The Good Race

By Anne Marie Flynn

Jackie Reilly lost her father in a catastrophic stock car racing accident and gained a brother the same day. With no one left, she follows him to a prestigious boarding school where she strikes up an unlikely friendship and romance with the school bad boy. But Danny Mackenzie isn’t everything he seems.

All but abandoned at a boarding

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fox Chase Books, LLC
• Release date: Sep 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9780692949665

Book preview

The Good

Race

A.M. Mahler

Fox Chase Books, L.L.C.

Richmond, Virginia

A Note to Readers

ALL MY LIFE, I’VE WANTED to be a writer. I wrote a lot of practice books in high school. The publishing industry being as competitive as it is, and this being before personal laptops and the internet, I put them away, too scared to take the risk of being told I’m not good enough. That, thus far, is my one big regret in my life—not believing in myself.

A few years ago, my husband was turning forty and decided to run a marathon since it fell on his fortieth birthday. One day, after a particularly hellish training run when he was lamenting how much pain he was in, I said, "You know, no one is making you do this. You don’t have to feel this way. He looked at me and said, I’m going to be running a marathon on my fortieth birthday. What are you going to be doing when you turn forty? All I could think was, Not this. Not what I’m doing now." The very next day, I looked into bachelor’s degree programs I could take online. Five years later, I’m publishing my first book and changing my career. I missed the mark of my fortieth birthday by two years, but here I am.

I hope you enjoy the story you are about to read. I hope you enjoy the characters and want to read more. If you do, I would appreciate your leaving a review on Amazon and Good Reads. The more reviews an author gets, the better their rankings. It really helps them out.

I’ll stop talking now and let you get to the story, but I leave you with this. NEVER give up your dream for fear you might not be good enough. It’s never too late.

For my husband, who feels weird that I

wrote a book with sex in it. Thank you for

your love and support. And I should probably

tell you, more books with sex in them will

follow this one...sorry.

Prologue

DETECTIVE DANIEL MCKENZIE was pretty sure he was dying. A New York City cop didn’t have a long life expectancy anyway, right? He’d known that going in. He’d gone from one dangerous job to another. He was angling to live longer than thirty. That would have been nice. He didn’t have specific plans for his life per se, but he hoped it would be a relatively long one. Things didn’t always turn out the way you hoped, though. Hazy faces kept appearing before him, ceiling tiles and lights flew by above him, and disjointed voices seemed to radiate off the walls. Gunshot wound! Upper right quadrant. Entry and exit wound. Vitals are falling.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the ride. Maybe he’d just rest a bit. There was a pleasantness creeping its way through his body, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He was still dimly aware of the voices around him, but they were echoing now as if he were in a tunnel. Oh, he knew about the tunnel. Everybody did. Strangely enough, his didn’t have a light. Why didn’t he see any light? Was that not a real thing? Here he was, dying, and the light was out in his tunnel? Did the bulb need replacing? Had the Angel of Death fallen down on the job?

And another thing—where was his life? Wasn’t he supposed to be seeing his it flashing before his eyes? Why did he have nothing but darkness? Were the echoes around him getting louder? He’d had good moments—not a lot—but toward the end of his time at Trent, things had started looking up.

Danny! Oh, God! Danny, open your eyes! called a female voice.

Now he definitely knew he was dying because he hadn’t heard that voice in thirteen years. But if getting screwed out of the tunnel and the movie of his life meant that he got to spend his last moments thinking of her, then he’d make the sacrifice. He’d come to New York because he’d wanted to see her again—though this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

McKenzie! Open your eyes!

All right! All right! he yelled. Quit nagging!

Did he say something? asked another voice.

He’s trying to talk. Let’s cut these clothes off of him.

Trying to talk? He wasn’t trying to talk. He was yelling at them! Couldn’t they hear him scream?

It looks like there’s an exit wound out his back. Let’s turn him on three so I can take a look. Take the head, Terry, on your count.

One...two...three!

AAGGGGHHH!

Danny’s eyes flew open, and in an instant, everything was clear—the lights, the sounds, the faces, and the pain. Oh, the pain. It was agonizing. Yes, he remembered this pain. He’d been shot. Again.

There he is, said that angelic voice that was ordering him around.

FUCK!

His breath came in gasps as he stayed on his side while the doctor worked to stabilize the wound on his back. Gentle hands touched his skin. He remembered that touch. He had longed for that touch.

I see you still swear like a drunken sailor, said the voice.

