Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel)

by Masters, Colleen

  “Is something going on with Mom?” I ask, casting around in the dark, “Is everything OK between you two?”

  “As fine as it’s ever been,” Dad replies, “She wanted to be here for this, really. But you know how she is. She can’t even watch the races, she gets so nervous. I don’t blame her for being too upset to come now.”

  “Come for what?” Enzo urges, “Come on, Dad. You’re killing us, here.”

  An alarmed look passes over Dad’s face. He can’t put this off any longer. Instinctively, I grab for Enzo’s hand, all argument between us forgotten for the moment. He laces his fingers with mine, giving my hand a tight squeeze. Don’t worry, that little bit of pressure says, Whatever it is that’s about to happen, we’re going to get through it together. Dad takes a sip of his whiskey and looks up at us, eyes misty.

  “There’s no easy way to begin this,” he starts, “But there’s something I haven’t told you kids that’s come to a head. I’ve uh...Well, there have been some health concerns that I may not have mentioned.”

  “Health concerns? Your health?” I ask.

  “Please, let me get through this,” Dad says, “The truth is, I got some news a couple of months ago that I didn’t share with you two. My doctor, he ran some tests at my physical right before the season started. I didn’t want to burden you guys, not as we were about to head into another championship. But the way things have progressed...I can’t keep you in the dark any longer. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  He takes another long sip of his drink, and I join him. I’m having trouble forcing air into my lungs, and Dad hasn’t even gotten to the heart of his admission.

  “What kind of tests?” Enzo asks, “What did they find?”

  Dad looks up at us, looking hopeless and heartbroken. He takes a deep breath and gazes down at the hotel carpet.

  “The tests...they were recommended by an oncologist,” he says, “I’d been having some symptoms, some issues.”

  “They tested you for...cancer?” I ask, my voice hollow.

  Dad nods wordlessly.

  “And they came back—they came back—?” Enzo stutters.

  “Positive,” Dad all but whispers.

  The grounds seems to give way beneath me, and the foundation of my world falls away. The world grinds to a halt all around me, and every minute detail of this moment stands out in high resolution. Enzo, frozen stiff in denial and anguish, our half-empty whiskey glasses clenched in our fists, and of course my father—head bowed in sorrow. I know that this is a scene that I will remember for the rest of my life.

  All at once, the world speeds back up, the sound rushes back in, and I’m flying across the room into my father’s arms. He pulls me tightly against him as I throw my arms around his shoulders, holding my tears in with all my might.

  “Don’t worry Dad,” I whisper, “I know it must be scary, but we’re here for you. We’ll get you the best care possible. You’ll be able to beat it. You’re a winner, you’ll win this too.”

  “Oh, Siena,” Dad says, his voice choked, “My girl...I’m afraid this is one match I’m going to have to lose.”

  “What are you talking about?” Enzo asks, “You can’t just give up, Dad. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “By the time they found out,” Dad says, stroking my hair, “It was already too late.”

  “Slow down,” Enzo says, refusing to hear him, “Found what?”

  “The tumor,” Dad says, “It started in my lungs, but it’s traveled, son. They gave me a year, tops.”

  “That’s plenty of time to do something about it!” Enzo exclaims.

  “No, Enzo,” Dad says, “It’s spread too far. It was inoperable by the time we knew it was there.”

  “What about radiation? Chemotherapy?” I ask desperately.

  “Siena, we were just about to start a season when I found out,” Dad says, “How could I have gone in for all that? Besides, none of my doctors could even guarantee that it would work. Why would I spend the last year of my life miserable, locked up in some hospital, instead of doing what I love with my children?”

  “You mean you had a chance?” I ask, standing in front of my father.

  “Barely,” he replies, “It was never a choice for me. This is the best treatment I could have asked for. Being on the road, watching Enzo sweep this season.”

  “But you might not even see the end of it,” Enzo says, his voice choked.

