Fearless Maverick (17 page)

 
          
His
grin was lopsided. ‘That too.’

 
          
She
coughed out a laugh. ‘Did this Carter White own a bag of fairy dust? How did he
manage to turn such a wayward kid around?’

 
          
‘With
a chronically slow and steady approach.’ Much like the technique Libby used on
his shoulder, come to think of it. ‘He had me work on cars and motorbikes for
months before he let me drive or ride. At first I thought he was doing it
simply to annoy me, but it didn’t take long before I learned a deep
appreciation for the way engines worked, the way bodies were put together. I
learned to admire their beauty and power. After five years as a team, I thanked
him and took off to pursue the bright lights.’

 
          
‘Just
like that?’

 
          
Her
brows knitted … as if she thought he ought to have stayed?

 
          
‘It
was with his blessing,’ Alex pointed out. Carter had wanted his protégé to
advance as much as Alex had needed to move on. ‘He gave me a memento of our
time together and to remember the faith he’d put in me. He made the medal
himself. It has a big number one plunging through its centre.’ Anyone who cared
to read up on Alex Wolfe knew about the significance of that piece. ‘Whenever
and wherever I race, I carry that medal for good luck’. Ironic that after
Annabelle’s last message he’d forgotten to slip it into his suit before his
crash. He’d never forget it again.

 
          
‘It
means a great deal to you.’

 
          
Understatement.
‘That chunk of metal means more than all the cups and trophies I could acquire
in a lifetime of championships.’

 
          
It
represented not only everything he’d gained but everything he’d left behind and
never wanted to visit again. Carter had told him to pass it on when he didn’t
need it anymore. To give it to someone who did. Hell, he’d rather cut out his
own heart.

 
          
He
could never give it up, just as he could never give up racing.

 
          
‘When
did you see him last?’ she asked.

 
          
And
Alex’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time. He
glossed over it.

 
          
‘We
keep in touch.’

 
          
‘By
email?’

 
          
He
thought about it and nodded. ‘Usually.’

 
          
Her
gaze probed his as if she wanted to dig more but then she carried on with her
earlier thread.

 
          
‘They
say you’re fearless on the track. That there’s never been a more focused
champion.’

 
          
With
a jaded grin, he gestured for the bill. ‘Guess the press are good for
something.’

 
          
‘Did
the other Wolfe children go off the rails before making good?’

 
          
God
knows they’d all had their moments. ‘The second eldest, Lucas, was always a
handful. He never knew his mother. Never even knew her name. He was dropped on
the Wolfe Manor doorstep when he was a newborn.’ He squashed a spike of unease.
Poor bastard. ‘Our father took a particular dislike to him. Can’t blame Luc for
growing up to like women and booze a bit too much. But in her most recent email
Annabelle said our shameless playboy sibling has found true love.’ His grin was
warm. ‘Difficult to believe. She must be an exceptional girl.’

 
          
Alex’s
thoughts again turned to the woman sitting across from him. Seemed he’d met an
exceptional woman too. Not that he was after marriage. Time, lifestyle, an
unhappy childhood without parents … there were a hundred reasons to remain
single. Where women were concerned, he was careful not to insinuate anything
else. He had never and
would
never
promise what he couldn’t deliver. Not like the jerk who’d let Libby down.

 
          
‘What
about Jacob?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t you won der about him after he walked out and
never came back?’

 
          
‘He
… had a lot weighing on his mind.’

 
          
She
cocked her head as if trying to read his expression. ‘Sounds as if you all had
terrible things to reconcile.’

 
          
‘Jacob
perhaps more than any of us.’

 
          
Alex’s
back teeth ground together. He’d like to be completely honest but he didn’t
discuss that particular episode of his life. Still, sitting here with Libby now
…

 
          
For
the first time in his life Alex felt an urge to open up.

 
          
‘A
year before Jacob left there was … an incident,’ he said. ‘Charges were laid.’

 
          
Her
face paled. ‘Serious charges?’

 
          
The
waiter left the bill. Alex scrawled his signature and set the pen down. ‘Want
to walk for a while?’

 
          
She
scraped back her chair. ‘Love to.’

 
          
Five
minutes later, they were strolling along the esplanade, the road on one side
and the tumbling surf on the other. He wound his arm around her waist, then,
looking out over the glittering blue-green waves, asked, ‘You okay with this?’
Being so close to the water?

 
          
With
the breeze combing through her flaxen hair, she nodded. ‘I often walk along
here. Just haven’t managed to get any sand between my toes lately.’ She
snuggled up against his arm. ‘But we were talking about Jacob.’

