Decipher (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #3)

by Michelle Irwin

  Alyssa had agreed when I suggested I should wait in the car while she got Phoebe settled. The last time I’d been at the house was the disastrous reunion that had resulted in Josh and Curtis cornering me against the side of their house and trying to run me out of town, Wild West style. Considering it had almost worked, I understood Alyssa’s ready approval of my request.

  “Think of it as an opportunity for them to spend some time together before we take her away,” I added. “We’ve only got a handful of weeks left in Brisbane now.”

  “I know she’ll be fine.” Alyssa sighed. “Just dropping her off here, it’s a reminder that I won’t be able to do that soon. That we’re moving. It’s an adjustment, that’s all. This place is all I’ve ever really known, you know?”

  My chest tightened as I wondered whether she was starting to regret her decision. I knew she trusted me. I knew she loved me. But in that moment, I wondered if it was enough. Was I being selfish asking her to move in with me so soon?

  “Did you want to stay?”

  She shook her head, and her hand came to rest on my thigh. “No. I’m happy about where I’m going . . . where we’re going,” she added with a smile. “And the job is what I’ve been working toward. I just can’t help feel a little sad about having to leave all this behind too. I guess in a perfect world, we could have it all. But if it was a perfect world—” She cut off and looked down at her hands. I didn’t have to ask what she was going to say because I already knew.

  I picked up her hand and placed it against my lips, kissing it softly. I didn’t have words to comfort her, because they would just be trite and meaningless anyway.

  “Do you think we can do a bit of Christmas shopping while we’re in the city?” she asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “Of course.” The mention of the C-word was another sharp reminder that I’d soon be facing my first Christmas as a father. More than that, we’d be doing Christmas with Alyssa’s family, and staying through until New Year’s for the ball. So many challenges all lined up to greet me. All I could do was grin and bear each one as they came.

  The positives were that ever since my phone call with Paige, our friendly neighbourhood pap had fucked off to whatever assignment his bitch of a boss had for him next. Which left us free to just be a family without being goaded into reacting negatively to bullshit, and also confirmed my suspicions that he’d only been following me to dig up more dirt.

  It was good that he was off our back before we went to the clinic clearly marked as a DNA testing facility. And before we hit our itinerary for our city trip. DNA tests and trips to Births, Deaths, and Marriages weren’t exactly the sort of things you wanted random photographers following you to.

  A little over an hour later, we’d completed all of the paperwork that would facilitate new birth certificates. The office had been a little cold, clinical, and the process had been free of emotion, and yet I was still a bundle of nerves by the time we left. It was like I was on my way to becoming official.

  “So this ball, is it really fancy? Can I still wear that same dress? I’m not sure I can afford a new one.” Alyssa’s stream of questions was obviously a way to fill the space between us as we walked back up to the Queen Street Mall.

  After Morgan’s visit, I’d given Alyssa one of the tickets for the masquerade ball—at the Sinclair Racing table. Although she’d been reluctant at first, it wasn’t hard to convince her that we needed one last hurrah in Brisbane. A night out alone, without Phoebe, before moving into what would be our new life. After all, we’d barely spent much time alone, and when we arrived in Sydney we wouldn’t have much opportunity. Our only ready babysitter would be Eden, but that would mean leaving Phoebe with Morgan as well, which Alyssa wasn’t keen on.

  “It’s a proper ball. You’ll need a proper gown, and I’ll have to wear my tux.” I’d packed it the last time I’d gone to Sydney in preparation for the night.

  “Do you know how much ball gowns cost?”

  “Surely there’s a way we can hire one or something?”

  “Maybe . . .” She sighed. “And it’s here at the Suncrest isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, in the same room we had our date.”

  A dreamy look glazed her eyes for a moment. “It won’t be as good as that date.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It might be better.” After all, what better way to get my revenge on everyone who tried to break us apart than to propose to her in front of them all?

  With a nod, she dragged me up the mall. She moved with such purpose I knew she had a destination in mind.

  “Well, I guess if I have to hire something fancy, it makes sense to hire it from here. The place I got my formal dress is just around the corner here.”

  Even though I would rather race for Paige than go spend time in a dress shop, I sucked it up and followed willingly behind her.

  “ARE YOU sure about your plan of action?”

  I sighed when Dr. Henrikson started up his psychobabble. Because I’d gone back up to Brisbane, he’d agreed to another phone session in place of my scheduled face-to-face visit.

  During the call, after we’d celebrated my job at Sinclair Racing, I’d told him my plan to get my revenge and the girl all in one fell swoop. His reaction was less enthusiastic than I’d hoped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Let’s put aside the most obvious issue, about how unhealthy your need for revenge actually is, and deal with the next one. Are you sure marriage is a good idea after being reconciled for only a few months?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I mean, getting engaged is hardly the same thing as being married. We can set a date a year away if she wants. Two. But we fucking love each other, and there’s Phoebe to consider. Her parents should be married.”

  “Why?”

  “Because parents should be married.”

  “That’s quite an old-fashioned notion coming from someone with your past, Declan.”

