Avoidable Contact (28 page)

Chapter Fifty-four

1:58 P.M. | 0:12 HOURS REMAINING

I got to the monitors in time to see Mike follow a white Ferrari through the Bus Stop, exit well, and stay on the driver's tail through NASCAR 3 and 4 and the tri-oval. Mike set him up perfectly for a pass into Turn 1. Every single person in the pits held their breath as Mike slipped ahead with only inches to spare. The Ferrari stuck to Mike's bumper through Turn 3 of the infield. Through the Kink.

“He's gapping him,” Miles said next to me.

I looked around, surprised he was there, and saw Colby on his other side. I reached out to them. The three of us held onto each other as Mike inched away from the Ferrari. As the clock ticked ever closer to a podium result for the 28 Corvette.

Fifteen minutes to go. Holly ducked under Miles' arm to stand between us. Lara and our father stood on the other side of me, Lara closest, her arm around my waist. The Ferrari driver tried another move on Mike. He couldn't get close enough and dropped back even more.

Eight minutes. The Ferrari didn't have the speed to pass Mike, and Mike was a full half-lap behind the second place car. We had third place sewn up…if our new Corvette C7.R would hold together for seven-and-a-half more minutes of racing.

By this point in the race, I knew Mike was hyper-sensitive to any creak, groan, or wiggle. Our racecars ran almost continuously for twenty-four hours, at top speed, high heat, and peak stress. Fourteen cars that started the race wouldn't finish, most due to breakage. Even with a handful of minutes left to run, we could still lose another—it had happened before, as late as the last two minutes of the race. I prayed it wouldn't happen to us.

I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. Our rock-star, Thomas Kendall, stood behind me, his cousin Chris next to him.

Leon Browning, from the 29 car, currently running in sixth place in the GT Daytona class, stepped to Chris' other side and nodded at me. “The car will hold,” he told us. “Ian wouldn't have it any different, and this one's for him.”

My eyes filled with tears. I felt the rightness of his statement. After the heartbreak of the last twenty-five hours, I didn't think this team could take any more. We
had
to finish. But, like Leon, I suddenly felt sure we would.

“It's for Ian,” I agreed. I turned to Holly, Miles, Colby, and the others on my other side. “This one is for Ian.”

Miles' fingers tightened on mine. Holly hugged both of us closer.

Colby repeated, “For Ian.”

As the clock ticked down, our crew stopped their tidying and packing work. They gathered around us at the monitors. The whole team became a single organism. We breathed as one with every approach Mike made to a corner. We exhaled together as he exited safely.

Three minutes. The 28 Corvette kept flowing through turns and flying down straights as it had done for more than twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes. I shook with tension, excitement, and anticipation.

One minute thirty-nine seconds left. The overall race leader flashed under the starter's stand, above the start/finish line. The white flag waved, indicating the last lap. Mike was halfway around the track, which meant one and a half more laps for us. I didn't breathe. Mike continued to make it look easy, and the car continued to perform.

The race clock clicked to zero as the overall leader swept out of the Bus Stop and onto the NASCAR banking for the final time. The checkered flag flew. For the second time in the race, fireworks went off along the back straight.

Our group barely reacted, all eyes now glued to the 28 and 29 cars on the monitors. Mike in the back straight, heading into the Bus Stop.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” I breathed.

Braking. Left, right turns. Right, left turns. Easy on the throttle. Back up onto the banking. NASCAR 3. Hold it steady, stay high above the prototype limping the final third of a lap back to the flag. Steady. Easy over the bump above the NASCAR 4 tunnel. Charging into the tri-oval.

We all drew breath as Mike pointed the car at the checkers. We whooped and cheered as one when he crossed the line in third place.

I broke another of my rules and cried over the results of a race—but I wasn't alone. I saw plenty of manly tears shed as I hugged everyone around me. Even Jack's eyes looked damp as he climbed down from his pit box after seeing the 29 car cross the line.

Jack looked around and raised his hands. We went silent, though the ambient noise of the track remained high.

“Thank you for your effort and commitment,” he said. “We couldn't have done it without every single one of you. This finish is for Ian Davenport. In his honor, we are going to go celebrate.”

I looked around at the weary faces of the crew who'd been up all night—from the mechanics who kept the car running, to the hospitality staff who kept us fed and supplied, to the chiefs and analysts who'd monitored us from the pit boxes. I felt a deep welling of gratitude. Endurance racing wasn't merely a test of machinery and driver skill, it was a test of the whole team's ability to focus and perform whenever required. Sandham Swift had come through. Again.

