The surge of energy caught him off-guard and he jerked the wheel. He fought the car back onto the racing line and set his sights on his first target.
Five laps to go, and six cars ahead. Harry monstered through the field. By the end of the lap he’d taken two of them and was all over the back of the next one. He wanted this win, wanted it so badly he could taste it. And he wanted tomorrow with Gina even more.
He kept up the pressure until the driver ahead of him made a mistake. One was all it took. Harry shouldered past and lined up the next car. He bulled his way into second, then into the lead with two corners left. As he crossed the finish line, punching the air, he saw the grandstand crowd on its feet.
When he pulled off his helmet and stepped out of the car they were still cheering. Harry grinned and made his way to the podium, ignoring the scowls of the drivers who’d come in second and third.
The second-place driver clapped him on the back and pulled him into a one-armed hug. Heads close so the press couldn’t hear their words, he hissed, “That was a dirty move you pulled on me, Silver. Don’t try it again.”
Harry flashed him a best-buddy smile for the cameras. “I kept it clean.”
“Barely.”
“Enough to satisfy the racing stewards. And the fans. Better luck next time.”
Harry stepped into the winner’s spot on the podium, turned and spread his arms wide to the cheering crowd. He stood tall for the national anthem and accepted his trophy with a flourish.
After the post-race speeches and activities, his manager pulled him aside. “Join us for the celebration? It’d mean a lot to the guys. They worked hard for this, and you brought it home in style.”
Harry flashed a crooked smile. “I poured it all out on the track. Need some down time. They did great, though. Thank them for me.”
The man shrugged. “Sure, I’ll tell them. Sometimes I worry about you, Harry.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just focused.” Right. That’s why he had this unfamiliar letdown inside. Focus.
Back at the hotel, Harry showered and changed into lightweight trousers and a golf shirt. Maybe he should go party with the guys, to take his mind off this sense of loss. He reached for his keys, then dropped them back on the desk. He didn’t feel up to faking the enthusiasm they’d expect.
Harry flopped into a chair by the window and stared out at the passing cars. So the race was over. The season went on. Tomorrow the mechanics would start the move to the next circuit. He had a day to rest, then he’d pull out on Tuesday to join them.
It was standard routine after a race. It’d never bothered him before. There was always the next one to gear up for.
But he’d been gearing up for something else... dreaming, scheming about getting Gina alone. The thrill of the hunt had carried him all week, and now what?
He pulled his laptop from the room safe and cued his newest porn download, mentally superimposing Gina’s face, but that made it worse. When the video ended he stared at the blank screen.
This wasn’t a game anymore. How could he leave her unclaimed?
He snapped the laptop shut. Look at him, mooning like a love-struck teen over a girl he hardly knew.
Grow up, Silver. He went to bed, but it took a long time to get to sleep.
It was after eight o’clock when he woke the next morning. The bed was a wreck, sheets twisted around him. His eyes felt as if they’d been rolled in burning sand. Groaning, he flopped over onto his stomach, face away from the window’s glow.
Ordinarily he would have traded the morning run for a few lengths of the hotel pool on the day after a race. Today he’d just go back to sleep.
He closed his eyes, remembering Gina’s long blond hair, her blue eyes. He hadn’t expected to see her again, but why not? Why not carry on with his game, try to get her to take that walk on the beach? He’d never harm her, but he could live his dream a little longer.
Harry jumped out of bed. He’d have to hurry if he was going to intercept her before she caught the bus at nine-fifteen. Adrenaline shot through him, waking him better than a jolt of caffeine. He dropped the soap three times in the shower and nicked his chin shaving.
He threw on casual clothes and gave the suite a once-over. His password-protected laptop was shut in the room safe, and the magazines safely locked in a suitcase. No point giving the cleaning staff any tidbits to feed to the press.
He checked his watch. Almost eight-thirty, and he still had a forty-five minute drive. This was going to be tight. He grabbed a couple of apples from the fruit basket his sponsors had sent. He could eat on the way. He didn’t want a growling stomach on his beach walk with the lovely Gina.
Once out of the downtown core, most of the traffic passed in the opposite direction. Harry fought the urge to speed. If the police pulled him over, he’d miss Gina.
And if he missed her? Or if she didn’t want to take a walk with him? The game was over anyway.
He checked the dashboard clock again as he neared the beach. Nine-oh-five. The beginnings of a tension headache cramped the base of his skull. He rubbed the spot. If she were gone...
Harry reached the donut shop, passed it and turned onto the street where Gina caught the bus. There she was. His relief came out as an audible sigh.
And she was alone. His lucky day.
He pulled up to the curb, shoved coins in the meter and hurried across the street. She waved. Reaching her side, he concentrated on keeping his voice steady. “Hi, Gina.”
“Hi, Mr. Silver. Congratulations on the race.”
He was near enough to touch her, but he resisted. “Call me Harry. Good thing I caught you. I wanted to say thanks. You brought me luck yesterday.” He looked into her lake-blue eyes, allowing his smile to deepen, and stuck out his hand.
