Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  It took me a moment or two to get used to the car. I noticed a few things in my first lap. For example, I had to brake much earlier than I did in the Mini—I realised that very quickly when I took my first corner much too fast and almost ended the weekend long before it had even started.

  In exchange, I could accelerate out of the corners faster, which came in handy, although it meant I had to be in the correct racing position that much earlier.

  After a lap or two though, I’d found my groove again. My fingers danced across the steering wheel almost as if they’d never been parted from it. My hand jerked through the gears with practised precision. Up. Down. Clutch. Accelerator. Brake. It was a familiar dance with a favourite partner.

  Hard to the left, rein in the car with the brakes, and then accelerate hard up Mountain Straight. Hard to the right, roar through the cutting and Reid Park before racing past McPhillamy and into Skyline.

  Despite the year that had passed since my last time around this track at this speed, I’d not forgotten the view as I neared the top of the mountain. I took one quick look to calm me, and then I focused back on the car and feeling the way it responded to my touch as I fell through the S bends and into the Dipper. I barely braked for the soft right then jumped down on the pedal before the hard left around Forrest Elbow.

  I hit the accelerator hard the moment I was free, and was zooming down Conrod Straight in next to no time.

  I couldn’t force the smile off my face the whole way around the track. Morgan’s voice squawked over my radio regularly, letting me know how the car looked from the outside.

  As we got further into the session, I couldn’t help having a little fun and ribbing him in reply, telling him that his fiancée’s voice was much sweeter in my ears.

  When I came in, there was a fifteen-minute window for me to brief Dane about the car, and then I was sitting on the edge of the track watching him drive my money—my family’s future—around the track. I finally knew how Danny felt every time I had taken to the track, especially in that last six months.

  I probably owed him another apology.

  Or six.

  “WE’RE GETTING great times,” Morgan enthused, reading the in-car telemetry reports together with the official lap times.

  “And without getting a single scratch on the car,” Alyssa said, winking at me.

  I grinned.

  “Great job today, everyone!” Dane enthused. It was clear he’d missed being on the track more than he probably ever admitted to himself. After all, he’d retired on his terms—while he was in front. He definitely wasn’t past his prime. In fact, some of the current drivers had at least ten years on him. Not to mention he was pumping out lap times that easily matched my own, and were pretty darn close to being on par with the forerunners in the race.

  I couldn’t help but grin at him too. I considered myself to be lucky to have scored him in my car, despite him being retired.

  “Speaking of which,” Alyssa murmured before continuing much louder, “whatever result we get in qualifying tomorrow, we’re having a team dinner to celebrate. After all, we’re here. We’re at Bathurst.”

  A round of cheers broke out among our motley crew.

  “Our shout, of course,” Alyssa continued. “To say thank you to all of you for the hard work you’ve put in to get us here.”

  A little while later, we’d broken up for the night, each heading off to do our own thing, ready to reconvene early Friday morning. Alyssa instructed me that because there was nothing more I could do to organise or plan, I wasn’t allowed to stress about anything else. She and Mum had apparently been busy arranging dinner and they’d somehow managed to organise a roast in the shit-arse tiny little caravan oven. The women in my life never ceased to amaze me.

  Midway through our meal, Morgan arrived to talk strategy.

  “Sure, man.” I laughed. “As if you didn’t just smell this fuck-awesome meal and want to join in.”

  Alyssa slapped my arm lightly. “Language,” she hissed quietly, shooting a pointed look at Phoebe.

  I shot her a smirk in the form of an apology and helped myself to another serve of potatoes. I told myself it was because I needed to carbo-load, but the truth was they were just that fucking delicious that I couldn’t get enough of them. I’d forgotten how great Mum’s home cooking was.

  Alyssa had more manners than I did and invited Morgan to join us. I think he thought about it for all of two seconds before accepting. We ran through our race plan once more, based on the information given in the drivers’ briefing, but then the conversation flowed naturally on to other things; like my plans for his bucks’ party.

  Alyssa and Eden had already vetoed any plans for us to strip at Eden’s hen night. Instead, I was planning something special for Morgan, and he was going crazy not knowing what it was. I saw Alyssa giving me a knowing smile, because, well, she did know what it was.

  Eden had already roped Alyssa into helping organise the wedding because Alyssa was her closest female friend. I think that made her the matron of honour or some shit, but I tended to go into a bit of a trance when the girls started talking about wedding garbage. I’d been there, done that, and never had to go through it again, so it was all wasted information for me.

  After dinner, Eden came in search of Morgan, so we invited her in to stay for a while too.

  The conversation was easy and the night held no stress. I wondered whether Alyssa had planned it that way, but I had no way of knowing for sure. All I knew was that by the time Eden and Morgan left and Phoebe was in bed, I’d had no time to panic about what might happen the next day, which was a good thing.

  I needed to stay out of my own head in order to stay sane.

  Alyssa invited me to go for a walk in the evening air. Never one to miss an opportunity for some alone time with my wife, I agreed readily. We grabbed our jumpers and headed out into the dark.

