Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  I shifted my head down and took her nipple into my mouth again, rolling my tongue across it before sucking and nibbling on it as I pushed two fingers into her.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried out softly.

  I drew the two fingers out, running them up to moisten her clit before gently sliding them back into her again. I repeated the process, slowly teasing her as I continued to taste her skin. I was so fucking hard, wanting her so badly, but I needed to use this time to say a silent thank-you for everything she’d done to get me to Bathurst.

  I continued my slow torture—mine and hers—licking and caressing her skin with my mouth while my fingers moved deeper inside of her, until she was practically begging me to fuck her. I shifted my body weight so that I was hovering just millimetres above her, then I brought my lips back to her and kissed her delicately.

  She fought slightly to break her mouth away from mine, and in the darkness I could see something was troubling her. I sat back on my haunches, trying to ignore the erection that stood out proudly from my waist and the fact that my head smacked into the canvas of the tent and twisted it out of shape momentarily.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I just . . . well, I didn’t want anything to happen without warning you first.”

  I tilted my head in confusion. “Warning me about what?”

  “I know we talked about it, and were going to wait, but then the opportunity just came up a few days before we left, and I figured that maybe it was time to just do it, you know?”

  I chuckled. “No, I can honestly say that I don’t know.”

  I saw a flash of the white of her teeth as they captured the silky, slightly darker skin of her lips. “Mum forwarded a letter from my doctor last week. It was a follow-up to remind me that it was time for my annual Mirena check-up and, well, I figured why not get it removed while I was there.” She was whispering by the time she’d finished her sentence.

  “Really?” I could barely believe what she was saying. Was she saying . . .?

  “Yeah, but if you’ve changed your mind, I understand. We don’t have to . . . We’ll just have to use something else for protection.”

  I smiled brightly, even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to see me. I leaned forward over her again, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. I lined myself up with her entrance before kissing her softly.

  “I want to,” I murmured against her mouth.

  I pushed against her, moaning as I slid deeply into her. With her right below me, I could make out her features better, and I met her eyes. They communicated her feelings to me so clearly: fear, joy, and love. I tried to show the strength I felt in us.

  Knowing that we were utterly unprotected and leaving an element of our lives completely up to fate was scary, but as I moved inside of her, it felt so right. I knew the chances made it unlikely that we would conceive that night, but it was a possibility. If we were that lucky, who knew . . . maybe the magic of Bathurst would run in the veins of our child.

  ALYSSA AND I had eventually dressed and snuck back into our caravan very late. I probably should have tried to be in bed earlier, but I figured it probably didn’t matter, because I would most likely have just lain awake, unable to sleep anyway. Hunter’s words might not have been haunting me, but the upcoming race was.

  We woke begrudgingly when the alarm went off well before dawn and, after a light breakfast, headed back to the track for the final preparations.

  We messed around in the pits, changing all of the parts for a fresh run, until it was time for Dane and me to go to the final drivers’ meeting. Every second that passed, the nerves in my stomach built. Hunter was remarkably silent throughout the meeting, but bailed me up afterwards, just as we were passing the Sinclair Racing pits.

  “I see you’re still up to your old tricks after all, squirt.”

  I tried to ignore him and continued walking.

  “I mean the late-night, pre-race booty call thing didn’t work that well for you last year; you still crashed out after all.”

  I gritted my teeth but kept moving.

  “The chick last night was a bit of a fucking screamer though, wasn’t she? I swear I heard her from my hotel.”

  I tried to put his words out of my mind—I knew he was just trying to psych me out—but it was hard when he was talking about Alyssa so disrespectfully. He definitely knew that Alyssa was my weak spot.

  “If you’ve changed your mind, I understand.” He had put on a horrid, nasally, whiny voice which sounded absolutely nothing like my Alyssa, but I froze as I recognised her words. “What the hell is a Mirena anyway?”

  I turned, ready to swing, but froze when I saw Danny standing a short distance away behind Hunter. I decided to try to shrug it off. I needed to stop letting the fucker get under my skin. I realised that there was only one way he could have possibly heard that part of the conversation.

  “At least I have a red-hot woman I can have booty calls with rather than having to skulk around in the darkness, living vicariously through others.”

  He gaped for a moment, and I took the opportunity to stab at him again.

  “It must be such a sad, lonely existence you live,” I jibed, trying to get him to bite while Danny was watching and listening. As I’d anticipated, he swung at me, and I ducked easily out of the way.

  Danny took that moment to announce his presence by clearing his throat, and Hunter whirled around quickly.

  I stood triumphant. Danny had finally borne witness to one of Hunter’s calculated attacks on me. I realised it wouldn’t change much in the short term; whatever had bound Danny’s hands about the photos wouldn’t change for some time—maybe the end of the season, maybe the duration of the contract.

  “Hunter, don’t you have a race to prepare for?” he asked, clearly intending it as a dismissal.

  Hunter looked like he was going to argue, but wisely, and disappointingly, kept his mouth shut.

  “Declan,” Danny said, reaching out his hand to shake mine. “Good luck out there today.”

