For once, he wondered what his life would look like if he didn’t do what was expected of him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIOLET SAT HIGH up in the stands at the finish line. The best seats in the house, Austin told her, next to the Hulman Terrace Club tickets, which Josh had also provided. Austin liked being outside in the hot sun, but the air conditioning, VIP drinks and food in the Terrace Club had beckoned Katia once already.
Violet had worn a wide billed baseball cap that shielded her face, and a gauzy long-sleeved top with navy capris and navy beaded sandals. There was a light breeze that they all welcomed.
She was still amazed that she’d been given the nod from Trent to come to the race. But then, the 2:00 a.m. drug trafficking bust had been executed perfectly by the Indian Lake team. Every cop had followed orders. Set in their positions, it had been Violet’s call from across the street at the marina mini-mart parking lot that the silver Ford 450 had approached the boat warehouse. She had further noticed a second blue pickup truck.
Due to her diligence and alertness, Trent, Sal and Bob had been able to apprehend the drug dealers, arrest them and take them in. The entire shipment of heroin had been confirmed and confiscated.
The driver of the blue truck broke down after only two hours of interrogation and confirmed to Trent that he was an old member of the Le Grand gang. His new gang leader—Miguel Garcia.
Once again, Trent had congratulated Violet on her work.
He told her she’d earned the trip to the race.
Trent had also told her she was still “on duty,” and she was to report back to him via phone on Monday, Memorial Day.
The warehouse bust had emphasized to her how important it was that she do everything she could to bring down Miguel. These drugs were moving into Indian Lake like fast-flowing lava, and someone had to stop it. If it meant that Violet would lose her heart in the process, then so be it. Her duty was to the citizens of her town.
* * *
OF THE QUARTER of a million spectators watching from seats and another one hundred thousand in the infield, Violet guessed she was most likely the only person on duty.
Due to their prime seats, she rubbed shoulders with recognizable people from movies and television to sports stars.
After the national anthem was played by the Purdue All-American Marching Band, “Taps” was played. A US military aircraft performed a flyby. The announcer commemorated all those who had perished in combat and those who had perished in automobile racing.
Listening to the traditional words, Violet felt a chill sweep across her heart.
Not once since she’d met Josh had she thought he might die on the track.
Violet’s strong and ever-present intuition shot up her spine. Was it a warning?
She leaned forward and watched as the announcement was made.
“Drivers...to your cars!”
The drivers in their colorful jumpsuits dashed across the track to where their expensive race cars sat in their positions.
“There he is!” Austin pointed to Josh in a red-and-blue jumpsuit, covered with a jigsaw puzzle of corporate logos.
He waved to the crowd, his charismatic smile on his face, before getting into his car.
“Drivers! Start your engines!”
The roar of the cars revving caused Violet to slam her palms over her ears. She felt a rush of euphoric anticipation shoot through her body. Along with the crowd, she bolted to her feet. Austin cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting Josh’s name. Katia waved a red-and-blue flag that read: JOSH #1.
Violet didn’t know what to do. She felt odd cheering for him, knowing she was Josh’s guest while he was her mark.
Katia was still yelling Josh’s name. Austin was whistling.
Violet clapped and smiled, certain she was blending with the crowd. She couldn’t help wondering what was going on in Josh’s mind as he waited for the green flag to fall. Surely, he was exhilarated. Revved more than the engines. This race was unique. It took place on his home turf.
“They’re off!” Katia screamed as the flag dropped and the cars shot down the asphalt straightaway.
The first laps came at Violet fast. The race wouldn’t be over until the cars had executed two hundred laps. The winner would be that one car that would complete the five hundred mile distance in the shortest period of time. Even if Josh crossed the finish line first, he might not necessarily be the winner. All the finishers had to clock in with their hours, minutes and seconds.
From their vantage point under the covered seats high above the straightaway between the first and fourth turns, Violet felt as if she could fall straight into the car with Josh. After the first hour, it was clear to her that Josh could win. He hung back only a few seconds behind the front-runner, Chuck “Crash” Crain, so nicknamed because he’d been accused of causing two major crashes to insure his win, though the judges and race commission never filed a grievance against him.
“Take my binoculars,” Austin said, handing her a pair of Bushnells that she guessed were thirty years old.
“Thanks,” she said. “Family heirloom?”
“My dad’s.” He smiled and took Katia’s hand and kissed it.
“Here he comes again,” Katia said, pointing to the track.
Violet turned the glasses on Josh’s car. He was inching toward Crash. If she hadn’t had the binoculars, she would have missed the slight, though aggressive, swerve Crash made to the right, nearly missing Josh’s back right tire.
“Did you see that?” she gasped, lowering the binoculars.
“No, what?” Austin squinted as he looked at the cars.
“It looked like Crain was trying to run Josh off the track.”
“Again?” Austin reached for the binoculars.
“He’s done this before?”
Katia nodded. “Last year. But Josh won anyway.”