She clasped it briefly. “I’m glad... Harry.” She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail and it rippled down her back, a waterfall of light. The pink tint spreading over her cheeks and the shy admiration in her eyes knocked his heart out of rhythm.
Harry waved a hand at his jeans. “I came for a relaxing walk today, not a run. Care to join me?”
Blushing deeper, she checked her watch. “My bus will be here any minute.”
Harry knew. His game plan called for getting her away from the stop before any witnesses saw them together. “Can you catch the next one? Or I could drive you home. I’ve got all day.”
She glanced at the gleaming blue BMW he’d just parked. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“I drive for a living, remember? I enjoy it.” He held her gaze. “This is our only chance. I leave tomorrow.”
“Well, okay.” She shook her hair back from her face. It flowed in the sunlight like a river of gold. “Why not? I usually go home and crash after my shift, but as long as I catch a nap before soccer I’ll be fine.”
“Soccer?” Harry longed to stroke her hair. He jammed his fists into his pockets and started walking away from the bus stop.
Gina fell in step beside him. “I told you the other day—I’m goalie on the all-city girls team.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. Race week I talk to so many people it’s impossible to keep straight who said what.” He winked. “Today you have my undivided attention.”
Gina’s cheeks flamed. She looked away.
“So are you good?”
She grinned at him. “Got a shut-out last game.”
Harry’s heart raced. Delicate but strong. He bet he could score.
A short walk brought them to the beach. The path paralleled the shoreline, separated from the expanse of dark sand by a bank topped with whisper-dry beach grass. To their right a strip of short, softer grass fell away to the fences of private homes with lush green yards, the houses set well back and facing the ocean.
Nine-thirty on a Monday morning was hardly prime beach time, and they had the trail to themselves. Gina prattled on about soccer, work, her friends. Harry drank in the music of her voice, the thrill of her nearness, and r
eplied enough to keep her talking.
He caught snatches of her conversation. Something about an ankle still tender from an earlier game, then later her dreams for the future. Law or photography, unless she could make it as an actress. Have I got acting plans for you...
As he’d noticed on his morning runs, most of the houses backing on the path were closed up during the week, probably weekend beach houses. Some looked too elaborate for that, and Harry assumed their owners left early for jobs in the city.
He slowed his pace as they passed a string of properties that showed no sign of life. One had what looked to be a mini cottage, complete with porch, a few feet from the path. It must be a place to change for swimming, or perhaps the owners liked to sit and watch the waves. He’d scouted it out earlier in the week.
This was his stop. He nudged Gina. “How’s your ankle?”
“What? Oh, it’s fine.”
“Well let’s take a minute and you can rest it. I want to get out of the sun.” He pointed at the beach house. “I don’t think the owners would mind if we sat down.”
Gina shrugged. “Okay, if you need to. Then I should be getting back.”
Harry vaulted the chain-link gate and steadied Gina as she landed beside him. Electricity skimmed his palms, and he released her as soon as she found her footing. Could she hear his heart pounding?
He stepped onto the porch. Ignoring the folded deck chairs, he sat on the floor and leaned back against the red-painted wall. “I had a busy day yesterday.”
Gina laughed and sat beside him.
“Seriously, racing uses enormous amounts of energy, and I’m always a bit tired the next day. That’s what it costs to win.”
Sea birds dipped and wheeled over the bay, and few sailboats danced in the distance. Harry took a deep breath and glanced at the girl by his side. This was as far as he’d follow the plan. He’d won his mental game. It was time to go.
Gina sighed. “It is nice. You know, I work near the beach every day, and I never come here.”
“Mmm.” Why not stay a bit longer? There was no hurry, after all. Gina was the perfect companion. She had his senses quivering faster than sunlight dancing on the water.
He reached for her hand. Her fingers stiffened, then returned a gentle pressure. He turned to study her. “You’re lovely, you know. I noticed from the start.”
“Thank you.” She was blushing again.
The tremble in her voice thrilled him. He swallowed hard, willing his own words to stay steady. “You didn’t think it was the muffins that brought me back each day?”
The breeze trailed strands of her long blond hair across his face. He moved them away, fingering them before tucking them behind her ear. “Are you seeing anyone?” He kept the question casual, as if it didn’t matter. Suddenly it did.
Gina blinked. “Yes. But—it’s not serious.”
“I could be,” he whispered against her hair. Serious? He was leaving tomorrow. But he could come back, get to know her... Why not? She was pleasant enough, and she certainly stirred him.
He lifted her chin and gave her an almost chaste kiss. “I’m twenty-five. Is that really too old?” He watched her melt under the heat of his gaze, then kissed her again more passionately. She snuggled nearer.
Harry’s desire flared, forbidden fantasies alight in his mind. But this was no dream. He had the real thing here in his arms.
His self-control snapped. His kisses demanded more, his hands explored boldly. Gina tried to push away but he caught her shoulders.
Her fists pounded his chest. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
Harry’s hand shoved the scream back into her mouth. He dragged her to her feet, fired by the sudden fear in her eyes.
“Just getting started.”
She fought harder, but he tightened his hold. He kicked open the door and pulled her into the beach house.
