“Will you listen to what you’re saying? You just told me you’re busy here, but you’re relaxed. Not stressed. The second you talk about your racing life, your gestures are erratic and forceful. Words fly from your mouth.”
“What are you sayin’?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re at a crossroads, Josh. Maybe this wasn’t so much an accident as a life warning to you. Think about where you’re going.” He started for the door. “In the meantime, hire a driver. Walk. No driving or even jogging till the sling comes off.”
“Got it.”
“See you in two weeks,” Dr. Evans said, and left.
Josh hopped down from the examination table and finished buttoning his shirt. He tried to adjust the sling.
“Darn. It’s not sitting right.”
But then, little “sat right” for Josh at the moment.
Not since he’d gotten the phone call from Diego.
Josh leaned against the exam table, remembering Diego’s words.
“Hermano,” Diego began, but Josh cut him off.
“Fancy hearing from you after all this time. I guess you heard about my accident. Seriously, I’m touched you’d call to check on me.”
“You crashed?”
Josh felt a pang of disappointment.
“At the race,” he explained.
“Oh. Sorry. But you’ve got a beautiful new girlfriend. I saw the photo in the newspaper.” The twist in Josh’s heart dug deeper. Clearly, all Diego wanted was information. He didn’t care about Josh, and whatever brotherly love there once might have been between them had vanished.
“Don’t give me that, Diego. I haven’t heard from you in forever and now suddenly you call me? What do you want? Money?”
“The name’s Miguel now. And I have plenty of money,” Miguel boasted.
“I’ll bet you do. Trafficking drugs.”
“You know this because your new hermosa novia is a cop.”
Josh had swallowed hard. Miguel was digging for information. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
That was the truth. And Josh already knew he would hide the fact that he’d been in contact with Miguel from his not-girlfriend. He couldn’t tell Violet and put her at risk.
Every time he was with her, he felt sad when their meeting was over and began counting the hours till he saw her again—even though he still didn’t entirely trust her motives. Violet’s boundless compassion for people was something new to him. Sure, he provided for his employees and team, but Violet had a way of assuring total strangers that no matter the problem, everything would turn out all right. Those were the words his mother used to say to him when he trembled during thunderstorms. Violet’s reassurances flowed from her like a melody.
His mother had once said that when you felt love from another human being, it was an angel’s song.
“Miguel, the cops are on to you. Leave town. Leave the state. Get your freakin’ act together.”
“This place is sweet. I like Indian Lake. You leave. I need it. It’s what I need to expand my network to the south.”
“How far south?”
“Kentucky. If I’m lucky, my cartel will give me Tennessee.”
“Your what?”
Miguel made funny crackling noises into his phone. “Sorry. Bad connection.”
“There is not. Miguel, don’t do this. Get out now. You’re not in so deep...”
“You are estúpido if you think I’ll stop. I’m almost to the top. You like walking over me...”
“That’s not true,” Josh retorted. “I’ve always tried to help you. Even now.”
“Screw you, gringo.”
“Get off it. Why did you call me?”
“I saw Indian Lake first. With you around the media is everywhere. Your presence is not good for my business.”
“Thank goodness I’m good for something.”
“You’re a pain in my backside. Always have been.”
“Dieg... Miguel. I’m not leaving. If anyone should split it’s you.”
“Adios, bro.” Miguel hung up.
Josh rationalized that since he hadn’t uncovered any information about Miguel’s location, there was no point in telling Violet about the call. He could have been calling from Chicago or down the street. But Josh had warned Miguel the cops were out for him. If Miguel hadn’t known that, Josh had given him a chance to run.
And if he told Violet, by-the-rules Violet would accuse Josh of aiding a felon. He might confirm his niggling fear that she was just using him. And that bothered him a lot.
Josh didn’t know if Miguel would ever go straight, but he kept hoping. If only Josh had influence on Miguel, to help his old friend and to rid Indian Lake of the last of the Le Grand gang, Josh would feel exonerated. He would have helped this little town he’d come to love.
And the woman he was falling for.
* * *
VIOLET BALANCED TWO tall frosted glasses of lemonade, complete with paper-thin rings of lemon and mint sprigs, along with a pink-flowered Havilland china plate mounded with cookies she and Mrs. Beabots had spent the afternoon baking, on a silver tray. She pushed the front door open with her hip. “Here we are,” Violet announced.
“Thank you, Violet,” Mrs. Beabots said, setting aside the newspaper.
Violet set the tray on a white wicker table between two large antique wicker chairs with thick bright floral covered cushions.
“I just love it out here in the summer,” Mrs. Beabots crooned. “The moonlight melds with the lamplight through the maples, and the shadows across the boulevard are so...romantic.” She sipped her lemonade and eyed Violet. “Don’t you think?”
“Romantic? Or good cover for thieves and criminals.”
“Oh, Vi! You’re such a killjoy!”
“I’m teasing.” Violet laughed and picked up her glass. She eyed the newspaper. “What are you reading?”
