Dangerous Race (21 page)

“One day, I must’ve been about seven, standing at the edge of the fence, watching the track when Eddie rode up next to me in a quarter midget and let me have a turn driving it. I’ll never forget the feeling. The wind blowing in my hair, the road whizzing past.” Tracey sank the nine ball. “It was a huge rush. I was hooked. He introduced me to his dad and I sort of melded into the family. They kind of couldn’t get rid of me.” She circled the table and looked for her next shot.

“Your parents, foster parents, didn’t mind?”

Tracey shrugged. “I was the only one staying out of trouble. I’m not sure they even noticed I was gone. They had their hands full.” Tracey missed her next shot. “What about you? How did you find Ed?”

Mac circled the table. “Ed found me. I was racing Indy cars, having a pretty good year. To quote a cliché, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse and put me in his Arrow.” He leaned over and sank a ball. “It worked out fine for a while.”

“Until the accident?”

Mac froze.

She was too late. Too late in keeping her mouth shut, too late to call back the question. Her heart sank. With three little words she’d ruined their camaraderie.

He stood straight and set his pool cue across the table. “You know,” he said, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost midnight and we should try to get some sleep.” He took her arm and headed for the door.

His assumption that
her
night was over pissed her off. Tracey shrugged out of his grip. “What is it, Mac? You can dredge up my horrible past but not yours?”

Mac’s eyes blazed with anger. “What do you want to know, Tracey?” His low, ominous voice sent a cold shiver down her back. “That I walked away from a multi-million-dollar deal with Ed because I couldn’t get back in the driver’s seat? That I left him high and dry, scrambling for a decent driver for the biggest race of the year? You want to know that I was lucky he didn’t sue my ass for breach of contract? Or do you just want to know that
that
is the reason why I’m here as chief engineer?
That’s
the debt I owe Ed.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Don’t you think I—” Mac slammed his mouth shut. “Good night, Tracey.” He stalked out of the bar.

Tracey took the beer the waitress handed her and slugged down a third of it. It only took two minutes for the alcohol to go straight to her head. She hated that she was such a lightweight. Hated it even more that she’d set Mac off when they’d been having a decent evening. She pounded down the rest of her drink in minutes and stood to go back upstairs.

A warm, tipsy feeling radiated from her head to her toes. She blinked and tried to focus on the pool table. The balls bounced of their own volition. She shouldn’t have had more than one beer. She’d be stuck with a roaring hangover tomorrow.

Right now, though…right now she felt great. And horrible. She quashed the urge to order another drink and headed toward the elevator.

A man blocked her path. Eddie. Okay, not a man. She held back a giggle. “Hi, Eddie. What’s shakin’?”

“What are you doing here by yourself, Trace?” The genuine concern in his voice surprised her, reminded her of years past. He glanced around the lobby. “Does anyone know where you are?”

Tracey nodded then shook her head. Technically, she’d left the bar and Mac didn’t know where she was. Ha.

“C’mon,” Eddie said, leading her toward the lobby and away from the elevators.

“Hey,” Tracey said, “where are you going, Junior?” She giggled again. He hated to be called Junior.

His grip tightened on her arm as they ate up the floor of the lobby, heading toward the hotel entrance. “We’re going to sober you up.”

Tracey was real tired of being hauled around, be it by Mac or Eddie or anyone else who thought they could take her arm and expect her to follow on command like a trained dog. When last she’d checked, she had not grown fur. She tried to shrug out of Eddie’s grasp. “Stop it, Eddie. You’re hurting my arm.”

“Don’t argue with me, Trace. We can talk later. We don’t have time now.” He powered forward, dragging her along.

The room started spinning and Tracey slowed her steps. “Eddie, I’m not going that way.” She nearly fell as he tugged on her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded.

His angry blue eyes drilled into her. “Come on, Trace.” He squeezed her arm again, harder this time and kept moving.

Tracey dug in her heels. The tipsy feeling wore off as adrenaline climbed in her veins. “This isn’t funny, Eddie. I’m fine, all right. Let me go.”