  I wrapped my arm around Alyssa’s shoulders as we wandered aimlessly around the campsite. A number of people recognised me, some shouted out in support, others gave a call of gentle ribbing—clearly they were Ford fans—and a few even came up to ask for my autograph.

  “I wanna be able to say I was there to witness your triumphant return,” one bloke said to me as I signed his shirt.

  Just as she had so long ago when I’d been swamped at Dreamworld, Alyssa stood back and took it all in stride. I remembered what she had pointed out to me then—that my messy little pen marks made people happy. It definitely made the idea of autograph hounds seem less predatory and actually made me relax and enjoy the process a little more. These people cared whether I drove or not. It mattered to them, which made it matter all the more to me.

  Eventually, our walk took us out of the more crowded areas, and we were able to find some alone time.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done to get me here,” I murmured as I pulled her closer to me.

  She rested her head against my chest. “I’ve actually really enjoyed doing it. More than I ever thought possible. Thank you for giving me the push I needed to do it.”

  “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. I’m sure getting the opportunity to boss me around helps.” I chuckled.

  “Oh, definitely.” She laughed. “That’s the best perk.”

  I guided her chin up so she was looking at me. “You can order me around some more right now if you like,” I murmured, with more than a hint of lust in my voice.

  She whimpered softly as I captured her mouth, effectively stopping her from being able to issue any orders. My tongue met hers. Despite having incredibly intimate knowledge of her body and soul, I was always willing to explore some more.

  After we’d broken apart for some oxygen, I rested my forehead against hers. “It’s a dream come true.”

  “All this?” She indicated the camping ground and track behind us.

  “No, you. Well, you and Phoebe. My life now. Just all of it. This . . .” I grinned at her and inclined my head in the direction she’d indicate
d. “This is just the icing on the cake.”

  “I love you, Declan,” she said. As if there were any doubt.

  “I love you too, baby.”

  I kissed her again, and she shivered against me. As much as I would have loved to strip her down and fuck her silly while we had time alone and without any other pressing matters, I knew it was too cold for me to do that.

  FRIDAY MORNING passed in much the same fashion as Thursday had. A few more tweaks, a little fine-tuning, and driving around the track with the utmost care. Alyssa schmoozed with the sponsors a little and we all had plenty of team photos taken.

  Despite not being part of the official Sinclair Racing outfit, there always seemed to be at least one member of their staff hanging around in our pits. More often than not, it was Eden, but once or twice it was Liam or Mia.

  Finally, it was Friday afternoon and it was time for the qualifying laps. During the practise sessions, I’d been relatively easy on the car, testing the waters so to speak, but for qualifying I had to go out as if I were under race conditions. I had to work out what my best was, and then go one better.

  I slid the HANS device over my head before placing my helmet on over the top. The butterflies in my stomach were dive-bombing around as I climbed into the car. I closed my eyes for a tiny moment. As much as I had enjoyed wielding a wrench for Liam, it was nothing compared to the feeling of euphoria that was building within me, knowing that I was moments away from changing my life. I put the netting up on the window and gripped the steering wheel tightly. I pulled the straps on the racing harness tight, and was utterly unable to help the fact that I was grinning like a schoolboy.

  Once Morgan had called out the all-clear into his mic, I started the car. I hummed contently as I listened to the purr of the engine. My mouth was dry due to my anticipation, so I took a deep drag on my water line. Nothing could beat the feeling of being in control of a V8—well . . . almost nothing.

  I thought back to early that day, to being with my girls as we prepared for the day at the track. Somewhere nearby, in the stands, they were watching, waiting for me to show the crowd that I was still able to do this. That despite rumours to the contrary, I wasn’t washed up. I revved the engine and the deep thrum that issued was like the sound of the gods.

  I edged forward from my pit before taking my time to get to the end of pit lane. It didn’t matter when I hit the track. All that mattered was I had twenty minutes to qualify. Twenty minutes to get my beast around the track as fast as I could. Twenty minutes to justify the faith Danny was putting in me for this meet, and the time and cost Alyssa and I had invested.

  I tried not to remind myself that the last time I had driven a ProV8—really driven, under race conditions and not just for track days or the practice laps the day before—was at last year’s Bathurst.

  As soon as I hit the end of pit lane, I slammed my foot to the floor and quickly made my way through the gears. I may have been a little rusty compared to how I’d once raced but at that moment, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was I was in a car again. I was racing again.

  I could almost feel Alyssa’s eyes burning into me as I pushed the car to the edge. I was trying everything I could to get the best time I could. I was desperate to make the Top 10 Shootout, if only to get the opportunity to have a practise run at the real race.

  Morgan’s voice issued regularly from my headphones, letting me know my current times. They were good, but they weren’t quite good enough. At least they were competitive though. I was showing everyone who was watching that I could still do it; I did still have it.

  There would be no more debates. I was earning my right to be on the track the only way I ever could, lap by lap, second by second.

  The end of qualifying was called, and I brought the car back into pit lane.

  Morgan raced over to me while I was getting out of my race gear, and I couldn’t help but grin widely at him.

  “Fuck, I missed that!” I exclaimed when he was near enough to hear me.

