Speed, Sex and Retribution: Eighth in the Rafe Vincennes Series

By Vicki Williams

“Rafe is what he is, Morgan. He brilliant but he’s also amoral. Do you think he has a conscience at all?” Gabe asked the others.

“I don’t think so,” Denis told them.”I don’t think he’s ever suffered a moment of remorse for anything he’s ever done. He has a code he lives by but I doubt if any of us could ever comprehend what it is.”

“I’ll tell you his secret for getting away with it,” said Wyatt. “No one ever knows anything he does but him. He has no need to share secrets or confide in anyone. You’ve all read some of the popular books about spies or assassins or adventurers of one type or another. What is the one constant?” He went on to answer his own question. “They all have a team or a partner or a sidekick or a contact. But not Rafe. What he does, he does totally on his own. He doesn’t tell anyone what or how or where. He sometimes tells you when only so you can be sure to have an alibi, as he did you, Gabe. No one can out him either accidentally or on purpose. He moves swiftly and surely and silently. He uses cutouts that are unknown to anyone but him.”

“Do you think maybe he tells Ree?” Gabe asked.

“Nope, I don’t think he tells anyone. I think Rafe is totally self-contained.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicki Williams
• Release date: Oct 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311863294

Vicki Williams

I turned to novel-writing after writing non-fiction for many years, primarily as a columnist. I wrote a syndicated column (political and social commentary) for King Features Syndicate for 10 years. My work has appeared in Newsweek, McCalls, Sports Illustrated, USA Today and many others. A Newsweek essay won an Indiana Presswomen's award for Social Commentary, then won at the national level. Three of my columns have appeared in textbooks.I currently write a weekly column for the Logansport (IN) Pharos-Tribune. I also write three blogs - one on writing, one on NASCAR and one on politics.During my work years, I was a bartender, a factory worker, a secretary, an insurance underwriter, a real estate salesperson and a plan administrator. I finally retired and am now living my dream as a full-time writer.I live in rural Indiana with my blond Pekinese, Channie, and my two cats, Paisley and Slate.

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SPEED, SEX AND RETRIBUTION

Eighth Volume in the Rafe Vincennes Series

Vicki Williams

Copyright © 2014 by Vicki Williams

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter One The Vincennes

Chaper Two Father Figure

Chapter Three Daytona

Chapter Four Pixie, Trixie and Dixie

Chapter Five Book of Rafe, Chapter One, Verse One

Chapter Six Jaoquo Wins

Chapter Seven One Last Time

Chapter Eight Wreck

Chapter Nine Vincennes Stud Farm

Chapter Ten College Bound

Chapter Eleven Satan’s Liaison

Chapter Twelve Kindred Spirits

Chapter Thirteen The Stallions

Chapter Fourteen The Mares

Chapter Fifteen Back to the Track

Chapter Sixteen Family Enforcer

About the Author

Chapter One

They were both a little flushed from sex in the heat and steam of the shower. Naked, they stood in front of the full-length mirror and took stock. His damp black hair curled onto his neck, one lock dangling onto his forehead. Her sable tangle now hung in wet ringlets, framing her face.

We still look pretty damn good for as old as we’re getting to be, dont’cha think?

Hush, Rafe, she smacked him playfully on the arm. We’re not getting old.

He grinned. You hit the Big 4-0 this year, Ree, and I’ll be joining you next year. We have kids who are seniors in high school.

Well, she said, flippantly, Hadn’t you heard? Forty is the new twenty-five.

As a matter of fact, they both did still look pretty damn good. She had several times been voted The Most Beautiful Woman in the World. He had been voted The Hottest Man. Between them, they’d won multiple Oscars and Golden Globes and People’s Choice Awards.

She worked out because her looks were her stock in trade. He didn’t care so much about appearance. He stayed fit because he was also a champion racecar driver and remaining at the top of his game required instant reflexes, agility and stamina.

He was tall and lean and tan as a gypsy with wide shoulders, washboard ads, and narrow hips. His face was all carved planes with eyes, above high cheekbones, that could turn cold and black as ditchwater though now, looking at her, they were brown and warm. He usually let his beard grow during NASCAR’s off-season but it was almost time for Daytona so he’d shaved to please his father (who also owned his race team) and his crew chief. His gleaming smile flashed across his face like lightning in a starless sky.

She was of medium height and slender with abundant breasts and long legs and a complexion as golden as clover honey. Ravenswing brows arched above storm-cloud gray eyes. An intriguing beauty mark at the corner accentuated her full mouth and generous-hearted smile.

Rhiannon and her fans, to whom she was unfailingly attentive, had a mutual admiration society between them. They called themselves Rhiannon’s Clan...as in family. She kept in close touch with them through Facebook and Twitter.

