Vengeance
Sam slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the ray of sunlight streaming in the window of the guest room. Well, he supposed it was his room, now. Rolling onto his back, he stretched like a lazy cat, the scent of homemade waffles drifting through the air tickling his nostrils. He smiled. He had been living with the Thornton's for over a week now and was surprised at how content he was. He knew he could count on warm meals, easy conversation, and a comfortable bed. A far different life than he had been living overseas where his flat was cold and empty and his bed was hard. That is, when he had a bed and wasn't sleeping in a fox hole or transport vehicle while imbedded with U.S. troops in the Middle East.
After a quick shower, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen. Raised voices came from the room, causing him to stop just short of the doorway.
"I'm telling you, Connie, you're spoiling him!" Pete scolded his wife.
"Oh, nonsense! I just want to make him feel welcome! It's so good having a boy in the house again."
"That's just it!" Pete argued. "He's not a boy, he's a man. A man who can take care of himself without you hovering over him all the time!"
"I'm just fixing him breakfast, Peter. That's hardly a federal offense."
Sam cleared his throat and walked into the room before Pete could respond.
"Hi guys," the young man greeted the older couple, effectively ending their argument.
He had barely taken a seat across the table from Pete when Connie placed a plateful of waffles dripping in warm maple syrup in front of him. He smiled up at her.
"Thanks, Connie," he said warmly. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation and Pete's right. You don't need to take care of me. I've been on my own a long time."
"All the more reason to give you a little extra TLC now that you're home!"
Even though Pete was blind, his silent eye-roll spoke volumes.
"I saw that, Peter Thornton!" Connie admonished.
Sam grinned and wolfed down his gooey sweet breakfast before getting up and grabbing his camera bag.
"I gotta get to the paper," he announced. "Thanks for breakfast. I'll get out of your hair now, so to speak," he snickered as he patted Pete's bald head. The older man's face turned red and Sam made a hasty exit.
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MacGyver leaned casually against the door jamb of his office watching the group of teens in the rec area. Word of the club was spreading and Challengers was becoming a popular place to hang out. The phone rang, demanding his attention.
"Challengers Club," he answered automatically.
"Hey Mac, it's me."
"Hi Pete! What's up?!"
"What's up? My blood pressure! That's what's up!"
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with Sam?" he asked warily.
"No," Pete said firmly. "It has everything to do with Sam! Connie's been coddling him worse than she did with Michael and what does he do? He comes and goes at all hours, plays that awful noise kids his age call music, and to top it off he makes fun of my hair!"
"What hair?" Mac asked, trying to keep his tone serious.
"Like father, like son," Pete grumbled and MacGyver smiled.
"C'mon Pete, it's only until he can earn enough money to get his own place. As for Connie? He seems to bring out the maternal instinct in women. I've even seen it with Jo."
"But Joanna's different!" Pete retorted. "I mean, she's practically his step-mother!"
MacGyver let go a strangled cough. "I'll talk to Sam as soon as I can," he promised.
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When Sam walked into the Tribune, the whole building was abuzz with activity and he quickly tracked down the editor he'd been assigned to.
"Got anything for me today?" he asked the grumpy, over-weight man.
"Not today, kid," the editor grumbled as he pushed pass the younger man. But Sam, with a reporter's persistence, was not deterred that easily.
"C'mon Hank," Sam pleaded. "This place is a mad house. You must have something that needs covered."
Hank turned to Sam and sighed. "Well, there is this pro-am charity auto race this weekend. They've been clamoring for some press coverage. Maybe you could go over, take a few pictures, you know the routine."
"Thanks Hank! You're the best!"
Sam quickly commandeered the nearest computer and soon found the necessary information he needed about his new assignment. The Fairview Raceway was hosting a pro-am charity stock car race to benefit Gulf War veterans the following weekend. Each of the fifteen cars would represent a home-town vet and have the soldier's name scrawled on the hood. He perused the list of entrants, but didn't recognize any names. Apparently the "pros" weren't top names in the sport and the amateurs were probably local kids looking to break into the big time. Finding the contact information at the bottom of the page, Sam placed a call, scheduled an appointment, and then grabbed his satchel and headed out.
The next morning, Sam pulled his Bug up to the security gate at the race track and was directed to the main offices where he was to meet the track manager. As he parked his car in the small lot, he turned and surveyed his surroundings. Except for the one mile oval track and grandstand, he was essentially in the middle of nowhere. No wonder management had been asking for press coverage. He stepped into the small office building and introduced himself to the receptionist who immediately led him to a small room where he met the track manager. The jovial man was smiling broadly and soon Sam had secured a press pass and full access to the track.
Minutes later he was walking through the tunnel that ran under the grandstand and deposited him on the infield and pit area where teams were working on and testing their cars. Fumes of oil, gas, and burning rubber assaulted him, making him smile just a bit. The race was still a few days away so crews leisurely made engine and chassis adjustments as drivers took to the track to test the set-up of the car they would drive on Sunday. Sam pulled out his camera and began taking candid shots of various cars and crew members which earned him many smiles and friendly greetings. However, when he reached an area that a sign designated as belonging to the Stanley Reed Team, the mood was decidedly sullen and the air laden with disappointment. A small group of men in jumpsuits huddled around what appeared to be a brightly painted and very damaged race car. A younger man hovered in the background, his left leg in a plaster cast.
"Rough day at the track?" Sam quipped, hoping to lighten the mood but was apparently unsuccessful as a stocky, middle-aged man pinned him with his gaze.
"We ain't here to play show-and-tell," the man growled. "Go get your story someplace else."
