Dangerous Race (17 page)

“Yeah, so?”

“Ed Grayling is the beneficiary.”

Tracey shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You think Ed is behind this? No way,” she said before Hahn got a word in. “Yes, I took out a policy because after the first accident the sponsors dropped out. He had insurance for the car, but there’s no way to protect against a loss of sponsorship. Ed barely managed to keep the business afloat. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to family so I made him and Joe my beneficiaries. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“With Joe out of the picture, Ed Grayling stands to make a bundle if something happens to you,” Hahn persisted.

“You’re on the wrong track, Detective. Ed is like a father to me. He wouldn’t do this.”

Hahn nodded, but didn’t seem completely convinced. “I’ll call you when I know anything definitive on the car,” he said over his shoulder then he disappeared into the hall.

Mac hadn’t known about the insurance policy, but it didn’t surprise him. The more time he spent with Tracey, the more he realized how much she cared for those closest to her. Something else dawned on him. He’d seen a new side to her. Maybe it was what Joe had seen for so many years. Whether she realized it or not, she’d given Hahn the cantankerous, sarcastic attitude she usually reserved for him. It felt great to be on the other side. Better than great.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because you look like you’ve got a secret.”

Mac shook his head solemnly. “I don’t have a secret. I have plans.”

Tracey looked skeptical. Just as she had last night in the limousine after he’d told her she was soft and right before he’d kissed her. His body came to life unexpectedly just thinking about that kiss.

“What kind of plans?” she asked.

Mac forced all thoughts of last night from his mind. He had a lot of making up to do. Starting with tonight. “Quiet night. Room service. Sleep.”

Tracey grinned, reluctantly it seemed. She tipped her head to the side and widened her eyes. “I have to admit that doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Mac raised surprised brows. “Could you possibly be agreeing with me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going real fast on a short track, Mac.”

He laughed. A genuine, deep-in-the-diaphragm, from-the-gut laugh. Tracey’s initial surprise disappeared before she smiled and laughed with him.

It was that smile that caught him. Held him. Mesmerized him. For the first time he glimpsed the woman he’d wondered about. Not the race-car driver or the lady who pretended to be something she wasn’t, and not the hard-edged female, but the part of herself she kept under wraps and hidden from everybody. The part that smiled and had fun.

Mac wanted a second chance with her more than ever.

Mac and Tracey slowly walked the long hallway to their rooms. Getting along with Tracey was much better than the alternative and he’d bend over backward to stay on friendly ground and make her comfortable tonight. Maybe more than just tonight. He gave his brain a quick mental shake. He couldn’t have those kinds of thoughts. She was much too young and way too gutsy.

“I can’t believe Chelsea came with Matthew to the hospital. That was nice of her. I mean we barely know each other,” Tracey said, breaking the quiet.

Mac had seen Tracey’s surprise when they’d come into the room and how quickly she’d hidden it. She worked hard to keep her barriers up and he wondered if she’d ever let anyone inside. “Chelsea has your sense of humor,” he told her. “I nearly choked when she said you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just to give blood.”

Tracey chuckled. “Yeah, that’s me. I do things the hard way.” Her smile faded. The first uncomfortable silence of the long day descended. Tracey shoved her hair out of her face and looked uneasy. “I can’t believe we spent the whole day at the hospital,” she muttered.

“The important thing is that we’re out. We’ve got hot showers, warm food and cozy sheets in the very near future.” Stopping at his room, Mac opened the door and tried to usher Tracey in before him.

“Wait, Mac. I have to go into my room.” Her gaze skittered away from his. “The adjoining door is still locked.”

Mac hated the reminder of last night. Hated the slimeball feeling that crept up and engulfed him. He nodded and headed for her room. “You got your card key?”

She handed it over, which meant she really must have been tired, and Mac opened her door. He didn’t hesitate to unlock the adjoining door.

“I’ll order room service,” he said. “What do you want?”

Tracey pulled pajamas from a drawer. “Maybe some soup…no…toast…I don’t know.” She looked wiped out, and Mac felt his protectiveness of her triple in intensity. “Pick one,” she said.

“I’ll set it up in here,” Mac said, indicating his room but not moving into it yet.

“Okay. I’m grabbing a quick shower.”

