Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  I was trying to push all the right buttons to stoke the fires of jealousy toward her own daughter.

  “You know, I think Felix might have her phone number,” Paige said. “I’m sure I can help arrange a rendezvous.”

  I’m sure you can. And I’m sure you can ensure there are cameras there to capture every fucking second so that you have some collateral over me. “That would be,” I licked my lips, “a fucking delight. You should definitely tell her to invite her friend.”

  She grinned. No doubt thinking she was gathering more shit on me. My earlier mention of Sinclair Racing courting me and the fact I was wearing their shirt were surely playing havoc in her mind. I’d have a pap on my arse before the day was through, and all the proof I needed to feel vindicated in making her fall.

  “Actually, she said something to me at the charity do. What was that again?” I narrowed eyes and pretended to wrack my brain. “Oh, that’s right, that she was actually in love with his sister. But that must mean . . . Oh, wow! Is Blondie your daughter?” Without waiting for an answer, I moved so that my lips were right against her cheek. “What can I say? The apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  I pushed away from the wall, and took a backward step to put some distance between us again.

  A devious glint lit her eyes; it might have been lust or it might have been some new, crazed plan for blackmail. Who could tell with her? “I don’t suppose I could tempt you to come out to dinner to discuss your future with me beforehand?”

  Fuck, she was desperate and it was too easy.

  Taking another step back from her, I shrugged and flashed her a panty-dropper smile. “Sorry, I have a dinner planned with Sinclair Racing already. How about a rain check for next time though?”

  Her smile morphed into a snarl for a fraction of a second before she fixed it back in place. I was playing a dangerous game and would have to be damn careful that I didn’t step even a toe out of line or I’d be headlining in Gossip Weekly again, but it would be worth it. I hoped.

  After giving her a little wave, I disappeared into the crowd before she could press me further. I didn’t want to have to string together too many lies, because the more I told, the more things would stack up and risk falling over.

  I spent the better part of the day trying to avoid the pits and Paige. Morgan and Eden hunted me down during one of his breaks, and we had a quiet lunch together—at least as quiet as possible with autograph seekers coming up to us at regular intervals.

  It was a little after four before I received a text from an unknown number.

  Looking for some fun tonight?

  Paige had obviously lived up to her promise to try to arrange a meeting with Tillie and Talia. Not that I’d doubted she would. She was like some sort of fucking pimp, and even her own daughter wasn’t off limits. If Hunter expected the same sort of treatment when he started at Sinclair Racing he’d be in for a rude-arse shock.

  I had my phone in front of me as I walked back toward the track, trying to frame a text reply that wouldn’t incriminate me if it was publicly released. Halfway through my reply, someone shoulder checked me.

  “Watch where you’re walking, arsehole.” Hunter Blake’s voice was practically a growl. Even though less than a second had passed, I could see the exact moment when he realised it was me. The fire of anger in his eyes grew more intense, but his mouth formed a self-righteous smirk. “Well, well, I didn’t expect to see your face within a hundred miles of a racetrack again.”

  It was hard to hold back my own smirk, knowing that I’d soon be at every single race again. Maybe not in the same capacity as before, but that didn’t matter. “You might be surprised to see just where I turn up in the future, Blake.”

  “Funny, ’cause the way I hear it, you were too pussy to take the job with Wood, and there’s no other positions coming up, so I don’t think I have too much to worry about.”

  I shrugged. “Guess not.”

  “Why the fuck are you here, Reede?”

  “Just enjoying the event. Here to support Morg, you know, as he claims the championship.”

  “It’s not his yet.”

  I chuckled. “But it will be.”

  “Like fuck. I can still win it.”

  “You’d have to come first, and Morg would have to finish mid-pack. I can’t see it happening.”

  “He could always DNF.”

  The way he said it made me stop. The menace in his voice made it seem more like a threat than an idle statement. “I don’t think so. Morg’s got his game face on this weekend. He’s not racing for the win, just the points.”

  “Well, then, he’s a pussy isn’t he?”

  “No, he just knows that you’re more likely to win a championship when you’re not tangled with other cars.” My words hit their target, and I watched as Hunter’s mouth curled into a menacing snarl.

  “And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You know the championship could have easily been mine if you hadn’t fucked me up at Bathurst.” Hunter was practically seething.

  “You’re an idiot. If that hadn’t happened, Morgan and I would probably have won.”

  “Whatever, loser, it doesn’t really make any difference to me, does it? It’s not like I give a crap if Wood gets the trophy. Next year, I’ll be in Sinclair colours, and you can bet your arse there’ll be a new pecking order. McGuire is going down. And you . . . Well, it doesn’t get much lower than where you are already. It’s pathetic really.”

  “Have you always been an arrogant wanker or is that something you’re just trying on for size?”

  “Fuck off, Reede.” He snapped the words at me loud enough that three families nearby all turned to stare wide-eyed in shock.

  I resisted the urge to laugh. When needed, I could hold back the curse words that were always dancing near the tip of my tongue. Days at the track were usually one of those times. Of course now that I wasn’t there in any official capacity, it didn’t matter. For me. Hunter was just lucky that he wasn’t near any race officials, or he could have been facing a reprimand. It was fine in the pits, or places where it wouldn’t be heard or accidentally broadcast.

