Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  I growled at his retreating form. His comment pushed me past my limit, and it was all I could do to stop myself from charging after him. Between the late nights we were pulling to get the cars ready in time and my inability to sleep without nightmares, I was a fucking mess.

  The months I’d spent with Alyssa had spoiled me with mostly restful nights, and even when I hadn’t been able to sleep, at least I could find peace knowing my girls were safe and well. But it wasn’t like that now. Being away from Alyssa was hurting like hell. The stolen minutes on the phone when the time zones aligned just weren’t enough to cut it for me. Worse, for over twenty-four hours, she hadn’t answered on any line and no one would tell me where the fuck she was.

  On the Friday of the race meeting, I was awake far too early once again. Even though it was the first day of qualifying, and I needed to have my head in the game, a series of nightmares had woken me up once again just like they had the rest of the week.

  Knowing there was little to do at the hotel, I went to the track early, eager to just throw myself into the day and my work. The more I did that, the faster time would go and the sooner I’d be back home.

  I’d been there for a little over an hour, just messing around in the pits, when noises started to fill the space around me. Something small barrelled into my legs. After buckling forward with the weight, I looked down, startled. When I did, I thought maybe I’d gone crazy because what I saw looking back at me was a mini-Alyssa. A near-perfect replica, but with sparkling turquoise eyes.

  “Daddy!” the vision in a pink sundress squealed.

  Bending down, I picked her up, hoping for the life of me that my mind hadn’t snapped and that I wasn’t accosting some poor stranger’s child.

  I looked up in the direction that she’d hit me from and saw Alyssa standing back, watching me. It looked like she was itching to run to me too, but was holding back for some reason. She wasn’t dressed as provocatively as in my dreams and nightmares, but fuck if she wasn’t shit-hot. I smiled at her, still uncertain that it wasn’t just a dream. That seemed to break whatever bond was holding her back and she sprung at me.

  I held Phoebe securely on one hip while I pulled Alyssa close to me, breathing in her scent. It was heaven. Absolute fucking heaven. I spent a few minutes just setting the moment in my memory.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked when I had finally convinced myself it wasn’t a dream.

  “Danny flew us over. He even pulled some strings with Pembletons to have me here on official business so that I didn’t need to take the time off unpaid. Apparently, someone has been a little disruptive. For some reason, he thought I’d be a calming influence on the team. Any idea why?” She pulled back and raised her eyebrow at me.

  My lips curled upward and I chuckled. “None at all.”

  Phoebe wrapped her arms tighter around my neck and squeezed. It was fucking awesome. I grabbed Alyssa’s hand and the three of us did a walkthrough of my “office” in pit lane. When we got to my station, I placed Phoebe on the ground and showed her some of the tools I used before promising to let her sit in one of the cars later. As the rest of the crew began to gather, I pulled Alyssa aside and thanked her for coming. I reacquainted myself with my fiancée while we watched our daughter dance around in excitement. With the two of them so close, the pain and heartbreak of the previous week became nothing more than a bad memory.

  Not even Hunter could ruin my good mood.

  At least as long as I could keep Alyssa and Phoebe away from him.

  Easy.

  Within half an hour, Hazel had come by to whisk Alyssa and Phoebe away again. It didn’t matter too much though, because just the knowledge that they were nearby was enough to force everything else into focus. They were all the good reasons I was in the pits, after all.

  The rest of the trip was uneventful, and Hazel’s impromptu adoption of Alyssa meant I didn’t need to have half of my thoughts on whether Hunter could be going near them. I could just relax and enjoy the last of my overseas adventure.

  CHAPTER NINE: PRACTISE RUN

  I WAS SUITED up and ready . . . almost.

  Regardless, I climbed into the car and prepared mentally for the run. I tried not to think of how quickly the days were disappearing or about the fact that it was only Thursday, which marked the halfway point between leaving Alyssa and Phoebe and when I’d be able to see them again.