By contrast, Rafe’s fans were far more obsessive. He thought most of them were mentally unbalanced and had the feeling if they ever got him cornered, they’d tear him to apart so they could all claim their piece of him. He jokingly called them The Cannibals. He had neither a Facebook nor a Twitter account.

She put her arms around his neck. I’d love you even if you were bald and had a pot belly, Rafe.

He kissed the tip of her nose. And I’d love you even if you had a double chin and a saggy butt, Ree.

After all their years together, she believed it. She used to worry that he would drift away from her but she knew now that would never happen. She was the love of his life, his north star, even if he wasn’t faithful to her. The other women were just diversions and meant nothing to him. She tolerated his wayward ways even though she’d prefer it wasn’t so.

Come on, let’s get in bed, I’m starting to get cold, she said, taking him by the hand.

Well, she said once they were settled with her head on his shoulder. I’m off tomorrow. Part of me hates leaving you and the kids.

Of course, I like it better when you’re here but, come on, Honey, you know you’re restless to go back to work and you’ve wanted this role forever.

Yes, playing Jacqueline Kennedy is such an honor...and such a challenge to get it right. I admired her so much.

I can’t imagine anyone in that part but you. Even her family approved.

That’s one thing that makes it so stressful, that she has living relatives who will be expecting me to live up to her.

You’ll be fine, Ree, he said drowsily. You’ve got nothing to worry about. He fell asleep with the familiar scent of her signature perfume, Clive Christian II, drifting sweetly in the air. Rafe wasn’t a worrier himself and he’d never understood those who were.

-------

As far as Rafe was concerned, January was the best month of the year. All the hoopla and hustle of the NASCAR banquet in Las Vegas was over. That was an exhausting week with sponsor obligations and fan events and interviews and dinners, not to mention the late nights out on the town with Rhiannon. He’d been to the banquet every year of his career in NASCAR. (He and Jimmie Johnson were the only two who could make that claim) Rafe figured Crete Badeaux, his crew chief, would commit hari-kari if the Number 13 Harley Davidson Chevrolet ever didn’t finish in the top ten in points.

After that came the twins’ birthday celebration, usually with a party for twenty rowdy teenagers at the house – loud music and dancing and laughter and a ton of snacks and pop consumed.

And following that was the big Christmas appreciation dinner they gave every year for the Team 13 crew, over which Ree and Delight labored for days. Actually, weeks of shopping on Ree’s part preceded it – a thoughtful gift for every crew member, wife and child.

Then the mandatory Christmas at Heron Point, his parent’s chateau on the Eastern Shore. All his brothers and sisters and their kids and now even, grandkids. That was more Vincennes than he ever wanted to deal with at one time but when his father said, be there, you needed a death certificate to provide an acceptable reason for missing.

After that, everything began to settle down. His former landlords and adopted fathers, Vic and Chas, always came to visit for a week in January. He looked forward to seeing them. They were mellow and undemanding houseguests.

Finally, the highpoint of the year when he and Ree went to a beach somewhere (they took turns choosing a new place) to just veg out in the sea and sun and sand. This year it was Bora-Bora with a silky white beach and rustling palms and clear blue water along with the smell of salt water and tropical flowers, punctuated by the sounds of crying seabirds. This was when he let the hard work of the previous year drain out of his mind and body so that he was renewed for the season ahead. He and Ree slept late and gorged on fresh fish and fruit and played in the warm water and opened themselves to the sun and made slow, sensuous love every morning and every night.

Once home, life began to speed up again with testing in Daytona and Media Week in Charlotte. His schedule was not as frantic as some drivers’. He was lucky his sponsor was Harley-Davidson. Of course, he made commercials and the occasional public appearance for them but they didn’t keep him running constantly, letting the fact that he was a celebrity for reasons other than NASCAR take up the slack. He still had a couple of weeks to take life easy - to read and watch football and to play video games with the little kids – to eat Delight’s cooking and take naps on the long sofa in front of the fireplace with the sounds of his family all around him before the grinding NASCAR schedule started back up again.

He shook her awake. Come on, Honey, time rise and shine.

She groaned and buried her head deeper in the pillow. Rafe required little sleep and awoke fresh and fired up for the day. Ree could barely function until she’d had her first cup of coffee.

"Come on, you have to get up now if you want to say good-bye to the kids before they go to school.

Okay. She forced herself out of bed, pulling on a red plush robe, her hair a messy tumble around her face.

All their children were at the oak pedestal table in the breakfast nook when they got to the kitchen. A fire was burning cozily in the fieldstone fireplace. Their housekeeper, Delight, was putting a platter of scrambled eggs on the table. She quickly brought them each a mug of coffee.

What will ye be havin’ to eat then? she asked in her lilting Irish brogue that had lessened not a bit since she’d come to America from Ireland over 30 years before.

