“That’s why I called. I need my mommy,” I joke.
“You’ll always be my baby, even when you’re old and gray. I’m always here for you,” she retorts. “While I have never agreed with your decision to keep secrets from your father, he hasn’t exactly made it easy for you. Your father has always been either ‘this or that’ with nothing in between. I think you need to have a good heart-to-heart with him and come clean.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “That’s kind of what I was thinking. I should tell him everything and let the chips fall where they may.”
“No! You need to inform him only about what concernsyouspecifically, Blake. Regarding Ryder, you’re still in the exploratory phase, and there’s nothing to tell your father. Once there is, then the two of you need to figure out if the relationship is worth the sacrifice, but the sacrifice is Ryder’s to make.”
“You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself. I just don’t know how much longer I can bottle everything up inside, Mom. I feel like a soda can that’s been shaken up and ready to explode with the slightest release of pressure.”
She chuckles. “The secret to preventing a can from fizzing is to smack the top several times before opening it.”
“Are you suggesting I smack some sense into Dad?”
“No, Sweetie,” Mom chuckles. “I’m suggesting you defuse the situation by coming to your father with a well-informed defense. There are several roads that lead to the same destination. Explain to him the route you want to take.”
Now, where have I heard that before?
Ryder
“Ican’tbelievethatReggieBuchanon isn’t racing this weekend! How does not one car, but two, end up failing inspection?” I ask Teague loud enough for our crew chiefs to hear and weigh in. Teague’s crew chief, Pit Bull, is engaged in a deep discussion with Soup, and neither bother to answer my question.
“Count your blessings. Now you actually have a chance of winning,” he jokes. He waves toward our crew chiefs. “There’s a rumor that Reggie’s cars were sabotaged, which is why Bull and Soup are doing a quick once-over on ours.”
“What? Why would anyone do that?” I scan the area, searching for anyone who looks suspicious, but no one catches my eye except for Blake. Her long legs move gracefully across the pavement as she approaches us. She draws my attention, but for entirely different reasons—her beauty and smile captivate me whenever she’s around.
“Did Soup and Bull find anything wrong with your vehicles?” she asks with concern as soon as she’s close enough to be heard.
I shake my head. “Nothing so far. I’m sorry to hear about Reggie having to drop out.”
She raises a skeptical eyebrow and folds her arms across her chest. “Are you really, Ryder? I thought that Reggie dropping out would make you ecstatic.”
My heart breaks at the unspoken accusation. “I hope you aren’t suggesting that I sabotaged Reggie’s vehicles. I was nowhere near them. Reggie might irritate me with his shenanigans, but he’s a great driver and challenges me.”
Teague sulks, “Hey! What am I, chopped liver? I’m more than just a pretty face, Ryder. Don’t let my good looks distract you from the fact that I’m a skilled driver. I’ll give you a run for your money.”
I snort. “You are a great driver, but I know your every move, Teague. Reggie is unpredictable and keeps me on my toes. I want to win, but I want to do it fairly. I wouldneverresort to cheating.” Of course, with my background, I would likely be the first suspect.
Blake gently places her hand on my arm to comfort me. “I wasn’t suggesting that you would. I was merely implying that it was a fortuitous set of circumstances that ended up in your favor.”
“You work for Wheelie Good Tires, Sis, and are on the inside track. Did they catch the guy who did it?” Teague asks. I turn my head so I can hear her answer more clearly over the noise of the pit crews going about their business.
“No. The only individuals close to the cars were the crew and nothing seemed out of place. However, one individual was lingering nearby who appeared suspicious. He had a scorpion tattoo on his neck, but his face wasn’t clearly visible. From what we caught on tape, he never got within ten feet of the vehicles.”
“The Savage Scorpions,” I mutter.
“Isn’t that the motorcycle club your father belonged to?” Teague asks.
I nod. “What I don’t understand is why they would go after Reggie when I should be the target of their wrath. What was he wearing? Can I see the tapes?”
Blake stares at her feet as if they are the most fascinating objects around. “He was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of your stock car and number on the back, as well as a Morrison Motors ball cap pulled low over his face with 67 stitched on the front.”
My brows come together as I try to put the pieces together. “I promise, I have nothing to do with this.”
“I believe you, Ryder,” Blake says adamantly. “Like I said before, the man didn’t come anywhere near the car. He just looked suspicious.”
Teague disagrees. “I think someone is trying to frame you, Bro. That guy could have paid one of Reggie’s crew to tinker with the cars. Either someone hates you enough to get you suspended or is a huge fan and wants to see you win. Neither bodes well.”
I take my ball cap and turn it backwards as I begin pacing the pit. The race starts in less than 15 minutes, and I have a choice to make. “There’s only one person I can think of who would resort to such measures, and the scorpion tattoo is a dead giveaway—my father. I’m sorry that Reggie is getting caught up in my mess. I need to apologize to him and explain.”