  “Maybe not,” Dad says, smiling sadly, “But you will. You’ll see so many more seasons too, Enzo. Both of you will. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, once you knew the truth. My entire life is wrapped up in this sport, and I want to know that the Lazio legacy will be carried on after I’m gone.”

  “Of course it will be,” Enzo says furiously, “You trained me to be the best. I’ll keep on winning in the Lazio name. You have my word.”

  “Thank you son,” Dad smiles, “But there’s another Lazio I want to see succeed as well. Siena, you know that I’ve become one of Ferrelli’s primary shareholders, right?”

  “Of course, Dad,” I say.

  “Well,” he says, taking my hands in his, “I’ve written up a new version of my will that names you the beneficiary of those shares.”

  “Wh-what?” I sputter.

  “When I pass away,” Dad says, “You’ll become a shareholder of Ferrelli. One of the most influential shareholders. You’ll be able to contribute to decisions, shape the sport from the top, just like you’ve been talking about. You two will keep this team on top. Hell, you’ll probably make it ten times better, if you work together. I know that this doesn’t make my news any easier to hear, but I wanted you to know that you’ll be taken care of when I’m gone. Even if I can’t be here to take care of you...”

  His voice cracks, rending my heart in two. I take my father’s face in his hands and plant a kiss on his deeply-lined forehead. Enzo crosses the room and stands behind Dad’s chair, laying his young hands on the older man’s shoulders. The tears finally begin to fall from all our eyes, as we stand together, silent in our overwhelming grief. For now, there are no more words. There is only our little family.

  I don’t know how long we stay there together, but before I know it, the sun has set. It’s not until Enzo switches on the lights that I realize how late it’s gotten. A shock of alarm charges through me as I realize my mistake. I completely forgot about meeting Harrison at the State Museum. He must have thought I stood him up.

  I have to go to him, tell him what’s happened. But how can I leave my father’s side now, and to see a man who he can’t abide? I realize all at once that I can never tell them about me and Harrison, now. I missed my opportunity to save us, to save our one shot at being together.

  A fresh wave of tears washes over me as I sit with my family. All of a sudden, I find myself with far too many things to mourn the impending loss of.

  Chapter Seven

  Salvaging

  I cradle my phone against my ear, heart hammering as the line rings endlessly. Pick up, I pray in desperation, please pick up...

  I’ve only just arrived back at my own room at the Moscow hotel, after so many long, tear-soaked hours spent with my father and brother. The instant I find myself alone once more, it’s clear what I must do next. I have to talk to Harrison. I have to tell him that I didn’t mean to blow him off this afternoon, that I want nothing more than to see him. He has to know that I failed in telling my family about us, that things have taken a turn for the absolutely dire. I need his help, I need him to hold me. I just need him.

  My breath catches as the line finally clicks, and I hear Harrison’s voice on the other end of the call.

  “You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice hollow.

  “Harrison, thank God—”

  “I’m not the brightest guy in the world, but I know what it means when a woman stands me up,” he says, “Really, Siena, I’m trying to respect your wishes here—”

  “The only thing I’m wishing right
now is to be with you,” I tell him, my eyes welling up once more. You’d think that I’d be all out of tears, after this afternoon.

  “I don’t understand,” Harrison says, “Why didn’t you come to see me? I waited in front of the museum—”

  “Something came up. Something...huge,” I say, struggling to get the words out. “Please, I can’t do this on the phone. Tell me where we can meet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “We could be seen.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “OK,” Harrison says, “Give me ten minutes.”

  He hangs up the phone, and I sink down onto my bed in silence. I know, rationally, that it’s insane to meet Harrison tonight. I should be staying far away from him, now more than ever. But to keep away from him at a time like this, to deprive us both of the only comfort we’ve ever known, is absolutely insane. In the face of my father’s catastrophic news, I can’t bring myself to care about blackmail or scandal. My heart and body know what they need, and trump my reasonable mind every time. I need Harrison right now, just as I know he needs me.