But he didn’t.

Tracey tried in earnest to remove her arm from his grasp. Her anger boiled hotter. If he didn’t let go in the next ten seconds, he was going to live to regret it. Or not live to regret it. Yeah, that sounded better. “Cut it out, Eddie. Let go.”

“Yeah. Cut it out, Eddie.” Mac’s voice sounded razor sharp behind them.

Eddie stopped abruptly and relief washed through Tracey. Now if she could just get her arm back. And if the room would stop spinning. Lord, have mercy. She got a look at Mac.

Clenching his jaw and his fists, he’d never looked more threatening. “Let her go.”

Eddie released her and blood immediately rushed through her arm. He looked as stressed as she’d ever seen him. “You guys don’t understand. Dad is coming down from the restaurant and I don’t want him to see you this way,” he said, gesturing to Tracey.

“What way?” Tracey snapped indignantly.

“You smell like a brewery, Trace. If Dad finds out he’ll go through the roof.” His gaze shot over her shoulder and he shrugged. “Shit. Too late.” Eddie took her arm, but more gently this time. He spoke quietly in her ear. “Two years ago, days before a race, he found out I had a couple of drinks and went off on me.”

Tracey turned and saw Ed coming from the bank of elevators with one of the team’s sponsors. A speck of worry crept up her spine. She’d seen how hard Ed treated his only son, but he’d always been supportive and loving with her. “It’s not as if it’s race day,” she said.

Eddie made a face. “He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want his drivers drinking prior to race day.” He stepped back. “I was only trying to save your ass. But if you don’t want to be saved, then suit yourself.” He glanced at Mac. “Besides, I was only taking her to the ladies room. I thought she was about to heave all over the lobby. How would that look on tomorrow’s front page?” He seemed genuinely hurt that no one appreciated his efforts.

“If I was going to be sick I would’ve said something. God, Eddie, you nearly took my arm off.” Tracey flexed her fist. She stood straight and adjusted her shirt. It only took a little physical activity to get the blood pumping and sober up a perfectly good high.

Ed said his goodbyes at the revolving door and strode back to them. Always in tune to the people around him and as sharp as a tack, he slowed when he got closer. “Hey, you three. What’s the problem? You all look like you swallowed glass.”

“No problem,” Eddie said. “We were about to call it a night. Right?” His gaze passed between Mac and her and back to Ed.

Ed checked his watch. “It is late. I guess—”

“Excuse me, Ms. Bradshaw,” a female voice called from behind them. The waitress from the restaurant jogged toward her waving a small piece of paper. Her bar tab. Shit. “Sorry, Ms. Bradshaw,” the woman said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to pay for those beers now or charge it to your room.” She looked around at the quiet faces staring back at her.

“Uh, just charge my room, okay,” Tracey said. “Sorry about that,” she added. She’d never skipped out on a bill in her life. So much for focus. And so much for keeping it from Ed. The disapproval in his eyes twisted her stomach in knots.

Eddie jumped in with his motor mouth moving a hundred miles an hour. “Tracey came down to relieve some stress, Dad. You don’t need to get all over her case.”

“Do you mind,” she said to Eddie. “I can speak for myself.” Then she turned to his father. “This is no big deal, Ed. I promise you that—”

“It’s okay, sugar.” Ed smiled and placed a beefy arm around her shoulders. “I know this has been a tough week. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep. We’ve got practice in the morning.”

The look on Eddie’s face said he might have a coronary on the spot. His eyes opened nearly as wide as his jaw. “Dad, what about what you told me in Colorado at Pike’s Peak?”

Ed glanced at his son with sharp eyes. “You were on antibiotics for an inner ear infection and—”

“I was done with the antibiotics the day before and I told you that. My ear was—”

“Don’t you fucking raise your voice to me. I don’t care how old you are. I am your goddamn father and you’ll treat me with respect,” Ed boomed.