Chapter 13
Before leaving the beach house, Harry washed the blood from his hands and face and donned his sweatshirt to cover the splotches on his shirt. A thin stain ran down one pant leg, but it had seeped into the denim and looked more like paint than blood.
He sauntered back to his rented BMW, confident he’d aroused no suspicion. The meter had expired, but in his euphoric state it seemed natural that he hadn’t been ticketed.
When he reached Vancouver, he cruised the city until the gas tank was nearly empty. Exhaustion was setting in by the time he returned to his hotel.
Locked in his suite, with the doorknob sign pleading Do Not Disturb, the last shreds of his emotional high evaporated. Harry stared at his shaking hands, remembering how they’d crushed the breath from Gina’s delicate throat. Bolts of fear arced in his stomach. He felt his own airway constrict.
Choking on a curse, he stumbled into the bathroom. He stripped and showered, but soap and blistering water could never cleanse him. After a long time, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel. The soft, white terrycloth hung limp in his hands. Lifeless, unmoving, an echo of the white face and golden hair that had lolled backwards in his grip.
He hurled the towel across the tiny room. It hit the mirror and fell, leaving a trail in the condensation. He glared at his reflection.
How could he have done something so stupid? Panic churned his vitals. Sure, he’d imagined it, wanted it, but how could he lose control and turn his twisted fantasies to reality?
Now there was a dead body with his fingerprints all over it, just waiting to be discovered. His career—his life—thrown away for a few hours’ criminal thrill. His knees buckled, and he lurched forward to brace both hands against the hard edge of the vanity.
Facing the truth in the glass, he whispered, “What am I going to do?” His mirror image stared back in silent mockery.
Groaning, Harry groped his way out of the bathroom and into some clean clothes. He thrust the soiled ones into one of the hotel’s plastic laundry service bags. He’d have to dispose of them.
He sank into the closest chair and buried his head in his hands. Think. He had to think. Slowly the problem-solving part of his brain engaged.
One whisper of his crime would undo him, and for what? The unfortunate young lady was dead, but his confession wouldn’t restore her to her grieving family. Were they worried about her yet, perhaps calling the police? He shoved the thought away and sat straighter in his chair.
No. There was nothing to be gained by admitting his guilt, and everything to lose. The humiliation of a trial and prison would be hard enough, but to lose his racing career...
He pushed to his feet and shuffled to the suite’s mini bar. The neck of the vodka bottle rattled against the tumbler rim, but he poured until the clear liquid overflowed. He downed a mouthful and choked, sloshing the drink across the counter.
He couldn’t breathe. His throat, his esophagus burned until tears ran down his cheeks. Coughing, gasping, he wiped his face with a handful of napkins. The fireball radiated from his stomach and coaxed his wire-tight muscles to relax.
Once he’d sopped up the spill, he refilled his glass and carried it carefully back to his chair. He didn’t drink often, and right now he needed a clear head, but he also needed something to steady him against the tremors, to release him enough to think.
He took a careful sip, waited for the heat to subside and took another. Somehow he had to prepare himself to hide his panic. He must go on with his daily routines as if nothing had happened. He would not think about what he’d done.
And he would never do it again. That would be his peace offering to Gina, and the way to save his career. The experience had thrilled him beyond his wildest imaginings, but it was too dangerous to repeat.
The buzz of the phone shot through every nerve in his body. The sinking, twisting sensation in his gut coalesced into a ball of pure terror. Harry gasped, half rising from his chair, spilling his drink.
Should he answer it? No. What if—?
Act normal. He strode across the room and snatched up the phone, barely recognizing
the voice that croaked, “Yes?”
“Harry, buddy, is that you?” Eddie’s nasal tones relaxed him instantly.
“Yeah. What’s up?” He’d have to learn to keep his voice from seizing up that way.
“I downloaded that new video I told you about. It’s a bit stronger than your usual stuff, but I think you’d appreciate it.” He chuckled. “I sure did. Want me to burn you a copy before I leave?”
Harry started shaking. He’d downloaded his own copy as soon as Eddie mentioned it. That video had inspired his crowning moment with Gina. He couldn’t repress a groan. “Not right now, Eddie. I’ve got a killer headache. Catch you later. I’m going to lie low for a bit.”
The next few days nearly drove him mad. The team moved on to the next race in Wisconsin. Harry tried to play it casual, but his nerves stretched high-wire tight.
He followed the online news coverage of the crime, made himself read the parents’ tearful statements. Had he left anything to connect him to the scene? Each knock on his door kindled his nagging dread into panic.
Time passed and he settled into the regular routine, testing changes to the car’s set-up and preparing for the next race. Off track, he immersed himself deeper into pornography, using the images to mask his memories of Gina. Silence and solitude were intolerable now—filled with both fear of discovery and a haunting awareness of how much he had enjoyed his victim.
He couldn’t deny the truth. Never in his lifetime had he experienced a thrill so intense. His only defence against the lure of repeating it was the danger it posed to his career.
Without warning, it happened again. He’d gone to visit his sister and her family in Calgary. Relations were strained, but he felt an obligation to stay in touch with his nephews. Carol’s husband always hit on him for money and although it infuriated her, Harry shared the wealth.
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