Excerpt :

Hunter O’Malley raced cars at speeds of over two hundred miles per hour. He’d driven on asphalt raceways where a single mistake could mean the end of his career if not his life. He’d competed against drivers so bloodthirsty they’d cut off their own mothers to win a race.

None of that prepared him for driving in New York City.

Driving in the city gave “death defying” new meaning. He was cut off by taxis, honked at, sworn at, and almost rear-ended when he stopped for a red light. Pedestrians took their lives into their own hands as they swarmed around his truck, regardless of the color of the traffic light, and buses almost ran him off the road.

He couldn’t wait to get back to the track where it was safe.

By the time he found a parking place big enough for his truck, he was fifteen minutes late for his appointment with his father’s lawyer. Hunter wasn’t exactly looking forward to the visit, but he didn’t like being late. Did anyone ever want to visit a lawyer? Especially when it was for the reading of a parent’s will?

Hunter felt a familiar thickening in his throat. He still couldn’t believe his father was dead and buried. Now he had to go through the reading of the will, the settling of the estate, and then he could get back to the track. Once on the track he would be able to forget his father’s death. Forget the pull in the gut he felt every time he crossed the Throgs Neck Bridge onto Long Island. Forget the pain he felt seeing his childhood home empty.

Behind the wheel of his racecar he wouldn’t feel the nausea brought on by the smell of the hospital. He wouldn’t be assaulted by the sickening feelings of fear that he felt nowhere else but in those too-quiet halls. And he could bury the bone-deep sadness of knowing a parent was never coming back.

He needed high speeds and the smell of burnt rubber to clear his head.

Hunter raced through the front doors of the uptown office building and tapped his foot impatiently while he waited for the elevator to descend to the lobby. He jabbed the up arrow uselessly and looked at his watch. Sixteen minutes late.

Finally it arrived and he hurried inside. It seemed to take forever for the car to rumble up the eight floors to the office. When the doors slid open he busted out of them like a racehorse out of the gate.

The names on the office doors sped by in a blur as he rushed down the hall. Finding the one he needed, he slammed the door open with more force than necessary. He probably gave the secretary quite a shock, but any reaction was hidden behind steel framed glasses.

“Good morning, Mr. O’Malley, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.” She shot him a disapproving look over her glasses.

“Thanks.” Hunter didn’t waste any breath with an apology. He slowed his pace and got his breathing under control. It wouldn’t look very good to burst through that particular door.

Wait a minute, did she say they? Who else was going to be here? Hunter was an only child, his mother had passed away years ago and he didn’t have any other close relatives that he knew of. Who were they?

Exhaling a deep breath, he opened the door labeled Conference. He spotted his father’s lawyer and then his breath caught when he got a look at who exactly was the rest of they.

Sitting in one of the many high-backed leather chairs was a petite bombshell of a woman. Her midnight blue eyes focused on him with the intensity of a laser then dismissed him. Hunter stared at her in silence, hoping to get another look at those eyes, that face but she studiously avoided looking in his direction.

What was her name? Harley? No, Marley. She worked at his father’s bar, Hunter remembered his father talking about her. She was the one who’d called to tell him Pops wasn’t going to make it much longer. His body shivered again as he remembered how her husky voice had stirred him even over the phone. Hunter had only gotten a glimpse of her at the hospital; she’d left his father’s side as soon as he’d arrived.

He took a longer look at her profile, trying to match it with the pony-tailed woman from the hospital. She’d been wearing a tee shirt and jeans then. He remembered her eyes had been red and swollen from tears.

Well, she’d gotten rid of the jeans and a ponytail. She wore a dark blue suit that made her eyes shine like sapphires. Her hair was pulled away from her face by a clip, with loose raven curls tumbling down her back. Subtly painted lips were compressed in a tight line, but Hunter thought he remembered them as being red and full. What did she have to be mad about? So he was a little late. Big deal.

Hunter looked around the room, David Haas stood up from his seat at the head of a huge table with his hand outstretched. David had been his father’s lawyer for years.

“Sorry I’m late. I’m not used to New York traffic anymore.” Hunter turned his most charming smile, the one that magazine articles had called “boyishly devastating” towards Marley. It didn’t appear to have any effect on her.

“No problem, no problem at all. Why don’t you just take a seat by Ms. Sullivan and we’ll get started right away.” David indicated the seat next to Marley.

Hunter sat close to her and she got even stiffer—if that were possible. She might be a looker, but she didn’t know how to relax.

“First, Hunter, let me offer you my condolences. Seamus was a good man and good friend.”

“Thank you. He was a good father as well.” Hunter never knew what to say when people offered condolences. He was trying to think of something a little more profound when he could have sworn he heard a snort come from the woman next to him.

“Let’s get down to business then, shall we?” The lawyer sat back down, pulled out some papers and cleared his throat before he began reading. “I, Seamus Finnegan O’Malley, being of sound mind and body do bequeath the following…”

Hunter’s attention began to wander as the lawyer listed the charities Seamus had included in the will. None of this mattered to him. He’d loved his father and would miss him, but now all he wanted to do was get away. New York had felt empty to him since the day his mother died. All the millions of people scurrying around in the city couldn’t change that.

God, that was depressing. Like a reading of a will wasn’t enough of a downer. He distracted himself with thoughts about what he needed to do to get his car in shape. Racing had always been the one thing he could count on to be there for him, and now he was losing precious time. Time that could be better spent trying to get all his pieces in place for the next race.

He could hand the running of the bar over to someone, sell the house and use the money to help him build up his base. Maybe he could get one of his father’s friends to take care of the sale of the house. Hunter’s attention snapped back to the lawyer when he heard his name.

“To my only son Hunter James, I bequeath half of my life insurance policy, the entirety of the stocks and bonds I have put away, the proceeds from the sale of the house, and fifty percent ownership of O’Malley’s.”

“To Ms. Marley Jane Sullivan, the daughter I never had, I bequeath the other half of the life insurance policy, a savings account I set up for her with the money she has been paying me for rent over the last four years, and the other fifty percent of O’Malley’s with first right of refusal on Hunter’s half, as well as the china, crystal, and jewelry that Hunter doesn’t want from my late wife.”

Hunter heard the soft gasp next to him but was still too much in shock to grasp its meaning. His father had given her half of the bar and half of the insurance. He didn’t even know his father had a life insurance policy. What other surprises were in store for him?

The lawyer stopped reading and looked at Hunter and Marley. He seemed rather uncomfortable and Hunter got a bad feeling in his gut.

“There’s no easy way to tell you the next part of the will, so I’m just going to lay it out on the line. In order for either of you to receive a dime, Hunter has to move into one of the apartments over the bar and work at O’Malley’s with Ms. Sullivan for the next six months. If he doesn’t stay the full six months everything Seamus bequeathed to the two of you goes to his cousin Thomas in Dubuque, Iowa.”
 

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