Eddie shrugged in aggravation. “Dad, I’m only trying—”

“Not right now. Not tonight,” Ed said, stopping his son with the palm of his hand. “This isn’t the time or the place.” He turned to her. “Trace, honey, why don’t you let Mac take you back to your room. I still have to meet one more sponsor for a drink.” Ed ushered her toward Mac.

“I don’t need Mac to take me to my room, Ed. I’m fine.” Didn’t anyone think she could take care of herself? The realization pissed her off. “Now, if you all don’t mind, I’m going back to my room.
Alone.
I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She stalked off toward the elevators.

The farther she got away from Eddie, the more she wanted to let him have it. Who the hell did he think he was anyway, to forcefully pull her across the lobby and make her worried that she might be in trouble with Ed? Damn it, she was an adult. Old enough to drink a beer or two or
six
if she wanted. She fumed as she waited for the doors to open and when they did, she decided to confront Eddie. Whipping her cap off her head, she turned and ran straight into Mac’s solid chest.

“Where are you going, now?” he asked.

“Eddie didn’t get nearly enough of what I have to give him.” She tried to move past but Mac wouldn’t allow it.

“Calm down, Tracey. I think his dad is giving it to him for the both of us.”

Tracey saw Ed talking to Eddie. If the fierceness in his eyes was any indication, he was on a rampage. Part of her felt vindicated and part felt horrible. Ed had always been hard on his son, but he did it out of love.

Love.

God, she wanted to strangle Eddie all over again. He’d told her he’d love her for the rest of her life, but he’d lied. Worse than that, he’d made it impossible for her to trust anyone ever again.

Tracey looked up at Mac. His dark eyes weren’t condescending at all. In fact, her anger dissipated completely as she stared up at his intense face. Something about the way he watched her made her feel as though she had an ally.

A new current of nerves traveled down her spine. That shivery, tingly feeling she only got with Mac. The elevator doors opened and Tracey all but leapt inside. Mac followed.

“Maybe you should look up the word ‘alone’ in the dictionary, Mac.” Tracey hated the hard sound of her voice. Hated being such a bitch. She blinked back the hot sting in her eyes and tried to breathe normally. The more she concentrated on it, the harder it became.

A tidal wave of anger, loneliness and despair crashed into her broadside and took her out. Her whole body shook as she sank to the floor, dropped her head in her hands and sobbed into her cap. Stopping the tears was like trying to stop a flash flood. “What is wrong with me?” she cried. “Why am I so horrible? I’ve been so mean to you…Since day one I’ve treated you so—” she hiccupped a sob. Maybe she wasn’t so sober after all, “—and I don’t know…”

Mac’s strong hands circled around her arms as he picked her up and lifted her against him. Tracey absolutely detested crying in his arms like a baby, but she did it anyway. She never should’ve had that second beer. The next thing she knew, she was in her room on her bed and still in Mac’s arms. She cried for Joe and cried for herself. Every drop of emotion she’d wanted to hold in until after the race came rushing out faster than water from a busted main. She was brokenhearted, helpless and alone.

Mac continued to hold her. Continued to whisper mumbled words of comfort in her ear, in her hair. Continued to keep her safe in the strength of his arms. The more Tracey cried, the tighter his arms wrapped around her and the more she buried herself against him. Taking his heat and his solace as if they were the most precious gifts he could give.

He let her cry a long time. As if he understood she had some ferocious feelings that had been clawing and scratching their way to the surface for a while now.

“What happened between you and Eddie?” he finally whispered. “I don’t mean tonight. I mean before.” The soft question made her cry harder, forced her to remember that awful night. “Did he hurt you in some way, Tracey?” A hint of anger lined his voice.

Tracey shook her head, even if it was a lie. Eddie had sliced her heart in two and left it on the track to be run over a thousand times.

“What happened? You can trust me.”

Those simple words hit her so hard she could barely breathe. As if feeling her pain, Mac gave her another gentle squeeze. Tracey clung to him, afraid to let go, but afraid to trust. Mac didn’t seem in any hurry. He adjusted both of them on her bed and continued holding her.