  In no time, a text message arrives on my phone with the address of a hotel just outside the city limits. There’s no time to lose. I gather a few belongings and wrench open my door, not even bothering to clean up my makeup-streaked face. I book it out of the hotel, hurrying lest anyone catch a glimpse of me departing. I don’t want to field questions and sympathies from any well-meaning teammates, I don’t want to get wrapped up in petty social nonsense. I want to disappear, to go and be with the man I love...to feel the slightest whisper of comfort in this horrible moment of my life.

  I manage to locate a cab and slip into the backseat before anyone realizes I’m on the move. We tear off into the night, leaving the elegant hotel behind. I close my eyes in the backseat, my thoughts spinning madly. The seconds crawl on, feeling like hours as we soar away from Moscow. Finally, we pull up in front of a tiny, hole-in-the-wall inn. I throw a handful of Russian currency at my driver and step out onto the curb, hurrying inside.

  Behind the tiny reception desk is a weathered old man wearing a chunky sweater and a stoic expression. I force my lips into a smile as I approach.

  “I’m looking for a man who’s just checked in,” I tell him.

  He gives me a suspicious once-over, and I realize how insane I must look—tear-stained and rumpled, desperate and wrecked.

  “I don’t like funny business happening in my hotel,” the man tells me, “If you’re up to something unseemly—”

  “I’m not a hooker,” I say, my voice harsh and rasping, “It’s just been a long day. Give me a break.”

  “Okay, okay,” the man says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t know anything. A man check into room three. Blonde man. Very tall. Is this who you look for?”

  “Yes,” I say, “Thank you.”

  “I hope you feel better,” the man says halfheartedly as I hurry away up the rickety staircase toward Harrison’s room.

  An old wooden door sporting a brass number three stands just down the narrow hall. I approach and rap my knuckles gently against the door. My entire body is trembling with exhaustion, anticipation, and worry. As the door eases open, the first thing I see is Harrison’s face peering down at me. There’s not an ounce of resentment or anger to be found in his expression. The flood of relief I feel upon seeing him carries me across the threshold, straight into his arms. He takes me in, pulling me close as he eases the door shut and locks it tight.

  For a long moment, we simply stand there together, wrapped in a tight embrace. I can’t will my mouth to form words of explanation, not just yet. I just need to take in the feel of Harrison’s body against mine, the tight, hard muscles and sinew beneath my hands. Standing here with him, I can almost forget for a moment the torrential downpour of awful news that’s come to drown me. How can a world that is cruel enough to tear my father away from me still offer up such a wonderful blessing as Harrison Davies?

  Harrison plants a kiss on the top of my head, pushing me straight over the edge. The tears begin to roll down my cheeks, losing themselves in the fabric of Harrison’s black tee shirt. He holds me ever closer as my shoulders begin to shake, and doesn’t ask a single question as I weep. All he does is hold me—and that’s all I need in the world.

  My legs feel so weak, I can barely keep myself from sliding down onto the hardwood floor. Harrison feels the strength leaving my body and all but carries me across the tiny, antiquated room to an old four poster bed. A gauzy canopy stretches over top of us as we settle down on top of a heavy quilt. I curl up onto my side, and Harrison lowers himself down beside me. I press my back against his firm chest, and his arms encircle me. He rests his cheek against mine, and I feel the warmth of his breath on my flushed skin.

  “Can you tell me what’s happened?” he asks, as my tears finally subside.

  “Oh, Harrison,” I moan, “Where do I even begin?”

  “Start at the beginning,” he suggests.

  And I do. I tell me everything that’s been weighing on my mind these past few weeks, months, even. I walk him back to our first night in Barcelona, tell him about the guilt that’s been eating away at me since his rivalry with Enzo first reared its ugly head. I tell him about my frustration at having him, and my brother, and every other man in my life tell me what’s best for me. I describe my terror at being discovered, ousted by our blackmailer, and how violated I feel having someone threaten us this way. I tell him about my suspicions concerning Charlie and Shelby, my anxiety about Bex and Enzo spending so much time with my possible suspects.