"I'm sorry," Sam apologized sincerely. "Mind telling me what happened? I might be able to help."
This time the man laughed sadly. "You got any experience with racing, son?"
"A little."
"Well, then you should know that it's gonna take a lot more than a little help from you to get this car ready to go and get us a new driver by Sunday."
Sam moved closer to get a better look at the car.
"I've seen worse," he commented. "And events like this usually bring out drivers lookin' for a ride."
"Usually. But this is a charity event. No money for the winner therefore not a lot of guys looking to drive."
"I might be able to help with that, too," he grinned. "Name's Sam Malloy." He put out his hand which the older man reluctantly shook.
"I'm Ray Simmons, team owner. Over there is my son and driver, Bobby." He used his chin to indicate the young man with the injured leg. "Well, former driver. Brake line ruptured during a practice lap and he got up close and personal with the wall."
"Ruptured?" Sam's reporter curiosity was piqued. "Isn't that pretty unusual?"
"Yeah," Ray sighed, scratching his head, "Especially since we had just replaced it. But every now and again you get a dud. That's racing."
"I assume you still have it. Do you mind if I take a look at it?" Sam asked.
"Sure, follow me."
Ray led Sam up the steps of a trailer that doubled as a portable garage and motioned to the workbench on the far side. Sam gingerly ran his index figure around the edge of the whole where the line had broken. Something didn't feel right.
"I don't suppose you have a magnifying glass or anything?"
"Not that I know of, but would these help?" Ray held out a pair of plastic rimmed reading glasses. "Wife insists I wear them to read the fine print before signing anything," he chuckled humorlessly.
"Yeah, these should work," Sam replied as he popped out one of the lenses and positioned it so he could see the rupture point more clearly.
"I'm not so sure the line broke by accident," Sam informed him. "Come here and look at this."
The two men bent their heads over the piece in question.
"See how the edge is jagged all around except for this little section right here?" Sam asked. "It's smooth. As if someone cut it. Kinda gave it a head start."
The older man squinted. "Well, I'll be! Whatever made you think to look for that?"
"Just a hunch," Sam shrugged. "I suggest you get this to the proper authorities, though. And it probably wouldn't hurt to alert the other teams to check theirs out just in case."
"I'll get right on it! But who on God's green earth would do something like this?"
"That I can't help you with, sir, but if you're interested, I can still help you get that car fixed up and take her for a spin on Sunday. I'm no Dale Earnhardt, but I'll do my best."
"That's an awful hard offer to refuse, son," Ray said thoughtfully.
"Then don't refuse," Sam smiled. "Just tell me what to do!"
With the extra manpower and renewed sense of purpose, the Stanley Reed Team got to work fixing up the race car. To their relief, the damage wasn't as extensive as initially believed and what couldn't be repaired could be replaced. One long day and an even longer night later, the car was deemed race-worthy. In the stillness of the early morning, Sam pulled on his fire retardant jumpsuit and, with helmet in hand, started towards the track where he was to take his first practice run. Butterflies of both excitement and trepidation flitted in his stomach, but he quickly tamped them down, knowing he had to keep his cool if he was serious about driving. As he walked across the dew-dampened grass of the infield, he was intercepted by a tall, sandy-haired man he didn't recognize. A few years older than Sam, the man stood ramrod straight as his face broke into a smile.
"I hear you're the man to thank for keeping the team from dropping out of the race," the stranger said.
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Sam replied self-consciously, running his fingers through his dark brown hair.
"I would! Especially since that's my name on the car. I'm Stanley Reed, the veteran that car is representing."
The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries as they made their way to the pit area. Once there, Sam put on his helmet, slid through the window of the car, and allowed various crew members to adjust and secure the harness that would keep him strapped to the seat. When all safety precautions had been satisfied, Sam eased the machine down pit lane and onto the track, picking up momentum as he went. With each lap, he got a better feel for the car and its handling. Soon he was speeding around the track as if he did this every weekend. The engine hummed and the steering wheel vibrated and he was lovin' every minute of it. The crew monitored his progress and radioed in instructions and encouragement and his confidence grew. Suddenly, the wheel jerked and became loose in his hands, his steering gone. Sam frantically braked and shifted gears as the car headed for the wall, but it was out of control. He felt the car hit and then go airborne before landing on its side, the metal of the body screeching and sparking against the asphalt of the track. He felt his restraints break free as his head hit something hard and then everything went black.
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"This is nice. I'm glad you could take the afternoon off," MacGyver commented before biting into his deli sandwich.
"I have the time coming so I might as well take it," Joanna replied lightly. "You usin' that pickle?"
Mac regarded the limp spear lying untouched on the wrapper. "Oh, I get it, you only love me for my food!" he teased while reaching across his desk to hand her the requested item.
"That's not true!" she protested, still eyeing his midday meal spread out in front of him. "Are you gonna eat your cookie?"
"Yes! As a matter of fact, I am!" Mac laughed as Joanna pretended to pout.
The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted their friendly banter.
"Hello?"
"MacGyver, it's Pete."
"Hey Pete! What annoying thing did Sam do now?"
"He's been in an accident, Mac."
MacGyver shot to his feet. His whole world narrowed to the voice on the other end of the phone line.
"What kind of accident?"
"A car accident."
Mac sucked in his breath and bit his lip, fighting to contain his emotions.
"How is he? What's happening, Pete?"
"Connie and I are here at the hospital, but they won't tell us anything because we're not relatives."
"Why wasn't I called?" Mac ground out. "I'm his father!"
"Apparently Sam listed me and Connie as his emergency contacts at the Tribune. He probably thought it made sense since he's living with us."
