nerves jangled from the tip of her skull to her toes. She had to remember that Josh Stevens was the kind of person who thought he had the upper hand—always. And she’d had just about enough.
Instead of losing her cool, she smiled as charmingly as she could. “I appreciate your position, Mr. Stevens. In ten days we’ll see how it all falls out. In the meantime, please understand. You aren’t the only one with responsibilities. I have people who depend on me and my judgment, as well. They aren’t my entourage as you label your people. I call mine family.”
She turned to Trey. “Please see Mr. Stevens to the front door, Officer. Make sure he has his cell phone and belongings upon his departure.”
She turned and walked out of the cell block.
TRUE TO HIS WORD, the Indian Lake County deputy sheriff had brought Josh’s Bugatti to the police station. Josh walked out looking at his blue baby with its C-shaped sides, the curves that acted to redirect and optimize the airflow into the side intakes. Twin pipe exhaust. Low front aerodynamic hood. The car was masterfully designed. There were only 750 or so sold worldwide. What he had was unique. The engine was a beast at 1,179 horsepower.
“She thought she could outrun me?” He snorted as he walked to the car, opened the door and climbed into the luxurious leather cockpit. “Officer Hawks, you are such a rookie.”
And just then he saw Violet walk out of the station, her uniform as perfectly pressed as if she hadn’t worn the darn thing all day. Her dark hair had been clipped back all day, but now, she’d pulled out the clip as she walked. Her hair fell well below her shoulders, like a veil of dark satin. It shone, and a gentle spring breeze lifted long locks around her face. He held his breath.
He hadn’t expected that.
She didn’t look at him or his amazing Bugatti. She simply got in her squad car and backed out, pulling away like anyone leaving work after a long day.
He’d half expected her to give him the finger.
But this—ignoring him—showed him she saw him as the criminal she said he was. He stared at the finely stitched leather-covered steering wheel that he knew the finest artisans had skillfully sewn. He turned on the engine and heard it hum, promising adventures unimagined.
Some adventure today. When he’d braked at the police blockade, he’d lost his temper. People like Officer Violet Hawks, cops with guns on their belts or licensed authority figures who swooped into an orphan’s life and put him in a stranger’s house, jacked him up something fierce.
He had to admit that he’d been a real jerk to her. It wasn’t Violet Hawks who ran up his blood pressure. It was the authority figures she symbolized. Since the day his parents died, Josh had battled every apathetic or on-the-take social worker and fraudulent foster parent. He’d met a ton of cops who thought all foster kids had chips on their shoulders and “should appreciate what the state gives them.”
“Authority” to young Josh had meant lies, abuse and torment. And then he’d found his calling. Cars.
It was always about the cars.
When he was very young, he thought he could drive himself away from his awful, abuse-filled life. He believed that once he could drive, he’d never feel powerless again.
By the time he was eleven, he’d taught himself how to fix everything on a car that could be fixed. Through high school he learned more by hanging out with mechanics in garages. He worked his way through tech college to learn electronic and computer systems in cars. Then, one day, while test-driving a new Mercedes engine he’d put in an attorney’s car in Indianapolis, his life changed.
Paul Saylor was the man who had caused that change. Paul had been a car buff and he was rich. He saw Josh’s driving skills that first day. Paul was influential and he represented many of the race car owners, some drivers and even pit crew bosses. Paul was Josh’s entrée into the racing world.
Today, Paul was his attorney. Josh would always be grateful to the man for everything he’d done for him.
Paul was family to Josh.
“Family.”
Josh looked down Maple Boulevard in the direction Violet had driven. Her comment about having family hit him hard. Josh had been very young when his parents died, and even now he could remember the smell of lavender on his mother’s skin when she held him close. He could hear his father’s wing tips on the wood stairs when he came home late from work and came to check on Josh.
“But they left me,” he whispered, feeling wrenched again straight across his midsection.
He would give the world to feel his mother’s hug again. And hear her voice telling him that she loved him. Even his father’s seldom-heard laugh would be a gift. Just one more time.
That was why he drove so very, very fast. He felt closest to them when he pushed the limits of speed. As if he could almost touch them. He had no intention of crashing, but he also couldn’t resist the urge to go just a little faster.
Today, when he’d been racing down the country road, he’d been thinking about his mother. He owned a car that went nearly three hundred miles an hour, but it was no Rolls-Royce turbofan engine that could hit supersonic speeds of over seven hundred miles per hour.
Josh hung his head, refusing to believe he was teary-eyed, but it had been happening a lot lately. He didn’t want anyone to see his tears. Especially no one in his employ. Not Paul. Certainly not Harry.
Officer Hawks had been right. He didn’t have family and very few real friends, except for Austin and Katia McCreary, and when he was younger, his foster brother Diego.
He pulled out of the police station parking lot and turned south on Maple Boulevard, suddenly curious about what exactly Officer Violet Hawks had meant by family. Did she have a husband? Kids?
The other side of the beautiful boulevard was planted with flowering pear trees, daffodils, tulips and irises. He hadn’t paid much attention to its beauty when he’d driven down it last time he was in town to visit Austin and Katia who lived at the end of the street. It was too late to drive the three hours back to Indianapolis now.
He was more than exhausted. He couldn’t think all that straight. He’d go to Austin’s house and beg a room for the night.
Across from the station was a huge Victorian house. He quickly hit the brake and moved the Bugatti to the curb.
Was that a squad car in the drive?
He couldn’t believe it.
Slowly, he backed the Bugatti so that he could see down the driveway.
“I’ll be...”
Sure enough, Officer Hawks’s squad car was parked at the very end of the drive.
“So this is where you live? Nearly across the street from the police station? Keeping your head in the game, Officer? Always on call? Ever ready?”
Josh hadn’t the first clue why he was interested in his arresting officer. Other than the fact that she’d brought back memories of his parents. Like an old song that played strong and melodic in his head. As much as Violet was focused on her career, Josh sensed that same kind of big heartedness and warmth he remembered his mother having. There was a softness in Violet’s eyes that he read as compassion, and that look made him pause. Made him think. And feel things he hadn’t felt in a really long time.
Josh had spent most of his adult life chasing the next win. He hadn’t stopped to consider what he really wanted.
“Belonging.”
The word rushed out of him like a riptide from the bottom of his heart. To be important to just one person. What would that be like? What would it be like to walk into a room and have Violet’s face light up just