Violet swung her eyes back to Josh as the cars came back up the straightaway. “Somebody could get hurt!”
“Not Josh,” Austin said. “He’s too good.”
“The car might take a beating,” Katia said. “His car this year cost three million.”
The crowd cheered as the cars made the fourth turn. Austin leaned across Katia. “That’s nothing compared to the Formula One cars he races in Europe and South America.”
“What do they cost?”
Austin shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody really knows. It’s a well-kept secret, but I’ve heard that two hundred million is not out of the question.”
Violet’s jaw dropped. “Two...”
“Uh-huh. Formula One racing is all about the cars, not the driver. That’s why Josh likes this race. It’s a driver’s game.”
Katia shot to her feet. “Oh, good Lord! Austin!” She pointed at the track.
Violet was so caught up in her scenarios about Josh that she hadn’t paid attention to the race.
Then she saw it.
Pillars of smoke swirled from the back of Josh’s car. In a flash it looked as if the smoke had cocooned the entire vehicle.
“What’s going on?” Violet asked, realizing her mouth had gone dry with fear.
“His tire!” Austin shouted.
The people around them were on their feet, screaming, cursing, yelling.
Josh was in trouble.
The car came around the fourth turn, snapped loose and in the blink of an eye, hit the wall. The back right tire shot away from the car. More smoke filled the air. The car spun once then spun again.
Violet screamed, “Josh!”
Her hands covered her open mouth as she watched with terrified eyes while Josh struggled to steer the car across and down the track to the infield side of the track. The oncoming cars threatened to smash his vehicle and send it spinning again. Or worse, smash his car—and him—to pieces.
T
he other cars raced around the broken, smoking vehicle.
Then Violet saw flames.
“Oh no!”
Austin grabbed Katia’s hand. Katia took Violet’s hand.
“C’mon!”
They made their way out of the stands and down the aisle, almost running. Violet paid little attention to the chills that shot down her arms and across her skull. Her legs felt numb as she pumped them and raced down the steps to the concrete landing.
“Where will they take him?” Violet asked Austin.
“To the care center. I’ll show you.”
“I hope we’re not too late,” Katia said.
Violet’s heart raced faster than any Indy car. Too late?
Her intuition had sent her warnings just hours ago. This was one time she hoped she was wrong.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE CROWD GATHERED outside the medical center was deep, but Austin saw Josh’s manager, Harry Wilcox, on the other side of the paned glass window. Harry waved back.
Violet was just about to pull out her police badge from her purse, thinking they’d gain a quicker entrance, when Austin said, “Let’s go. Harry’ll get us in.”
Austin stood aside, holding out his arm to keep the onlookers at bay so that Violet and Katia could enter the care center.
Harry rushed up to them. “Austin. Good to see you again. And Katia.” Harry kissed her cheek. “Josh will be glad to see you.”
“Harry,” Austin began, “this is Violet Hawks. Josh’s other guest.”
Surprise scribbled across Harry’s face as he smiled slowly and then held out his hand. “Officer Hawks. Nice to meet you. I didn’t expect...er...”
“It was last minute,” Violet said.
“I meant, I didn’t expect you to be so pretty,” he continued, holding her hand. “He’s down in bay 4. This way.”
Violet observed there were numerous gurney-beds. Each of the bays was separated by curtains on ceiling tracks, and every bay was sufficiently equipped to handle emergency patients. It was her guess that during the race, which was always held on the Sunday before Memorial Day when temperatures as a norm were over eighty degrees, there would be heat-related cases.
“Is he all right?” Violet asked as they approached bay 4.
Harry stopped just before pulling the curtain back. “He’s gonna be okay. He has too many responsibilities not to be.”
Violet clamped her mouth shut and swallowed her gasp before she blurted something inappropriate. Harry was his manager of many years. She’d assumed they were closer than friends. But in this moment, she realized that Josh was primarily a meal ticket for Harry.
Empathy shot through her. If she’d been in a terrible accident, all her family and friends would have descended on the hospital with everything from hugs and kisses, to flowers and offers to pick up her laundry.
Harry pulled back the drape.
Josh sat on the gurney, bare chested, as a doctor in a white lab coat wrapped gauze around Josh’s six-pack abs.
Surrounding Josh were people wearing matching jumpsuits with Josh’s name embroidered on the backs and sleeves—members of his pit crew. Two astonishingly beautiful women stood in the far left corner. Violet wondered if they were his girlfriends, until she saw one of them hold a portable microphone to her mouth with her news station’s call letters on a square disk attached to the mike. The other woman handed her a page of notes.
The one thing that most captured her attention was the smile Josh gave her as she walked up.
“Violet! You’re here.” He held out his right hand. “I was hoping...”
She glanced back at Austin and Katia, who both smiled at her. Austin torqued his head toward Josh giving her the signal to go to the man.
She glanced from Josh to the doctor. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“He will be,” the doctor said.
“Violet, this is Dr. Herman. He takes good care of all of us.”
“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” she said.