I blinked back tears as I stepped forward to thank Jack.

He reached out for a hug. “Hell of a day, kid, huh?”

I laughed into his shoulder.

“Great drive,” Jack went on. “You held onto fast lap of the race for our class. Incredible achievement.”

I pulled back in surprise, and he grinned—an expression I'd only witnessed on his face three times. “True. You put in the fastest race lap in the GT Le Mans class. The factory team might have won our class, but you went fastest. Showed them Sandham Swift and Kate Reilly are forces to be reckoned with.”

A warm haze of satisfaction and pride swept through me. I didn't care we hadn't won the special Daytona watches for first place—this year, anyway. We'd accomplished something by persevering and finishing under the most terrible of circumstances—finishing on the podium at that. And I'd been fastest. I met Jack's smile with one of my own.

Then Jack straightened. “Time for Victory Lane, Ms. Fast-Lap.” He waved the team on and returned to the pit cart to gather his belongings. Around us, the crew put tools away, cleaned up debris, and disassembled shelves and stands they'd used throughout the race.

I smiled, turning for the exit, only to see my father standing there with Lara and someone in an Arena Motorsports shirt. I tensed before realizing it was Ryan Johnston, the only nice person from that team. All three of them were clearly waiting for me.

Now what?

Holly moved to my side as I approached my father, Lara, and Ryan.

“We know you've got to get to the ceremonies,” my father began. “But Ryan will need to speak with you. I mean, Agent Johnston.”

Why on earth would I want to speak with—

I blinked. “Agent?”

Ryan pulled out a badge. “Federal Bureau of Investigations. Undercover.”

I studied him, seeing a nondescript man of average height, average brown hair, and what looked like a well-muscled build under team clothing. Something in his eyes spoke of intelligence and self-assurance.

He held my gaze. “I'd like to talk with you and Lara both about your encounter with Vinny Cruise.”

“Vinny? But he's—”

“Really Julio Arena,” Ryan confirmed. “As I've explained to James and Lara, that's why I want to hear about the interactions you had with him this weekend.”

“Did you know Vinny was Julio?”

“We suspected. But we didn't have any real evidence.” He looked me in the eye as he said it. I got the sense he was honestly stating the facts and bracing himself for reaction.

He got one. In a flash, I went from worn out and mildly euphoric to pissed off. “You knew? And you let him hurt Stuart and Ian and Calhoun? You let him kidnap Lara and stick me in the side with a knife?” I heard the screech in my voice and stopped abruptly.

“A knife? Kate, you're hurt?” James put a hand on my shoulder.

I waved him off. “He poked me, cut my jacket. Back to Agent Johnston.”

Ryan spoke calmly. “We didn't
know
, only suspected. Without proof Vinny was Julio Arena, we couldn't do anything. No one had any idea Julio would go so far this weekend. We were all slow to catch on, even Richard Arena.”

“He had to know his brother was here,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but he didn't know about bribery or murder or kidnapping.”

“He didn't know? He's obviously up to something himself, if you've been undercover in his team.”

Holly spoke up. “You were with the Arena team, not Benchmark.”

“We have other ongoing investigations concerning Richard Arena, which I'm not at liberty to discuss. His brother wasn't my primary focus.” Agent Johnston looked at me. “Until he went nuts this weekend.”

“That's the legal term?” I asked.

“Not exactly.” He sighed. “Look, this isn't official, all right? My personal opinion is whatever else Arena is involved in, he kept his racing operations clean. He expected his brother to do the same. He's got a pretty big blind spot where his brother is concerned.”

My father shifted uneasily, but didn't comment.

Ryan straightened and reassumed his poker face. “Officially, I'm sorry for your losses this weekend. We weren't sure Julio Arena was behind everything until it was too late.”

I was still angry, but yelling at the FBI wasn't a good idea. “You're going to make sure he's put away?”

“Absolutely. You both can help me with that.” He gestured to me and Lara. “Can we speak at the Series trailer right after the award ceremonies?”

I looked to Lara, and we both agreed

“Did you,” Lara began, then stopped. I squeezed her hand, and she tried again. “Did you get the guys who tried to kidnap me?”

My father looked distressed, but still didn't speak.

“We have them in custody,” Ryan confirmed.

Lara relaxed, but she wasn't done. “And Tino, the mechanic who lied for Vinny? Is he in trouble? He's a nice guy, and he felt really bad.”