He blew out breaths and squinted his eyes tight. He was going to lose his cool in front of her, there was no way to avoid it. It hurt too damn much. This was not the reintroduction he’d been hoping for.

I think I’m going to puke, he gagged.

Terry, get a bedpan.

Danny tried to take deep breaths in through his nose and let them out through his mouth. It didn’t help much, but the immediate feeling of being about to vomit all over her was gone. He had that much going for him at least. They eased him back, and he laid his head down and waited for the dizzy feeling to subside enough to open his eyes. When it finally did, he turned to look at her.

Am I dead?

No.

What are you doing here then?

Saving your life at the moment, honey.

Honey? Had she ever called him honey before? He thought he’d remember that. He tried to focus on her face instead of her actions. She was reaching across him, above him, around him. Things were being put in her hand and taken back again. Everything about her seemed red, and he knew it was his blood all over her. Jesus, did he have any left?

Is it bad?

She didn’t answer him.

He lifted his hand, covered in his blood, and grabbed hers as it flew by.

She paused for a second. Jacks?

Dr. Jackie Reilly finally looked him in the eye. She kept her voice even, but she was in danger of losing her composure and professionalism.

It’s not good, Danny. You’re bleeding buckets, but I’m going to get you through it, do you understand me? The bullet came out your back. That’s good.

Didn’t feel good, he murmured, dropping her hand and closing his eyes for a moment.

No, honey, I imagine it didn’t, she said, then went back to her work. How’d you end up being a cop, anyway?

Came with dental.

Oh, Danny, I’ve missed you, she whispered.

Do I need surgery?

Yes.

Will you come in with me? He felt needy—desperate to keep her close as long as he could. He wasn’t even sure if she was some sort of hallucination.

I can’t, she said. But I’ll be there when you come out. I’ll wait for you.

Good, he said. Because I’ve been waiting for you for thirteen years now.

Then he gave himself over to the darkness.

DANNY WOKE UP once after surgery for a short time before falling back asleep. When he came to again, he saw that the room was dark and quiet. He could hear beeping nearby. Someone else was in the room with him, but he couldn’t make out who it was. Everything looked blurry.

Someone walked over to the bed and stood there a minute, rattling off numbers and squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, because it seemed to be what they wanted, but then they didn’t let go.

He felt breathing by his ear. Go back to sleep, Danny. It’s okay now. You can sleep as long as you want. I’m here with you. You were very brave, and I’m so proud of you.

Proud? She was proud of him? No one had ever said that to him before. Well, one person had once...

Going back to sleep sounded like a good idea, and since she’d said she’d stick around, it seemed okay to listen to her.

When he woke again, things were clearer. The lights were off in the room, and he could see through the door that the ward was dark and quiet. So, he was in the hospital. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Jackie appeared before him. She sat on the edge of the bed and faced him. Her hair looked darker to him now, and her face had thinned out a bit. The haunted look in her eyes when they first met was back.

They looked at each other, each taking inventory of the other. Then Jackie placed a hand on either side of his face, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his forehead. She held them there for almost a full minute before she pulled back. Tears were streaming down her face and she wiped them away with her sleeves.

Didn’t I tell you once that I wasn’t worth crying over? Danny whispered.

God, if you’d have died under my hands, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

She stood up and continued to wipe the tears away, then moved to the plastic pitcher near the bed, poured a glass of water, and drank it herself.

Don’t I get some? Danny asked in a hoarse voice.

No, she said shortly. "Don’t do that again, okay? Do not get shot again. Those are doctor’s orders."

Yes, ma’am. I’m thirsty.

You can’t have water. You can have ice chips.

What the hell’s the difference?

She ignored him as she walked over to the nurses’ station and back again. She had changed clothes since he’d last seen her. She was now in scrub bottoms, a long-sleeved ribbed shirt, and flip-flops. She sat back down on the bed with the cup of ice in her hand.

How did you end up getting shot?

Bad guys do that sometimes, he replied. His voice sounded like he’d swallowed rocks. She held an ice chip up to his lips. He arched a brow at her but opened his mouth. She slid the chip in. He closed his eyes as he savored the cool, fresh ice. His mouth felt full of cotton.

I tracked you down here, he said when the chip had melted. I knew you were a doctor in New York. I wanted to come see you, but I wasn’t going to do it like this. I had a better plan. Flowers, and other stupid stuff.

Better than your prom-night plan?

Not my fault, he murmured automatically. His eyes were getting heavy again. Ice forgotten, he fought to stay awake. He was afraid if he went to sleep, he’d lose her again.

