One Last Hold (22 page)

“Blake is after me,” Johnson admitted after a lengthy silence. Wesley wondered if it was to give his dad an opportunity to think about what to say or if he already had it planned. “He’s been trying to take over the company for years and I have learned recently he will stop at nothing to do it. He’s trying to destroy my career, my family’s career.”

“And how is Caitlyn involved?”

“I don’t know if you should trust her,” Johnson said. “She works for Blake, probably has a grudge against you. He’s trying to sabotage my entire life and that of my family. He’ll bring you down to bring me down and he’s using her to do it. Just look at that article in the magazine. It had Caitlyn’s name all over it.”

“She said it wasn’t her. Maybe Blake did it.”

“How did he know all that stuff if she didn’t tell him?”

“You, maybe.”

“Now why would I do that after everything I did to cover it up?”

“Anyone could find out if they wanted to. News is news, and with the internet these days, it isn’t hard to come across shit like that.”

“It was buried well back then,” Johnson said.

It was true. Wesley had no idea how his dad did it, but it was almost like that night had never happened. He often wondered if that attributed to his guilt. Maybe he should have owned up to it instead of running away from the people who loved him. Johnson claimed he loved Samantha but wasn’t willing to let his son suffer for her needless death.

Johnson took a sip of the coffee from the Styrofoam cup. How could he drink that shit? A million other things tasted better than jail coffee. No telling what all was in that stuff.

“Tell me about Chad,” Wesley said.

“Haven’t we already discussed this?”

“I want to know everything.”

“How is it going to prove your innocence?”

“If we can piece it together, we can find out who in the hell is doing it and they can take my place in jail.”

“And if it’s Caitlyn?”

“Why don’t you sell your part of the business to Blake?” Wesley probed, ignoring Johnson’s accusation.

“That’s a long and complicated subject, son. I probably would have if he hadn’t threatened me.”

“Is that why you killed his son?”

Johnson almost choked on his coffee before it spilled all over the place. He fumbled for a napkin to wipe some from his shirt. No one milled around the small meeting room, and Johnson had to use his suit jacket to swab the spill from his clothes and from the desk, which drenched some of his paperwork. “Dammit, this was my good suit.”

“You don’t have any others?”

Johnson rubbed at the stain on his shirt with his hands in an attempt to prevent it from soaking into the fabric. “I can’t believe you’d even think that I could be involved in what happened to Chad in any way.”

“There’s more to this than you’re telling me. Would you go so far as to kill to cover up my past?”

“No,” Johnson said, his attention still on the stain. “Why would I take those chances?”

Wesley shrugged. “Maybe you don’t want to risk being charged with tampering.”

Johnson scoffed. “They couldn’t pin that on me. The statute of limitations has run.”

Bile rose in Wesley’s throat. How far would his dad go to cover up his past?

Probably not near as far as Tim.

Wesley shook that thought aside. Tim had nothing to do with this. Wesley would bet his life on it. And his life might be all he had left.

“We’ve got to get him out of there.”

“And just how do you propose I do that?”

“Find someone to take the fall. He’ll be compensated.”

“No one will be willing to admit to murder.”

“For enough money they will.”

“No way. You don’t have enough money to motivate someone to confess to murder.”

“Find someone. Make sure he understands we’ll get him out.”

*

“Wesley Webb.” Wesley turned to see his dad and an officer. The officer unlocked the door. “You’ve been released.”

What?

His dad nodded at him and turned to walk away. The officer glared, tapping his toe against the concrete as Wesley just stood there.

He was being released?

It took him all of two seconds to follow his dad out and catch up to him.

“What’s going on?”

“They’ve had a confession.” Johnson parked his arm behind Wesley in an almost hug as they made their way to retrieve Wesley’s belongings.

Though they had never seen eye to eye, his dad deserved a big thanks, so he returned the awkward hug.

“What happened? Who was it?”

“Some friend of Chad’s admitted to having a falling out with him.”

Johnson opened the door to reveal a sun Wesley never thought to see again.

“What about Derrick?”