Mac didn’t want to leave her alone, didn’t want her out of his sight. It was ridiculous to think that something would happen to her while he occupied the next room, but still he didn’t budge. “I’ll let you know when the food gets here.”

Tracey looked over her shoulder. “Okay.” She studied him with raised brows.

Yeah. Time to vacate the premises. “Right.” He entered his room but kept the adjoining door open. After ordering room service, he hopped in his own much-needed shower. Man, he stunk to high heaven.

Hot water pounded his back and visions of Tracey zipped through his head. Unconscious under water. Crying against his shirt while they were both wet and scared. This surge of protectiveness was about keeping his driver safe, that was all. Yeah, okay, so last night he’d stolen her virginity, but she’d led him to believe otherwise, so he would not beat himself up any more. He needed to move on…for his sanity. Because if he thought too much about how good it felt to hold her, kiss her, sink deep inside her, then…

Shit. His body hardened just thinking about it. A repeat of last night wouldn’t happen again. Not only was she not his type, but they barely got along. Today had been a fluke. Near death experiences did that to people. Made them come together when they otherwise wouldn’t.

Mac finished his shower and dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Thirty minutes later, he finished arranging food on the table and edged closer to Tracey’s room. “Soup’s on.” With no immediate response, his apprehension built. “Tracey? Are you—” He jumped when she came around the door and nearly bumped into him. “God, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Her lavender scent assailed him, wrapped around him and settled in his soul. With baggy pajamas, fluffy robe and not a stitch of makeup, she looked just as beautiful as she had last night. The shower had brought color to her face and her wet hair hung clean around her shoulders. But heavy lids sagged over her sapphire eyes.

He wanted to touch her so bad it hurt. A dozen ways of atoning for last night cropped up in his head and none of the ideas had either of them vertical. He blinked back the thought. He couldn’t let it happen again. He’d promised her a shower, food and sleep. One down, two to go.

“C’mon, have a seat.” He pulled out her chair and lifted the lid on a hot bowl of vegetable soup with a side of toast. He sat across from her and feasted on a giant cheeseburger with the works.

Halfway through dinner, the phone rang. The call didn’t last long and didn’t give Mac any information he hadn’t already figured out. “That was Detective Hahn,” he said, sitting down opposite Tracey.

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What’s the news?”

“Not only was the brake line cut, but the gas was rigged to accelerate every half mile. Once I put the car in drive, it locked into place. The further we drove, the faster the car went, and the seat belt was jimmied to stay locked. The whole thing was a setup. All the way from your four slashed tires.”

“But how could someone know we’d end up in the lake? Especially when
we
didn’t know. How could anyone guess I’d even be in the car with you?”

“It’s what I said when I picked you up. We’ve been going to the same place at the same time for about a week and someone knows it.” Mac shrugged. “Besides, maybe the lake wasn’t the plan. Maybe we were supposed to crash and burn. I had a full tank of gas remember. Maybe the idea was for you to get trapped and…” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. The burger made his stomach turn. “You did get trapped, just not the way you were supposed to.”

Tracey shoved her food away—she’d only eaten the toast and taken a few sips of soup—and deflated before his eyes. Her shoulders sagged. Her lids looked heavy as she sat back in her seat. “Why am I so damn tired? I was lying down all day, doing nothing. I shouldn’t be this tired.”

Mac came around and gingerly pulled her seat away from the table. “You’re body went through a big trauma today. Then you were poked and prodded, x-rayed and tested. You never slept more than five minutes at a time before someone came in and woke you.”
If you’re like me, you didn’t sleep at all last night.
“Of course you’re tired.” He lifted her easily in his arms. She rested her head against his chest and the scent of her lavender shampoo wafted around him.

He started for her bedroom then reconsidered before depositing her in his bed and covering her with blankets.

Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced at her surroundings. “What are you doing, Mac?”

Easing a lock of black hair behind her ear, he ignored her sleepy, almost accusatory voice. “I’m keeping you…for observation.”

“Mmmm.” A tired smile crossed her lips before she turned on her side and fell to sleep.

Shower, food and sleep. Accomplished. Mac pushed the dinner cart into the hall, set the maid’s lock in both rooms and settled on the opposite side of the bed. It was only six p.m., but it felt closer to midnight.