Just orange juice and a plain bagel for me, Delight, Ree said groggily.

Same here, Rafe said.

What time is your flight, Mom? her son, Cam, asked her.

The twins had never looked alike but the differences between them had become even more pronounced as they got older. Cameron was as tall as Rafe now with the same lean, lithe build. He was as tan as Rafe too and his graven face with the high cheekbones was a mirror image of his father’s. But his eyes were gray, not smoky like Rhiannon’s, but a lighter shade of ash. His hair was one shade from platinum with only the merest hint of gold. His smile was slow and his demeanor usually tended toward the serious.

By contrast, his sister, CeeCee was elfin. It was the bane of her existence that she was going to be the smallest of the Vincennes for it appeared that she’d topped out at 5’2" while staying right at 100 pounds (103 to be precise). Her unruly cocoa curls surrounded a heart-shaped face defined by eyes the color of melting chocolate, a dainty nose and a sculptured mouth. Compared to Cam, she was ebullient and outgoing. While Cam was even-keeled and slow to anger, CeeCee’s moods could turn on a dime.

Beside Ceece sat Tanner. Rafe and Rhiannon had adopted him after Rafe rescued him from a sadistic pedophile. Tanner was small for his age (he was 8 now, at least according to his birthday which they’d chosen arbitrarily because they didn’t know his real one). He had cow-licked mahogany hair, green eyes, freckles and a heart-touching shy smile. He always got the chair directly in front of the fireplace because after he’d spent a year in the cold basement of his abuser, the warmer it was, the better he liked it.

Next was Allie, Rafe’s daughter by his mistress, whom he and Ree had also adopted when she was 2 months old. That had been almost six years ago. Unfortunately for CeeCee, Allie was going to be tall like her mother, now a news anchor for NBC. Her hair fell below her shoulders in caramel waves. Rafe loved her in the pigtails she’d always worn when she was smaller but this year, she’d informed him she was too old for braids. The caramel hair and eyes the color of topaze and fair complexion made a striking combination. Rafe’s pet name for her was Petal because of the delicate wash of pink on her cheeks.

In her little girl’s chair, sat TiTi, for Trinity Trieste, going on three. She’d become a legal Vincennes when she was left on Rafe and Rhiannon’s doorstep. They were old hands at the adoption process by then. A combination of African-American and Asian, she was an exotic orchid of a child with her mocha skin and wavy black hair and brown almond eyes.

And finally, there was Jaoquim. When his father has heard about the exploits of the young hot shoe racing the dirt tracks of Oklahoma, he’d sent Rafe out to evaluate his performance. Rafe ended up bringing him to North Carolina, inviting him to stay at the house until he got himself settled. He’d been there ever since. He was too old for adoption, of course, but everyone considered him a member of the family, nonetheless. This year, he would join Rafe in the Sprint Cup Series. Although his was a rags to riches story – from alcoholic parents on an Indian reservation to a detention center to living with his aunt and uncle and their seven children in their tiny 3 bedroom house and now to driving for Vincennes racing in NASCAR’s most prestigious series – it hadn’t gone his head. The memories of cruel times were still fresh, causing him to keep a low profile. He was short and slight and wore his black hair below his shoulders, affecting a bandana around his forehead much of the time. He was rather too delicate and beautiful to be considered handsome.

My flight leaves at 1:00, Ree answered her son.

And you and Jaoquo will be heading to Daytona next week, right, Dad?

Yep.

I hate it when everyone leaves, Allie said sulkily.

Well, Honey, at least you’ll all be flying down with Grandpa before the 500.

Everyone except Tia and Delight.

Daddy! the toddler immediately began to wail. Me too, Daddy!

She was sitting beside Rafe and she climbed from her chair into his lap, putting a plump baby hand on each cheek, looking directly into his eyes, her own filling with tears.

Please, Daddy, please, take me too.

Oh, Dad, CeeCee said, let her go. Cam and I will watch out for her, won’t we, Cam?

Sure, and it can be a vacation for Delight too.

Rafe looked sharply at the twins. Okay, but you guys are in charge of the little ones and I expect you to pay attention to them.

CeeCee winked at Cam and asked, how old do you think he thinks we are?

Oh, I don’t know, nine or ten, maybe?

Like the parents of most teenagers, Rafe and Rhiannon had not escaped the smart ass stage.

Chapter Two

Rafe loved Jaoquim as he would a son and he enjoyed his company. He knew the kid could benefit greatly from his guidance and advice but if he had his druthers, Rafe preferred going to the races on his own unless the whole family was coming. Fact was, Jaoquo cramped his style. Rafe had a long-running agreement with his fan club, well, not all of them, but the inner circle as supervised by Jeri, who’d been his friend, confidante, publicity director, fan club president and sometime lover ever since he’d been racing. The girls submitted their names to Jeri and she let the computer do a random draw. Whoever popped up got the spend the night with Rafe if he wanted a woman (and it was rare that he didn’t). But with Jaoquo staying with him, of course, those looked-forward-to visits would have to be postponed for the duration.

