He must have jumped a foot. “Kristen, you scared me.”
And then Lex came at him, the dog rushing between Kristen’s legs and nearly toppling her in the process.
“Hey there, Lex,” Todd said, squatting down and scratching behind his mouth so that his jowls flapped around.
“He sure does love you,” Kristen said.
Todd nodded. “I’ve gotten pretty fond of the little bugger, too.”
“I can see that.”
“Thanks for bringing him by. I’m sure Jen appreciated one less thing to worry about.”
“Yeah, you’ve got her running pretty hard canceling engagements and what not.”
Todd stood up, Lex dancing around his feet and still begging for attention.
“She understands.”
“Yes, she does,” Kristen said, stepping onto the patio, the hair that’d been mouse-blond when he’d first met her now streaked with gold. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how much the boy means to you.”
“Yeah,” he said, turning toward the rail. “Sometimes I wonder why I got involved.”
She came forward, placing a hand on his arm. “Because Todd Peters, one of NASCAR’s least favorite drivers, thanks to his rather rough driving skills, is really a man with a huge heart.”
“Yeah…maybe so.”
“Todd,” Kristen said, her thumb stroking his arm. “It’s okay to be upset.”
He clenched the rail, the metal bar digging into his palms. It was cold, as chill as the freeze settling around his heart. “I’m going to win the race this weekend, Kristen.”
“I know you will.”
How ironic that Kristen believed him and not Indi.
“And the next weekend, too,” he added.
“And we’ll do everything we can to help you,” she said without missing a beat.
His vision grew white, he stared out at the lake so long. “And the week after that.”
“If you believe it can happen, so will the rest of the team,” she said.
“I believe.”
“Of course you do. That’s what heroes do, fulfill the dreams of others.”
“I’m not a hero.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “To that little boy you’re like Superman.”
He tried to turn away. She wouldn’t let him.
“To millions of kids you’re like Superman, but even Superman could only help one person at a time. You will, too.”
“I won’t let him die.”
“No,” she said. “Of course not.”
And somehow he found himself in her arms. There was nothing sexual about their embrace. It was the hug of two friends trying to comfort each other. And as Todd wrapped his arms around Kristen’s slight form, he wished with all his heart it was Indi he held instead.
“We’re here for you, Todd,” Kristen said softly. “The whole team is behind you.”
His nose plugged with unshed tears. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you,” she said softly. “You’ve done us all proud, Todd. We’re all so terribly proud of you.”
“Just do what you can to help me win, Kristen. That’s all I ask of you.”
“You got it,” she said, squeezing his arms at the same time she leaned back. “You got it.”
RACE DAY DAWNED as stunningly clear and warm as the day Benjamin was admitted to the hospital. Unseasonably warm, the weatherman called it.
Perfect weather for kicking ass.
The garage was full of its usual prerace visitors. Charlotte seemed to be more crowded than other tracks. Todd suspected that had more to do with the track being located in the heart of race country than anything else. But whatever the reason, it drove him nuts to have to walk through the garage. Every ten feet he was stopped by someone wanting to wish him well.
He didn’t need luck. What he needed was to get behind the wheel.
“You’re due at the driver’s meeting in five minutes,” Jen said from alongside him.
They were just coming back from an autograph session, one that Todd had almost bailed from, and probably would have if not for Benjamin. Yesterday, when he’d visited Benjamin in the hospital, he’d been reminded that there were other kids out there who wanted to meet him and that Todd shouldn’t blow them all off because Benjamin was in the hospital.
And what do you say to that?
Nothing, Todd reminded himself grimly. You did the autograph session and you made sure you spoke kindly to every little kid who showed up, and that you looked their parents in the eye and you told them how lucky they were to have their children, and that they should treat each day—
“Todd!”
“What?” he snapped back, although he had to think hard to remember what he and Jen had been talking about. They were walking back to his hauler and Todd had to work to recall what she’d been saying. Something about a driver’s meeting.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, not having a clue what Jen had just asked.
