Racing for Freedom

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For everyone who believed in me, who knew that I could do it even when I didn’t believe it. My family, friends, co-workers and everyone who said “You can do it.” Thank you.

For my husband’s patience and love, and for not hitting me over the head for all the hours I have spent working on my novels. For my gorgeous daughters who are the best children a mother could ask for.

For all my fans, for their encouragement and belief, for their kind words and amazing hearts. You all make this possible for me.

Thanks to Coverit Designs for the amazing cover of this book. Thanks to Melissa Diamond for being the MOST amazing reader I could have. Thanks to Dawn Martens for reading, being honest and helping me with the editing. You gals are my rocks. I love you.

THIS IS A STAND ALONE NOVEL - IT IS NOT A SERIES.

This book is set in Australia, the authors home town. I hope I’ve made most parts of it understandable to my overseas readers. Thank you.

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People want a simple life. What they don’t realize, is that life is never simple. Even if there was no war, no heartache, no pain, and no bad things to happen – life still wouldn’t be simple. You could walk down the street, fall, breaking your leg. Your simple life just became a whole lot different. You could have an accident tomorrow, and it could change everything. Someone could die, someone could be born, someone could cheat, and someone could get hurt. Simple, is never an option. Not really.

I wish for simple often, at least, the logical part of my brain does. I wish I was just a normal girl. I wish I had normal friends. I wish I had a boyfriend that would take me out, open doors for me, kiss my cheek like a gentleman and make love to me on rainy days. I wish my mother never died. I wish my dad never had that accident, it changed everything. I wish, often, that things were different. But they’re not, and life is how it is. We are dealt the hand we’re meant to have, and we’re forced to deal with it.

My life is so far from simple, I don’t even remember what simple feels like. My life, became anything but simple the day Slade Devaroe entered it, he came like a hurricane. He threw heartache and love into my life, in the most complicated of ways. He became my everything, and yet, he was the thing that broke me. 

“Dash, baby, will you go get me some bourbon?” My father calls from the couch.

I’m in the middle of filling out a university application form. The pen is poking from my mouth and I’m mumbling angrily to myself. I don’t understand half these questions. I don’t even know why I’m applying. I guess I want to do something aside from racing, and this is my best bet. I raise my eyes to my father, and he smiles at me. I smile around the pen and nod. How can I say no? I forgot how to say no to him a long time ago. He stands and his body is angled slightly to the left.

My father was once a stunning man. He had broad shoulders, thick arms, a dazzling smile, and a woman to adore. Then the crash happened. The crash that changed everything. Now he walks with a limp. He rarely leaves the house, instead, opting to drink himself into oblivion most nights. I think it’s the only way he can sleep. I don’t blame him. I’ve contemplated it many times too.

My
father, was a world champion race car driver. He won the championship three times. He raced every day and night, committing himself fully to the world of racing, and, go figure, it was an everyday car accident that stole his dream and his wife. Life is horrible like that, sometimes it’s sent to try us, in the cruelest, most gut wrenching ways. My father never had an accident on the track, but one rainy night driving home, changed everything for him.

“Sure dad,” I say, smiling.

His smile widens, as though I’ve relieved some sort of pressure in his mind. His brown eyes twinkle, and he runs a hand through his messy dark hair. “Thanks Dash.”

“No problem, anything else while I’m out?” I ask, picking up my purse, tucking it under my arm.

“Are you racing this afternoon?”

I frown. “Yes, Slade has moved back to town, so I have to put extra effort into my racing now. Lots more practices for me.”

My father grimaces. “That boy will be the death of us. He’s good Dash.”

“I know.”

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

I shake my head furiously. Slade and I go a long way back. We met during high school. We became friends through our love of racing, but it was always strained. Our fathers hated each other, competition was fierce. I don’t really know why they hated one
another, I think competition just got the better of them and winning became everything. It’s sad how winning changes people, I swore it would never change me and I fought to keep Slade and I as close as possible.

Then that awful night happened, and everything changed for both of us. Slade and his family just upped and left the next day, he never even came to my mother’s funeral. I still don’t know why. Slade and I now dislike each other, to a point we can’t be in the same room for longer than five minutes, before going at each other’s throats. I’ll never forgive him for leaving me without even a goodbye. Worse, I’ll never forgive him for not being there when I needed him to be.

“I haven’t spoken to him,” I say, walking towards the door. “And I don’t plan to.”