  Being away from home once more was harder than I’d imagined. I hadn’t anticipated how much time I would spend away during the season. It hadn’t even occurred to me before how much I’d travelled for my job. It never mattered to me whether or not I was in Sydney. I was either in Sydney with a random girl or at a hotel with another; it ultimately made no difference. But since Alyssa returned to my life, and introduced me to the joy of a family—to Phoebe—every minute I spent away from the house was a noticeable ache.

  It had nearly driven me insane while I was overseas, or at least it had until they were back in my arms. Then when we’d arrived back in Australia, I wasn’t even home for a week—a crazy week with long hours in the sheds at Sinclair Racing, rebuilding the cars—before it was time to head off for Adelaide for the meet.

  Rather than an empty house, takeaway food, and random fucking in-between race meets, it was filled with games, laughter, and healthy food. How the fuck had I not realised what I was missing? At least until I’d had to leave them—again. Packing up and leaving them alone every couple of weeks was already getting fucking old and the season had only just started.

  It was an important race for so many reasons. Not only was it the first Australian leg of the ProV8 calendar, it was the first round of the Micro Challenge. Which meant it was the first official round where I was racing again.

  I can do this.

  My hands shook as I thought about what happened next. It was fucking ridiculous how nervous I was. It wasn’t like I was rolling out in a beast of a machine that had to be wrestled under control. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t driven the red Mini before—after all, I’d had a couple of practise laps while Liam and the boys tuned it. But somehow getting ready to lead it out onto the racetrack, even if it was just for the practise session, made it all different.

  It’s easy. Just a matter of accelerate, brake, and turn the wheel.

  It’s not hard . . . I’ve done it a million times before.

  Yeah, but not in a Mini, a snarky part of my brain countered. I tried to tell it to fuck off, but it had already instilled doubt—the self-hatred bubbled through my body and threatened to derail my ability to drive a fucking car. It was as though downsizing the car had also downsized my confidence. I may as well have been back in karts for all the power the Mini would deliver.

  I edged the car down through the paddock and lined up with the other racers. Moments later, the gates were opened, and we all took to the track for the first of the practise sessions. As I drove through the turns, I tried desperately to get comfortable in the car; its compact size took some getting used to every time I jumped in. Not that I’d had the luxury of space in the V8 even with its larger cabin, but the Mini had almost as many gadgets with only half the room.

  Drawing down a breath, and adjusting myself in the seat, I tried to keep my mind on the positives as I drove.

  One, I was back in a car.

  Two, I was racing professionally again.

  Three, if the worst happened, and I wrecked the car, it wouldn’t break the bank—or more to the point, Danny’s pocket. The whole thing could probably be replaced for less than the cost of a single panel or component on the ProV8.

  During the first few laps, I prepared myself mentally for being back on the track, and that I would soon be under race conditions. This time it was only a twenty-minute practise session. Over the next few days, it would progress into qualifying before finally entering into the first three races of my new life.

  As I got a few laps under my belt, I began to picture Alyssa and Phoebe in my mind. Instead of fighting off the ima
ges like I had done the last time I was in a car, I embraced them. I wrapped my girls tightly in my thoughts and used it to spur me on to greater things. I pictured Alyssa smiling by my side as I climbed the podium. I imagined the greeting I would get when she arrived with Phoebe on Saturday if I qualified in pole position, hoping it would involve some positioning of my pole in our hotel room after Phoebe was asleep.

  I made my way cleanly around the laps and began to get a better feel for the car. I knew the technical aspects because, over the past few months, I had stripped the engine down and learned everything I could about it. On top of that, I’d absorbed all the information I could from the various fact sheets about the series, but focused more on the specific car that Danny had put me in. I knew that despite its smaller size and engine, the Mini was only a couple of hundred kilograms lighter than the V8s I was used to handling. It was capable of producing just shy of one-sixty kilowatts of power, which seemed like nothing compared to the four-fifty the V8 could get. It was also shorter and had a higher centre of gravity than the V8, which made it easier to roll and harder to corner.