"Stay with him, Pete. I'm on my way."
Mac hung up the phone and turned to catch Jo's questioning gaze.
"Mac?" her voice waivered.
"Sam's been in a car accident. He's in the hospital and they won't tell Pete anything. I'm gonna call Cynthia and have her cover for me here, then go home and pack a bag with some stuff for a few days. You do the same and I'll swing by and pick you up."
"You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, I've got this. Now let's hustle."
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The automatic doors of the Emergency department swished open and MacGyver rushed through, Joanna hurrying to keep up with him. He quickly glanced around the waiting room and found Pete and Connie seated in uncomfortable molded plastic chairs.
"Any news?" he asked, as Connie enveloped him and then Joanna in a motherly hug.
"Not yet," Pete sighed.
"But it's been hours!" Mac protested.
Just then a doctor in a white lab coat entered the waiting area, his gaze lighting upon the small group.
"Are you family of Sam Malloy?" he asked.
"I'm his father. How is he?"
"Very lucky. We just got the results of his CT scan. He has a severe concussion, a few cracked ribs, and a very bruised shoulder, but given the circumstances it could have been a lot worse. In fact, he's already beginning to regain consciousness which is a good sign as well."
"When can we see him?"
"I'm afraid I can only allow one person back at a time, and then not for long," the physician offered apologetically.
Mac looked at Joanna who nodded before he allowed the doctor to lead him back to see Sam. The man pulled back the curtains that cordoned off the treatment bays, allowing MacGyver to enter.
"Hey Dad," Sam whispered huskily, his eyes slightly unfocused and his skin pale.
"Hey yourself," Mac replied, trying to sound lighthearted as myriad emotions churned in his gut at seeing his only son lying weak and helpless in a hospital bed.
As MacGyver walked further into the room, he noticed the scratched and dented helmet sitting on the bedside table.
"Pete said you were in a car accident. What's with the motorcycle helmet?"
Pete's right and that's not a motorcycle helmet," Sam answered, his eyes focused on the far wall. "I was taking practice laps in a race car when it flipped."
"What?!" Mac exclaimed, before looking around self-consciously and lowering his voice. "What?!" he repeated in a loud whisper.
"It started out as an assignment, but it's kinda a long story. You gotta do me a favor, Dad." Sam reached out and grasped MacGyver's forearm. "You need to check out the car before anyone else can. It's at the Fairview Raceway in the Stanley Reed trailer."
"What's this all about, Sam?" Mac demanded, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of what his son was telling him.
"I think the car was sabotaged. My steering went way loose and my harness broke. I don't think it was by accident."
"Stuff like that happens, Sam. That's what makes the sport dangerous."
Sam slowly shook his head. "It wasn't the first time. Bobby, the original driver, got hurt 'cause the brake line was cut."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," the doctor said from the doorway. "We're going to admit Sam and move him to a private room. You can see him again once he's settled."
"Dad, please…" Sam pleaded as two orderlies appeared to wheel him from the emergency bay.
Against his better judgement, Mac nodded his agreement as Sam was taken away. Back in the waiting room, he explained that Sam was being admitted before pulling Joanna off to the side.
"I need to go check something out," he told her quietly. "Can you stay with him 'til I get back?"
She nodded, but he could see the questions and concern in her eyes. Unfortunately, he didn't want to say anything more until he was sure about what was going on.
Forty-five minutes later, MacGyver pulled his Jeep up to the security booth at the race track. After providing identification and receiving directions, he made his way to where Sam had indicated.
"Excuse me!" he called as he approached a group of men in the area reserved for the Stanley Reed Team. "Is one of you Ray Simmons?"
"That'd be me," a stocky man said, stepping away from the others.
"Name's MacGyver. I'm Sam's dad."
"Pleasure to meet you. Too bad it isn't under better circumstances. How is the boy?"
"He'll live," Mac said with a crooked smile. "But he did ask me to take a look at the car he was driving."
"Looks like curiosity runs in the family," Ray chuckled. "It's pretty beat up but you're welcome to look all you like." He pointed MacGyver to where the car had been towed.
"Thanks. Appreciate it!"
Mac took his time examining both the steering mechanisms as well as the safety harness. His frown deepened as, one by one, members of the crew approached, some peering over his shoulder.
"I hate to say this, but it looks like this car's been tampered with," MacGyver announced as he straightened to his full height. "See that?" he asked, pointing to a contraption under the hood. "That's what caused the steering to go. And here," Mac continued, leaning in through the driver's side window and fiddling with the safety belts. "They're mostly frayed, but if you look closely you can see where little cuts have been made. The force of the accident and strain from Sam's body weight caused them to tear apart."
Simmons took off the baseball cap he was wearing and scratched his head.
"I just don't understand why this is happening! This is a charity event for goodness sake!"
"Can you think of anyone who might have a personal vendetta? Someone with access to the car?"
Ray shook his head slowly.
"Teams are competitive but not vindictive. And we don't have money for much security so pretty much anyone with the proper credentials can get near the car. But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm gonna report this to the authorities and then withdraw from the race. It just isn't worth it. Would you mind if I stopped by the hospital to visit your boy? I'd really like to thank him for everything he's done and apologize for letting him get involved in this mess."
"I'm sure he'd like that," Mac grinned. "I'm headed back there now. Come anytime."
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Later that evening, MacGyver, Joanna, and Ray Simmons sat around Sam's bedside chatting amicably. Pete and Connie had left shortly after Sam had been settled in a regular room leaving Mac and Jo with an open invitation to stay at their place as long as they needed. After a couple of hours of rest and sustenance in the form of clear broth and Jell-O, Sam gained enough strength to explain everything to his dad and was visibly distraught when Ray informed him the team was withdrawing from the race.