  He glared at me. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  “Gladly.” I didn’t worry about telling him that we’d be seeing each other soon enough at Sinclair Racing. What was sure to be a priceless look on his face wasn’t worth the risk of him telling Paige or someone else at Wood Racing before I could spring the trap.

  Without waiting for him to reply again, I walked away. Within a second, I’d finished the text he’d interrupted. I’d decided in the end that simple was better, so just sent Tillie or Talia, whichever it was, a text that read, Sorry, booked for tonight after all.

  A second later, another message popped up on my phone. Can’t we tempt you to change your plans?

  With the text came a photo. Even though I was worried what exactly it might be, I clicked to open it. If nothing else, it could be good for blackmail. The image was relatively PG, just an image of a woman with red curls and one with blonde hair tangled together in a kiss. Neither face could be made out because they were blurred and out of focus. It was obviously a selfie that hadn’t been taken properly because of the locked lips.

  Sorry, plans are immovable. What about New Year’s?

  What about it?

  Suncrest. Brisbane. Ball. Going?

  Yeah.

  I’ll slip you key and room number at dinner. Come by after ten, I’ll have company until then.

  A second later, another message popped up on my phone. Family?

  No. Fun.

  If she spoke to Paige about the night, I was certain Paige would tell her I had indeed invited someone other than Alyssa. Paige just didn’t know that I’d actually donated my ticket at her table to another party. Or at least, Eden had on my behalf. A second later, my phone pinged again.

  Game on.

  A smile crossed my lips as I put my phone back in my pocket. Game on, indeed. If I was right,
there would be some hell to pay on New Year’s. God, I could be a prick sometimes but fuck if those bitches didn’t deserve it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: ROLL ON

  “HELLO?” RUTH CALLED from the front door.

  My heart began to stutter as I considered the reason Ruth was there, and the fact that Curtis and Josh would be with her. Even though I’d offered to do two trips to get the truck over to their house, and had considering trying to lug the fridge all on my own just to avoid them, Alyssa had insisted. Something about not wanting to see me pancaked by white goods.

  “In the kitchen,” Alyssa answered in invitation. We hadn’t worried about locking the front door because we’d been in and out of the house so much lugging the boxes. Even Phoebe escaping wasn’t a concern because she’d been hovering around our feet, being extra clingy as the house was torn apart and the boxes and furniture were packed up.

  With the exception of three items, everything was packed and sorted into either the rental truck, the back of my Prado, or Alyssa’s Swift. Two of the three items that were still to be packed were both from Phoebe’s room: a small chest of drawers and a dressing table. They were the only big items coming with us. The third item was the fridge.

  Each trip outside was done under the watchful eye of our friendly neighbourhood paparazzo, who’d made a miraculous reappearance after I’d mentioned the possibility of a Sinclair Racing return to Paige Wood. It was exactly the confirmation I needed that Paige was doing what I’d thought she would: trying to gather dirt in case another smear campaign was needed. It had been easy enough to ignore him this time though, especially considering his life watching us would have been boring as bat shit, because the three of us had been the picture of domestic fucking bliss, and his boss didn’t want photos of that. At least, not yet. I was certain that aspect was the spin Paige had mentioned the first time she’d called to offer me the role with her team.

  Ruth walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face, and Phoebe squealed, “Nana!” throwing herself at her. It was only as Ruth bobbed down to catch her that I saw Curtis standing behind her. Although I knew he and Josh were coming with Ruth to move the fridge and then drive the truck to their house, I’d expected him to wait in the car. Especially considering the reason they were even taking the spare furniture was because he’d refused to let Alyssa sell it: just in case.

  Just in case I broke her heart again. Fucker!

  “Declan,” he murmured when he saw me staring.

  “Sir,” I said. My voice squeaked as I choked back my fear. I’d offered to do a return trip to take the trailer over, so that he didn’t have to come around, but Alyssa had refused.

  He raised his eyebrow at me. I’d never called him sir before. He had always just been Curtis to me. Curtis, who had been like a second father to me. Curtis, who, in hindsight, was probably a better role model, and father, than my own had ever been.

  Curtis, who’d tried to drive me out of town barely a month earlier.

  “Are you ready to go, pumpkin?” he asked Alyssa.

  I was trying very hard not to be reminded of the fact that “going” meant leaving the relative sanctuary of Alyssa’s three-bedroom rented house and the three of us moving into one bedroom at Ruth and Curtis’s house. Alyssa’s old bedroom, in fact.

  “Is Josh here?” she replied.

  Curtis glared at me for a moment before answering. “No. He wanted to wait in the car until it was time.”

  “I’ll go make myself scarce then, shall I?” I muttered.

  Even though I hadn’t intended anyone to hear me, Alyssa’s gaze moved to me. “No, Dec, this has been your house too for the last few weeks. You’re in my life for good now, and Josh has to learn to be a big boy about these things.”