“Look.” She leaned over and picked up the article. “We’re in the paper again. Josh has no idea how he’s helping us with the fund-raising. My phone rang incessantly all day. Sarah said it’s the same with her whether she’s home or at work. Everyone wants to help.”
“Josh told me he was happy with it.”
“He was eloquent. He said what needed to be said about the center. And you have to admit, Violet, those words coming from him have a lot of impact.”
“According to my sister, Scott is over the moon. The wires picked up the story. Scott put together a YouTube video showing Gina’s land, Sarah’s blueprints and the model for the main building. It’s gone viral with stock photos of Josh since he didn’t want the photos of the day used.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Oh, yes. That’s why your phone keeps ringing.”
They clinked their glasses. “To success!” Violet said, and Mrs. Beabots smiled.
* * *
JOSH SLID HIS hand over the highly polished chrome grille on a 1914 Duesenberg. “Was this here the night of the fund-raiser?”
“No. I just brought it in from Scottsdale. I loaned it to a friend out there to help sell tickets for the Fine Arts Commission.”
“Did it help?”
“To the tune of one hundred and six grand. Yeah.” Austin smiled proudly.
“I gotta say, Austin. I have some nice toys, but this...”
“Have you ever seen Jay Leno’s garage?”
“No. I was invited once, but I was in—Paris.”
“Oh, bad luck. It’s not to be believed. But then, you had to have seen all kinds of antique cars in the Middle East. The Sultan of Brunei has the most cars.”
Josh whistled and pointed his finger at Austin. “You’re spot on. But it’s Dmitry Lomakov’s antiques I love. I met him at his home in Monte Carlo.”
“I thought he was in Moscow, being
the director of the Moscow Car Museum and a member of the Vintage Racing League. Mrs. Beabots was going to give me an introduction.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “She knows him? How?”
“Seriously, that woman has more secrets than the Dead Sea Scrolls. Some of my antique cars were ones that she gave my father.”
“Gave? Not sold?”
“Nope. This museum was his dream. She donated them for the people of Indian Lake.”
Josh raked his hair. “The more I learn about this place, the more amazed I am.”
“Good. Because I need your help,” Austin said.
“Sure, pal. Anything you want.”
“Well, hear me out before you commit. This is the deal. I’m snowed under with this new tech project I’m working on. One invention leads to another. I need to spend more time in Scottsdale with my partner out there. I can’t run the manufacturing here, meet with my inventors there and run the museum, too. I don’t have time to go to the auctions. I should be trading up and grabbing some of these vintage cars that are on the block in Europe and Russia.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Help me with the museum. Once you’re healed, you’ll be going back to your places in Monte Carlo and Dubai, right?”
Josh’s breath halted in his lungs. Since the day of the accident, he hadn’t thought about leaving. Sure, he’d talked to Harry and signed on for an ad campaign or two, but he was doing those in Chicago or Indy. Because his rehab and recuperation was going to take many months, Josh had focused on the here and now.
He liked being around Katia and Austin. Sparring with Daisy over what he should and should not eat for breakfast. He looked forward to his daily text messages from Violet. Sharing a bag lunch with her when she wasn’t out on some stakeout or in meetings. He especially liked brainstorming ideas with Violet for Mrs. Beabots’s foster care center. When he was with her, he had to remind himself that she was undoubtedly still investigating him and Miguel. And he’d still kept the call from Miguel secret from her, fearing that she’d use it against him. The fact that they kept secrets from each other gnawed the edges of his integrity and caused doubts about her true feelings for him.
Yet when she so much as touched his cheek, he felt a depth of emotion from her that was overwhelming.
He hated that they were on opposing sides of the Miguel issue, especially since Josh was just as much against drug dealers as Violet was.
Miguel’s choices were wrong on every level, and Josh didn’t fault her for doing her job. If only he weren’t part of the job to her.
Admittedly, he’d plunged into those big green eyes of hers, and opened his heart and told her about his past. Violet hadn’t judged him. She listened with an attention he’d never experienced. Because of her, he realized that he’d harbored pointless fears about his past.
Violet had helped him see they were just that—useless. He’d allowed his fears to control his life. For the first time, he asked himself just exactly what he would do with his life if he didn’t race.
Did he want to continue racing?
Was the thrill still there?
Or was it all merely habit?
Surprising as it was, the day Violet had tossed him into jail, everything about Josh Stevens’s life changed.
Thinking about her brought a smile to his face. Sometimes, she would kiss him for no reason at all. Every day he saw Mrs. Beabots working in her garden as he took a morning walk past her house. They chatted and hugged.
He felt accepted. Like a member of a family. It had been a long time since he’d felt quite this kind of closeness and true caring. Though he’d always been loyal to Miguel, he was seeing that was a one-way street. Josh remembered those early years when he and Miguel were boys and genuinely close. He was stunned over how deeply Miguel’s lack of caring now hurt him. No, there was no way he could tell Violet about that phone call. And there was that faint, but ever-present hope that Josh could still bring Miguel around.
He wondered if Austin would still be his friend if he found out Josh had hidden his communication with Miguel, a dangerous drug dealer, from the community.