  “You looked good out there, man.” He whistled. “It made me want to be out there with you.”

  “Next year, we’ll both be out there, you just watch.”

  He grinned wickedly at me.

  “So?” I asked.

  “So, what?” He feigned innocence.

  “Put me out of my misery. How’d I do?”

  He winced. “Eleventh.”

  “Fuck!” I felt a stab of disappointment that I hadn’t made it into the Top 10 Shootout, but then I realised I’d qualified eleventh. Out of thirty-one cars, I’d finished eleventh fastest. I was in the top half of the field without big-team backing. “Eleventh!”

  “It puts us in decent standing for the race,” Morgan said soothingly, obviously not picking up on the change in my tone.

  Alyssa, Mum, and Phoebe all arrived a second later. I scooped Phoebe up in my arms and wrapped my arms around Alyssa. “Eleventh!” I whooped excitedly.

  “You’re silly, Daddy,” Phoebe squealed as I spun her around in my arms.

  “Nuh-uh,” I said. “I’m eleventh!”

  She giggled.

  Mum came up to me and gave me a gentle squeeze. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I blushed slightly before shrugging out of her grip. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also didn’t want the boys to see. It was bad enough having the reputation of being pussy-whipped, I didn’t need to add mama’s boy to that as well.

  We all spent the next hour celebrating the fact that we’d qualified in what was, for all intents and purposes, a very competitive position. Eventually, I had to go and see to some more of the official business before we were able to leave the track for the team dinner.

  When I arrived back in the pit, I hollered out a ten-minute warning for the maxi taxis I’d ordered to take us out.

  Everyone was gathered around moments later, including my pit boys who just two seconds earlier had been buried up to their necks under the bonnet of the car. I looked over and saw that the beast was all back together and closed up. It didn’t take them long to come running when food was mentioned.

  We found a nice little steakhouse close to the track and set up for a good night of fun and friendship. The conversation flowed rapidly around the table, but the booze didn’t. Everyone wanted to stay fresh for the weekend.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: FAITH

  SATURDAY WAS A relatively easy day. I basically stayed close to my girls other than when I was needed for another practise session or some media commitment. The autograph hounds were out in force, but I just signed what I could and hid away for a break whenever I desperately needed one.

  I watched wistfully from the sidelines as the Top 10 Shootout occurred. I could feel the excitement rolling through the tracks as all of the TVs showed the current leader and how their split times compared with the other competitors out on the track. I imagined being out there next year. Would I be racing under Sinclair Racing colours? They had two drivers, could they handle a third?

  Finally, the shootout was finished and the final results were in. We had our leader board ready for racing the next day. The big race. I kept thinking about the thousand kilometres that would change everything.

  Could I do it?

  Although I was secretly hoping for a surprise win, the realist in me knew it was unlikely. I thought about what I needed from the weekend and I realised it was simple. The only way I could exorcise my demons was to get around the track cleanly. I couldn’t crash out of this race, it was just far too important.

  I spent a few moments looking over the grid. Hunter Blake’s name was listed in third position. I felt the usual glee at Sinclair Racing starting in such a strong position mixed with the grief over it being Hunter who got them there.

  Between the anticipation of what was to come on Sunday and the nerves I felt over what I’d achieved so far, I was literally feeling ill.

  By the time the final drivers’ briefing rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. I listened as inten
tly as I could to all the information they were giving out, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. I bounced my leg nervously, desperate to be out of the cloying conditions of the tiny room filled with too many bodies.

  It wasn’t made any better when it ended and Hunter gave me a deathly sneer and whispered, “I’ll see you on the track, fucker. If you make it up the mountain.”

  I paused, realising that maybe he hadn’t been as stupid as I had thought. I began to imagine all sorts of scenarios that involved his car smashing into mine. I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was a chance he’d sent the pictures to Danny with some other purpose in mind.

  His words played over and over in my head, sending me into a dizzying spiral of negative thoughts. I couldn’t shake the worry that maybe I would end up like Morgan . . . or worse.

  Hunter’s words haunted me for all of about two seconds, because Alyssa, Mum, and Phoebe were waiting right outside of the door for me. Alyssa entwined her fingers around mine and told me that I wasn’t to worry about a single thing for the rest of the night.

  We had another quiet family dinner, low-key and calm. Just me and the women in my life.

  After dinner, and after we’d tucked Phoebe into bed, Alyssa whispered that she had a surprise for me. I followed her out of the caravan, and she led me through the camping ground to the same spot we’d stopped at a few nights ago; only there was now a small domed tent erected on the site.

  Alyssa gently pulled on my hand to move me forward, and we continued until we were almost on top of the tent. She bent down and began to undo the zip. “You looked like you wanted to do something more than talk when we were here the other night,” she murmured. “And, to be honest, so did I.”

  I quirked my eyebrow at her and licked my lips. There was no need to ask her what she meant, because it was written clearly in her eyes. I watched as she bent down and climbed in through the open tent flap, and then almost leapt in after her. Even with the excitement of racing and spending so much one-on-one—practically uninterrupted—time with her, I was so desperate for more. I turned and instantly zipped the tent back up.