Part One

One

RYAN WILLIS LOVED SUMMERS at the race track. The sights, the sounds, the girls. The rivalries, the tension, the excitement. School was out for the summer, and he looked forward to running the circuit with his father. Toby Willis was neck and neck with rival and former friend Jimmy Reilly for the points lead. They had been chasing each other’s bumpers all season. Each city they went to, reporters and television anchors played up the competition. Once inseparable best friends when they were rookies, the two drivers now seemed like they couldn’t stomach each other. Neither discussed their falling out, even when hounded by the press to do so.

Ryan had never asked his father about what had happened between them, but he suspected a woman had something to do with it. There were rumors on the circuit about Daisy Dolan, who had once been hot and heavy with Toby but then tossed him aside for Jimmy. Ryan was just a baby when all this had happened, so he had absolutely no memory of this Daisy woman.

Toby and Jimmy had more in common than they publicly acknowledged. They were both single fathers to teenagers who were pretty close in age. By Ryan’s estimation, Jimmy’s daughter Jackie was just about a year younger than he was. She was quiet and kept to herself, and he usually saw her with her face buried in a book. When she looked up, though, her face stunned a guy. Ryan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a prettier girl, and as the only son of one of the circuit’s most popular drivers, he saw a lot of girls. 

For reasons he couldn’t understand, he’d never quite worked up the gumption to ask her out. He wasn’t intimidated by her. They saw each other all the time and even spoke on occasion, but something still held him back. He just didn’t seem to find himself interested in dating her, and he had always thought that was a little bizarre. Yes, she was painfully shy—but she was gorgeous. What’s more, she understood what his life was like. Ryan didn’t run from the cameras the way Jackie did. He didn’t court the attention, but he chalked it up to being part of the lifestyle. Jackie, however, was elusive to the press, and most of the guys on the track helped Jimmy keep it that way.

Ryan did envy Jackie a bit. Whereas Toby sent Ryan away to a prestigious and exclusive boarding school each fall for the academic year, Jimmy Reilly hired tutors and kept his daughter with him all year round. When Ryan was younger, he used to beg his father not to send him away, but Toby always told his son it was for the best. Ryan didn’t doubt his father’s love for him, but he wished he could stay with him the way Jackie got to stay with her father.

Now he watched his father finish up the pre-race interviews. Toby Willis could work the press like a pro. He never had a bad thing to say about his crew or his fellow drivers—on camera, anyway. Behind closed doors, Toby had a lot of unfavorable things to say, but he was nothing but one of the good ol’ boys for the camera.

Hey, bud, Toby greeted him when he saw him approaching. Great day for racing!

The car was a little loose in practice, Ryan frowned. They work on her?

Sure, sure, Toby replied. We tightened her up. She’s decent enough now.

Not a winning car today?

We’ll see.

Toby seemed distracted and glanced at the team next to them. It was Jimmy’s team. Jackie was standing up in the booth out of the way while her father gave his interviews.

You talk to Jackie yet since you’ve been back? Toby asked.

Ryan always took that to be a question of whether or not he had asked her out yet.

We talked a bit while you were in the driver’s meeting, Ryan said, following his father’s gaze up to where Jackie stood next to Les Gordon, Jimmy’s crew chief of five years. She’s still got some tests left to take. I guess the homeschool stuff’s not over yet.

I guess. Toby looked away and up into the stands. Along the top, the spotters were getting into place.

Everything okay, Dad? Ryan asked. His father seemed a bit out of it. Usually, before a race, he was full of energy. Today, something seemed off.

Sure, sure, Toby said again.

You seem distracted. You’ve got to make sure your head’s in the game.

Advice for your old man, sport? Toby asked with a wide grin.

Just making sure your head’s in the right place.

It’s attached to my shoulders, just like always, Toby replied. Maybe I’m thinking about that C in English you got.

Excuse me for not being a big Shakespeare fan, Ryan shot back. I don’t need English to work on cars.

Ryan’s dream had always been to build race cars. He couldn’t imagine any other life.

You still need it to get into college, Toby reminded him. You want to design stock cars, you need good grades. They don’t just give that job to anyone who can tell the difference between a spark plug and a radiator cap.

I took apart and rebuilt my first engine when I was ten.

Don’t I remember it, Toby said. Now, keep a friendly eye on Jackie for a time, you hear? Something don’t feel right.

Is something wrong with her dad? Ryan asked.

How the hell do I know? Jimmy hasn’t spoken to me in sixteen years. It’s just—I don’t know—something’s in the wind.