My father looks
weary, he’s warned me against Slade now for years, making me swear not to go near him and to avoid speaking to him. I understand why, he knows Slade pulls my heart strings. Our parents didn’t know of our close friendship, they knew we got along, but they never realized it ran so much deeper. Slade’s father refused to ever acknowledge me, constantly pushing his son to be a winner and forget the rest.

“Don’t look like that dad, it’s not worth your head space,” I soothe, gently.

He smiles, but it’s forced. “I know, thanks Dash.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

I walk out the door before we can discuss Slade any longer. It’s a beautiful day in Brisbane, Australia. We’ve lived here, in this same house, my entire life. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We travel down to Sydney a few times a year to compete, but mostly we compete here in Brisbane. There are a few good race tracks as well as a lot of older beach tracks that we can go to on weekend, off the record. I love place and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

I get into my old Chevy Nova that my dad did up for me before the accident. It’s my baby. I start her up, and the engine kicks to life, letting off a low, husky rumble. Ah, cars, it’s what I live for. I started racing when I was a kid, just go carts and things like that. When I was old enough, my father got me into cars, sneaking me down to the old beach tracks to practice. I still remember my first real race,
Slade was there and it changed my life.

“You won
, Dashy!” Slade cries, wrapping his arm around me, swinging me in a circle.

I beam at
him, I finally won my first race. Of course it wasn’t against the big guns, just a junior team, but I still won. The more I win, the more I’ll climb to the top with Slade. I beam over at him and his aqua eyes sparkle with joy. There’s never competition between us, even though we will eventually race against each other and only one of us will win.

“I can’t believe I did it!” I cry.

“You are going to kill it on the big tracks.”

Slade hugs me again and then takes my hand, leading me down to the small lake nearby. We sit on the soft grass and our hands remain firmly tangled. Slade and I don’t have a normal friendship, if our parents ever found out how close we are
, things would become messy, very quickly. So for now, we hide it.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Amazing, I can’t believe I did it!”

“I knew you would Dash, you’re amazing.”

“Well, only thanks to you, I am certain I have learned half of what I know from you.”

He grins and a dimple forms in his cheek. “You got talent Dashy, you can’t teach talent.”

I snuggle into his side and sigh. He’s right about that. You can’t teach talent. You either have it, or you don’t.

I shake my head and the memory away,
then I pull out onto the main road. I’m desperate for some coffee after going over those university applications, so I pull into our local coffee shop first. I park the car right down the end of the lot, away from all the other cars. Call me careful. I get out and walk into the shop, the aroma of coffee and the grinding of coffee beans, take me away so much, that I don’t notice him sitting in the corner with his buddies.

“Well well, if it isn’t my competition. Hello Dashy, long time no see.”

Slade. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I haven’t seen Slade for well over a year. I saw him at a race two years after he left me and he treated me as though he didn’t know me. He was so cold and cruel, teasing and taunting me the entire time. I was so angry and hurt I vowed never to speak to him again. Luckily for me, he hadn’t been back…until now.

When I
saw him last, he was twenty-two and hot headed, desperate to become something amazing. I slowly turn and face the man that has haunted my life and my dreams since I was a young girl. When our eyes meet, I feel a shock current jolt through me. He’s no longer the young man I remember, he’s changed, but he’s still as beautiful as he was the day I first laid eyes on him.

His lean body has now filled out with bulky muscle. His once clean skinned arms, are now boasting some seriously hot tattoos. His dark green eyes have lightened to an almost aqua colour that’s so striking, it’s mesmerizing. It’s like looking at a couple of crystals. They’re out of this world. His once short brown hair is now messy, yet it sits so perfectly on his head. His jaw is defined, his lips are full and he’s absolutely mind blowing. So mind blowing it takes me a moment to answer, but I get there. “Slade, it’s not a pleasure.”

“Dashy grew up, hell girl, you look fine.”

I hate him calling me Dashy and he knows it. He’s called me that since we were young
er and once it was cute. Now…it’s painful.

“Slade,” I say, staring him right in the eye. “Why don’t you go and find someone else to chat up. I’d rather cut off my own arm, then to have you call me fine.”

His brows rise in challenge and his lips curl into a sexy, half smirk. “Dashy still has an attitude.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mam, I ask that you refrain from using that language in the shop,” the cashier says, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry.”

“What can I get you?”

“Just a coffee.
Black. Strong.”

Maybe a shot of alcohol.