Stacked Deck. Terry Watkins

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      JD turned, gave her a shrug and walked off.

      Beth sipped her drink then smiled at the sight of the old guy hustling his young stud driver out to the woodshed for an earful. The whole scene revealed a great deal.

      Giambi had taken the bait and he seemed anxious. Maybe this little operation wouldn’t take too long after all. She sat back to await the outcome of their mano a mano.

      Giambi couldn’t believe JD had tried to blow her off. When they were out of her earshot, he said, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

      “You know I promised to meet some people from Hollywood, and I—”

      “To hell with them. This woman has deep pockets. Did you not hear me earlier about taking care of this woman, Mister Southern Charm? She loves drivers. Her type always does.”

      “So, now I’m an escort service?” As soon as the words tumbled out of JD’s mouth, Giambi could see JD was wishing he could take them back.

      “I’ll tell you what you are. You’re a top-notch driver, unemployed, living free on the top floor of this establishment at my expense. A man whose future depends on my getting a racing team up and running. And that costs many millions, my friend.”

      He watched as JD stood a little straighter, visibly preparing to stand his ground. It was something Giambi liked about the man. “These people I’m meeting are potential investors. I’m trying to line things up.”

      “To hell with these Hollywood types. They’re fickle. Look, right now I need you to find out if Anne Hurley is the real deal.”

      JD paused a moment, then said, “I thought you already ran a background on her.”

      “Electronic data can be faked and I don’t have time to run hard verification on her. She might be who she says she is, but I need to know for certain. If she really knows racing, nobody better to find out than you.”

      JD’s expression softened as he accepted the compliment. “I’m no detective.”

      “You’ll know a false note when you hear it. Get close to her. Do what you have to do.”

      JD’s lips curved up in a knowing smile. “Ah, you want me to seduce her.”

      “Like most men wouldn’t give their left nut for a shot at something like that. This is your life we’re talking about here. You want to drive a race car or a garbage truck?”

      JD frowned, but nodded his acquiescence. “You know I don’t like blowing people off when I’ve made arrangements with them.”

      “Call them and make your apologies. Then get in there and make this young woman happy.”

      JD nodded, his face showing he was back on track. “Fine, but I’m taking the Bugatti.”

      “Like hell you are.”

      “I’m taking the Bugatti. She’s class, like you say. First class. So I’m taking a first-class automobile. She deserves a good ride. She’s young, sexy, rich and looking to save our asses. Don’t you agree?”

      Giambi couldn’t believe this kid. “You starting to enjoy the idea now?”

      “The lady likes racing and gambling and I’ve got a feeling she likes guys about a third your age. The keys, please.”

      Giambi shook his head. He handed over the keys. “You better not scratch anything. And don’t be racing. Every cop in France has you on their speed-demon list. You know that.”

      “I’ll save it for the track,” JD said, slipping the keys into his pocket.

      Beautiful, smart young women are wasted on young guys, Giambi thought with a touch of resentment. Older men know a woman’s value, know how to treat them. That was one of the many things he hated about getting old. Age was a nasty little thief. It robbed you a little each day. First one thing, than another, until you became an empty shell stripped of everything worth living for, then age killed you without dignity.

      I have fifteen good years left, he told himself again.

      It had been his mantra for years. He borrowed it from some big business guy. Maybe it was the one who once ran GE, but he couldn’t remember the guy’s name because he couldn’t remember anybody’s damn name.

      On the way back to rejoin Anne Hurley, Giambi rested his hand on JD’s shoulder. “Just so you understand something. I want nothing more in this world than to see you back on the race circuit. The troubles you’ve had in the past are over. A man with your talent has to be given a second chance and I’m doing everything in my power to get it for you. Just go along with the program.”

      “I’m with it. You know I am.”

      “And remember, I didn’t survive all these years in this business by not knowing what has to be done. I like this woman. She’s got brains behind the beauty and that can be a dangerous combination. You start thinking with the wrong head and before you know it, she’ll run a game on you.”

      “She doesn’t strike me as the game-playing type.”

      “That’s just it. When they’re good, you never see it coming.”

      “You suspect everybody of running a game on you?”

      “They all would, if they could. I don’t let ’em. Now go find out who the hell we’re dealing with.”

      Giambi watched JD walk into the bar flipping the keys in his hand. As angry as he got at JD from time to time, he had to admit he loved the kid like a son. Cocky and wild as JD could be at times, he was talented.

      Giambi wanted to see him fulfill that talent. Become the next Michael Schumacher. Unfulfilled talent was, in Giambi’s opinion, about the greatest crime a person could commit in this life.

      Chapter 6

      Beth watched the two men as they stood toe-to-toe just outside the entrance to the piano bar. It appeared that Giambi was doing most of the talking and JD most of the listening, though there were some moments when the driver definitely held his own.

      She hid her bemusement at the mixed expression on JD’s face when he came back into the bar alone. He gave her the eyebrow shrug, as if to say it’s not you, it’s him.

      The more she watched him, the better this race driver looked. He had a rugged handsomeness that appealed to her.

      JD stared at her, spinning his keys around his finger. “You want to go for a ride?”

      “Sure. I spent so much time in a race shop as a kid, if I don’t see one from time to time I feel deprived.”

      “Well, let’s take care of that. We don’t want anyone feeling deprived. About anything.”

      Whatever other “plans” he’d had, he’d been forced to put them on the back burner. Things were definitely going her way, and she liked the powerful feeling it gave her. She liked to be in control of the situation. It made the task much easier.

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