"But if we pull out now they win…whoever they are!" he protested.
"It's just not worth the risk, son," Ray reasoned.
"How will we find out who's behind this if we stop now?" Sam argued.
"We may never find out," Mac said, "but getting someone hurt or killed isn't the way either."
"Besides," Ray added, "There's no way that car can be ready for qualifying tomorrow. This is all for the best."
For the next few minutes everyone grew silent, focused on their own thoughts. Then Mac noticed a grin begin to bloom on his son's face.
"Sam? What are you thinking?" he asked cautiously.
The young man looked at him and then at Ray.
"Yesterday I overheard the guys talking about a back-up car you have stashed away. If the crew pulls an all-nighter they should be able to get it ready to go!"
Ray considered Sam's suggestion. "Well, given the format of the race, all cars will start on Sunday. Tomorrow only determines position so as long as she can limp her way around the track we can get her set up for the race." Then he frowned. "But we're still without a driver…again."
"No problem! My dad can drive for you!" Sam announced excitedly.
MacGyver felt his eyes grow wide and his jaw go slack, but he couldn't form any coherent words to protest.
"Does he have any experience?" Ray asked warily.
By this point, Sam was almost jumping out of skin. "Yeah! Years ago he used to race Formula One. Stock cars are much more forgiving. It'd be a piece of cake for him!"
Mac felt everyone's eyes on him as he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.
"He even ran a race for the Phoenix Foundation once," Sam added, pouring fuel on the already growing fire.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Ray replied after some thought. "It's just too dangerous. I can't ask your dad to take on our problems."
"But my dad loves doin' this kind of stuff. Don't ya, Dad?"
MacGyver had to admit, if only to himself, that the thought of getting behind the wheel of a race car again did cause his adrenaline to surge. And he definitely wanted to catch whoever was behind the sabotage that injured Sam as well as Bobby Simmons. He rocked back on his heels and drew in a breath, wishing he wasn't going to say what he was going to say.
"What time should I be at the track?" he asked.
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Joanna rolled over and squinted at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. Its glowing red numbers told her it was just past midnight. She sighed. With everything that had happened in the past twelve hours, her mind would not allow her to sleep, so she slipped out of Sam's bed, which Connie had insisted she use, and quietly made her way to the kitchen where she drew a glass of water from the tap. She sensed, more than heard, someone behind her and turned to find MacGyver shuffling her way.
"I tried not to wake you," she apologized.
"You didn't," he responded. "Somehow that couch isn't as comfortable as I remember," he complained as he took a carton of juice from the 'fridge and filled a glass. By unspoken agreement, they each took a seat at the table.
"Are you sure it's just the couch that's bothering you?"
Mac jammed his splayed fingers through his already-disheveled hair. "No," he admitted. "I guess I'm just worried about Sam."
"Sam's gonna be fine," Jo assured him.
"I know," he murmured before swallowing half a glass of juice in one gulp.
"Why didn't you tell me you used to drive race cars?" she asked quietly.
"It never came up," he replied with an impish grin.
"I get the feeling you've done a lot of things that have never come up," Jo countered lightheartedly.
"And you'd be right. But that was in a different lifetime."
"A 'lifetime' you miss?"
"You know I don't!"
"Just checkin'," Jo smiled.
"You're not upset about me driving, are you?"
"No!" she exclaimed. Shaking her head to reinforce her answer. "Actually, I'm really excited about it. I like auto racing and the chance to be in the pits and stuff is so cool!"
Mac tilted his head in that adorable way he had and gently gazed into her eyes until she became uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
"What?!"
"You've still got some surprises left in you as well," he observed and they both chuckled before allowing an easy silence to fall between them. It wasn't until after they had both finished their drinks that Mac spoke again.
"It occurred to me that I never even asked if you could come. You just came."
"You didn't give me much of a choice!" she teased.
MacGyver lowered his gaze, his expression and tone of voice now serious. "It really means a lot to me, having you here."
Joanna reached out and put her hand on his forearm that lay across the table.
"We're a team. Where else would I be?" she asked with a loving smile before it turned to a frown.
"Mac, do think someone…will something happen to the car tomorrow?"
MacGyver shook his head confidently. "No way! The crew will be working on it all night so it won't be accessible to anyone not affiliated with the team."
"But what if it's being sabotaged by someone on the team?" she asked, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.
"We don't have any evidence of that. Besides, what could a possible motive be? Why don't you shut that brain of yours off and go get some rest."
"Okay, but only if you do the same!" Jo challenged.
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The following morning Mac and Joanna arrived at the track just in time to watch the crew move the race car from the secure trailer to the pit box where they would make last minute adjustments before qualifying. They were welcomed with weary but friendly greetings and handshakes before someone tossed MacGyver a jumpsuit and helmet and ordered him to change.
"We've still got a couple hours," Ray Simmons said, approaching Mac. "Take her out and get a feel for the track and let us know if you need any modifications." MacGyver nodded and disappeared into the trailer.
Minutes later, he eased the car onto the track and settled into the ride. The machine felt solid and well-balanced. Lulled by the steady hum of the engine, his mind wandered back to the fatal accident that had marked the end of his racing career.
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault," he repeatedly whispered to himself, his hands clenching the steering wheel tight.
"What was that, Mac?" a voice crackled through the speakers in his helmet.
"Um, nothing. Everything's good," he radioed back, embarrassed that he forgot the crew was monitoring his radio transmissions. He thought he had rid himself of this particular demon after racing for Phoenix. He had thought wrong.