“Are you sure? Brandon is new to all this and so I’m certain he’d appreciate your showing him around, but I’ve never met the man before so I’m not certain what to expect.”
Oh, crap. What had he just volunteered himself for?
“He’s supposed to meet us in the lounge,” Jen said, checking around them as if expecting to spot the driver behind a stack of tires.
“Any word from Indi?” The question popped out before Todd could stop it. What the hell was he doing asking Jen about Indi?
“No,” Jen said, glancing up at him, the ponytail she always seemed to wear hanging over one shoulder. “Sorry, Todd.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said.
He hadn’t called Indi. But in his defense she hadn’t phoned him, either. Maybe that was just the way Indi worked. How she closed herself down. Maybe she allowed men to get just so close before pushing them away. Maybe he was just the latest in a long string of men who been shut out while she dealt with another child’s death.
“Anyway,” Jen said. “About Brandon. If you could just take him over to the driver’s meeting for now. Show him where it is and all that. We’re still trying to find him a PR rep, but until then we’re kind of in a bind. None of us expected Mr. Knight to put him in a car so fast so he’s certain to feel a bit lost. I’m sure he’d appreciate having an old pro like you take him under his wing.”
Somehow Todd doubted it. Drivers had some of the biggest egos around. They didn’t need anything or anyone. He ought to know. Once upon a time he used to think like that, too.
“Hey, Dan,” Jen said, waving to his crew chief. Dan patted Todd on the back as they walked by.
“Good luck with that one,” Dan said, pointing with his clipboard behind him toward the hauler. “I thought you were difficult once upon a time, that was nothing compared to that asshole.”
Todd stopped beneath the overhead door that doubled as a car lift and hung off the back of the big rig. “What do you mean?”
“Brandon Burke,” Dan said, running a hand through his graying hair. The color just about matched the metallic silver of the headset that rested on his shoulders. “He’s a total putz. And coming from me, you know he’s got to be bad.”
Dan was one of the most levelheaded crew chiefs around. For him to be so torqued off it must be pretty bad.
“Great,” Jen said. “Just great. I’m supposed to help him out until we find someone to rep him.”
Dan all but slapped the back of Jen’s red polo shirt. “Yeah,” he said. “Good luck with that, too.”
He sauntered away, Todd watching him with narrowed eyes. Whatever. He had other things to deal with this weekend than an arrogant, egotistical ass, which is what Brandon must be if Dan so instantly despised him.
He turned out to be all that and more.
“So you’re the man who’s ass I’m going to kick,” the guy said the moment Todd and Jen entered the lounge.
“Ah, actually, this is our veteran driver Todd Peters,” Je
n said, obviously trying to play interference. “And you must be Brandon.”
Brandon sat on the couch that ran along the far wall. But instead of scooting over to make more room, he swung his legs up off the ground, effectively giving them no place to sit.
“Yeah, I’m Brandon,” he said, the uniform he wore still bearing the name of his old sponsor. He had sandy-blond hair and sideburns that looked like they belonged to a cast member of the television show The OC.
Gimme a break, Todd thought.
“How you doing, old man?” Brandon asked, cocking an eyebrow at Todd.
“I’m fine,” Todd said, then promptly turned his back on him.
“Dan’s right. This kid’s a punk. You can get someone else to show him around,” Todd whispered to Jen.
“Todd,” Jen said, her eyes imploring. “I’m sure he’s just joking.”
Todd glanced back at Brandon. The jerk gave him a stare that could turn race fuel into flames.
“Don’t bet on it.”
“See you later, old man,” the guy called as Todd walked from the room.
The whole thing left a bad taste in Todd’s mouth, so much so that he was in a rank mood by the time he made it to the driver’s meeting.
“Is it true you’ve got the bad boy of open wheel of racing in your hauler?” Lance Cooper asked, the blond driver giving him his golden-boy smile.
