In High Gear

by Gina Wilkins

  That heated rivalry had exploded when Milo lost a big race to Connor, which had probably cost Milo the championship that year. After the race, Connor bragged about adding ether to his fuel to make the car go faster, apparently pleased with himself for finding a way to gain an advantage over his competitors. Furious, Milo had confronted Connor about being a cheat and a fraud, and a great many angry words and a few blows were exchanged in front of witnesses. When Connor died a month later in a motorcycle accident, rumors had circulated that Milo’s truck had been spotted running Connor off the dangerous road on which he’d lost his life.

  As rumors do, they took on a life of their own. People questioned Milo’s alibi, reliable as it was. Some thought he’d had his old FBI buddies lie for him. Others even suspected that he hired someone to take Connor out, something else Milo fiercely denied. The Murphys refused to believe Milo had nothing to do with Connor’s death. As far as Kent had been able to determine, the feud had been going on ever since.

  His father had been pulled into the legendary grudge when Kent was just a baby. Connor’s nephew, Troy Murphy, Justin’s father, who was a crew chief for another driver at the time, managed somehow to sabotage Dean’s car, making it appear as though Dean had cheated in a big race. Dean was stripped of his win, which cost him the NASCAR Nationwide Series championship that year. He was humiliated, but he couldn’t prove what had happened, even though it was fairly common knowledge in the garages.

  What made the situation even worse was that Troy Murphy was coincidentally killed in a hit-and-run accident not long afterward, and those old rumors about Connor Murphy’s death resurfaced. The Murphys started speculating again about whether the Grossos had had anything to do with the latest tragedy. There was even whispering about another sighting of a Grosso vehicle in the area on the night Troy Murphy died.

  “Milo has reason to take the feud seriously,” he said grimly, thinking of all the gossip his family had endured during the past fifty years.

  Tanya shook her head somberly. “The Murphys have known their share of tragedy, haven’t they? And your poor family, having to suffer through all of that ugly speculation.”

  Tanya couldn’t be expected to feel the same way about the Murphys as Kent did, of course. After all, she hadn’t grown up hearing the Murphys pretty much equated with the spawn of the devil. Even more ironically, one of her good friends, Lucy Gunter, had been dating Justin on and off for several months. Tanya and Lucy had managed to stay fairly close, despite their respective boyfriends’ enmity, though of course double dating had been out of the question.

  Kent nodded grimly, deciding not to try again to convince her that the Murphys probably deserved all their bad luck. “Dad hates that it’s still on his record that he once cheated to win a race. Dad’s always been a stickler for following the rules.”

  “Of course. My dad always says that integrity is a measure of a man’s character. And Dean is certainly a man of character.”

  Kent didn’t realize he had winced until Tanya’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “Okay,” she said flatly, “tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday, and I need to know if it’s something I’ve done.”

  Kent knew Tanya had noticed his glum mood, but he hadn’t realized she would think she had done something to cause it. Typically clueless, thick-headed male, his sister would have said.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, Tanya.”

  His words didn’t seem to reassure her. “I have to ask this, and I want you to answer honestly. Have you been trying to figure out how to break up with me?”

  If there was one thing he’d always accepted about Tanya, it was that she didn’t know how to be anything but bluntly candid. She didn’t play games, she rarely resorted to polite dissemination, and when she wanted to know something, she asked. He had always admired her innate frankness and integrity, and he had done his best to be worthy of her.

  With the exception of the one most humiliating episode of his youth, he thought he’d led a pretty respectable life, considering. But that painful memory had whispered occasionally from the back of his mind, making him aware that there was one secret he had never shared with her. On the rare occasions when he’d allowed himself to remember, he’d tried to assure himself that it didn’t matter, that it hadn’t been that big of a deal, and had happened a long time before he met her. But if he really believed that, he would have already told her, right?

  He cleared his throat. “I’m not trying to break up with you. I’ve been doing my best to figure out how to keep you from dumping me.”

  She looked at him blankly. “Why on earth would I—?” Her face changed. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing,” he assured her quickly, almost seeing the list of possible transgressions flashing through her eyes. “At least, nothing recently.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed. “This wouldn’t be the time or the place I would choose to have this conversation. Aren’t you cold?”

  “No.” Uncrossing her arms, she pushed her hands into the deep pockets of the warm, bright blue coat she wore with a cream sweater, dark-washed jeans and heeled boots.

  His own chill went bone deep, but it had less to do with air temperature than with the dread of her reaction to what he had to tell her. He pushed a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Soul baring. Maybe if he sort of eased into the confession…

  “There’s this kid. Nineteen years old. And he’s done something really stupid. Cheated on a big college exam. Paid a couple of other guys—frat brothers—to help him get away with it, but they were all caught. And they were all expelled.”

  Tanya frowned, obviously completely lost. As she should be, of course. He wasn’t making a lick of sense.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Is this a friend of yours? The son of a friend?”

  “Yeah. You could say I’m real close to his father.”