Suddenly, Ryan got chills. There did seem to be a different kind of tension in the air.

I don’t really like her like that.

"Good, because when I said ‘friendly,’ I meant friend. Nothing else."

Ryan held up his hands in peace and stepped back as Carl LeStat, Toby’s crew chief, shouted down to his dad to get in his car. Then he moved back over the wall to stay out of the pit crew’s way. Those guys moved fast. Every split second counted, and Ryan had learned from an early age to stay far out of their way. He thought about heading back to their trailer and watching the race from there for a while on the sweet big screen, but his father was in an odd mood and it was beginning to rub off on him. Despite his lack of enthusiasm for today’s race, he decided to hang around a little longer.

He looked up at Jackie again and watched as she put her headphones on against the roar of the engines. He wondered how long she would stay. She usually disappeared for most of the race and came back for the end. Seeing her there for the start was sort of odd.

Ryan hung in for the first thirty laps. The race was thus far uneventful. No cautions, no funny business—just good, clean racing. But fans didn’t come for that. When he heard the familiar sounds of a wreck, his heart started to pound, as it always did. Safety technology in race cars had come a long way, but nothing was completely foolproof. He looked up at the jumbo television above the leaderboard and saw immediately that his father wasn’t in the wreck.

But Jimmy Reilly was.

Ryan began to walk toward Reilly’s team. Les was frantically shouting into his microphone, trying to reach Jimmy on the radio. Ryan’s heart rate picked up speed as he realized Les wasn’t getting a response. He saw Jackie pull off the headphones as she clambered down from the stand. The number 23 car was on its roof, and there was no driver crawling out to wave at the crowd. As Jackie took a couple steps forward, so did Ryan. He couldn’t say why he felt the need to be close to her then, but he couldn’t shake the urge to protect her.

When the car caught fire, Jackie screamed and began to run. She got all the way across pit road to the infield before Ryan caught her around the waist and held tight. She continued to scream and cry. Each second that went by without Jimmy getting out of the car, the inevitable began to sink in.

Every gut-wrenching sob she released tore through Ryan as he held her tight. They dropped to their knees. He wished with all of his being that he could absorb even a little of her pain, but as she began to heave, he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t until they were surrounded by both their fathers’ crews that Ryan understood the cameras had found them and were splashing the most painful moment of Jackie’s life on television for the world to see.

How long they stayed like that, Ryan didn’t know, but he was never more relieved than when he heard his father shoving everyone aside to get to them. Get out of my fucking way! Toby yelled, bursting through to the center of the circle.

He knelt down next to the two teenagers and ran a hand over Jackie’s hair. She had stopped her screaming and was now trembling in Ryan’s arms. Let’s go, Toby ordered Ryan. Let’s get her back to her trailer.

It’s all right, Jackie, Ryan whispered. I’m here with you. I won’t leave your side.

She didn’t answer, but neither did she fight Ryan as he rose and tugged her with him. Toby came to her other side, and together, they flanked her and kept her hidden as best they could as they jumped into a waiting security truck.

A crowd had already gathered around Jimmy’s private mobile home. The police pushed everybody back as Jackie dug her key out of her pocket and handed it to Toby. They hustled her inside and Toby moved around closing all the blinds while Ryan settled Jackie down onto the couch. Like Toby’s private bus, Jimmy Reilly’s was large, outfitted in luxury. They were not the typical trailers you saw on campgrounds across America but traveling five-star accommodations. All the top drivers traveled in style. It kept them isolated from excited fans at hotels.

Toby turned the television on as Ryan got Jackie a glass of water.

Did they get him out of the car? she whispered, her throat raw from screaming.

Yeah, baby, Toby said. They flew him out.

What am I going to do? She dropped her face into her hands and took a deep breath. He’s all the family I had.

That’s not true, Toby said forcefully. You got us, and we’re going to take care of you.

He was sorry about whatever happened between you two, Toby. You should know that, Jackie said, as fresh tears began to slide down her cheeks.

I know he was. Toby reached over and squeezed her hand. So was I. It was stupid and I overreacted.

Before either Jackie or Ryan could respond to that, there was a quick rap on the door.

Toby cracked it open just enough to see Les Gordon standing next to the police officer stationed at the door. Just behind him stood two racing executives. Toby stood back to let them in, then slammed the door on all the yelling reporters and flashbulbs outside.

Ms. Reilly. A tall, balding, impeccably dressed man nodded solemnly to her.

Jackie recognized him as Clint Marcus, the commissioner of racing.

He’s gone, she nodded. "I