Could he fall asleep before the urge to touch Tracey got too strong?

Murky water quickly rose around Tracey but she couldn’t move. Her sweat turned icy as she took one last gulp of air before being covered completely. Mac beckoned her to follow as he swam away. Couldn’t he see she was trapped? Didn’t he know she needed help?

Her heart pounded loudly between her ears as her lungs screamed. She struggled against the restraints. The urge to breathe forced tears from her eyes.

Then Mac was in front of her, shaking her. “Tracey!” She heard him, talking and breathing underwater. “Tracey!” If he could do it then maybe…She took a breath. The stifling cold water filled her mouth and nose. Terror, strong, sharp and violent flooded through her with the lake water.

Tracey gasped for breath as she shot up.

“It’s okay,” Mac whispered gruffly. He held her shoulders as everything came into focus. A full moon outside the window illuminated his hotel room.

Drenched in sweat, she took massive gulps of air while her heart searched for a normal rhythm. Unwanted tears sprang in her eyes and she brushed them away. She refused to give up the battle.

Mac held her tight, his hands solid against her back. “It was just a dream. You’re okay,” he soothed.

Nodding against his chest, Tracey sank into his warmth and the comfort of his body. As soon as she did, warning signs went off, loud and clear. She couldn’t allow a repeat of last night. Pulling away, she shrugged out of the robe that threatened to suffocate her. “Sorry,” she said hoarsely, wiping her eyes. She licked her dry lips and spoke through the cotton ball sensation in her mouth. “There’s nothing more attractive than a woman falling apart.” Thank God for sarcasm.

The clock said two. She’d been asleep almost eight hours. Too weird. It was still the middle of the night. She pushed the blankets aside.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Mac asked, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

“I thought I’d go be attractive in my own room.”

Mac held her back gently. “Stay. Please. Stay here with me.” His smoky eyes battled her resolve.

Tracey fought back emotion. “I’m not good at this, Mac. This one-on-one stuff. I do much better by myself.” She tried another escape before she lost it completely.

“Can you just talk to me, Tracey?”

His soft plea sent a barb through her heart. She rested her head against the headboard and covered her face with both hands. Why could Mac affect her so easily? Why had she even thought about trusting him when she hadn’t trusted anyone in four years?

“Does that hurt?” he asked softly.

Tracey removed her hands to see Mac’s sympathetic eyes. She looked at the scratches on her arms from the airbag. It looked as if she’d been dragged through the street on her forearms. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “This hurts worse.” She raised the fist that had made contact with the jaw of steel.

Mac took her hand and inspected her bruised knuckles with care, smiling ruefully. “That was a beautiful right hook, by the way.”

A flush crept up her cheeks and she couldn’t hold back a grin. “Thanks.” They stared at each other and her smile faded as she got lost in the deep gray swirl of his eyes. A tornado of emotion lurked in those depths and Tracey felt her walls coming down. “What about you?” she asked, breaking the spell and glancing at his hand. “I think you suffered a little damage too.”

He tested his left hand. His knuckles had similar scrapes. “We’re a matched set.”

They were anything but a matched set. They were as opposite as two people could be, but it didn’t stop Tracey from wanting to feel his lips on her mouth or his hands on her skin. She couldn’t risk it happening again and shoved back the covers.

“What? What can I get you?” Mac asked.

“I just need some water, but I’m fine. I can…”

Mac was already halfway across the room. He returned with a cold glass of water.

Tracey guzzled it down, then drank another. The cool liquid slid down her throat, relief to her parched body. “It’s weird to think that this stuff nearly killed me sixteen hours ago and now I feel so dehydrated that if I
don’t
have some, I might die. I can’t remember being this dry.” She drained the glass, set it aside and noticed the intense look on Mac’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You have a scratch, right here,” he said, grazing her temple with the warm, rough pad of his thumb. “I didn’t see it before.”

The desire in his dark gray eyes scared her silly. No wonder she’d tried avoiding him all week. “It must’ve been from some flying glass,” she said, annoyed at the husky sound of her voice.

“You have another one here.” Mac touched a spot at her hairline an inch lower. The sensation tingled. Before any words formed in her brain, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the spot.