  “Oh.” She thought about what he’d said a minute, then rested a hand on his arm. “Someone on your team, I suppose. I keep telling you, you worry too much about your guys, Kent. You can’t be responsible for all of them. Neil, alone, keeps you up nights with all his problems. Now this?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, um…”

  “I know.” She smiled up at him. “Your heart is too soft for your own good, especially when it comes to your team. But this sounds like something you should just leave to the boy’s father to handle. The kid needs to learn a hard lesson, anyway. You know how I feel about cheaters.”

  Swallowing, he said, “Uh, yeah. I know how you feel. But…well, he’s young. A little naive. And he’s under a lot of pressure to live up to his family’s expectations.”

  “He’s nineteen. Kent, that’s not a child. That’s a man. Don’t try to tell me—or yourself—that he didn’t know better.”

  “No, you’re right. He knew better. He just wanted—”

  “He just wanted to take the easy way out. And now he has to pay for what he’s done. Whether it’s the humiliation of being kicked out of school or facing his family’s disappointment or making a change in life plans he’d made for himself, he has to know that cheating cannot be accepted or excused. It certainly isn’t allowed in your job.”

  He smiled sickly. “No. NASCAR takes a hard stand against cheaters.”

  “So do you,” she reminded him. “How many times have I heard you and your dad go off on rants about how the cheaters reflect badly on everyone in the sport?”

  “I—”

  She rested her head against his arm, a tender gesture that robbed him of his voice. “Try not to worry about it so much, okay? You have enough to deal with, getting ready for the new season. You need to focus on that for now.”

  “I’m trying,” he muttered. “But—”

  She tilted her face up to him, and she looked so pretty all wind-blown and cold-pinkened that he had to swallow hard again. “Why in the world would you worry about m
e breaking up with you?”

  His voice was husky when he said, “I guess I just worry about losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She rose on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “That’s sweet. But unnecessary. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What if I disappoint you?”

  “I know you’re only human, Kent. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I’m certainly not. There are very few things you could do that I would consider unforgiveable—and I think you already know what those are.”

  He knew some of them. She’d made it clear that theirs was a monogamous relationship and that she wasn’t interested in any other kind. She expected to be treated with respect. She would never allow herself to be abused, either verbally or physically.

  And he knew how she felt about lies.

  “Look, Tanya, I need to—”

  “There you two are.” Sophia came into sight with an apologetic smile, clearly afraid she was interrupting something intimate and important. Which she was, Kent thought in frustration. “Grandpa wants to make his traditional kicking-off-the-season toast and he won’t start until you’re there, Kent. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”

  Kent sighed. “Can’t you give us a couple of minutes?”

  “I’m afraid not. You know how he is.”

  Tanya laughed and squeezed Kent’s arm as she moved away. “We can’t hold up tradition. Let’s go, Kent. We can talk more later.”

  He’d really blown that conversation, Kent thought as he glumly followed his sister and his girlfriend. Why hadn’t he just told Tanya everything? Why had he come up with that lame story about a friend’s son?

  He only hoped he would have a chance to tell her the truth before she found out some other way.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT TOOK A WHOLE TEAM of people to keep Kent’s career on track, so to speak. From the offices to the shops to the garages to the pits, from his owner to his crew chief to his spotter to his media rep, he was surrounded at almost all times during the season by people whose sole focus was to make sure he won races.

  He had many close friends among that diverse but unified group, including family members, such as his spotter and cousin, Steve.

  Lately, however, he’d been spending time with Jesse Herrington, the lean, grizzled, fifty-year-old Army veteran he’d hired two seasons earlier to drive, stock and maintain the luxury motor home that served as Kent’s private retreat at the tracks. There was something about Jesse’s back-porch wisdom and laconic way of expressing himself that Kent found refreshingly relaxing in his otherwise hectic life.

  “It’s going to feel good to get on the road again,” Jesse commented as he and Kent did a walk-through of the new motor home Kent had purchased for the upcoming season. The vehicle had been obscenely expensive, but Kent had promised himself a new motor home if he made it into the Chase last season, and he’d ordered it the week after the top twelve points positions had been finalized. Winning the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship had been the icing on last season’s cake, making the motor home even more of a reward to himself.

  He had begun to wonder if it was going to be ready in time for the opening race, but it had been delivered just yesterday, to his relief.

  Jesse seemed almost as excited about the new wheels as Kent himself, even though Jesse would live in it only during the trips between race tracks, staying in hotel rooms at the various race venues.

  It always amazed Kent that Jesse actually enjoyed being on the road alone so much. Jesse had no family and claimed to like his own company, as long as he had satellite radio and a stack of books to read during his down time. He even liked driving out to the California and Las Vegas tracks, two venues where many of the drivers didn’t bother with their motor homes because of the distance involved.

  Jesse opened one of the empty cabinets in the impressively appointed galley kitchen. “I’ll have to get this stocked tomorrow. Don’t you worry, you’ll have everything you like on hand for Daytona.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  Tanya had teased on occasion that Jesse served almost as Kent’s aide-de-camp in addition to driving the motor home. It was Jesse who bought the groceries and supplies, making sure all of Kent’s favorite snacks and drinks were on hand, who washed the sheets, cleaned and dusted, kept everything in perfect working order, even saw that there were fresh flowers waiting at each venue to be placed in a vase on the dining table.