Satisfied with the set-up of the car, he slowly pressed down on the brake and guided it back into the pit box. Crew members swarmed around him as he climbed through the window, asking a variety of questions before turning their attention back to the machine and getting it ready for their qualifying run. MacGyver was looking around the small crowd for Joanna when he heard someone call to him.
"Excuse me! Are you the new driver?"
"Yeah. Name's MacGyver."
"I'm Stanley Reed. The vet your car is representing."
"Good to meet you, Stanley, and thanks for your service," Mac said as the two men shook hands.
"Ya know, you really don't have to do this. I'd hate to see someone else get hurt."
"It's not a problem," Mac assured him. "Besides, the decision's already been made and we're taking all necessary precautions. Everything's gonna be fine."
Seemingly mollified, Stanley bid MacGyver goodbye just as Joanna came to stand next to him.
"Do you really believe that?" she asked.
"Of course I do," Mac replied confidently. Like he had a choice! "We've changed the lock on the trailer and the crewmen are gonna take turns standing guard tonight. No one's gonna get near that car and cause any more problems."
Ninety minutes later, a voice boomed over the loudspeakers ordering all teams to report to pit road for the beginning of the qualifying session. The format was simple. Each car took to the track individually and ran one practice lap to get up to speed before running two qualifying laps. The faster of the two laps would determine its starting position on the grid for the race tomorrow.
MacGyver watched as the five cars in front of him laid down their times. Then it was his turn. The car felt really good…and really fast. Ray had warned him not to push it, but Mac couldn't quell his competitive side completely and opened up the engine a bit more than necessary, earning himself a spot on the inside of row two, bumping a few other cars back a notch. Then it was a waiting game. Once all fifteen cars had qualified, Team Reed was positioned on the outside of row four which was a very good starting point, especially given the circumstances. It would be a long night for the crews as they worked to get the cars ready to run the one hundred lap race tomorrow, but MacGyver's plans were simple: Visit Sam, eat a good supper, and go to bed early.
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Race day dawned cloudy and cool. Just the way MacGyver liked it. The track and inside of the car would heat up quickly enough. He and Jo arrived at the racetrack and walked across the eerily silent infield hand-in-hand. In a couple of hours, spectators would crowd into the grandstand and the roar of engines would fill the air. But for now he would soak in the temporary peace and tranquility. Jo discreetly slipped away as Mac headed towards his crew. Despite their assurances that the car had been guarded all night and was ready to go, he insisted on doing his own inspection from front bumper to tail pipe. Finding nothing out of sorts, he grabbed his jumpsuit and headed for the trailer, catching Joanna's eye in the process. She smiled back encouragingly and his heart leapt. She was being a real trouper and once this was all over he promised to find a way to show her how grateful he was. Just thinking of a list of options brought a grin to his face as he prepared to go racing.
Time began to pass quickly and before he knew it he was suited up and standing next to his race car already placed on the starting grid. Connie and Pete had joined him and Joanna as they stood at attention for the National Anthem. After receiving last minute instructions from his pit crew, as well as a good luck kiss from Jo, he slid into the driver's seat and focused on the track ahead. Only a mile long oval. It would be a fairly quick one hundred lap race and he was thankful for his good starting position as he jammed on his helmet and hooked up his radio. He glanced at his pit and saw Joanna and Pete don headsets as well.
"See you all at the finish line!" he said into the mic and turned to see smiles and waves from his friends.
After a couple pace laps to bring the cars up to speed, the green flag waved and the race was on. MacGyver instinctively hit the accelerator and passed two cars before the first official lap was complete. His adrenaline was flowing and he was feeling confident. After all those years of driving the freeways of Los Angeles, this was a walk in the park! He deftly shifted and made a move to pass yet another opponent. After several more laps, a car behind him lost control and hit the wall, bringing out the yellow caution flag.
"Okay Mac, bring her in," Ray instructed.
On his next pass, MacGyver steered the car onto pit road, braking abruptly when he arrived at his pit box. Fuel was topped off and tires were changed and he was back on the track without losing a position. Once the debris from the accident was clear, the green flag waved and the remaining cars settled into a fast but friendly competition. With twelve laps left to go, Mac glanced at his telemetry and frowned. He was running low on fuel. He didn't want anyone to get in an accident, but he also didn't want to pit under green and lose the second place spot he was currently riding in. Half a lap later, the yellow flag flew. A car had blown an engine and was limping its way toward the infield.
"Okay Mac, let's top her off and win this thing!" Ray radioed.
"Roger that," MacGyver replied before loud static assaulted his ear drums.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mac!" an unfamiliar voice sneered over the radio.
"Who is this?!" Mac demanded.
"You don't need to worry about that right now. What you do need to concern yourself with is the bomb I have wired to your accelerator. Any let up in pressure will cause the bomb to explode. So unless you want to kill hundreds of innocent bystanders, I suggest you keep driving."
"Why didn't it go off the first time I stopped?" Mac knew the only thing he could do for now was keep this mad man talking and glean as much information as possible.
"Because I hadn't activated it yet. You see, I thought the race should end with a bang!"
"Tell me who you are!" There was no way it could be who Mac thought it was. He was dead and buried and only existed in Mac's nightmares.
"My name's Walter Smythe, though I doubt that rings any bells. You're veteran hero got my son killed over in that sand box and now it's time to get revenge!"
More static, then silence.
"Ray? Pete? Did you guys get that?" Mac asked.
"We got it, Mac," came Pete's familiar voice. "What's your plan?"