 
          
Alex
focused and suddenly all those old fettered memories strained to break free,
pinpricks of murky light struggling through tears in a dark smelly rag. Looking
back he didn’t know how he’d ever lived through those tragic years. How any of
the Wolfe children had. But that was the secret, he supposed. Even with storms
of brutality and madness and death swirling all around, the Wolfe kids had
remained individual and strong—he grinned to himself—like bamboo.

 
          
‘My
father had a foul temper,’ he began, looking out over today’s thunderous waves
crashing on the shore, ‘which was a hundred times worse when he drank. And he
drank often. We all suffered at his hand. All but one. Then one night—’

 
          
He
bit off the rest. He didn’t need to go there.

 
          
Libby
jumped to her own conclusion. ‘Alex, your father didn’t
kill
anyone?’

 
          
‘He
might as well have.’

 
          
‘Who?’

 
          
Alex’s
gut wrenched. Even now those memories left him stone-cold. He blew out a long
steadying breath and grated out the words he’d never wanted to utter.

 
          
‘He
assaulted my sister.’

 
          
Libby’s
heels dug into the pavement as her face filled first with anger, then with
pain.

 
          
‘Annabelle? ‘

 
          
‘He’d
been out riding all day. Drinking most of it too. When Annabelle came home he
said she wasn’t dressed appropriately.’

 
          
Alex
remembered the micro mini, skyscraper heels and carefully applied makeup
Annabelle had worn that night. She hadn’t looked like a fourteen-year-old. She’d
looked more like a woman who knew precisely what was what. Truth was that
Annabelle
was
an innocent. Or had
been until that evening when innocence had been destroyed forever.

 
          
‘Our
father railed at her, then pulled out his riding crop….’

 
          
Closing
his eyes, Alex tried to shut out the scene he’d heard about second-hand. He
couldn’t bring himself to say the words. To face the shame. His father’s or his
own.

 
          
Libby
had covered her mouth but her gasp escaped. ‘That poor girl.’

 
          
Alex
studied her face. Libby had no idea that the revulsion she felt was as much his
to bear as his father’s. Of all his siblings, he loved Annabelle best and yet
he’d let her down, fobbed her off, when he should have been there to look out
for her. Thank God Jacob came home when he did.

 
          
‘Jacob
tried to protect her and pushed William away,’ he went on, his pace down to a
crawl now. ‘My father staggered back and struck his head on the corner of the
staircase. He died instantly.’

 
          
‘But
surely it was self-defence.’

 
          
‘The
jury acquitted my brother of all charges. But the weight of what he’d done ate
away at Jacob.’

 
          
It
sure as hell had eaten away at
him
.

 
          
Her
gaze filled with sympathy and support, Libby stopped and held his gaze. ‘Do you
and Annabelle ever talk about it?’

 
          
His
stomach lurched and he frowned. The very idea knocked him completely off
balance.

 
          
‘Why
would
we?’

 
          
He’d
all but snapped it out, and Libby blinked several times before her gaze
sharpened, trying to see through to places he didn’t care for her to go.

 
          
‘Is
there something more, Alex?’ she asked quietly. ‘Something you’re not telling
me?’

 
          
His
heartbeat thumping, he started off again.

 
          
He’d
said enough. The incident had forever changed his sister and it was largely his
fault. How could he and Annabelle ever talk about such cruelty, about her
maiming—

 
          
‘Alex
…?’

 
          
He
brought himself back and was about to change the subject when a group,
congregated around a picnic table, caught his attention. One woman held a
folded magazine and was pointing their way. Looked like he was back in the
news.

 
          
Defiant,
he lifted his chin.

 
          
And
so what if he was? His arm was out of its sling. Thanks to Libby, he was on his
way to full recovery and after two and some weeks cooped up, worried about his
future, he felt the greatest urge to venture out.

 
          
His
gaze slid to his companion. Maybe she’d enjoy a break as well, to continue what
they’d started here. Something fun and light, of course. Like the past few
hours had been.

 
          
As
the thought took form, his mouth went dry and Alex wanted to laugh. He was
nervous
about inviting Libby? Amazing
what a couple of weeks away from regular social contact could do. She wouldn’t
say no.

 
          
Would
she?

 
          
He
cleared his throat, tugged his ear. ‘What would you say to getting out of here
for a while?’

 
          
She
tossed a wary look around. ‘You mean, off the street?’

 
          
‘I
mean out of Sydney.’

 
          
Libby
froze. She’d heard Alex’s suggestion. That he—that
they
—should escape the city. And when the shock wore off, her first
reaction was to clasp her hands and exclaim, ‘When do we head out?’ What girl,
who’d spent the night with such an amazing man, would think to refuse?

 
          
But
at the same time a cloud blocked out the sun, darker reality sank in.