the same real estate. It was an accident.” The words tumbled out, desperate and apologetic. “It was the Hammond Jinx. There’s no other explanation.”

  Cole snarled in fury. “You idiot. In order for you to inherit the Hammond Jinx, you have to be a Hammond.”

  Jamie vaguely heard his mother’s shout. “Cole, no!”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his temper rising. “What the hell are you talking about? I am a Hammond.”

  “The hell you are. Hasn’t your mother told you the truth, yet? You’re not Jinx Junior.” Cole’s mouth curled in disgust. “You’re Boyce’s Bastard.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “EVEN MORE ELECTRIFYING than who made the Chase for the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Championship is the latest news coming out of HRI, news that has the racing world reeling. Last night in Richmond, during a live broadcast at NASCAR’s definitive race—the race that decided who earned one of the coveted top twelve Championship spots—Cole Whaling shocked fans everywhere with a bizarre allegation.

  “After being knocked out of contention for the championship by teammate Jamie Hammond, Whaling claimed NASCAR’s youngest driver is actually the son of Lucas ‘Bad’ Boyce, rather than the late great Jinx Hammond.

  “Let me tell you, it was sheer pandemonium down in the garages. Never have I seen anything this unbelievable. Immediately after the wreck that took Cole Whaling out of contention, he and young Jamie had a physical confrontation during which Whaling made his shocking accusation. The minute the race ended, Lucas ‘Bad’ Boyce joined in the ruckus.

  “At some point during the altercation, Kellie Hammond was shoved to the ground, while Boyce and Whaling nearly came to blows. In fact, they would have if Boyce’s quick-thinking team hadn’t forcibly removed him from the scene, no doubt saving him a hit in the points that could have knocked him back out of the NASCAR Championship!

  “Young Hamm—Boyce…Frankly, folks, I don’t know what to call young Jamie, anymore, but one thing’s for certain, the boy was shell-shocked by Whaling’s
allegation. So was his mother, Kellie Hammond, who sustained unspecified injuries as a result of her fall.

  “Once again, teammates for all parties came to the rescue, whisking the key players from the scene before we could get any further comment about the truth of Whaling’s claim. The media is currently camped outside the Hammond compound awaiting an official statement. As soon as we have more information, you’ll have more information. So stay tuned to what was once a stock car event and has now become a demolition derby!”

  “IS IT TRUE?”

  Kellie flinched. They were the same words her son had uttered right before Lucas had stalked unannounced into her study. There hadn’t been time for a conversation with either of them before this. Last night she’d been rushed off to the medical center after her fall, a fall she didn’t think either Jamie or Lucas knew about. From what she’d been told, all three teams had then snatched up their respective drivers before matters could turn any more ugly and removed them—willing, or otherwise—from the racetrack.

  The only good news resulting from the night’s disastrous events was that Lucas had ended the race in second, clinching a third-place berth in his championship bid. The not-so-good news was he’d been ambushed by reporters the instant he’d climbed out of his car, everyone clamoring to know if the bombshell Cole had dropped was true. Was Lucas the biological father of Jamie Hammond?

  It had been horrible to watch the interview, repeated over and over on all the sports stations. First there’d been that look of confusion, followed by dawning comprehension. Finally had come the biting anger. Through it all, through all the questions and accusations and insinuations, he’d kept his cool and hadn’t said a word. But then, words hadn’t been necessary, not when his expression said it all. At that point, he’d hurdled the pit wall and raced toward the garages, and into the middle of the ensuing skirmish with Cole.

  “Well? Is it true?” Lucas repeated.

  This time she didn’t hesitate, but gave it to him straight and unvarnished. “Yes, you’re Jamie’s father.”

  “No!” Jamie shouted. “It’s a lie. Jinx is my dad.”

  Tears pressed for release and Kellie forced them back. “Jinx was your dad,” she told him as gently as possible. “He’ll always be your dad. But Lucas is your biological father.”

  “Why?” Lucas asked. That one acrid word contained all the anger and disillusionment and betrayal he felt.

  Jamie turned on him. “Maybe I should be asking you that question. Why? Why did you desert my mother?” His lip curled. “Oh, let me guess. You didn’t have time for a wife and family. You were too busy being The Big Bad.”

  “Stop it, Jamie.” If she could have stood without betraying her injuries, she would have. Instead, she continued to sit, aware that she appeared too casual. Too uncaring. “I never told Lucas I was pregnant.”

  Lucas trained his gaze on her, his eyes two green pits of fury. “Which brings us back to my last question. Why didn’t you come to me when you found out you were pregnant? I asked if it was mine. You denied it.”

  “Because of what you told me about your father.” She turned her attention to Jamie, willing him to understand. “Lucas’s father gave up a promising racing career when his mother became pregnant. I couldn’t allow history to repeat itself.”

  “He didn’t have to throw us away like so much garbage. He could still have raced,” Jamie insisted. “He’s good. Hell, he’s great. He makes more than enough money to support a wife and baby, if he wanted.”

  “Not in those days. Not when he was first starting out.” She leaned forward. “Honey, I was seventeen. Foolish. And I made a mistake. But one wonderful thing came out of it. You. When Jinx found out I was pregnant, he offered to marry me, to claim you as his own. He loved you, Jamie. He couldn’t have loved you more if he’d fathered you himself.”