"Plan?! What makes you think I have a plan?!"
"Relax kid," Ray instructed. "Just keep her steady."
MacGyver weaved and skidded around the track, much to his fellow drivers' dismay, but they had no idea what was going on. Mac had to maintain his speed or risk detonating the bomb. However, in doing so, he was eating up fuel. With no fuel, the car would stop and the bomb explode…with him in it.
"Okay. Listen up," Mac ordered, frantically making a mental list of his options of which there were few. "Get to Race Control. Tell them what's happening and have them stop the race and evacuate the stands and the infield."
"Consider it done," Pete replied. "Then what?"
"I'll let you know when I think of it."
Mac maintained radio silence as he concentrated on keeping appropriate pressure on the gas pedal. As he flew by the main grandstand he saw people being herded out of their seats. He couldn't do anything until he was sure there was no risk of collateral damage.
"What's happening, Mac?" Pete pleaded in his ear.
"The wall by turn four has a gate in it, right?"
"That's right." This time the voice belonged to Ray.
"And there's nothing but field beyond it, right?" Mac was practically yelling into the radio.
"Yeah, that's right," Ray concurred.
"Then that's where I'm gonna ditch the car. Get a safety crew out there and open it up!"
"But what about you, Mac?" Joanna had now joined the conversation.
"I'm still workin' on that," he answered before becoming silent once more as he watched the needle of the gas gauge drop into the dangerous red zone. The track was now free of cars and as he roared around the oval he noted that the observation stands were empty as well. It was now or never, but first he had to make sure he wasn't in the car when it blew up.
With his left hand tightly gripping the steering wheel, he used his right hand to unlatch the fire extinguisher mounted next to the driver's seat. He slowly lowered it against his leg until it came to gently rest next to his foot on the accelerator. He took a deep, calming breath as he wedged the top of the canister against the edge of the seat.
"Mac?" Joanna called, her voice filled with trepidation. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't think you really want to know," he muttered.
"But you have a plan, right? I mean, one that's not gonna get you blown up?"
"Yep. That's the idea."
"Look, in case your plan doesn't work, I want you to know—"
"Not now, Jo!"
"But you need to know that I—"
"Don't say it! Not here, not like this."
He heard a sickening thud and then nothing.
"Mac, you okay?" Pete asked anxiously.
"Yeah, what just happened?"
"Um, Joanna, um…"
"Never mind. It's better if she doesn't see this anyway." He knew the sound he had heard was Jo's headset dropping to the ground. No doubt followed by her running out of the pit. Running away from this nightmare.
Putting Joanna out of his mind, he went back to work on the fire extinguisher, slowly pressing it against the gas pedal at the same time he eased his foot off. When he found himself and the car still in one piece he was fairly certain his plan would work, though probably not for long. As he guided the car into turn one, a light on the dash lit up, indicating a critically low fuel level. He gingerly removed his foot from the gas pedal and concentrated on steering.
"Okay everybody, this is it," he radioed as he approached turn four and aimed the car for the opening in the wall.
The terrain of the field was rutted and bumpy compared to the smoothness of the track. Mac glanced down, making sure the fire extinguisher wasn't moving…much. He knew when he let go of the wheel the rocking of the car would cause the extinguisher to shift and possibly fall. With only seconds to escape this death trap, MacGyver carefully lifted his body, holding onto the steering wheel until the last possible moment before pushing himself through the driver's window. He tucked himself into a ball and rolled as he hit the ground, the car continuing to speed away. The pick-up truck that served as one of the safety vehicles pulled up next to him and he scrambled into the bed and huddled against the back of the cab, ducking his head as the truck raced off in the opposite direction. He had only counted to three before he heard the explosion. Small pieces of flaming debris fell from the sky onto the truck and he was thankful for his helmet and fire suit. When he figured they were a safe distance away, he looked up to see the race car consumed by flames, pieces of it scattered across the meadow. He pulled off his helmet and let the warm air whip through his damp hair as he let out the breath he had been holding. That had been a close one. A little too close.
Minutes later he jumped off the tailgate and approached Pete.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"Mac, the authorities are waiting for you in the track office. They obviously have a lot of questions for you."
"Where is she, Pete!?" he demanded.
"Ray said she ran out to the parking lot. Connie followed," his friend replied.
As MacGyver jogged across the now-empty infield, he tried to prepare himself for what Joanna's reaction might be. Would she cry? Like any red-blooded American male, he hated to see a woman he cared about cry, especially when he was the cause. Would she run into his open arms for comfort or would she be spitting mad, glaring daggers, with fists ready to pummel his chest and any other body part that got in the way? It wasn't long until he discovered the answer, and he found himself stupefied. There she sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep, staring straight ahead with seemingly unseeing eyes, her face void of all emotion. His gut clenched and his heartbeat skipped at the sight. He tore his gaze from Jo to find Connie several yards away gazing across the rural landscape.
"How is she?" he asked once he was standing next to the older woman.
Connie shrugged. "She's been like this ever since we got here. She winced once when we heard the explosion, but that's it."
"She must be in shock."
"She's not showing any physical signs, but I'm sure emotionally it's a different story. It's as if she just folded in on herself."
They walked toward the Jeep and the prone figure together, Connie hanging back as MacGyver drew close.
"Hey baby, everything's fine. I'm okay. It's all over." he assured her as he lifted her hand and held it in both of his. It was surprising warm and pliable, yet his touch yielded no effect. "C'mon Jo, talk to me," he pleaded.
Receiving no indication that she had even heard him, he gently place her hand back on her thigh and jammed his fingers through his hair.