  “For an ex-manwhore, you mean?”

  “That’s putting it in a slightly less eloquent way than I would have.”

  I paced around Alyssa’s backyard as I spoke to him. “Fuck you. I’m full of old-fashioned fucking values. I just got a little lost along the way. I’m finding my way back now, thanks to her. I’d have thought you’d be fucking happy about my progress.”

  “I am delighted with your progress. I just don’t want you to make any rash decisions while you are still in a transitional phase of your life.”

  I gave a non-committal grunt in response.

  “Putting that issue aside for the moment, there’s the bigger one to consider.”

  I stopped midstride. “Which is what exactly?”

  “How will Alyssa feel having her engagement linked with your desperation for revenge?”

  “She . . .” I trailed off. “She’ll be . . . I don’t fucking know.” The truth was, I did know.

  She was sentimental about shit like that. I’d probably have my balls cut off if I even tried it. But it would be the best revenge I could imagine and why shouldn’t I kill two birds with one stone? She’d understand.

  “I would suspect she’d much rather the moment be meaningful just because of its significance for you as a couple, rather than because of some perceived justice you inferred from the event.”

  “You don’t know that. You’ve never even spoken to her.”

  “I know. Although as I’ve explained in the past, I would like to change that when you are comfortable—”

  “We’re not doing fucking couples’ therapy. We don’t need that shit. We’re perfect. Better than fucking perfect. We’re so peachy-fucking-keen we may as well live in a fucking orchard.”

  “If you say so, Declan.”

  “I do.”

  “Will you at least consider what I’ve said?”

  I didn’t answer him. Even though I tried to resist it, his words had crept under my skin and were writhing like insects. Perhaps it was worth thinking things over after all. Regardless, I would still make
everyone who’d hurt me, who’d hurt Alyssa, pay. He spent the rest of our call going over what he thought was the greater concern as he pleaded with me to reconsider getting revenge at all. His words mirrored Alyssa’s—be thankful it’s over. But neither of them understood just how ruthless Paige could be. As soon as my return to Sinclair became public, I’d probably have a team of reporters on my arse all over again.

  No. It was much better to make a stand and show them exactly why they should never have fucked with Declan Reede in the first place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: SET UP

  BEING BACK IN Sydney, at Homebush to watch Morgan race live, was un-fucking-believable. I hadn’t been trackside at an event without the intention to race since I was sixteen, and I’d almost forgotten the thrill of standing near the barriers as the cars roared past. Of course, just like it had then, the noise and smell made me yearn with everything in me to be out there in one of the cars.

  The urge was almost strong enough to force me to hunt down Paige and tell her that I would do whatever it took to be back in the driver seat. The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that if I played my cards right, I could be back in the seat at Sinclair.

  Of course, because I’d been in my own little bubble of it being just Alyssa, Phoebe, and me for so long, I didn’t even consider what attention my visit to the track might garner. Especially considering I’d had Morgan swing by my house so I could grab my Sinclair Racing team shirt. Most of the morning, I’d been approached by fan after fan, getting autographs on everything from shirts to posters.

  It was strange feeling like someone noteworthy again, especially considering the track was my domain. Most of the people who’d approached me weren’t just autograph hounds desperate for any squiggle. They were genuine fans. Some of them expressed their disappointment that I wouldn’t be back the next season. A few seemed to think I had something big buried up my sleeve. They were right, but not the way they expected.

  Of course, one out of every dozen seemed to want to approach me for an entirely different purpose. I’d been propositioned multiple times—each one promising me that they would give me an experience that would change my new monogamous ways—and I’d also been screamed at for my “disgusting” past. One girl even went as far as slapping me for being a deadbeat dad. Luckily the roaming security guards saw her and escorted her out before it could become a worse situation for me. Why she thought my business was any of her concern was beyond me, but I guess that was the price of fame.

  Once the initial shock of my appearance among the crowd had died down a little, I walked around the venue. Each step was one I’d taken before, but only as a driver. I’d never been to Homebush just as a spectator. A tangible excitement seemed to buzz in the air that was thick with the scent of hot asphalt and burned rubber. It was something I’d never fully noticed or appreciated during race preparations.

  Then, every thought had been on the car, on the track and its corners, and on finishing first. It had been stressful, and had turned what I loved into a job. A job that I still loved, but a job nonetheless.

  I’d missed just being able to breathe in the atmosphere. More than I cared to admit to myself. Without the worries about whether the next time I was on the track would end in a DNF, I could watch the other categories and just enjoy them. At one point, the Micro series raced past with their tiny four cylinder engines buzzing like mosquitos. Then an hour later, the trucks had their turn—tonnes and tonnes of chrome and gleaming paint travelling at such speeds it seemed almost suicidal.

  Although Morgan had offered to lean on Danny for a pit pass, I was happier without one. It meant I could wander around without the expectation of talking to those people I’d be working with next year. It gave me an excuse for not having to tell my story over and over.