“Don’t want to talk about it,” Todd said, taking a seat next to him.
Lance’s smile faded as other drivers, crew chiefs and team owners settled down around them.
“How’s Benjamin?” Lance asked.
“Not good,” Todd said.
Lance nodded, scanned the crowd, his red uniform and Todd’s blue uniform all but clashing. Their uniforms usually just about matched, but Todd had a different sponsor for this race. Miracles was riding on his hood. The car and his uniform a dark blue, his car number painted orange and white. “Sarah and I are going over to visit him tomorrow,” Lance said.
“I’m sure he’d like that,” Todd said as the NASCAR Event Director called the meeting to order, but before he could start in on his speech, a commotion broke out near the doorway.
“Whoo-ey,” Brandon drawled in a mocking Southern accent. “Look at all them roundy-round racers.”
“Brandon,” someone muttered, Todd recognizing his team owner coming up behind him. And even though Mathew Knight leaned forward everyone in the room heard the “Behave,” he all but snarled.
Brandon just smirked, his blue eyes scanning the room. When his gaze fell on Todd, his upper lip actually curled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll do that.”
“I see why you don’t want to talk about it,” Lance leaned over and muttered. “What a charmer.”
Other drivers weren’t as kind. In fact, the chill in the room when Brandon sat down would have rivaled that of a meat locker.
“Okay then,” the president of the speedway said. “Where were we?”
Todd’s mood didn’t improve much from there. He tried to focus on Benjamin, reminded himself that in the scheme of things, jerks like Brandon mattered about as much as the dead bugs that dotted his Cobra’s grill. Still, as he climbed into his car, he found himself surveying the line cars stacked nose to tail in front and behind him. He paused for a second on the doorsill, looking left and right. Out on pit road behind him, someone tested an air wrench, the bzz-bzz-bzz such a familiar sound he almost didn’t hear it.
“What’s the matter?” Dan said.
Todd looked at the grandstands across the track. They were filled to capacity—men, women and children already standing up in excitement.
“Just wishing Benjamin was here.”
And wondering what Indi would say if she were here.
“Have a good race,” Dan said as he handed him his HANS Device and then his helmet. He leaned into the car as Todd set his headgear aside.
“Thanks, Dan,” Todd said, checking his belts. “But we don’t need luck for this one. We’re winning this race no matter what it takes.”
“That’s a good attitude to have,” Dan said, reaching in and patting him on the shoulder.
“It’s the only attitude to have,” Todd said as Dan did the catches on the window net.
“Hey, where’s Brandon starting?” Todd asked the moment he plugged in his radio. He’d been so focused on Benjamin this week he hadn’t even paid attention to where everyone else had qualified.
“Believe it or not, he’s starting tenth.”
Two back from Todd. That was unexpected. A bit of beginner’s luck for the rookie.
“Watch him, Todd,” Dan said in a low voice, as if Brandon might be listening in. “I don’t trust that guy.”
“I’ve dealt with his type before,” Todd reminded his crew chief.
“I know, I know. But this guy’s got a reputation that would do a rattlesnake proud. Watch out.”
“Will do,” Todd said.
But he really didn’t think he had much to worry about. Drivers like Brandon usually got punted by the tenth lap. After calling everyone a roundy-round racer, Todd expected he’d be out of the race in less than that.
He was wrong.
When the green flag dropped, Todd focused on keeping his nose out of trouble. When a race was as many laps as this one, there was no need to be aggressive right off the bat. That obviously wasn’t a principle Brandon Burke subscribed to.
“Guess who’s knocking on your door,” Dan said on lap twenty-five.
It had been a clean race so far and Todd was in the zone so he had no idea. “Who?”
Cooper? Drake?
“The snake.”
Great, Todd thought, checking his mirrors. He couldn’t see Brandon, but that wasn’t surprising. With the race having been green for so long, the field was pretty strung out.
“What position?”
“Eighth.”
