Need for Speed Page 17

  “It would be safer that way,” he added.

  She looked at him and smiled.

  And Tobey smiled back.

  Then, suddenly . . . Bam!

  An instant later, everything inside the Mustang was upside down, turning in wrenching slow motion. The car’s airbags deployed and Julia was slammed hard by one inflating from the passenger’s-side door. Tobey was yanked violently sideways, smashing his head on the driver’s-side window. The Mustang was not only airborne; it was flipping over and over in midair. It seemed to take forever, but eventually it landed hard on its roof with a crash.

  They’d been T-boned by a huge truck. Now, that truck had stopped. Inside was Big Al, Dino’s number one goon. He admired his handiwork, then sped away down a side street.

  Tobey regained consciousness to find himself upside down. He looked over at Julia and felt a crushing sensation in his chest. She was seriously hurt.

  He reached down and hit the iPad. He called the Beast.

  “We’ve been hit,” he just barely managed to say. “Get here, now.”

  “We’re on it,” Joe Peck replied urgently.

  Tobey unclipped his seat belt and fell to the roof. That’s when Julia opened her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Tobey asked her.

  “Get out,” she told him weakly. “Go—before the police come.”

  Tobey kicked his door open, climbed out, and disappeared. Julia groaned softly, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

  Suddenly her door was ripped open. A hand reached in, unclipped her seat belt, and gently took her out of the car.

  It was Tobey.

  He carried her to the middle of the street, leaving the carnage of the crash behind him.

  The Beast appeared seconds later, roaring up to them. Finn immediately jumped out and, with Tobey’s help, carefully placed Julia on the truck’s rear seat.

  * * *

  They were lucky to find a hospital quickly.

  The Beast screeched up to the emergency room entrance and Finn jumped out. He grabbed an EMT crew just returning from a drop-off. Finn found a gurney and Tobey carried Julia and put her on it, with the help of a female EMT.

  “Finn, please stay with her,” Tobey said.

  “What’s her name?” the female EMT asked. “Did she ever lose consciousness?”

  “Her name is Julia,” Tobey replied. “And she never loses consciousness. Ever. Trust me. Take good care of her.”

  Julia smiled weakly and fought back tears. Tobey watched as Finn and the female EMT wheeled her inside the hospital.

  Then he turned back to the night.

  Now, the gloves were off.

  Twenty-Three

  THE BAY BRIDGE was brightly lit up as usual, its reflection glowing off the water of San Francisco Bay.

  Tobey was leaning on the bridge’s railing, staring into the turbulent waters below. The Beast was parked nearby, engine idling. Joe Peck was inside, waiting patiently.

  A taxicab pulled up beside him. Anita stepped out.

  Joe watched silently as she walked toward Tobey. He just shook his head and whispered, “Tobey, dude, sometimes I wonder if you got a death wish, bro.”

  Anita and Tobey greeted each other in near silence. She leaned against the railing next to him. Heavy makeup covered her recently acquired black eye.

  “You must be exhausted after what you’ve been through,” she said to him.

  “I’m okay,” he replied.

  “I know I probably look tired, too,” she said.

  Tobey smiled awkwardly—so did she. He began to say something about her black eye, but she cut him off.

  “How are the guys?” she asked him instead. “I still miss them.”

  “Well, Benny’s in jail,” Tobey told her. “And Julia’s in the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tobey,” she said.

  Their eyes locked.

  “Why didn’t you just leave him?” Tobey asked her. “He’s a really bad guy.”

  “I know,” she said. Then she held up her engagement ring. “And, I just did,” she added.

  Anita spotted Tobey’s tattoo. She took his hand and turned it over so she could see it clearly.

  Pete . . .

  “I know now that Dino was there the night my brother died,” Anita said after a while.

  “Yeah, he was,” Tobey replied with a nod.

  “I wish I could give you those years back,” Anita told him. “The time you spent in prison.”

  She moved closer to him—but he took a step back.

  “I don’t want the years back,” he told her. “I just want that one moment back. Just one fucking moment . . .”

  “It’s not your fault,” Anita told him. “Nothing would have kept Pete from getting in that car. Nothing . . .”

  Tobey just shook his head. “Dino . . .” he said bitterly. “Dino could have just kept it between me and him.”

  “He’s a scam artist,” Anita said. “The whole thing was a con. It started with the Mustang, then it turned into a shell game, moving this car here, that car there. But it went bust, and now he’s broke. He owes a lot of money to a lot of people. Dangerous people. He’s desperate. He needs to win De Leon or he’ll lose everything.”

  “I lost you, my mother, my father, Pete, the shop . . .” Tobey said. “I lost everything.”

  “But Dino is willing to die,” Anita said gravely.

  “So am I,” Tobey told her.

  Anita studied him closely. She had no doubt he was serious.

  “I need a car,” he told her starkly. “The Mustang is wrecked.”

  Anita thought a moment. Then she began searching through her bag. She finally found a business card and handed it to Tobey.

  “It’s a warehouse,” she told him. “That’s the combination to the lock. I’ve never been inside, but I know Dino keeps some cars there.”

  Tobey studied the combination numbers on the business card.