  But all the theoretical knowledge in the world couldn’t tell me that the Mini was a little more skittish around the corners or that I wouldn’t need to brake as early or as hard. In fact, some corners I barely needed to brush the brakes. I had to adjust my driving style, but it was nothing I couldn’t respond to quickly. I was made to drive, and ultimately it didn’t matter what fucking vehicle someone wanted to shove me in. I was nothing if not adaptable.

  Fifteen minutes into the session, I actually found myself disappointed by the fact that there were only five more minutes of practise left. Despite all of my fear and concern over the Mini, driving it around the track was actually fun. The pressure for a win wasn’t as great as in the ProV8, especially considering there were no corporate sponsors for my car.

  Although I still would have killed to be behind the wheel of the bigger cars, in the Mini I could just drive for the enjoyment of driving. And it was fucking enjoyable.

  To make matters even better, the ProV8 division didn’t begin practise or qualifying until the following day. Technically, it meant the drivers weren’t required at the track, which meant no Hunter.

  Morgan was unique though, and came in regardless. He always liked to be there with his crew to help set up the pits and, of course, he wanted to be there to give me shit about the Mini.

  I pulled the car off the track and followed the procession of cars into the pits. Our pits were located toward the back of the paddock, in one single tent way behind the ProV8s, reflecting our lower status on the race circuit. But I didn’t care. Nothing could bring me down from the high I felt after taking control of the Mini so effectively.

  There was one more practise session later in the afternoon to get the feel of the car down, and then qualifying started the following day. I was determined to nail the techniques in the next session, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to be in pole position at the end of it.

  That was my goal for the weekend. Well, that and winning the round, of course. I fucking knew I could do it. It felt fucking fantastic being back on the track, and nothing could stop me. It was like gasoline had replaced the blood that pumped through my body.

  “Man, you owned that car!” Morgan enthused, slapping me on the back as I unzipped my race suit.

  Once I had air circulating, I removed my helmet and balaclava and ran my fingers though my hair to shake out a little of the sweat. I’d been having so much fun out in the car that I hadn’t even realised just how hot it was inside the cabin. I grabbed the cold, wet towel Morgan held out for me and wiped my brow down, ran the towel over my hair, and then wrapped it around my neck so the water could drip down into my fire suit.

  “You think?” I asked as I reached for the water bottle and drank deeply. I hadn’t looked at my times; I hadn’t been concentrating on racing per se, just on getting a feel for the car and the track. Excitement over the weekend bubbled inside me, and a smile naturally radiated onto my face.

  Morgan watched me for a moment, and then chuckled before shaking his head. “Man, you don’t even realise how fucking much you’ve changed, do you?”

  I stood stoic for a second before answering. “Actually, man, I think I do.”

  Morgan nodded briefly. A second of silence passed before we got over the girly shit and started discussing the car again. “Watching you shake the shit out of this thing around the corners really had me wishing I was out there with you. It looked like a hell of a lot of fun.”

  “It was a hell of a lot of fun.” I grinned widely. “In fact, I’m sure I could talk Danny into putting you in one too. Maybe the team can ditch the V8s altogether,” I teased.

  He laughed. “It looked like fun, but not enough that I’d give up my V8.”

  I punched his arm. “I fucking hear you, bro. I know which car I’d rather be in.”

  “Oh, that has to be the Mini, right?” He laughed.

  I laughed with him. “Definitely. It’s the Mini all the way.”

  “Sparky,” Calem called to me from the back of the pits. He and Ryan had volunteered to be my pit crew under Mia’s watchful eye. It knocked a few extra hours off their apprenticeships while also giving them the opportunity to work with another type of car and a different engine.

  “Yeah?” I replied.

  “The boss man is looking for you. He came by while you were on the track and said to send you to the trailer when you were done here.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, man.”