“Ongoing investigation.”

Gratitude filled Wesley when Johnson handed him his cap and sunglasses. They swam their way through a pool of media and Wesley wondered if it had been that way every day, or if news about his release had already gotten out.

He was impressed with the way his dad handled them. “There’s been a confession to Chad’s murder and now they have the correct person in custody. We’re glad Wesley’s been released and we appreciate his fans’ support. You’ll need to contact law enforcement for the details of the defendant’s arrest.”

The media stuffed microphones into Wesley’s face and fired questions one after the other.

“I’m glad to be released,” Wesley said. “And like my attorney said, I appreciate everyone’s support.”

The heat choked him. Damn, his lungs felt like he’d run a marathon. It hadn’t been this hot two weeks ago. Had he missed that much of summer already?

“What will you do now?” someone asked him.

“Race.”

Johnson pulled him away and they ignored the rest of the questions. He dropped Wesley off at a Tim’s RV.

“Why don’t you come in for a while?” Wesley asked. Even if he didn’t like his dad, he’d helped tremendously in making a bad situation a little better.

“No.” Johnson eyed his wristwatch. “I have some things to take care of.” Wesley wondered if he avoided coming in so he wouldn’t have to see Tim, but he didn’t question it further.

“Send me a bill for your services,” Wesley said.

“No,” Johnson replied. “I won’t send you a bill for my services. You’re my son.”

Wesley outstretched his hand. “I owe you a thank you.”

Johnson ignored the hand and gave him a hug instead. “You still have a lot to do to get your life back together,” he said. “Let me know if I can help.”

“I’ll probably need representation to get my butt back in racing.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

*

As Wesley showered, scrubbing himself of the filth permeating his body after his jail time, he prayed this nightmare was finally over. Being cooped in a small cell had almost killed him. He longed to get out on the track and experience freedom. He longed to race.

He didn’t know the man who had confessed, but Wesley was glad the spotlight was off him.

He’d missed two weeks of racing, but his rankings were high and he still had a chance to win the championship. He was bound and determined to win and now that his goal was first and foremost in his mind, especially after spending time in a jail cell.

Someone had confessed to Chad’s murder. There was nothing more Wesley could do. Nothing more he wanted to do but win the championship.

And spend every night in Caitlyn’s arms. He’d missed her.

With the news running rampant on his life, the information already printed, and fans hungry to know more about him—especially now—it would be the perfect time for a biography of his life. So why shouldn’t he agree? Let her write the biography, let her be a part of his life every day.

He was falling for her again. It’d be easy to get used to her presence. To have her stay with him, watching and supporting him. To make love to her every day. Other racers kept a family, why couldn’t he?

He’d called her, asked her to meet him at his home, so he could spend the next few days with her as he waited for the decision on when he could return to work.

*

Wesley and Caitlyn spent the next three days in bed. By the third day, he decided eating finger foods and champagne was getting old, so he slapped some steaks on the grill and went to find Caitlyn, who had gone outside to snap pictures of the landscape after a light rain.

He missed racing, and tomorrow was qualifying day. He’d have to get up early and fly to Pocono to get to the track. Although Caitlyn hadn’t said anything, he could tell by the downward curl of her lips that she agreed with Tim. He should take more time off.

Wasn’t going to happen. He’d already taken enough time off and he had to get back out there. But he wanted her with him.

She hadn’t quit her job yet. He wasn’t happy about that, but he understood her reasons. She wanted to find out more about Blake’s and Johnson’s partnership and she was afraid she couldn’t do that if she left. But her boss had agreed to give her time off.

His dad had confessed to telling Blake about their past and explained that Blake had been the one to write the article and used Caitlyn’s name to protect himself. Wesley couldn’t really complain anymore. His popularity had soared.

He found Caitlyn underneath a large shade tree. Sunlight crumbled through the rain clouds. The air had cooled and the rain was just enough to stir up dust.

She turned and smiled when he walked up, waving the dirt-soaked daisies she’d picked. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Locking his fingers behind her neck, he pulled her forward and supported his forehead on hers. “Do you know how much I missed you?” he muttered, his lips hovering over hers, drinking in her breath.