  “But, please, Tobey,” she warned him. “Don’t get too close to him. He’s capable of anything.”

  Tobey smiled darkly.

  “So am I,” he said.

  Twenty-Four

  IT WAS NOW the dead of night.

  The junkyard was dark, full of shadows, and, hopefully, deserted.

  Tobey and Joe Peck drove through the place in the Beast. Both were highly on guard.

  “Boy, this feels like a setup,” Joe said ominously.

  Tobey didn’t reply.

  Up ahead they saw a dusty shed with a stack of crushed cars blocking its roll-up door. They stopped the Beast and got out.

  Joe’s flashlight found the shed’s lock. Tobey immediately dialed in the combination numbers from the business card. The lock clicked open on the first try.

  He rolled up the door and the flashlight revealed what was inside. Three cars hidden under blankets. Tobey and Joe moved some old junk parts and boxes off the first one. The dust became thick as they pulled the blanket off. Underneath was a 1975 Ferrari Dino.

  They were both awestruck. This was a fantastic, extremely expensive car.

  Joe Peck blurted out: “Wow—Dino’s got a Dino . . .”

  But Tobey had already moved on to the second car. He pulled off its blanket. Beneath was a brand-new Porsche.

  “That’s a 911GT,” Tobey exclaimed. “Big bucks for that, too.”

  They made their way to the last car. They both pulled the blanket off together.

  Beneath was a Koenigsegg.

  Tobey and Joe both froze in place. For them, this was like seeing a ghost.

  “Damn,” Joe breathed. “Could this be the car?”

  Tobey knelt down and ran his hands over some scratches on the front bumper. They matched up with where scratches would be if this car had forced another off the road. At t
hat moment, Tobey was convinced. This was the same car that had caused their friend’s death.

  Seeing it and knowing this was overwhelming for both Tobey and Joe.

  “Why didn’t he just destroy it?” Joe Peck asked. “Torch it? Do something to it. Here’s all the evidence right here.”

  Tobey shook his head. He had no idea.

  “Maybe it’s hard to set two million dollars on fire?” he asked. “Or maybe he just thought he’d never get caught.”

  Joe smiled darkly.

  “Well,” he said. “He was wrong there.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, the silence of the junkyard was split by the roar of a hypercar coming to life. It sounded like a lion, warning anyone within earshot not to come any closer.

  The Beast began pulling out the stack of junked cars that had been blocking the shed’s doors. They moved like they were toys, opening a way through the wrecks.

  Suddenly, the Koenigsegg rolled out, Tobey behind the wheel.

  He gave the accelerator a few short stabs—and then sped off into the night.

  * * *

  Minutes later, Tobey was roaring through the streets of San Francisco, strapped in the powerful, ultra-expensive Koenigsegg sports car.

  He rocketed through a red light without even noticing it. His thoughts were a million miles away. Just three days before, he was in prison serving the last hours of a sentence for killing one of his best friends—a crime he did not commit. Now he was driving the same car the real killer had used to end Little Pete’s life. And with it, he intended teaching the real killer a lesson—or die trying.

  But then, he saw the red light still glowing in his rearview mirror and immediately slowed down. It would not be good to be stopped by the cops at this point. That would send all his best-laid plans right down the drain.

  He woke himself up mentally and started concentrating on what he was doing—and on what had to be done.

  Minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Climbing out of the Koenigsegg, he pulled his hoodie over his head and snuck in through a side entrance.

  He quickly found the right corridor and saw Finn standing outside a hospital room. Finn put his finger to his lips, silently telling Tobey to stay quiet. The two friends pound-hugged, then Tobey went into Julia’s room.

  Julia was lying on the bed, hooked up to a gaggle of tubes, wires, and monitors.

  She was asleep, but as soon as Tobey got close to her bed, she opened her eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her quietly.

  “Beat up,” she replied. “But I’m fine.”

  “You are not the girl I thought you were,” Tobey told her sincerely.

  She smiled a little.

  “You find out a lot about a person after they’ve been hit by a truck,” she said.

  Tobey smiled and Julia closed her eyes.

  “What are you going to do tomorrow?” she asked him sleepily.

  “I’m going to show up on time,” he replied. “Ready to go.”

  “But you can’t race in the De Leon,” she said. “In what car?”

  “I found a car,” Tobey told her cryptically.

  “And do I want to know where you got it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

  “Is it fast at least?” she asked him.

  “Fast enough,” he replied.

  Julia smiled but was definitely nodding off.

  “I’ll let you sleep,” Tobey told her.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” she replied. “Not while you’re here. I just spent forty-eight hours straight trying to get you to talk because . . . you’re . . . you’re . . .”

  But she was quickly fading and couldn’t get the words out.

  “I’m what?” Tobey suddenly wanted to know.

  But she seemed to go back to sleep. Tobey quietly stepped away from the bed.

  “You’re Mr. Strong and Silent . . .” she finally said, though more asleep than awake.

  She smiled, eyes still closed. Tobey stepped back closer to the bed and leaned in close to her. She opened her eyes.

  “How about you be Ms. Strong and Silent for a change?” he said.