Rafe sighed, remembering back to the last assignation Jeri had arranged for him.

She was barely off his shit list for that one. That had been back at Phoenix last season.

Nothing wrong with the girl. She was young, 19 or so, with short, straight auburn hair, complemented by light green eyes the color of sauvignon blanc and an ivory complexion. Her body was slender as a boy’s, no boobs to speak of. That part was all right. Rafe loved women in all their various shapes, sizes and shades. She came through the door wearing jeans, an orange Number 13 teeshirt and sandals. He’d introduced her to Brass, the golden, black-masked Belgian Shepherd that accompanied him almost everywhere. She stooped to pet him and Brass wagged his plumy tail in approval and that automatically earned her a point in his estimation. So far, so good.

What wasn’t so good were the first words she spoke to him when he invited her to have a seat. Her voice was soft and timid. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

I’m not here to have sex with you.

He went silent for a moment, then said, maybe we’d better move this to the kitchen, motioning her toward the table. Would you like something to drink?

Do you have any pop?

Nope, never buy the stuff. Your choices are iced tea, coffee, orange juice or water.

Iced tea would be great, thank you.

He poured them both a glass, then sat down across from her. Okay, so tell me.

I have to give you some background first so maybe you’ll understand.

Go ahead. I’m a patient listener. But put your head up and look at me so you’re not mumbling into your chest.

Her green eyes met his dark ones and she took a deep breath.

My name is Maureen Corrigan, at least, that’s the name that was given to me by the welfare department. My hair was red even then so they went with Irish although for all I know, I could be Lebanese.

She smiled a slight smile and he smiled back. Well, to give them credit, you do look more like a Corrigan than a Bashir.

She nodded and went on. My mother abandoned me when I was born and I was raised by my foster family. Don’t get the idea, though, that I’m complaining about being the product of abuse or neglect, she said hurriedly. "My foster parents were kind, good people. They did the very best they could to treat me and their two natural children equally. They just couldn’t quite pull it off. The differences were subtle but I was always aware that I wasn’t a part of them. I would see the love and tenderness my father felt for my brothers when he ran his hand across their hair or patted them on the cheek and it made me want to cry because I knew he didn’t feel that way about me. My life wasn’t horrible but I lived with a perpetual yearning for a father. For some reason, it wasn’t a mother my heart cried out for but a father.

When I was fourteen, I went with my parents and two brothers to the NASCAR race in Texas. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea but I enjoyed myself. You probably don’t even remember but your wife and kids were with you there. Your twins were probably about my age or a little younger."

They’re 18 now, he told her.

"You won that day and they joined you in Victory Lane. You all seemed to have such a close affectionate relationship. I remember you picked CeeCee up and swung her around while she poured Gatorade on your head. She was laughing.

That picture stuck in my mind and I became a fan. It wasn’t your exploits on the track that made me love you but I studied every picture and video of you and your children. I noticed that you treated Allie exactly the same as the twins. Well, that’s natural, I guess since she really is your daughter. But then there was the massive publicity about Tanner. How you rescued him and then you and Rhiannon adopted him. After that, I watched even more closely to see if I could detect even the slightest favoring of your natural children."

And you didn’t see any, did you?

She shook her head. No.

"That’s because he is mine. He’s mine because I claim him as mine. It doesn’t have anything to do with blood."

"Now, of course, there’s Titi and Jaoquim. I had the People cover of you and Rhiannon and all your kids framed and hung it on my dorm room wall as my ideal family. I was so envious of your children."

So tell me about your life apart from all that?

My parents were killed in a car wreck a couple of years ago. Bless their hearts, their will divided their estate equally between the three of us. It wasn’t a great deal of money but it’s enough to go to college and support myself while I’m getting my education. I want to be a social worker, emphasizing Family Dynamics.

Rafe cocked one black eyebrow. "You do realize that spending the night with me normally includes sex?"

She giggled. Oh, yes, I’ve been a member of the fan club for two years and I’ve heard the other girls talking about it.

"So if that’s not your agenda, what is it that you want from me?"

She looked at him and said simply, I want to feel like your daughter for a night.

Although not much that humans did surprised Rafe, he was somewhat taken aback by her request. Sweetheart, I’m not sure I can make that happen. Things are so natural between me and CeeCee because we’re integral parts of one another’s lives, they occur organically without having to think about them.

Will you try? Will you just please try? Just treat me as you would her if she was here.

I have to admit, this is a new one. He sighed, we’ll give it a shot. I’ll do the best I can.

Her smile lit up her thin face. "What