And Todd was sitting sixth. Time to put the pedal to the metal out and show Brandon how it was done.
“How many until we pit?”
“Provided there’s no cautions, about eight.”
“Good,” Todd said.
He scanned the track ahead of him. For the last ten laps he’d been feeling his car out, and with green flag pit stops coming up, he had a pretty good idea what needed to be done.
“Okay,” Todd said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll take a turn out of the left rear. Give me a half-a-pound less in the front right and we’ll see if we can get this baby to turn.”
“You got it,” Dan said. “Seven now. Seven laps to go.”
The grandstands sped by, the catch fence nothing more than a gray blur on his right. Flashes of color hit his peripheral vision—sponsor banners that hung on the backstretch wall. Individual faces were impossible to pick out at these speeds, but Todd knew the crowd had their eyes upon him.
“All right,” Dan said a few laps later. “Three more laps to go now. Brandon just passed the seventh-place car. Try not to let him rattle your cage.”
“You really think I should worry?” Todd asked.
“He’s got a good car,” Dan said, but it was more what Dan didn’t say that alerted Todd to trouble. Usually Dan would say something flip. The fact that he was all but warning him to keep his cool told Todd a great deal.
“Just let him try me,” Todd said, glancing in his mirror. The sun had started to set so it made seeing difficult, what with the glare off the windshield. All he saw were blurs of color that were cars in the distance. But he didn’t need to see the jerk. By the time Brandon caught up to him, everyone would be ready to pit. The jerk wouldn’t have time to catch him.
Or so he thought.
Todd didn’t know what setup they’d used in Brandon’s car, but it was better than his. The jerk was at his bumper in less than two laps, the familiar Fly For Less logo that was usually on Todd’s car glaringly bright.
“One more lap,” Dan said. “Leaders will pit in one.”
“Inside,” Todd’s spotter
said a second later.
Inside? What?
Brandon had to pit, too. What the hell was he doing challenging him with less than a lap—
Bam.
Todd felt the impact all the way to his toes. His foot actually jammed the accelerator before he lifted. When he glanced in his primary mirror, it was full of bright red bumper.
“That son of a—”
“Still there,” Phil, his spotter, said.
Yeah, and trying to push him into the wall.
“We’re coming in this lap,” Dan said, and Todd could hear the edge of panic in his voice. “Check up, Todd. Brandon’s got to come in, too.”
He didn’t want to check up. Damn it. They could enter pit road two wide.
But in the next instant he knew what Brandon was going to do.
“He’s trying to block me.”
“What?” Dan said.
“The guy’s trying to keep me out an extra lap.”
They were headed into Turn Three and Todd knew something had to give…and it sure wouldn’t be him.
You wanna play? Fine. We’ll play, Todd thought.
They entered the turn. Todd jerked the wheel.
It sounded like two freight trains collided.
His car shuddered. The blue front end jerked right. He held it steady, knowing he risked taking both of them out, but he was too angry to care.
“Still inside,” Phil said.
Well, duh. Todd could hear that. His left front wheel ground into Brandon’s door panel. Then, as suddenly as it started, the noise went away. Brandon had backed off.
Or had he?
The back end of Todd’s car lifted.
Son of a—
His car started to skid. It took every ounce of skill he possessed to keep from going into the wall, although how he didn’t touch it, he had no idea. His tires hit the debris field near the bottom of the concrete barrier. He felt his back end begin to slide, corrected, then felt it slip the other way. Left. Right. Left. Right. Around Turn Four he zoomed. Cars passed him. He glanced up, looked for the caution light.
No yellow.
Damn it.
“Where am I?” Todd asked, his heart pounding against his uniform.
“You’re all right,” Dan said in a soothing voice. “Just bring her in.”
If he could get there in time. He still clipped along at a good rate. The entrance to pit road came up fast—right at the exit of Turn Four. He checked his mirrors, pointed his nose toward the bottom of the track.
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