  Kent had always found the flower thing a bit odd, since it seemed out of character for Jesse. But now he’d become accustomed to the detail, and it would seem strange not to be greeted by the scent of fresh flowers when he entered his home-away-from-home at the tracks.

  Jesse closed the wood veneered door, which blended seamlessly into the curving built-in cabinetry surrounding the galley kitchen. He pushed a button to reveal a built-in coffeemaker behind the stainless sink that was set into a mottled brown granite-overlay countertop.

  “Nice. I like that refrigerator, too,” he added, nodding toward the stainless refrigerator-freezer set into the opposite wall. “Garbage disposal, microwave-convection oven combo, dishwasher, wine cooler,” he recited in a murmur as he checked out each convenience. “Built-in spice rack. I assume there’s a barbeque grill in one of the outside bays?”

  “Of course,” Kent replied with a touch of irony. He was fully aware of the excesses of his new toy, but he intended to enjoy every one of the features. “A smoker-grill combo. As well as a mini-fridge, a cook top and a second microwave. And another plasma TV screen, so we can watch while we’re eating outside. Everything we need for a fancy barbeque.”

  Nodding in satisfaction, Jesse moved out of the kitchen. “That’s good.”

  Jesse liked to cook. He cooked for himself on the road, rather than living on take-out or fast food, and he often prepared ready-to-heat meals for Kent, leaving the covered dishes in the fridge so that Kent only had to pop them in the microwave after a long day of practice or qualifying.

  “Well, ain’t this fancy.” Jesse studied the bedroom—or back salon, as the motor home distributor referred to it—with a wondering shake of his graying head. “You’ve got a full couch back here, too, in addition to the one in the living room.”

  The curving couch sat tucked beneath a window, a perfect place to settle in with a book. Over the big bed with its jewel-toned spread, a crystal chandelier was set into a mirrored ceiling recess, and the walls were finished in a medium wood veneer that hid many storage spaces. A thirty-two-inch flat-screen TV was mounted in the back wall, visible from both the bed and the couch.

  Chuckling, Jesse teased, “Guess you didn’t spare yourself any luxuries after winning that trophy, huh?”

  “I guess I didn’t.” Kent couldn’t help thinking about how smug he’d been when he’d placed the order for this custom-designed motor home.

  Jesse glanced inside the back bathroom, which was appointed with marble counters, brushed-nickel fixtures, and beveled mirrors. Glass doors enclosed a full-sized, marble-walled shower stall. An almost-translucent beige glass sink rose like a bowl from the counter, the centerpiece of the lavatory décor. “Nice. I’ll be sure and stock some of that oatmeal soap you like.”

  “Thanks, Jesse. You spoil me.”

  They moved back through the bedroom and kitchen, past the dining nook, and into the living room, or front salon. A roomy couch covered in café-au-lait fabric with rich blue throw pillows faced a honey-toned leather recliner. An ottoman served as a footrest and coffee table for the couch. The front passenger seat, a leather captain’s chair, swiveled to provide more seating for the living room. The ceiling was covered with cleverly arranged mirrors, lights and fabric, for a sleek and modern appearance. A large-screen TV was positioned for maximum viewing ease, and a small but functional desk and chair were tucked beneath the screen.

  Jesse moved straight to the driver’s seat, sliding behind the wheel and surveying the instruments and monitoring systems displayed on the digital dash. “
Me and this baby are going to get along just fine,” he murmured, sliding his hands across the steering wheel in what appeared to be anticipation.

  Kent dropped into the passenger seat. “This behemoth is a lot more comfortable than my ride. But it doesn’t go near as fast.”

  Jesse chuckled. “At my age, I’d just as soon have the comfort.”

  “You’re only a year older than my dad, and he still craves the speed. Much to my mother’s dismay.”

  Shrugging, Jesse replied, “Yeah, well, every man has to decide for himself when he’s ready to trade the race car—or the army tank, in my case—for the motor home. Your dad will know when it’s time for him.”

  “I just hope my mom can hang in there with him until he does make that call,” Kent muttered, thinking of a particularly heated argument he’d overheard only a couple of days before. It seemed like everything in his life was going wrong now—including his parents’ long, seemingly happy marriage. If they couldn’t agree on such an important decision after all this time, could any couple really make it in this business?

  “I guess that’s a decision your mother will have to make for herself.” The slight shrug that accompanied the remark was as typical of Jesse’s pragmatic outlook as was his matter-of-fact tone.

  “I suppose you’re right.” And she would choose to stand by Dean, however long he remained on the race circuit, Kent assured himself with determined optimism. She might not agree with all of her husband’s decisions, but she would do the right thing for the family. And for herself, ultimately.

  As for him, he would quit whining and start thinking like an optimist again. He would tell Tanya the truth about his past, and she would understand and forgive him for misleading her. Some things that had bothered him recently about his crew chief would be corrected, and they would have another winning season—maybe even another championship. And because he was choosing to think only positive thoughts, he added that his mysterious e-mailer would disappear into cyberspace again, leaving Kent to decide on his own when and what to reveal about his past to the rest of the world.