  “Why couldn’t you tell me all of this this afternoon?” Harrison asks, kissing my cheek, “Were you just afraid to come see me in person? Or did something stop you?”

  I draw in a deep, rattling breath and turn to face him. His eyes are full of wary concern, and as much as I hate to bring this horrible news back to the present moment, he has to know what’s going on.

  “It’s my dad,” I whisper, reaching for his hands, “He’s sick, Harrison.”

  “What do you mean, sick?” he asks softly.

  “I mean, he called me and Enzo into his room this afternoon to come clean. Just before the tour started he found out...he was diagnosed with...”

  “Take your time, baby,” Harrison says, stroking my hand with his thumb.

  “He has cancer,” I whisper, as if saying the words quietly might make them any less true, “It started in his lungs, but it’s spread. They couldn’t operate, it had advanced too far by the time they found it. And he won’t go through chemo or radiation. At this rate, by the end of the season...he might already be gone.”

  Harrison doesn’t say a word, he simply gathers me up in his arms. We’re silent for a long while, our bodies speaking the volumes we can’t bring ourselves to. I know that Harrison must be feeling his own empathetic grief for his father. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent. But Harrison couldn’t stand his father. And I...Well, we’ve always butted heads, but I love him. There’s never been anything more important to me than family. And now mine is on the verge of falling apart.

  “Siena, I’m so sorry...” Harrison finally says, “Whatever you need from me, it’s yours. If you want me to stay away so you can be with your family, I’ll do it. But if you want me here—”

  “I want you here,” I tell him, “I need you here.”

  “Then here I am,” he says, brushing my hair away from my forehead.

  “I was going to tell them,” I groan, “Before my Dad dropped this on us. I was going to tell my dad and Enzo that I was seeing you, before it got out some other way. I just couldn’t work up the nerve. I missed my one chance.”

  “Baby—”

  “I should have told them,” I say, “I should have been honest from the start. Why did I have to lie?”

  “You were trying to protect their feelings,” Harrison says, “Just like your dad was trying to do by keeping his diagnosis to himself.
You’re all just trying to look out for each other, to be the strongest and bravest of the bunch. But maybe the time’s come for you all to lean on each other a little bit more.”

  “But I can’t tell them about us now,” I insist, “With dad sick and all? And it’s not just that. He told me this afternoon that he’s grooming me to be his replacement on Team Ferrelli. If he...when he...passes away, I’ll take his place as a majority shareholder. I’ll really be part of the team then.”

  “Oh...” Harrison says, at a loss.

  “So you see my predicament?” I smile sadly.

  “Our predicament,” Harrison corrects me, “Make no mistake, Siena. We’re still in this together. Now more than ever, I’m not going to let you shoulder this on your own. Whatever I can do to help, just say the word.”

  “I just...I don’t know what to do, Harrison,” I tell him, “Tell me what I should do.”

  “Whatever feels right,” he says, “Not nice, not polite. But right.”

  “I want to be honest with my family,” I say, “I want to be there for my dad, I want to step up and become a part of the team. And I want you to be there with me through all of it.”

  “Then we’ll just have to figure out a way to make that happen,” Harrison says.

  “But how?” I ask, exasperated, “How can we come clean without making some dreadfully big deal about it?”

  “I have no fucking idea,” Harrison laughs, “You’re the PR genius, aren’t you?”

  I look up at him, a little spark of an idea glimmering in my mind. I hadn’t even thought of putting my professional brain to work on our little dilemma before. What if I came at this whole, messy situation like I would a PR emergency?

  “Harrison,” I say, pulling myself up on my elbow, “You might just be a genius.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he grins.

  “Seriously,” I say, the gears of my mind spinning, “What if we’ve been approaching this all wrong? What if, instead of living in fear of being exposed, we let the world find out about us on our own terms?”