  Then he kissed her . . .

  “Rest, okay?” he told her.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  Tobey headed for the door, but then he heard her whisper.

  “Tobey?” she said.

  He turned back to her one more time.

  “Yes?” he said.

  She thought for a moment, then said, “Do it for Pete.”

  Part Seven

  Twenty-Five

  IT WAS EARLY morning and somewhere up in the mountains of Mendocino a starting line had been established.

  Three dozen people had gathered there, an exclusive club, each one invited personally by Monarch. They’d all been sworn to secrecy—this was how the De Leon was run. The most exciting street racing event in the world had more layers of security than a CIA black op.

  In addition to the small crowd, there were a dozen or so car crewmembers, including Dino’s support team. Big Al was there, too, along with his big-ass truck. A black leather bra was covering its huge chrome grille. The grille had sustained some minor front-end damage recently, but it was important that the evidence of that damage stayed hidden.

  Watching all this activity was Monarch himself. The mysterious maestro was still ensconced in his studio; its location was as top secret as the De Leon itself. He had a large bank of video monitors in front of him. They were beaming footage from the dozens of cameras he’d had stashed along the racecourse, its exact route unknown to anyone but him.

  This was Monarch’s baby, and he wasn’t shy about letting everyone know it. Those in the immediate area were listening to him via a PA system set up at the starting line. Thousands more across the country and around the world were tuned in to his show as well. His voice swelled with both pride and audio volume whenever he spoke.

  “This is by far the best De Leon I’ve ever put together,” he bragged over the air. “This is my David, my Pieta, my Soup Can. My Sistine Chapel.”

  Then came a sudden rumbling sound. To the uninformed it was a startling noise—way too similar to how an earthquake sounded just before the ground opened up. After all, Mendocino did straddle the San Andreas Fault line. But this roar had a more mechanical origin. It was the sound of five supercars arriving at the De Leon starting line.

  They were driving parade-style. First in line was the Saleen S7 Turbo, driven by a guy named Gooch. Hand-built and made mostly of carbon fiber, it was packing a 427-cubic-inch engine capable of kicking 800 horsepower or more. It also came arrayed with many scoops, spoilers, and other design tricks, all to make it as aerodynamic as possible.

  The McLaren F-1 came next, driven by Texas Mike. Dark gray and sinister-looking, it was actually a production car, and not hand-built. But it was also incredibly light and incredibly fast—no surprise as it boasted a 6.1 liter twelve-cylinder turbo-ized engine. Like a jet fighter, it had a rear aileron-type spoiler that moved automatically, depending on its speed.

  Next came the Bugatti Veyron, driven by the gentleman of the race, a guy named English Paul. The Veyron looked like the offspring of a Volkswagen that’d had sex with something from the movie Tron. It had curves where other racers had sharp angles; it was round in places where other racers were square. With its highly polished bronze wheels and diamond-cut, glass-like body, it might have been the most glamorous car in the race.

  The GTA Spano pulled in behind the Bugg. Driven by a guy named Johnny V, it was the perfect car for the De Leon because very little was known about it. It was built in Spain, and its creators had kept its existence top secret from the rest of the racing world until 2008, and even then, they only offered a peek. Its engine was a V-10 that kicked 820
horsepower and its body was made of carbon fiber, titanium, and Kevlar—the same material used in bulletproof vests. But beyond that, it was the phantom in the field.

  Then came Dino’s Lambo Elemento.

  It was a very cool car—V-10 engine, sexy Italian shape, weighing barely 2,000 pounds, it was one of only a handful ever built. But cool car didn’t automatically mean cool driver. Just the opposite in this case. Dino might have been a rock star at the Mount Kisco Drive-in, but here, at the very soul of the street racing universe, he was widely considered to be an asshole. His reputation for wrecking guys at Indy while under a caution flag preceded him. Racing was a brutal, sometimes heartless, sport. But bouncing a competitor when the yellow was out was considered extremely bad form. Even the fact that he’d won the De Leon the year before did not count for much with the crowd. As proof, when he arrived, some boos could be heard over the roar of his Elemento’s engine.

  The supercars began to maneuver themselves into their assigned slots at the starting line. Before them stretched a long, winding, hilly course, one that would need a combination of skills to conquer. Speed, of course, would be the number one factor. But steering, strategy, patience, and, most of all, guts would also be required. This would not be a closed track—like all street races, civilian vehicles would most likely be found driving on the course. In all likelihood a police car or two would probably show up, too.

  “We have our lineup!” Monarch bellowed. “In the first row, we have English Paul in the Bugatti Veyron and Dino Brewster in his Lamborghini Elemento. Row two is Gooch in his Saleen S7 and Texas Mike in his McLaren F1. Third row and lonely is Johnny V in his GTA Spano. We’re looking at seven million dollars in cars and horsepower here folks! Winner takes all—and the losers walk home.”

  * * *

  The sun continued to rise. The air grew warmer. The race was about to start—but Tobey was not there.

  Monarch had noticed.

  “There is still no sign of Tobey Marshall,” he told his listeners with just a minute to go. “Maybe this race won’t have as much soap opera as we thought.”