  I shook his hand, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You’re going to need it,” Hunter muttered under his breath.

  Danny had clearly heard and quickly asked, “You don’t think Declan can do it?”

  Hunter scoffed. “He’s a privateer. They never win.”

  “Yes, he’s a privateer, indeed. In a well-sponsored, well-maintained Sinclair Racing car. I think he has as much chance as anyone else.”

  I couldn’t help the way my spine straightened a little as I listened to the faith Danny was showing in me.

  “So long as he doesn’t crash the car.” Hunter snickered. His eyes flicked to me and somehow I just knew he was referring to Morgan’s crash rather than my own. His words from the previous day came back to me, and I grew worried again about whether he had some sort of master plan.

  “Why don’t we make it interesting?” I said, surprising even myself when I spoke.

  “What are you suggesting, Declan? Some sort of wager?” Danny asked with his eyebrow raised. “You know putting money on the outcome is illegal.”

  “I’m not talking about money.” I don’t know where the idea had come from, but it was snowballing. I could finally see an easy way to be rid of Hunter for good, and all I had to do was what I was planning on doing anyway. “If I crash out of the race, I’ll quit Sinclair Racing, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  Hunter’s mouth lifted into a sick smile. He took far too much enjoyment out of the idea, which made me more concerned that I was right in my thinking—he wanted to try to force me to crash, just like he had done to Morgan.

  “And if you don’t?” Danny asked, egging me on.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, carefully measuring my words. “What’s it worth to you, Hunter?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not betting on the race.”

  I could tell he wanted to, but perhaps he didn’t want to play his hand just yet. Not in front of Danny.

 
“Aw, come on, Hunt,” I said his name in such a way that it rhymed with the word I really wanted to call him. “It’s your chance to get rid of me.” I winked at him.

  There was a crowd gathering around us. I could see both my and Hunter’s crews lining up to watch our exchange. I knew that if we made the bet—which technically had no legal standing—the loser wouldn’t be able to welch without facing some serious repercussions and embarrassment around the company. “Or do you want to admit that you know I’m good enough to get around every single lap without incident.”

  “Fine. If you actually manage to finish the race, then I’ll leave Sinclair Racing.”

  “Looks like we have something extra to race for,” Danny said, meeting my eye and letting me know that he meant something extra for me to race for.

  If everything went to plan, I was going to be back on the Sinclair Racing team as a ProV8 driver, and Hunter would be gone.

  For good.

  SITTING ON the grid felt eerily similar to the last start I’d had in a V8; except instead of being in pole position, I had ten cars lined up ahead of me. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to get centred in the last few moments before it was time to go.

  My team had done everything possible to get the car to where it needed to be. The car was running the best times we could expect. Now, it would all come down to strategy, pit stops, and driving, and there was only one of those things I could control.

  With my eyes closed, I reflected on that fateful race just one year ago and how different it was to the one I was about to run, even though it was the same event. Back then, I’d been avoiding Alyssa. I hadn’t known about Phoebe and Emmanuel. In fact, children had been so far from my agenda that they hadn’t even been a blip on my radar. I’d been miserable and haunted, and completely unable to admit it to anyone—including myself. When I raced back then, it was because it was the only thing I had left in my life, and I hadn’t even been able to do it properly.

  Now, things were drastically different.

  In comparison, I thought back to the little fist-bump Phoebe had given me moments before I climbed into the car. “Good luck, Daddy,” she’d practically shouted as I put my HANS device and helmet on. Then she’d blown me a kiss through the netting.

  I closed my hand into a fist around the wheel, delighting in the feel of my wedding band pressing into my finger underneath the hard gloves, as it reminded me that I belonged to Alyssa.

  Whatever else happened, I had my family now.

  Racing wasn’t my whole life any longer; it was just something I enjoyed doing. Hopefully, I would be able to kick some arse and show everyone that I was no longer lost. I wasn’t just making a comeback, I was stronger than ever.

  I opened my eyes and watched as the marshals cleared the track of all personnel.

  “It’s nearly time,” Morgan told me through my headset. “You ready for this, squirt?”

  I gave him the thumbs-up.

  “The commentators want to talk to you if you’re willing.”

  “That’s fine,” I murmured into my mic. I would have preferred some more alone time to meditate, but I no longer needed to cling to my old superstitions and rituals. I could forge new ones, like spending the night before every race with Alyssa, Phoebe’s little fist bumping against mine, or wearing the custom helmet Alyssa had designed for my birthday.

  A moment after I had given my approval, I heard three voices discussing the start of the race and waited patiently to be addressed.

  “It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen our guest on the ProV8 circuit. Let’s check in and see what he’s up to. We’ve got Declan Reede talking to us from the starting grid now. How are you feeling, Reede?”

  “Pumped. I’m just really excited to get out there and do what I can.”

  “You’ve had a very tumultuous year and haven’t been in a ProV8 since Bathurst last year. Not only that, but you’re racing as a privateer so are doing this all without the backing of the Sinclair Racing team. It seems there is a lot going against you. Do you think that’s going to hurt your chances today?”