  It also occurred to me that Danny would probably prefer me to stay away until my agreed-upon start. After all, he didn’t want my plans spilling over into the new race season. He’d said as much when he gave me his tacit, if uncertain, approval for my plan, just so long as he didn’t know what it was.

  If Paige said something more to Danny, he’d likely dismiss it. After all, he had something she didn’t—my signature on a piece of paper outlining the details of my new employment contract. It had come when I’d dropped by the Sinclair Racing headquarters late on Friday night when I arrived in Sydney. It was only when we were finishing up our conversation, just before I actually signed the document, that he mentioned hearing about a fresh offer from Paige, and of my potential signing with her.

  There was no doubt that the information had been passed straight from the horse’s mouth, but it didn’t really bother me. I admitted to the conversation and started to explain.

  He held up his hand. “Have you ever heard of plausible deniability, Declan?”

  I grinned at him. Of course I had, because it was exactly what I was giving Alyssa by keeping her out of the plans.

  “Just keep whatever you’re planning out of the papers, try not to get into too much trouble, and turn up on time on your first day and we won’t have any issues.”

  Agreeing readily, I asked just two favours—his short-term silence on my hiring and his agreement to announce my return at the New Year’s masquerade ball. True to his keep-me-out–of-it policy, he didn’t ask any questions as he agreed. Without a second thought, I thanked him again for the offer—which was actually a little more generous than what I’d expected after our first meeting—signed the contract, and then left to find Morgan again.

  Once it was all set, I had nothing left to do but wait and make sure I’d executed my plans before I started so that they didn’t blow up in my face later on.

  DURING ONE of the production car races, I caught sight of Paige madly dashing around, and thought I’d bait the hook a little more. Racing after her, I managed to corner her away from everyone at the back of the grandstand.

  The instant she spotted me, she turned around with the smile of a predator adorning her cherry-red lips. Her smile fell for a fraction of a second when she took in the shirt I was wearing, but it lifted again when I moved closer to her with a smile of my own. I indicated I wanted her to follow me. She complied beautifully, coming with me until we were around the corner and out of view.

  “Declan, I didn’t expect to see you here this weekend.”

  “I’m here to watch Morg take the championship. Hand off the reins, you know. Even though I’m not out there now, I’m still the reigning champ.” As I’d said the word, designed to remind her what a fucking prize I was, I’d moved even closer to her, invaded her personal space the way she’d done so often to me. “And Danny wanted to see me about something too.”

  When I had her backed firmly against the grandstand, I pressed a hand against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her between my arms. The position felt almost too intimate, but that was kinda the point. I was trying to flood her with just enough false hope that the fall would be spectacular, while also giving her a reason to give me the proof I needed that she was behind everything.

  Her cougaresque smile pulled at her thin lips. “I don’t suppose I can tempt you to come cheer him on from my office?”

  The thought of going anywhere near the Wood Racing pits or truck wasn’t appealing, especially when I was wearing a Sinclair Racing shirt. I’d be booed by the crew and fans alike.

  “Nah, sorry, Paige,” I leaned in closer as I spoke. “I’m just here as a spectator. Wanted to see how the other half lives, you know? It’s been so long since I was at a race just for the fun of it.”

  “And where’s your little family?” Her gaze was focused on my eyes, and even though I was the one cornering her, it felt like some power had just shifted back into her court. Maybe it was because my family was the reason I was doing this. Was I pushing things too far though? Was the doc right?

  My stomach twisted into knots, but I let my smile grow. “Not here. I didn’t want them to spoil my fun.”

  “Ah, so it’s one
of those weekends, is it?”

  The fact that she was openly approving, perhaps even encouraging, the thought that I would ever betray Alyssa was enough to cement my decision to make her fall. She’d spent too long allowing her drivers to get away with far too much. How bad would things have to be before she’d intervene? The questions over what exactly she’d done about Hunter’s habit of drugging girls leapt to my tongue, but I swallowed them down. I couldn’t tip her off, or she’d be suspicious and might find a way out of it. I couldn’t allow that. She had to suffer—and she deserved everything that was coming to her.

  “Yeah, I’ll be hunting down some sport a little later.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have no issue finding some. A young man of your—” Her tongue pushed forward to slick across her lips and her gaze dropped down to trail over my body before landing squarely on my crotch. “—reputation.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble at all,” I said. “In fact, I was thinking about hitting Firebird again. Maybe those two hotties I almost scored with last time will be there.” Letting memories of Alyssa fill my mind, I pretended that the thought of meeting with Talia and Tillie again turned me on. I waited for half a second before tipping my head to the side as if some thought struck me with my words. “Actually, did you know that one of them knows you?”

  The shock that flooded across her face was priceless.

  “Yeah, that, um, what was her name again? T. T something . . .”

  Paige was almost white as a ghost. If that wasn’t enough, the fear that flickered through her eyes proved she knew all about Talia’s role as T. It didn’t surprise me, but it was nice to know for a fact.

  “Tillie!” I exclaimed, as if I’d just remembered. “That’s her name. She went to the fundraiser in Brisbane with your son.”