Tracey closed her eyes, wallowed in the sweet caress of his lips against her skin. He didn’t pull away, just kept kissing her. Feather-light touches around her face and eyelids. She waited for the contact of his lips on hers. Prayed it would come and prayed it wouldn’t. Afraid that if she kissed him again, she’d be lost forever.

She felt him then, his mouth at the corner of hers, and against every screaming cell in her brain, she shifted a fraction so her lips brushed across his. A soft, smooth, whispery glide. A gentle meeting. His warm breath wafted over her lips, mingled with hers.

Maybe she pressed forward…or maybe he did, but the brush turned into a kiss. The gentlest, most heart-stopping kiss Tracey had ever experienced. Mac took his time…just let his lips caress hers back and forth, so sweetly, so full of tenderness that Tracey wanted to howl.

He shifted on the bed. One hand cupped her head and kept them connected. Not that she could’ve pulled herself away. Not for anything at this moment.

She wanted more, wanted to taste him, and parted her lips. The pressure increased, but not enough. She had to have more. Just when it seemed she wouldn’t get it, he gave her his tongue, slid it fully into her mouth.

Tracey nearly wept at the contact. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer. Desire, hot and fresh, bubbled up inside, tamping down the doubts still blazing in her mind.

She tried to inch closer, tried to devour him, but he pulled back. Took her arms and disengaged himself. The loss felt overwhelming, unbearable. Tracey knew it showed in her eyes and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to be vulnerable, didn’t want him—or anyone else for that matter—to see it.

But his lips returned to her face and neck as he shifted both of them on the bed. He was soft and sweet and Tracey couldn’t stand it. She needed fast and furious. This slow exploration with his lips would kill her. Taking time could only lead to problems.

Mac’s hands brushed down the front of her satin pajama top, releasing the top button. His fingers grazed her skin before moving to the next.

She arched against him, invited him, all the while knowing she’d either have to bring it to a stop or face another devastating rejection. There was no way around it tonight. No floor-length dress to hide her disfigurement. If the pants came down, she was as good as gone.

The mental reminder brought her back to earth with a jerk and she shifted away from him. “I can’t.” The crack in her voice reeked of emotion.

Mac’s lips stilled against her collarbone. “You want me to stop this?” As he said the words, he brushed warm fingertips along the curve of one breast.

Tracey gasped.

“And this?” Mac went on, skimming her nipple with his thumb.

She stiffened as the sensation shot straight between her legs. A wash of tingles ran beneath her skin and sent delicious chills racing down her back.

He shifted higher. “I could stop this too.” His soft words were followed by the tip of his tongue along the inside shell of her ear.

Instead of saying
yes, I want you to stop,
she turned her head and found his lips. Her heart and mind waged a battle that would surely find her destroyed by the end of the night. She had no way to come out of this unscathed.

Only her body refused to listen to her mind. She turned in to him, lying on her bad leg, keeping it out of reach, at least for a few more precious minutes of Mac’s arms around her.

His erection pressed against her thigh, the need to have him inside her sent the blood pounding through her veins. Somehow, her whole top opened up and Mac’s fingers played a game against her skin, teased her nipples and cupped her breasts.

All of it in slow motion, torturing, exquisite, mind blowing slow motion. No matter how she tried to speed him up, he continued his pace. She had to end it before it was too late.

“Mac…”

His lips covered hers, stopped the words and made her mindless to thought. A half roll and she was on her back. His hands roamed south and pulled down her waistband.

Tracey gasped for air and shoved his hand away. “No, Mac, you don’t understand…” Too much. She couldn’t give away too much.

“Don’t understand what?” His mouth covered a nipple and he tugged.

Tracey arched into him, hating that she couldn’t control the impulse. She tried to breathe, searched to find words. “I’m not what you think I am.”

“I know that,” he mumbled as he licked her abdomen and blew on it.

Her blood roared. Her private battle raged on. “You do?” she managed.

“Yes,” he said into her navel. “I figured it out pretty quick last night.” He lifted his head and moved up her body. “You should’ve told me you were a virgin.”

