Dana Mentink - Race for the Gold

His eyes widened and a tinge of color flooded his pale cheeks. “You...did what?”

Jackie gave him a weary nod. “That’s what I thought, too.”

He took her hand and squeezed it hard. “Dumb, Laney. I don’t even have to say why, do I?” he asked in clipped tones.

“No, so don’t bother. It was just as dumb as you taking on the guy and winding up in the lake.”

“I’m...” Max broke off and blew out a hissing breath.

Laney shrugged. “Anyway, he got away and that’s that. Why were you after him in the first place?”

Max heaved a deep sigh, reining in his temper she surmised.

“I saw someone down by the pond, ready to heave something into the water.”

“And you didn’t think it might be a good idea to let him chuck it in and then figure out what it was later?” Beth said, arms folded.

“I knew what it was and I didn’t want it to get wet or trapped there when the rest of the lake froze over.”

“Why?” Laney nearly shouted. “What was it?”

In the dim light his electric-blue eyes were dark and flat. He leveled a look her way that pricked her nerves.

“I think it was your missing skate.”

For a long, silent moment, they all stared at Max.

“Why,” Laney started slowly, “would anyone want to toss my skate in the lake?”

Beth folded herself in a tight hug. “To hide the fact that they tampered with your blade.”

The sound of approaching feet signaled the security team.

“It all sounds so cloak and dagger,” Jackie said. “Are you sure, Max? Very sure?”

He pulled up the ruined sleeve of his running jacket, exposing the neat slice that bisected his arm. “Look like the mark of a seventeen-inch steel blade to you?”

Something cold and ugly slithered up Laney’s spine. “That’s exactly what it looks like,” she whispered.

FOUR

The security people contacted the police, and Max went over the scenario all over again after he was allowed to pull on dry clothes. He’d refused the hospital trip, of course, knowing the wound did not require stitches, and allowed Jackie to patch him up with the first-aid kit. He’d been cut dozens of times in the course of his short-track career. It came with the territory.

The wound stung, not enough to bother him, but two details would not stop circling in his mind. First, someone had taken Laney’s skate. Though the guy had somehow managed to pick up the bundle and take it with him, there was no question that someone wanted to get rid of the evidence. Dressed in dry clothes, holding a cup of hot tea at Laney’s insistence, he felt cold through and through. Who would do something that might result in a racer getting seriously injured? Who wanted her to lose that much?

The second fact that ate at him was Laney’s reckless move down by the pond. Maybe he’d been cavalier in his actions, too, but she was not allowed to be. He interrupted her pacing and pulled her to the corner of the dining room while an officer by the name of Bill Chen interviewed Beth and Jackie.

He remembered Chen’s face from the dozens of interviews he’d done after he regained consciousness those painful years ago—the fringe of salt-and-pepper hair, the five o’clock shadow on the round chin no matter what time of day Chen showed up. The officer had been polite and patient, teasing out information as best he could in between Max’s surgical procedures and periods of sedation.

It hadn’t made any difference. No matter how many times Max had gone over the details of the accident, he could not describe what he hadn’t seen in the first place, since his back had been to the car that hit them and he’d been lost in Laney’s eyes just before his life was ruined.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Max told her. “But you’ve got to promise me you’re going to be smart and safe until we get it straightened out. Doors locked, don’t leave your equipment out in the open.”

“Don’t take candy from strangers?”

“It’s not funny,” he snapped.

She cocked her head, mouth quirked in that way that showed the one small dimple in her cheek. “It looks bad, but really, I’m sure there’s no one after me. Why would there be? I’m just not that important.”

“I don’t know, but I think someone damaged your skate and tried to cover it up.”

She laughed. “That sounds like a bad TV movie. Who would bother?”

“Laney, for every gold medalist there are plenty of losers who would have done absolutely anything to win.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t used to be so cynical. When you lost, it was one race, one day. You didn’t let it define you.”

He shoved his fingers into his wet pockets, fingers automatically feeling for the scissors that weren’t there, the ones he’d used to cut out little paper animals of every description, a hobby he’d acquired at seven years of age. “I didn’t even get the chance to lose, and I’m angry about that. You should nurse a little anger, too. It will fuel you to the finish line.”

“Then I don’t want to be there.” She trailed fingers along his arm. “I’m going to win because I’ve trained hard and I love the sport and I want it. But if I don’t, I won’t consider myself a loser.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I don’t consider you one, either. Never have.”

“It’s not about me anymore, as you said. It’s about you. You’re going to get your chance to win that medal.”

“And if I don’t?” He could see the troubled curve to her lips, the heavy lashes that framed her eyes. “Will you see me as a loser, too?”

“No,” he said, throat suddenly tight. “I would never think of you like that. Ever.” Laney, you could never be anything but amazing to me, said the tender part inside him, the only part left that was any good.

“Then why don’t you extend yourself the same courtesy?”

The words hung between them, and he could not think of a single proper way to put the twist of feelings in his gut into words. He reached out and took her by the shoulders. “Listen, this isn’t a joke. You have to be careful.”

“Because I’m your athlete, and you don’t want me to get knocked out of competition again?”

He could not stand that hazel gaze, the unspoiled sweetness that he had no right to enjoy anymore. Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Yes. That’s right.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Max, sometimes I think you forget that what we do isn’t all that important in the scheme of things.”

His stomach tensed. She was losing her motivation, the drive to win. Maybe he could have a buddy of his, a sports psychologist talk to her. “You’ve got...”

Now it was Laney who held up a calming hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to win that spot on the team more than anyone else in this building, and I’m going to do that. I’m chasing that medal with everything in my possession, every ounce of talent and hard work that I can bring to bear. But what I do is skate fast. I’m not changing the world. They’re just races. And, yes, I’m going to skate the fastest short-track races in history because that’s what God made me to do, but racing is just one thing, one small part of who I am.”

He could not understand why she looked happy, uncertainly poised as she was on the greatest competition threshold of her life, with someone trying to make sure she did not get there. All she did was skate fast? Just races? He blinked. “I don’t get you sometimes. It wasn’t a small part of my life when I had it. It was my whole life.” And it should be yours, too.

“That’s where you made your miscalculation, Mr. Blanco. You skated fast because that’s what God made you to do, but that was just one heat.”

He felt a flash of pain. “You can say that because you can still race.” Suddenly he wanted to cut down her joy, to diminish that incomprehensible happiness from her face. “What will you do when it’s over?”