“He's safe, and I believe the local police are talking to him.” He softened some. “But I don't think he'll be in big trouble, no. Before any of you ask, the driver of the car is also talking to law enforcement. He may face charges for the collision that killed Ian.”

“What about whoever did the bribing?” I asked. “Do you know who that was?”

Ryan frowned. “There are suspects, but again, I'm not sure proof exists.” He glanced at my father. “You should get to the podium. I'll meet you after.”

I went after him as he exited the tent. “Ryan—Agent—”

He stopped. “Ryan's fine.”

“You gave me alibi information for Ed Grant and the cousins on purpose, didn't you? Why?” We were right outside the tent, where my father couldn't hear.

“I knew you were related to them. I thought you might be worried—that you'd want to know they weren't suspects.”

“You had that wrong.”

He chuckled. “Live and learn. I'll see you shortly.”

As he walked away, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Buzzed again. And again. I yanked it out. It was Polly, calling from the hospital. She was crying.

Chapter Fifty-five

2:15 P.M. | 0:00 HOURS REMAINING

My world caved in. I crumpled to the ground.

“Kate?” Polly sniffled. “Kate, he woke up! They think he's going to be all right.”

I gasped for air.
She's telling me he's alive. She's not calling to tell me he's dead. Alive.
“What?”

“He woke up,” Polly bellowed. “Not for long, but he's out of the coma. Come over when you can. Kate?”

I mumbled something in response.

“It's going to be all right, dear.”

I thanked her, let the phone slip out of my hand, and burst into tears. I cried with relief that Stuart was alive and the guy who tried to kill him was in custody. I cried for Ian Davenport and Foster Calhoun, who'd never see another day. I cried for myself, for having to let go of so much of my armor—like being mad at Sam, like not acknowledging my father or half-sister. I cried because I felt insecure without those anchors. I didn't know who Kate Reilly was with more family.

Mostly I wept to release the tension, pain, and trauma of the last twenty-four hours.

“Oh, no,” I heard Holly say. “Kate, no. Stuart?”

I raised my head to see her crouched in front of me, looking stricken. I smiled at her bleary face. “He woke up. He's going to be okay.”

She plopped back on her butt. “Oh, thank God.”

I wiped my eyes and laughed. “I know, right?”

She handed me a tissue, then used one to dab her own eyes.

Jack, my father, and Lara exited the tent and stopped short at the sight of us.

Jack's face clouded. “Stuart?”

I grinned at him. “Awake. Alive. They think he'll make it.”

Jack exhaled slowly, as if releasing an enormous burden. “Something went right.”

I scrambled to my feet. “Jack—the podium—I need to go to the hospital.”

He nodded. “Of course. Give him our best.”

I felt weak with gratitude and relief. I turned to Holly. “Can you—”

“You take the car.” She stood up and pulled the keys from her pocket. “I'll deal with everything here—I'll get your stuff and handle the cops and the press.”

“Just go, Kate,” Jack said. “None of this is as important as being there. We know where to find you.” He nodded to the others and left.

As we followed him up the pit walkway a moment later, I fought contradictory urges. On one hand, I could barely restrain myself from sprinting to the rental car and speeding to the hospital. On the other, I was strangely reluctant to leave the bubble of the racetrack. Reluctant to face reality.

I eyed my father next to me, wondering what he'd face in his own return to reality. A muscle twitched in his cheek. I realized his silence had more to do with holding in fury than disinterest.

I spoke quietly, so Lara wouldn't hear. “From your reaction, you have a pretty good idea of who bribed Vinny—Julio—to take Ian out.”

He looked straight ahead, his face blank. “I'm not sure it will ever be proven—it may be Julio Arena's word against theirs—but I have no doubt it was my brother or his son and nephew.”

I dodged carts carrying tires, pit boxes, and other equipment as I tried to work out how to respond.

It took three strides, but my father finally exploded. “I can't—simply—I am appalled.” He turned to me, stopping in the middle of the walkway. “Kate, I'm horrified at what they've done—to you, to your team, to Ian. I can't—my father—”

I put my hand on his shoulder and started him walking again. “You didn't do it. They made their own choices.”

He shook his head. “It's inexcusable. To drag the bank through this—to drag the family through it. Unacceptable. This time is the last straw.”

“This time?”

He sighed heavily. “My brother crossed the line once before. The family—he convinced them the ends justified the means. I couldn't convince them otherwise, and to my eternal shame and regret, I went along with family opinion.”

I had a bad feeling about what he'd say next.

He looked at me. “That was over you, your mother, and your grandparents. This is not the place, but the time has come, Kate. I need to explain the past to you. Soon.”