“We were engaged,” she finally said, wiping her eyes. “Then I had the accident. I told him the scar was bad. I told him.”

Mac didn’t say anything. But what did she expect him to say? He just kept her safe in the strength of his arms. His fingers circled a pattern on her back. His heat radiated through her shirt and down her spine.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slow. “Eddie kept pleading with me to see the scar. I knew he’d have to eventually, but I kept hoping it would heal better.” She fought back more tears. “I took the bandage off and he…he made this…face…like I was some kind of freak. He tried to hide it, but he changed after that. He stuck it out for another couple months, but finally he wrote me a letter. He broke off the engagement and said he felt we’d grown apart. He said I was different. Not the same the person I was before the accident. He was right. I mean I was terrified I wouldn’t walk again and I was angry and upset.” Tracey forced back a sob. “But that was when I needed him the most. I knew he left me because he was disgusted by the scar, I just knew it. He felt bad, I know that too, but he…he…” She couldn’t finish.

Mac held onto her tighter. “I want to strangle that bastard,” he murmured in her hair.

“Get in line,” she choked out. “He must have a half dozen dogs he’s rescued and all of them have severe deformities. It used to be something I admired about him, but how could he love those dogs and…” She let the sentence dangle. How could love the dogs and toss her out in the cold?

Mac squeezed a little harder. If he meant to infuse her with his strength, he was doing a damn good job. Either that or the beer had her considering something she swore she’d never do again.

The bubbling fountain in the hotel lobby usually set a mood of tranquility, but tonight that mood was nonexistent. Matthew took Chelsea’s hand and linked their fingers together, trying his damnedest to gain her confidence.

She was lying.

He didn’t know why and the longer the evening went on the more he resented her for it. Before their date that night, he’d passed through the lobby on his way to the elevator with just enough time to shower before picking up Chelsea for dinner. It might have been because he had her on his mind, or maybe because he felt so attuned to her, but something made him glance across the lobby and he’d seen her. He stopped and turned, nearly started toward her when the whole picture took shape.

Standing behind the leaves of a lush potted palm, a guy stood talking with her. Matthew couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t have to. Chelsea looked up at him with shining eyes and bright smile. After nodding her head, she dug in her purse and withdrew a white envelope. She handed it to the man and he accepted with a grin. The guy checked the contents. Matthew’s stomach lurched at the sight of a wad of cash. Even from this distance the greenbacks were unmistakable. Chelsea reached up and hugged the guy. The gesture shredded Matthew’s heart.

Tall, with dark hair and wearing a black leather jacket and dark sunglasses, he had trouble written all over him. For a second, Matthew considered going over and invading their little party, but something made him hold off. He wanted Chelsea to tell him herself.

She hadn’t. Not the entire night. Not during dinner, not when he took her dancing and not on the way back to the hotel. He’d asked a dozen times in a dozen different ways, trying to wheedle the information out of her, but she hadn’t uttered a word of the truth.

It didn’t help that she’d pulled back from him emotionally either. She’d barely met his gaze and she’d been withdrawn and sullen most of the night. Except for a few minutes on the dance floor when a slow song had her lithe body flush against his, Matthew saw their time together coming to an end and he hated it. With a passion.

What bothered him most was that Chelsea wouldn’t confide in him. Why had she given a stranger a wad of cash? Did it have anything to do with Trace? The thought nauseated him.

One more try. He had to give her another chance before asking her point blank,
Who is the son of a bitch you hugged earlier and what the hell did you pay him for?

“It seems as if you’ve got something on your mind,” he pressed. “I want you to know you can tell me anything.” He’d said something similar once already tonight. “I’ve got an idea. What if we have a drink in the bar before we go up? I had a great time that first night, just talking to you, getting to know you. How about it?”

Chelsea stopped in the middle of the lobby and faced him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she began. “It’s getting closer to the race and you’ve got to concentrate.”