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Authors: Audra North
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hear the fear in it. It made him want to rush out the door, find Gilroy again, and this time pummel the smarmy shit into the ground.
Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Len apparently wanted to wait until after Media Day before talking to me about it. He called this morning to let me know that if it doesn’t get contained fast, they’ll have to respond to the public. They don’t want there to be a doubt.” His voice was full of worry.
Len Guthrie was the president of the racing association and a good guy. Ty imagined that he wasn’t happy about having to make a call like that, either.
“Does Len know about what happened when you were with Youngtown?”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t think so. Only three people on the board back then knew, and two of them passed already. The only people left who know are me, Almeida, and Matyzck. Even Calhoun is gone.”
Rick Matyzck was the crew chief who’d taken the bribe to throw the race for his driver, Hank Calhoun. Calhoun had suffered his third heart attack a couple of years ago and hadn’t made it. Almeida had been on the board for decades, retiring only recently and moving down to Florida.
“But that was Youngtown. Are you afraid an investigation of
Riggs Racing
will actually find anything?”
For a second, Ty didn’t breathe. What if Gilroy had been on to something? What if there really was cheating going on that Ty didn’t know about but had somehow gotten mixed up in simply by association?
Dad shook his head. “Not here. Riggs Racing has
never
cheated.”
Ty relaxed.
But then Dad shrugged. “But racing is a small business. I don’t believe that all of the people involved were true to their word and took this secret to their grave. Hell. I already told you years ago. Maybe it hasn’t gotten out only because no one saw fit to bring it up before, or maybe only two other people know, or whatever . . . but once you go around interviewing people about something specific, linked to a team—a name like Riggs—others might start remembering from when I was with Youngtown. Even if it’s just the smallest detail they hadn’t thought about in decades . . .”
He trailed off, but Ty didn’t need him to finish. He knew something like that would be the end of Riggs Racing. No sponsor would want to touch them. And for the crew and drivers who worked for the team, there’d always be the cloud of suspicion following them.
It wasn’t just a career killer. This had the power to ruin lives.
“What can I do?” Ty curled his hands into fists, trying to keep them from reaching out and grabbing the closest object at hand and smashing it to bits, just to have somewhere, some way to channel all this frustration.
“Nothing.” Bobby lifted a hand, then dropped it, as if “nothing” meant that he already saw them as defeated.
Goddammit. Not still!
Ty wished he could shake some sense into his dad. What had happened to the guy who’d built a multimillion-dollar team from the ground up? Who swept every race one year and went on to win the championship two years in a row after that? The fight against his lymphoma seemed to have taken the fight out of him in every other way, it seemed. And Ty didn’t have the heart to push his father under those circumstances.
So all he did was give a tight nod in acknowledgment.
Coward.
He wasn’t sure, though, whether he was talking about his father . . . or himself.
Dad cleared his throat. “Mike Belgrave called, too.”
Ty’s gaze snapped back to Bobby’s.
“He told me they put your program on hold. He said they’d already discussed it with you before the race. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dad’s voice was starting to climb in volume and Ty frowned.
He willed himself to keep an even, calm tone. “There’s nothing you could have done. It doesn’t matter anymore. Neither of us can change it. It’s my fault, anyway. I accept that responsibility. If I’d kept my temper I’d still be moving forward with
Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Len apparently wanted to wait until after Media Day before talking to me about it. He called this morning to let me know that if it doesn’t get contained fast, they’ll have to respond to the public. They don’t want there to be a doubt.” His voice was full of worry.
Len Guthrie was the president of the racing association and a good guy. Ty imagined that he wasn’t happy about having to make a call like that, either.
“Does Len know about what happened when you were with Youngtown?”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t think so. Only three people on the board back then knew, and two of them passed already. The only people left who know are me, Almeida, and Matyzck. Even Calhoun is gone.”
Rick Matyzck was the crew chief who’d taken the bribe to throw the race for his driver, Hank Calhoun. Calhoun had suffered his third heart attack a couple of years ago and hadn’t made it. Almeida had been on the board for decades, retiring only recently and moving down to Florida.
“But that was Youngtown. Are you afraid an investigation of
Riggs Racing
will actually find anything?”
For a second, Ty didn’t breathe. What if Gilroy had been on to something? What if there really was cheating going on that Ty didn’t know about but had somehow gotten mixed up in simply by association?
Dad shook his head. “Not here. Riggs Racing has
never
cheated.”
Ty relaxed.
But then Dad shrugged. “But racing is a small business. I don’t believe that all of the people involved were true to their word and took this secret to their grave. Hell. I already told you years ago. Maybe it hasn’t gotten out only because no one saw fit to bring it up before, or maybe only two other people know, or whatever . . . but once you go around interviewing people about something specific, linked to a team—a name like Riggs—others might start remembering from when I was with Youngtown. Even if it’s just the smallest detail they hadn’t thought about in decades . . .”
He trailed off, but Ty didn’t need him to finish. He knew something like that would be the end of Riggs Racing. No sponsor would want to touch them. And for the crew and drivers who worked for the team, there’d always be the cloud of suspicion following them.
It wasn’t just a career killer. This had the power to ruin lives.
“What can I do?” Ty curled his hands into fists, trying to keep them from reaching out and grabbing the closest object at hand and smashing it to bits, just to have somewhere, some way to channel all this frustration.
“Nothing.” Bobby lifted a hand, then dropped it, as if “nothing” meant that he already saw them as defeated.
Goddammit. Not still!
Ty wished he could shake some sense into his dad. What had happened to the guy who’d built a multimillion-dollar team from the ground up? Who swept every race one year and went on to win the championship two years in a row after that? The fight against his lymphoma seemed to have taken the fight out of him in every other way, it seemed. And Ty didn’t have the heart to push his father under those circumstances.
So all he did was give a tight nod in acknowledgment.
Coward.
He wasn’t sure, though, whether he was talking about his father . . . or himself.
Dad cleared his throat. “Mike Belgrave called, too.”
Ty’s gaze snapped back to Bobby’s.
“He told me they put your program on hold. He said they’d already discussed it with you before the race. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dad’s voice was starting to climb in volume and Ty frowned.
He willed himself to keep an even, calm tone. “There’s nothing you could have done. It doesn’t matter anymore. Neither of us can change it. It’s my fault, anyway. I accept that responsibility. If I’d kept my temper I’d still be moving forward with
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