"I gotta get back and give my statement about this whole mess," he told Connie. "It could be a very long afternoon."
"Don't worry about a thing," she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Stay as long as you need to. Pete and I will take Joanna home so she can rest and process everything that's happened. I'm sure she'll be back to her old self again in no time."
Mac smiled at the two women who had come to mean so much to him before turning and walking away.
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Joanna lay on top of the duvet, fully clothed, curled into the fetal position, staring at the closed bedroom door. Upon arriving home with Pete and Connie, she had called in sick to work for the next day and taken a long, hot shower after which she was treated to a hearty, home cooked meal. Not wanting to be rude, she engaged in idle conversation and helped clear the table and load the dishwasher before heading off to bed with the request not to be disturbed. Now, hours later, her mind replayed the moment when she first laid eyes on MacGyver after hearing that earthshattering explosion. Oh, how she had yearned to run into his arms and let him hold her forever. And then, when he had held her hand, it was all she could do not to hang on tight and not let go, but she forced herself to refuse those luxuries at least until she could understand her own behavior that afternoon. As the sun sank below the western horizon, she had finally figured out the words to say, but the only person who would ever hear them still hadn't come home.
Suddenly, as if her thoughts had conjured him, she heard the back door open and followed the sound of Mac's distinctive gait as he walked through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room where the Thornton's were watching television. She quickly slipped off the bed and padded to the door in her stocking feet to listen, not wanting to miss a word he said.
"How is she?" he asked, and Joanna just about melted. After everything that had happened, her welfare was still first and foremost in his mind?
"She went to bed right after dinner and asked not to be disturbed," Connie told him.
"Oh."
The pain and disappointment in that one syllable pierced her heart more deeply than any blade ever could and convinced her it was time to rejoin the land of the living and let him know she was okay. She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall, staying hidden in the shadows until the right moment came for her to reveal her presence.
"I didn't know how long you'd be, so I made a plate for you. I'll just go heat it up," Connie told MacGyver, no doubt trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.
"Thanks, but I ate at the hospital when I went to visit Sam," Mac replied. "He managed to charm the nurse into smuggling in an extra supper tray."
Joanna suppressed a giggle.
"How is he doing?" Pete asked.
"Great! He's being released tomorrow. I told him I'd be there to pick him up." Even with his back to her, Jo could hear the smile in his voice.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Connie gushed as she gave Mac a hug.
Now was her chance to speak up and enter the conversation.
"Can I go along?" she asked softly, stepping into the well-lit room.
Mac turned toward her. "You bet," he replied with a surprised smile. He took a moment to study her. "I thought you wanted to be left alone tonight?"
She shrugged and then reached out gingerly, grasping his hand. "I did. But I got lonely," she explained with a smile of her own.
When silence fell, Pete cleared his throat and repositioned himself in his chair. "So Mac, wanna tell us what happened at the track today?"
"You still need to debrief?" MacGyver grinned, even though he knew his friend couldn't see it.
"What can I say, old habits die hard!"
Everyone laughed as Mac and Jo took a seat on the couch, still holding hands.
"It's kind of a long story but we ended up catching the guy." Mac said, "I'll give you the abridged version so I don't keep you up past your bedtime."
Pete huffed, Connie smiled playfully, and Jo squeezed his hand just a little tighter to let him know she was ready to hear whatever he had to say.
"Well," Mac sighed, "It's basically what Walter Smythe said when he hijacked our radio. His son, Bryan, was nineteen years old and serving under Stanley Reed when he was killed by enemy fire. Reed and several others were injured but survived. Mr. Smythe irrationally blamed Reed for his son's death and wanted vengeance."
"But that happened years ago? Why wait until now?" Joanna asked.
"He lost his job last year and then a month ago his wife passed away. That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back and something in his mind snapped."
"Didn't he realize he could have killed hundreds of people with that bomb?" Connie asked, clearly upset.
Mac nodded. "That was the reason for the radio call. He assumed, and rightly so, that we would take appropriate action to prevent as much collateral damage as possible."
"But what about you!" Jo protested. "He doesn't even know you but was ready to blow you apart!"
Mac turned to look at her with a sympathetic gaze. "In his mind, the driver of that car, whoever it may have been, was honoring the man who killed his son. You have to remember, he wasn't thinking straight."
Jo lowered her eyes and felt a stab of pity for the man.
"So how in the world did anybody catch him? No one even knew who he was!" Pete blustered, apparently annoyed that this detail had been left out.
"Security knew that he had to be at the facility in order to interrupt our radio transmission. During the evacuation, a guard found a man huddled underneath the bleachers with an electronic jamming device and binoculars. Apparently he was waiting to see the results of his handiwork."
"But how did he ever get near the car, much less rig it for all those accidents?" Joanna asked, her mind trying to make sense of it all.
MacGyver released her hand and scrubbed his face. "That's the clincher. He paid off Claude Chapman, a new crewmember on the team."
"Why would Claude ever agree to sabotage his own team?" she probed.
"Money can motivate people to do things you never imagined were possible," Pete replied sadly. "I've seen it enough over the years, so I can't say I'm surprised."
"What's gonna happen to them?" Jo asked.
"Currently they're both in custody. With my statement and plenty of witnesses, they won't be going anywhere for quite a while," Mac assured her.
A hush fell over the room until Connie slapped her hands on her thighs and looked toward Mac and Jo.
"Well, I'm just glad no one was injured and the bad guys got caught. Now I believe it's time for me and Pete to head off to bed. I'm sure you two have some things to discuss."