I nodded, but didn't speak.

“Rest assured,” he continued. “This time, I will handle my brother. Even if he goes unpunished by the law, he will not come out of this unscathed.” A fierce smile touched his face. “At the very least, I'd say his racing dreams—Billy and Holden's as well—are well and truly over.”

It might have been petty, but I couldn't help the satisfaction I felt at his words. “If they were responsible for Ian, they deserve to pay somehow.”

“I promise you, they will. I believe firmly in retribution and restitution.” The expression on his face was stern, almost frightening.

Check it out, my father can be an ass-kicker.
I felt a surge of appreciation and respect for him.

Holly turned around as we reached the gate to Victory Lane. “Kate, wait here for two minutes.” She read the anxiety and impatience on my face. “Two minutes, I swear.” She disappeared into the gated enclosure, where class winners were being presented with their watches. My father turned to speak with Lara.

Tug Brehan trotted over to me. “Kate, did you hear about Stuart?” While I felt—and almost everyone around me looked—like a bedraggled, exhausted mess, Tug looked neat, tidy, and fresh, if wide-eyed with excitement.

I nodded. “I'm on my way to the hospital.”

“Thank goodness,” Tug breathed. “I'm so sorry I didn't get to you sooner. It's been a little…” He swiveled his head from side to side.

“Believe me, I know.”

As the second place finishers in GTD were called to the podium, Tug focused on my face again. “So I heard. I'll be talking with the law soon, myself.”

I wondered if he'd had any role in my cousins' schemes. Or Vinny's. “How well did you know Vinny, Tug?”

He ran a finger under his collar. “Not as well as I thought. Or perhaps I should say I knew Vinny but not Julio?” He whispered the last name.

“How about Billy and Holden with the Arena team?”

I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes before they turned bored. “Casual acquaintances. We've shared a beer or two over the seasons.” He paused. I could almost see the wheels turning, connecting the cousins with me and with Vinny/Julio.

As if he'd flipped a switch, he turned into the professional pleaser. “They're representatives of a sponsor, after all, so it's my job to be friendly and helpful.” He finished with a smile.

“‘Being helpful' is why Ryan was paying you off?”

His smile never dimmed. “I'm not sure what you're referring to, Kate.”

I studied him. I no longer believed anything he said.

Tug kept smiling. He glanced around again, shooting his cuffs. “Any support or help I've rendered our teams or sponsors is no more than my duty as part of the race operations team. Which is precisely what I will tell the police when I see them.”

That's how he'll play it.
“You'll be in charge until Stuart returns?”

He jolted and flicked his eyes back to mine. “That's my understanding. I hope his recovery is swift.”

“Will Elizabeth stay on with you in his absence?”

“I hope so.” He smiled at me again, full power. “Stuart's shoes are so big, it will undoubtedly take both of us to fill them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run. Congratulations on your finish.”

My father murmured in my ear as Tug walked away. “I confirmed Tug spread the rumors about Stuart wanting small teams out of the Series.”

“You don't say.”

“Perhaps you will pass that along at an appropriate moment.”

I agreed, wondering how soon Stuart would be ready to deal with that kind of news. I checked the time.
I need to go.
Just then, Holly reappeared with Mike, Miles, and Colby in tow. I hurried to my co-drivers, opening my arms wide for a group hug.

“Way to finish, Mike,” I stepped back and looked at him. “Great drive.”

“Great car.” He looked worn out, but he smiled ear to ear. “Great team—incredible co-drivers.” He blinked and lost the smile. “And it was for Ian.”

I took Mike's hand. “He'd be pleased and proud.”

“Holly says Stuart's awake?” Miles asked.

“They think he'll be okay.” I looked at my three partners, my team. “I'm sorry to leave and not celebrate with you, but I need to go.”

Colby hugged me. “Stuart has to come first. We'll celebrate later. Go.”

I nodded at her, tears forming in my eyes again. “I'll see you all later. Thanks, all of you.” I waved and set off up pit lane.

Colby was right, Stuart came first. But I was headed into the unknown. I knew my relationship with him wouldn't be the same as it had been before his accident. We loved each other. But I traveled for my career, and he'd face a long recovery. I wondered what would change when we didn't see each other once a month at a race weekend.

I was achingly relieved he was alive and awake. I simply didn't know what the future would bring.

I looked back to see Lara and our father watching me leave. They waved, and I held up a hand in return.
I wonder how these relationships will go, too. Will I regret opening myself up to them?

I had no way of knowing. But I'd reached out, and there was no going back.