“You’ve been gone less than twenty minutes.”

“That’s twenty minutes too long.”

Her lashes skipped across his cheek as he pulled up her t-shirt and thumbed her breasts. Her head arched backward, exposing her neck, and his tongue explored every crevice.

She dropped the flowers and swayed. He wrapped his fingers around her ass and kept her steady. Not that he would stay steady much longer.

Thunder rumbled.

“Wesley.” She pushed against his chest as he continued kissing her neck. “Wesley.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s going to rain.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“We’re going to get wet.”

“I hope you’re already wet,” he growled as he trailed kisses along her neck and pushed her to rest against the tree.

“Soaked,” she breathed.

Her hands explored his body as the light rain arrived in cold drops, the tree lending sparse protection as the rain fell harder. She shrieked, then laughed.

He lifted her. She locked her legs around his waist as he carried her to the house.

The smell of steak curled through the air. He deposited her on the covered porch and she hugged her arms under her breasts. His eyes trailed to her soaked shirt, admiring the way it defined her nipples. Water dripped from her coiled hair.

“I’ve got to check the steaks.”

She watched him as he flipped the steaks, and he regretted his decision to cook anything that required drawing his attention away from Caitlyn.

“A few more minutes,” he said as he cantered forward and reached out his arms.

She slapped his ass and turned away, smiling. “I’ve got to shower before dinner.”

He tugged on her wrist. “No way, woman. You’ll wait for me. I’ll get the steaks off now.” He never wanted to take a shower again without her in it.

He had many regrets, many things to make up to her. And probably would have many more considering the state of his intensity when it came to race day. But tonight, the only intensity she’d find in him was his exploration of her body.

He wanted to give her the performance of a lifetime tonight. And Sunday, he wanted to show her the race of a lifetime, to show her how much it meant to him to have her there, supporting his race.

*

Caitlyn gripped her seat as Wesley’s car zoomed around the track.

Racing was a high octane sport, dealing with exuberant energy and incredible athletes. At almost two hundred mile per hour turns, racers held fast to the curves and onto their lives, knowing one wrong move could cause an accident and take their life or that of their colleagues.

She wondered if Tim was right. Maybe that’s why Wesley loved it so much. Not able to control what happened that night ten years ago, was he now trying to correct the mistakes of the past with the control of his racing?

He could have used another week of rest, at least, but he was determined to get back on the track and win and Caitlyn wouldn’t dare risk an argument. It wasn’t up to her and sex didn’t give her the right to convince him otherwise. Though he was tired—it was written all over his face—and stressed—probably compounded by the fact she and Johnson were here and Tim didn’t like it—the race would pump him in ways no amount of rest ever could.

She also worried that she hadn’t given him enough rest the past few days.

Energy poured from the crowd and Caitlyn let it feed her. Her hands tapped against her knees. She’d never relax completely and was sandwiched between Johnson and Tim, who hadn’t said one word to each other.

Johnson brought Caitlyn a cold drink and she shot him a grateful smile. At least he was trying. It was hot outside and the cola tasted good. Tim was being too hard on him. Tim was being too hard on both of them, in Caitlyn’s opinion.

She’d spent the last few days with Wesley and was excited when he’d agreed to let her do a biography. Judging by the colorful signs from the stands, the article hadn’t destroyed him or his devotees. If anything, it increased his appeal, backed by the one Caitlyn sold to the New York Times. Fans were supportive, wanted to know more, and loved how he had come out in the spotlight. He’d promised an interview with The Today Show in the future, but right now his focus was on the race.

The crowd roared when Wesley’s car bumped close to the wall. Caitlyn cringed, but he got it under control. Every turn, every moment, skewed her adrenaline. Her senses heightened, tingling, fearing. She held her breath, wondering how much longer she could maintain her sense of calm.

Calm? Who was she kidding? She hadn’t felt any sense of calm since the moment Wesley came back into her life. And each whoosh around the racetrack heightened her concern.