  Arseholes. I should’ve anticipated the negativity in their question as soon as Morgan had said they wanted to talk to me. Way to kill the mojo. “All I can do is go out there and give it everything I have. I’ve spent a lot of time getting myself and my priorities sorted out so that I don’t have a repeat of last year.”

  I heard them talking about my crash and listened to the crunching of metal in the archive footage—the fucking vultures must have had it keyed up, ready to go, long before they knew I would mention it.

  “Well, everyone up here is excited to see you back. We’re behind you and Kent all the way. Best of luck to you, Reede.”

  “Thanks.”

  The three commentators left me there, because the race was close to starting. They began talking amongst themselves regarding the star power that Dane Kent brought to my car. I heard a few more sentences about how the fans were rooting for my comeback even though I’d had six months of crashes leading up to my disappearance from the ProV8 circuit.

  The connection was finally cut, and I was left to the sounds emanating from the car.

  I hoped I could live up to their expectations.

  I hoped I could live up to mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: RACE YOU

  I ALLOWED MYSELF one second of solitude and shut my eyes.

  I pressed my foot against the pedal, pushing it deep onto the floor, and listened to the angry snarl that issued from the beast that encased me. The perfect roar of the engine blocked out all other sounds and left me momentarily in peace with my thoughts. Memories of Alyssa and Phoebe danced in my mind. Images of a new addition—a tiny bundle swaddled in yellow, lying lovingly in Alyssa’s arms—began to tempt me, fitting perfectly into our existing family.

  My lips lifted at the picture my mind had offered up. A familiar sound broke me from my reverie and my eyes snapped open; it was time to go.

  Ride on instinct.

  Don’t think.

  Don’t overthink.

  You know what needs to be done. Just do it.

  I can do this.

  I will do this.

  I only needed to make it through one thousand kilometres without crashing. It didn’t matter where I finished, just that I did.

  Easy.

  I got away cleanly from the starting line, and launched quickly to the left. As soon as I spotted the gap, I weaved my way through the cars to instantly claim two places. My radio blared to life almost immediately with Morgan congratulating me but warning of an incident in front of me. The first corner had claimed a casualty or two, just as it did every year, but there was no safety car, so whoever was involved must have been able to keep racing.

  My ears pricked up when Morgan mentioned Hunter’s name. I wasn’t sure if he was the instigator or whether he’d just been caught up, but he’d brushed against the wall. I smiled as I imagined Danny cursing in his trailer.

  It didn’t take me long to settle back into rhythm with the car. It was just like dancing with a long-lost lover. No matter how long I’d been away from the game, I would never forget how to bend the car to my control.

  My fingers danced across the instruments. Up. Down. Clutch. Accelerator. Brake. One, two, three, four. Hard to the left. Up Mountain Straight. Hard to the right. Through the cutting and Reid Park. Past McPhillamy and into Skyline. The road fell away underneath me, and then I was floating through the S bends into the Dipper. A soft right, followed by a hard left around Forrest Elbow and then I was flying down Conrod Straight grinning like a lunatic.

  I knew the racetrack like the back of my hand, and I was using every bit of that knowledge and my newfound confidence to my advantage.

  I passed the start/finish line and it flashed away beneath me.

  I smiled again, imagining Alyssa’s eyes resting on the car as I raced past the pits.

  One lap down; 160 to go.

  AT LAP thirty-six, a safety car was called
so I took the opportunity to pit. After I’d climbed from the car and seen Dane away safely, I grabbed a bottle of water and settled in behind Morgan to watch the race on the monitors we had. There were less of them than in the Sinclair Racing camp, but it was enough for us. I could see what was happening around Dane, and I could see everyone else’s track position.

  I watched as Dane used the space I’d earned to push the car faster and faster.

  “You two make a great team,” Morgan murmured.

  “Almost as good as you and I would have been if we could’ve raced together again.”

  “Aww, you getting all mushy on me there, Deccy-boy?” Morgan made kissing noises until I punched his shoulder to shut him up. A few of the pit crew laughed until I shot them a warning glare.

  “Just keep your eye on Kent and make sure he doesn’t crash that car, will you?” I chided Morgan, half-jokingly.

  Alyssa, Phoebe, and Mum were hanging around behind the pits. I waved them in with a smile before downing another mouthful of water.

  “You’re going really—” Alyssa started to talk, but I pressed my finger against her lips to silence her.

  “Don’t jinx me,” I warned.

  Alyssa laughed and kissed my fingertips lightly. She then clasped my hand, holding it tightly as she stood beside me while we watched Dane complete lap after lap.

  He pitted once, and I focused on the crew as they flew around the car, changing tyres, brakes, and adding extra fuel. I saw Dane give me a thumbs-up through the window and stared after him with renewed excitement as he drove away to complete the last laps of his day. I was going to take the reins back for the last fifty or so laps.

  He came in just before lap 110 to hand the car over to me. I couldn’t have been happier with the way things were going when he patted me on the back as we changed over.

  “Go get ’em,” he whispered softly just before securing the netting and shutting the door.