Josh took Violet’s hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“But are you okay?” she asked.
“A gash on my side and a busted rib.”
“Two broken ribs,” the doctor corrected. “And his biceps has separated from the bone. Tore his rotator cuff. Other than that,” Dr. Herman said, “he’ll be fine after surgery.”
“Surgery?” Harry gasped. “When?”
“As soon as possible,” Dr. Herman replied. “I’ll check with the med center and press for Wednesday.”
“Sounds good to me,” Josh replied. “What’s the recovery time?”
“The usual. Six weeks to two months. Then rehab for three months,” Dr. Herman said as a nurse brought in a dark blue sling for Josh.
“That’s impossible! No. No!” Harry protested. “He’s racing in Europe. Brazil. All summer.”
“Not anymore. If he gets on a track before these injuries heal, he could cause more damage than he’s got now.”
“You don’t get it, Doc. This could ruin his career. He might never get back on top.” Harry thrust his hands in the air.
“I’m his doctor. I’m telling you straight. The wear and tear on his shoulders could debilitate him if he doesn’t take it easy after surgery.”
Violet listened to the exchange between Harry and Dr. Herman, yet all the while she noticed that Josh’s eyes hadn’t left her face.
“You don’t look all that concerned about your injuries,” she whispered.
“I’ll heal.” He leaned closer and grinned. “I’m made of tough stuff.”
“Josh, how can you joke at a time like this? Harry is...”
Josh squeezed her hand. “What did you think of your first Indy race? Was it all you thought it would be?”
“No. Yes. What do you want me to say? That you were amazing?”
“Not really.” He pulled on her hand and she stepped closer. “I was hoping you had a good time.”
“I was having a great time until you crashed and I thought...”
“Thought what?”
“That you might be dead.”
“Oh, that.” His grin turned impish. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Not now.”
“Now?”
“Josh!” Harry bellowed. “How do you feel? Really? Tip-top, right?”
Exasperation deflated Josh’s banter. He turned toward his manager. “I’m in pain, Harry. I’m putting on a good show for these correspondents you wanted here.” Josh looked over Violet’s head. “Stubby, will you and the guys go check out the car and give me an assessment?”
“Sure, boss.”
Austin whispered something to Katia, then walked up to Josh. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
“I’ll get him a nurse,” Harry snapped as his cell phone beeped. “Great. Just great. It’s ESPN. They want a statement.” Harry turned his head away.
Josh did not relinquish Violet’s hand as he asked Austin, “What did you have in mind?”
“Katia and I are taking you back to Indian Lake with us. You can have the surgery here or up there. We have an excellent orthopedic surgeon—a friend—and the staff at the hospital is incredible. You can recuperate at our house.”
“We won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Josh,” Katia agreed. “This is not the time to go this alone. Your injuries are serious. And we’re just as serious.”
Violet felt Josh’s fingers tighten around hers. He started to reply, cleared his throat and when she looked at him, she saw tears well.
Josh considered Austin and Katia nearly family. He probably hadn’t needed help with any facet of his life since childhood. But he did now.
Their gesture moved him.
And his response struck Violet to her core. As much as she tried to put Josh Stevens in catego
ries, slap him with legal definitions and nail him with possible criminal involvement, when she witnessed Josh, the man, the human being, all of that faded.
His entourage walked away from him, already knowing their jobs were on hold for the rest of the summer. Harry banged out a text with frustrated fingers, revealing to her that his connection to the media was priority number one.
Not Josh.
Josh turned to her. “What do you think, Violet?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes were the most sincere she’d seen outside her family. She knew he wasn’t asking a simple question. The way he looked at her was compelling and eager.
He glanced at her lips.
And she knew he was remembering their kisses. He was waiting for her to give him an invitation. In his head right now, she was Violet. Not an officer of the law.
“Come home with us,” she said aloud, though the words had been in her head from the moment she’d walked into the bay. The room had been filled with people she should have observed and who should have been the subjects of her notes to Trent.
But she’d been worried about Josh. Her emotions had pitched from fear to terror and now to relief. The idea that he would consider recuperating in Indian Lake sent a thrill through her.
“You really want me to come?”
“Yes,” she said, and smiled slowly. “Just remember, I’m a cop. Not a nurse. I don’t have much experience in that line of work.”
“Like Harry said, we can hire a nurse.”
He peeled his eyes off Violet and said to Austin, “You guys are too generous. But I’ll try to be on my best behavior. I accept your invitation.”
Austin chuckled. “Buddy, I promise you, the minute you get to be a pain, Katia will set you straight.”
“Yeah?”
Violet laughed. “And if she doesn’t, I will.”
“Oh, you will?” Josh leaned over and kissed Violet’s cheek.
His lips were soft and lingered a fraction longer than was just friendly. His nearness was a heady experience. Though he smelled of rubbing alcohol, there was an undercurrent of spice and citrus. His cheek was smooth, having been prepared for paparazzi photos.
Hers to Protect Page 13