  “Yeah, so far in your life you need a just-in-case escape plan.” The words left me as I headed out of the room. Louder, I added, “It’s okay, I’ll just be down in the bedroom.”

  I didn’t wait for any further argument, but none was exactly forthcoming either. Heading straight down the hall, I went into the master bedroom and started working, double-checking the bathroom cupboards and in the top of the built-in wardrobe just in case something had been missed while we were packing. Nothing had been, and I knew that because I’d performed the exact same checks before, but it gave me something to focus on.

  “Hey, Declan, are you okay?” It was Ruth’s voice that sounded from the bedroom door.

  “Peachy keen,” I snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I know it’s not easy, but they’ll come around eventually when they see how much you two mean to each other. You just have to keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

  “Yeah, ’cause that’s worked so damn well for me so far.”

  “They’re men. They’re stubborn. The best way to show them that you really won’t hurt Alyssa and Phoebe is to be there for her.”

  “I am. Always. I’d rather shove my hand into a meat grinder than hurt her again.”

  Ruth chuckled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. “It won’t.”

  “So, have you got everything ready in Sydney? It’s got to be a big adjustment, right? I mean, are you sure you’re ready for living with a three-year-old full time?”

  Ruth’s expression and laughter made it clear that she’d intended the statement as a joke. Except Alyssa had made similar statements in the past. Was I ready? Did I know what I was really getting myself in for? I’d barely lived with her for a handful of weeks. Plus, I’d had my own house, my own space, that I could retreat to when I’d needed it. Okay, so I hadn’t used it, but it had been there. Was I ready to lose that space? Could a few weeks living with Alyssa as a guest in her house really prepare me for what I would face next?

  Before I answered, Ruth nodded toward the doorway. “They should be out of the house by now if you want to resurface?”

  “I think I might just take a minute.” Although I didn’t want to say anything to Ruth, and I’d tried to hide it during our conversation, I wasn’t okay. In fact, with every second that had passed since Curtis and Josh had arrived, I’d become less okay than ever. The truth was my heart was beating faster and faster with every passing minute. It was so rapid that the beats melded one into another so that it was an almost constant hum in my chest. It must have been too fast. Fast enough to kill me.

  The reality of what was happening was closing in on me. The fucking walls were closing in on me.

  The instant Ruth walked out of the room, I leaned against the wall. At least that way, I could ensure that the walls were never closer than an arm’s length away. In an attempt to quiet my heart—which was still thumping a rapid tune against my ribcage like a crazed pianist—I closed my eyes and let my head fall between my outstretched arms.

  The room was too quiet, the silence causing a buzz in my ears. Having my eyes closed was a mistake because vertigo struck me almost instantly. Despite the dizziness though, I couldn’t force myself to open my eyes and look at the empty room.

  There were too many changes all happening at once, too much to cope with. I’d been so obsessed with having Alyssa by my side that I hadn’t stopped to consider what it meant.

  She was moving in with me.

  The words were heaven. And yet, they were hell. I was tearing my chest open and letting her waltz on in. All the fears I’d had as a teen came rushing back to me. All of the doctor’s words of caution flooded my mind.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  Of course I was going to hurt her. It was fucking inevitable. It was what I did. And when that happened—when I fucked up—and she left, my entire being would be torn to pieces. Wouldn’t it have been better to keep my distance and not go skipping merrily down Heartbreak Lane?

  Why was I moving so fast? How had I let that happen?

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  “Dec?” Alyssa’s voice came to me through the tunnel of darkness I’d been spinning down. It was l
ike she was throwing a rope into the void and hoping I’d catch hold.

  Her hand came to rest on my shoulder and I jolted. My eyes sprang open and I met her worried gaze.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  I turned and leaned against the wall. “Are we doing the right thing here, Lys?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This. Moving in together.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

  A chuckle left her lips before her face fell. “Are you being serious?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t fucking know, Lys. It’s just, well, you’ve arranged for the stuff to go into storage in case I fuck up, and it’s because I will, isn’t it? We both know it. I’ll do something stupid and you’ll leave, and then what? I don’t know that I can survive that.”

  Instead of the anger I expected, a tender expression came over her face. She moved closer to me and brushed her hand through the hair over my ear. “Did you want me to find my own house in Sydney?”

  “Fuck no.” The words were out before I could stop them, an instinctive need to have her near me. I frowned as the reality of what her living so close but so far from me would be like. Only seeing her and Phoebe for a few hours a day, or maybe even less. Maybe as little as once a week. “No, definitely not. I—I—”

  “It’s just a little case of cold feet. You’re letting yourself panic.”

  No, that wasn’t it. I had a reason. A logical reason. It was . . . it was . . .

  Fuck, what was it?

  “It’s okay to be scared, Dec. I am.”

  “I’m not scared. I—wait, you are?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. I wanted her to feel safe. Protected. I’d thought I’d been able to shake the fear she felt toward me.

  She laughed again, a nervous little chuckle. “Are you kidding? I’m terrified. I’ll be away from my family, away from Flynn, away from everyone that’s ever made up my support network. Away from everything except for you.”