  I stripped off the top half of my race suit, securing it around my waist before pulling off my undershirt. The cool air and warm sun felt good against my bare skin. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling while I had a little more water to rehydrate myself. Eventually, I felt refreshed enough to face Danny. I quickly ducked into the back of the pits, grabbed a t-shirt, and slipped it on. I spent half a minute trying to tame my hair before giving up and allowing it to stick up in long wet spikes as I walked off to see Danny.

  I wandered over to the trailer, trying not to stress about the call-up. I knew from experience that Danny would just be interested in finding out what I thought about the car. He regularly saw drivers after their races, especially the first few times in a new car.

  I knocked on the door of his room in the trailer. He called out his permission for me to enter and I stepped into his home away from home at race events. He treated the room as his office, so much so that at any given moment during a meet, he would either be in the trailer or in the pits. One wall was lined with monitors. Some showed the racetrack from various angles, others were continually updated with the in-car telemetry during a race. The last one in the bank was permanently tuned to the weather channel. He liked to keep his finger on the pulse of the team, and the information provided by those screens allowed him to do it and make all the necessary calls on the fly.

  “So?” he asked, turning to face me before leaning forward on his desk to steeple his fingers over his mouth.

  “So?” I queried back, raising an eyebrow at him. I was being a smart-arse, forcing him to ask the question, but I couldn’t help it. I was still on a high from being back on the track and the fun of hurtling the Mini around the corners at reckless speeds.

  “How was that session?”

  “It doesn’t have the boogie of a ProV8,” I said seriously, my face set into a frown. “It corners like a freight train.”

  He raised his eyebrow at me and waited.

  “And the cabin is too small.”

  My statement was met with a stoic glare.

  I decided to end the joke and grinned at him. “It was a fuckload of fun.”

  “So I presume by that reaction that you aren’t taking this seriously?” he asked, his face impassive and his voice cold.

  My heart fell a little as my body stiffened with fear. I’d been having a little fun with him, the way we used to, but maybe it was too soon. Maybe he would never be that carefree with me again. Had
I fucked up with my little attempt at a joke?

  Just as my thoughts began to descend into a full-blown panic, he laughed.

  “Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter, Declan,” he joked. “I’m glad you had fun out there. Just remember that this is still ultimately about winning the races.”

  Relief flooded me and I slumped into a more relaxed position. “Absolutely. Truth be told, I can’t wait to get out there and kick some arse.”

  He smiled. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Really?” I smirked.

  “I just wanted to give you a little added . . . incentive,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to offer you a sweetener.” He watched me carefully to ensure I was paying attention.

  “Go on,” I murmured, eager to find out what he was going to offer.

  “I’m going to give you a bonus each time you place.” He slid across a piece of paper with the details on it.

  I nodded. It wasn’t anything new really. There had always been a bonus system in place for winning a V8 race. Of course, the bonuses he was offering now looked paltry in comparison to those, but I understood that. The Micro Challenge wasn’t as big a drawcard as the ProV8s—to the crowds or the sponsors—so the money didn’t flow as freely. Especially considering the lack of formal sponsors on my car.

  “And if you claim pole twice between now and Townsville, I’ll give you three flights and access to my unit in London for your honeymoon. If you want it, of course.”

  I thought about earning the opportunity to take Alyssa back to the unit and fucking her in the bedroom again . . . or on the cold steel of the counter in the kitchen. I was thankful that the knot of my race suit was low enough to hide the fact that I was straining against the zipper.

  Just thinking about the intoxicating taste of the whiskey-and-Alyssa cocktail that I’d enjoyed there made me hard, and my mouth watered. I was certain Alyssa would love a do-over of our time in London. A chance to make right all the things we’d done wrong, and to repeat all the things we’d done right. I quickly calculated my chance of success. There were four rounds before our wedding. Two poles from four starts. I was certain I could do it, which was why I grinned at Danny and offered him my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”