Tracey sighed. For a second she’d thought he was talking about her leg, not her virginity. “That’s not—”

His lips covered hers in an unyielding kiss. She should’ve pushed him away, should’ve put space between them, only she couldn’t. Warm lips enticed her eager compliance. A slick tongue tangled with her own. A strong hand slid underneath her waistband and cupped her mound. The pressure made her hungry for more. She rubbed against his hand, forgetting the need to get away from him. One finger slid inside her, then two. Tracey wanted to scream with the pleasure of it. Ached to feel all of him. But then he removed his hand and tried to lower her bottoms. The motion snapped her back to reality. “You can’t, Mac,” she said, holding his wrist.

His mouth hovered over hers. “Why?”

Because I’m deformed, hideous, the bride of Frankenstein.
She had to tell him. Say goodbye to the sweet kisses and the few minutes they seemed to get along. Say hello to the rejection. She took a deep breath and forced it out. “I have a scar.”

“So?” He kissed the corner of her mouth, slid his tongue under her lip.

She had to concentrate. “So…last night was one thing, but this…” This slow exploration…“This isn’t going to happen.”

“Let me see it.” His lips never stopped their progress.

She wanted to laugh. And it wasn’t funny in the least. “No.”

He finally lifted his head and studied her. “What’s wrong? It’s a scar. Everybody has scars.”

Not like this. “It’s not pretty and I don’t let people see it.” Besides her doctor and a few nurses, only two people had ever seen it and now one of them was dead.

Mac watched her face. Those smoky eyes burned into hers. “Then let me feel it.”

The man wouldn’t take no. Fine. Let him feel it. That would send him running as fast as anything else. But she shook her head. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Trace—”

“Go ahead, Mac,” Tracey said, trying to hide her exasperation. “You want to feel it. Go right ahead.” She stared at the ceiling and fisted her hands above her head beneath the pillow. Digging her fingernails into her palms gave her the strength to face the next few minutes.

Mac shifted over her so his hand could roam down the bad leg. Tracey refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge the moment. His hand started at her hip over the thin material of her pajamas and slowly worked its way down. There was one full foot of scar. She figured he’d get a feel of about ten inches. Ten gnarly inches of deformity that would send him running away from her for good.

He reached the top of it and Tracey struggled to breathe evenly. In her peripheral vision she caught the narrowing of his eyes. The surprise he tried to hide. In a quick second he removed his hand and pulled down the pajama bottoms to her knees. But he never looked down. He stayed focused on her face.

She clenched her jaw and fought back the tears.

Mac’s hand came back to her bare hip and started another descent. This time slower, more torturous than the first. He reached the top of the scar.

Tracey knew exactly what he felt at every inch. The scar was ingrained in her mind, branded on her soul. The top felt smooth, but indented. The skin tone a few shades lighter than the rest of her.

His fingers moved down a fraction. Right where the skin began to tighten. Then farther still where the puckering felt as though taut floss pulled across her leg. Next, the deep indentation where most of the ligaments had been removed, torn clean by the metal that sliced through her leg. The ligaments in the front of her leg had compensated for the loss.

Doctors had been so proud of the inch-, and in some places inch-and-a-half-wide scar, that now covered her thigh, explaining the miracle that she’d kept her leg at all.

Mac felt the whole thing carefully, slowly. He didn’t leave an inch untouched.

Tracey clenched her jaw and hoped it stopped the sudden quiver of her bottom lip. She wouldn’t cry, except her vision blurred despite her resolve. A tear streaked down into her hair. Maybe Mac missed it. Damn, another followed in its wake.

Mac leaned closer and caught it with the tip of his tongue. His words in her ear sounded soft and resolute. “I want to see it.”

She shook her head. “N—”

“Not now,” he whispered. “Right now I want to do something else.”

She wasn’t surprised. Now he wanted to run. Just as Eddie had done. Run for the hills and never look back.

But he wasn’t running. He traced the outside rim of her ear with his tongue and his hand grazed across her belly and down to the heat of her.

Tracey gasped and sobbed at the same time, unable to hold back the burst of emotion. Her body trembled out of control. It seemed that he wasn’t going to run after all. On the contrary, he was going to finish what he’d started. He must have sensed the impact of his decision. He shifted over her, took her bottoms off completely and kissed her on the mouth, threaded his tongue through her lips, past her teeth.