It looked as if her husband was about to protest when she grabbed his arm, but he allowed her to guide him from the room. Alone with MacGyver, Joanna suddenly felt anxious. Could she say what she needed to say? Would he understand? She opened her mouth to begin the conversation, but Mac beat her to it.
"I really owe you a big apology," he sighed gustily. "I knew this whole race thing could be dangerous. I shouldn't have let you get involved."
Her anxiety instantaneously turned to irritation. "First of all, I knew of the danger and I chose to get involved, just like you. Secondly, I'm the one who needs to apologize to you!"
"No way!" Mac protested. "You've got nothin' to apologize for, and even if I didn't force you into this situation, I still cut you off when you tried to tell me that you—"
"I shouldn't have done that," Joanna said firmly, interrupting him. "It was so selfish on my part. You were doing everything you could to keep everyone safe and I just wanted to make myself feel better by making sure I wouldn't have any regrets if your cockamamie stunt didn't work out. And then I did what I once promised you I'd never do: I ran."
"Out of fear and anger. I get it," Mac said softly.
Joanna nodded. "But I stayed away out of shame. I was a hypocrite, Mac!"
"What are you talking about?! You're weren't a—"
She held up a hand to shush him. "Yes, I was. And maybe still am."
Mac's face was a mask of confusion.
Taking a deep breath, she delved into her explanation. "When you and I were first getting to know each other, I couldn't understand why women who supposedly cared about you were scared off by your job. I understood it was dangerous at times, but in my eyes that was all the more reason for them to want to be with you as much as possible, not run the other way! And today I did the exact same thing! When you needed me to be calm and supportive, I ran away from you instead!
"Listen," Mac commanded, turning sideways on the couch and placing his hands firmly on Joanna's shoulders, turning her towards him. "What happened today was tough on everybody. I figured you had run when I heard your headphones drop. At least, I hoped you had run because then I didn't have to worry about you getting hurt. But I'll admit, you had me scared when you wouldn't talk to me afterward."
"Scared of what?" Jo asked, her eyes wide and innocent.
"Scared of losing you," he replied hoarsely, as if the words clogged his throat. He then shook his head and chuckled. "Do you think we'll ever get this 'committed relationship' thing figured out?"
She thought her eyes couldn't grow any wider, but they did. "Is that what this is?" she asked tentatively, as if saying it out loud would make it disappear.
He raised one hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek and her breath hitched.
"Considering that I fell for you the first time I saw you, have grown to love you more every day since, almost proposed to you, and have no desire to even look at another woman, I'd have to say yes."
Tears welled in her eyes as she reached out to touch his face. "The day I met you my world turned upside down. I tried so hard not to love you but failed miserably. You are such a special man and I can't imagine my life without you."
"Then don't," he whispered huskily, "Because I'm not planning on going anywhere. You're my home, Joanna. I love you."
With one hand still caressing her cheek, she felt his other hand reach up and cradle the back of her head, gently urging her closer until their lips met in an all-consuming kiss. Oblivious to the world around them, they didn't see Connie peek around the corner, hand over her mouth and eyes glistening happily.
"Oh Peter, did you hear that? They finally admitted they're in love with each other!" she whispered excitedly.
"I could've told you, and them, that two years ago," he grumbled.
Connie shot him a chastising look she knew he couldn't see before saying, "Let's go back to bed, dear, and leave the two love birds alone."
"It's about time," came the surly reply.
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Sam paced back and forth in his hospital room, glancing impatiently at his watch. The doctor had signed his discharge papers and he had called his dad for a ride thirty minutes ago. What was taking so long? As he waited, he recalled MacGyver's visit from the night before. At Sam's insistence, his dad had relayed every detail of the day's events. While he was glad no one had been hurt, he was disappointed he had missed all the excitement. The reporter in him just couldn't help it! He was about to turn and take another lap when the large door swung open and Joanna walked through, followed by his dad.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, but traffic was brutal," Mac said.
"Traffic is always brutal here," Sam replied wryly before hugging his dad and then Joanna. "I was hoping you would have come last night," he told her.
"I'm sorry, but there were some things I had to take care of," she replied cryptically.
Sam watched as Jo looked to his dad. He literally felt the air in the room change as their gazes locked and they shared a loving smile. Oh, wow! Something big had happened between them and he had missed that, too! He'd have to pump the Thornton's for information as soon as he could.
The ride from the hospital went smoothly, at least by Chicago standards, and when the trio entered the house they were greeted by the scrumptious aroma of Connie's cooking. After indulging in a leisurely lunch, Mac announced it was time for him and Joanna to head back to Milwaukee.
"We'd stay longer, but it looks like you're in good hands," he commented to Sam before Connie embraced the two men.
Jo stepped forward to give Sam one last hug as Mac retrieved their suitcases.
"Now be sure to take it easy and follow the doctor's orders," Joanna instructed. "If you're anything like your dad poor Connie has her work cut out for her, but you don't want to end up back in the hospital. And remember, Mac and I are just a phone call away."
"Yes, Mom," he promised with a playful eye-roll, secretly enjoying her attention.
Connie, Pete and Sam followed MacGyver and Joanna outside where the couple climbed in the Jeep and waved farewell as they pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the quiet street. As soon as the car was out of sight, Sam rounded on the older couple.
"Okay, tell me everything! I know something happened between my dad and Jo. Something good. Did they get engaged? Oh! They didn't sneak off and get married without me, did they?!"
Connie smiled indulgently. "It was so sweet, Sam. They finally confessed their love for each other."
"That's it?" Sam frowned. "They just told each other they love them?"
"That's it," Pete confirmed.
"Aw, man! I could've told 'em that a long time ago!"