  Tears glistened in her son’s eyes. “You should have told me,” he whispered brokenly. “You should have told me the truth.”

  After shooting Lucas a look of intense dislike, he spun around and ran from the room, slamming the door behind him. She couldn’t have followed him, even if she’d wanted, not with her ankle the way it was. She glanced in Lucas’s direction and flinched at his expression. She’d never seen him so hard or cold.

  It was the moment she’d been dreading for months. Even so, she faced it squarely, taking full responsibility for eighteen years’ worth of mistakes. “I’m sorry, Lucas. Jinx tried to convince me to tell you when I found out I was pregnant. But I wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “I understand. You wanted revenge because I refused to turn a one-night stand into happily-ever-after.”

  “That’s not true. At least, not the part about my wanting revenge. As for the rest of it…” She shut her eyes for a brief instant. “I’d lost my mother when I was eight. I was raised in the garages by my father. More than anything I wanted the dream—a husband and children and a pretty little house. To be a grown-up woman instead of the team’s grease monkey. I didn’t realize until the next morning that my dream was your nightmare.” She held out her hand in appeal. “Don’t you see? I was alone and frightened and not thinking straight.”

  “You should have told me,” he stated implacably.

  She tried again, tried to explain the irrational thinking of a teenage girl who’d found herself dealing with adult issues far beyond her emotional ability to handle. “You were good, one of the best drivers I’d ever seen. Because of Paps, I’d been around racing long enough to know just how good. How could I ask you to give that up?”

  “By doing just that.” A bitter anger ripped through his words. “You could have asked. Given me a choice. Instead, you made the decision for me.”

  She had to know. “And if I had come to you, what would you have done?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “The same as my father.”

  His response didn’t surprise her. He’d told her as much that day at the lake. “Exactly. Which is why—”

  He cut her off with a swipe of his hand. “It was my decision to make. You took that away from me.” His voice turned gritty. “Damn it to hell, Kellie. You took my son from me and allowed another man to raise him. You allowed my son—mine—to call another man ‘dad.’ How could you do that to me?”

  He was killing her, inch by inch. And she deserved every cutting word of it. “I thought that if you’d picked me, picked Jamie over racing, you’d have resented us for the rest of your life.”

  He withdrew, closing down emotionally. One minute his face was alive with pain and the next it became a blank slate. “We’re never going to agree on this issue, Kellie.”

  He was right, so instead she asked the question she’d been dreading. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Nowhere.”

  She’d expected his answer, had known what it would be from the instant she’d realized she’d have to tell him the truth. But that didn’t lessen the heartache.

  When she remained silent, he said, “At some point we’ll discuss how best to handle HRI since we don’t have any choice but to deal with each other on a business footing. But from now on, there is no us. Not anymore.” He didn’t give her time to do more than absorb the blow, before saying, “I do have one question, just out of curiosity.”

  She fought to respond, to keep things as calm and unemotional as Lucas. “What is it?”

  “How did Cole know? Did you tell him?”

  She hadn’t thought the pain could be any worse, but that single question proved how wrong she’d been. “I didn’t even tell my own father.” Her voice broke and she clenched her hands as she fought to regain control. “No, I didn’t tell Cole. According to him, Jinx got drunk one night and was indiscreet.”

  “So Jinx told Cole, but you never told anyone, not even your own father.” Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “You sure he doesn’t know? It would explain a lot about his attitude toward me.”

  “He…he told me recently that he’s always known that Jinx wasn’t Jamie’s father. But I don�
�t think he realized you were the one until you joined HRI.” She shifted, biting back a moan when she accidentally jostled her ankle. The rest of her comment escaped in a breathless rush. “When you get past the difference in hair and eye color, you two look quite a bit alike, right down to your mannerisms. Dad saw it straight off.”

  “You’ve gone pale. What’s wrong?” He crossed to the couch and crouched down beside her. Gently he probed her ankle, jerking his hand away at her helpless reaction to the pain. “What the hell happened?”

  “I fell when that scuffle broke out between the three of you last night.”

  He swept her hair back from the side of her face, revealing the bruise that ran along her temple. “Fell? Or got hit? Knowing you, I’m guessing you tried to wade in and break things up.”

  She shuddered beneath his touch, filled with reawakened desire. She fought to hide it from him. Lucas would never forgive her betrayal, he’d made that clear enough. Allowing herself to want so desperately would only prolong the agony of their parting. “Hit. Then fell.”

  For a brief instant his hand drifted along the curve of her cheek, and the caress, one between lovers, spoke of intimacy and longing and need. And then he pulled back, the heat of his touch replaced by cold rejection.

  “We still have ten races to get through,” he said.

  “What happens then?”

  “Either we put our personal issues aside and find a way to remain business partners. Or I collect my marbles and go home.”

  “Do you really think we can keep our relationship strictly business?”

  “I won’t have a problem with that.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Will you?”

  Her answer escaped before she could prevent it. “Yes.”

  “Then I suggest you find a solution to that problem, because from now on, that’s all we are.”