What of Katia? Mrs. Beabots?
And Violet?
Was the foundation of this new world he’d found in Indian Lake totally at risk? If it was, he had no one to blame but himself.
“You and Katia have been more than just kind to me, Austin. You took me in when I was at my lowest. I hadn’t known how to repay you. Now I do. I’d be honored to help you out.”
“Josh, you’re the best!” Austin grabbed him and hugged him a little too hard.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.” Austin backed away.
“C’mon. I’m betting Katia and Daisy have something great cooked up for dinner. We can work out the details on the way home.”
They walked past a 1956 Mercedes Convertible 190SL.
“Oh, now that’s sweet.” Josh admired the car, leaning to look at the Moroccan leather interior and the refurbished dashboard.
“Want to drive home in that?”
“Would I!”
“Done,” Austin said. “I have a gas pump outside. There’s just enough gas in the tank to get it down the elevator and out the back. Insurance rules, you know.”
“Sure.”
“We’ll bring it back in the morning.”
Josh sighed and looked at his sling. “It feels like forever before I can drive again.”
“I’m sure it does. But hey, we can still travel in style.” Austin grinned and took the keys from under the tire.
* * *
VIOLET HAD JUST finished her lemonade when she heard an unusual horn honking. She looked out to the street and saw Austin driving something vintage and beautiful. She didn’t know much about antique cars, but the convertible was beautiful as it gleamed in a puddle of golden lamplight.
“Hey, beautiful ladies!” Josh called from the passenger seat.
She stood slowly. “Josh?”
“We’re on our way home for dinner. I’ll call you later,” he said.
“Okay! Have fun!” She waved.
“I am!”
Violet sat back down. “He looks happy.”
“He does,” Mrs. Beabots mused. “I was always happy in that car.”
Violet swung around and faced her. “That car? That particular car?”
“It’s a 1956 Mercedes.”
“Is it?”
“Austin let you drive it?”
Mrs. Beabots rose. “I let him drive it. I’ll get us more lemonade. The pizza should be ready by now.”
Violet looked back to the street, processing what she’d just heard. She was a detective. She should know how to wrangle information from just about anyone. Prying secrets from Mrs. Beabots, however, was impossible.
Josh had looked particularly gleeful, she thought. Why was that? She would have guessed that by now, being away from his entourage, fans and life on the track would have caused anxiety attacks and an overall sense of displacement. But it didn’t.
He didn’t appear to be in pain from his surgery, either.
Maybe the surgeon had prescribed a strong pain medication.
Drugs. The ultimate euphoria.
Violet lowered her glass with a thud. She hated the possibility that Josh could be a user.
She was foolish to think that small-town life would entice him. She’d be unwise to think that his attraction to her was anything more than a fling while he was stuck in Indian Lake. It didn’t matter how many kisses he gave her or how many romantic strolls they took to the stone bridge. The hard fact remained that he was her person of interest.
They were a mismatched pair.
She stood and went to the screen door, looking down Maple Boulevard where she saw the Mercedes’ taillights as it braked at a stop sign.
Wisdom belongs to the wary, Violet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
VIOLET SAT ON the porch after cleaning up the dinner dishes, her cell phone at her side. The scent of roses and peonies filled the air as a night breeze fluttered through the screens. Mrs. Beabots had gone to bed, claiming she had to finish an engrossing novel.
Violet stood and stretched. She still wore the black jogging clothes from her run down Maple Boulevard over to Lily Avenue and back up to Main. She hadn’t felt like driving out to the lake and running the trails. Besides, she liked the shade of the massive maple trees. Tomorrow, she’d be back on stakeout. Cramped up in her car and twiddling her thumbs.
Her hands over her head, she watched as an expensive looking blue car drove down Maple Boulevard clearly going ten miles over the speed limit. “Where’s a cop when you need one?” she joked aloud, then paused.
She shot to the screen door and then raced down the steps. She peered down the street.
“No way in...”
She bolted across to the boulevard’s median for a better look.
“Maserati. It has to be,” she mumbled as she ran from shadow to shadow down the boulevard. There was no mistaking that car. She’d memorized photos of it. It was the Maserati reported in the intel. She kept running.
She couldn’t see the license plate, but it probably didn’t matter. Miguel undoubtedly had a “flipper” plate like the beige Chrysler in his employ.
Interesting that Miguel drove an expensive car and his minions made do with a twenty-year-old Chrysler. She’d have to look into that.
The car drove down to the end of Maple Boulevard and then made a U-Turn at the end of the street. Before it could come back up the other side, she ran across the street and hid behind a maple tree with a very large trunk. She was four blocks away from Mrs. Beabots’s house. The Maserati’s lights went off.
The car came to a stop.
“That’s Austin’s house!”
She slammed her back against the maple and peered at the scene. From her vantage point, she clearly saw the front door. She held her breath as someone came outside.
There was no mistaking Josh’s sling as he walked toward the Maserati. He got in, and the car drove back up Maple Boulevard.
Hers to Protect Page 18
