Dangerous Race (3 page)

A woman and a man walked behind the table and took seats in front of the microphones. The lady wore a tan, lightweight jacket, a pair of cargo pants and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes and she didn’t flinch when light bulbs flashed in her face. Wearing a dark suit, the older, heavyset man tapped on the microphone and blew into it. The feedback quieted the bustling news people.

“Most of you look familiar.” He commanded the room with a booming voice and faint southern accent. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Ed Grayling and I’m the owner of Grayling Racing.” He gestured to the woman next to him. “You all know Trace Bradshaw.” He watched her for a second then looked back to the cameras. “I had so many phone calls yesterday and told so many people the same thing that I figured I was better off calling this press conference and answering all your questions at once. After this, I’d appreciate it if you could let my team get back to work.” He cleared his throat. “As you all know, I lost a close friend a couple of days ago.” He glanced at the lady next to him. “We both did.” He sighed. “Joe Harper was one of the best engineers in the business. The man knew how to race cars and he knew how to win. We’re going to miss him.”

Kim glanced back at her. “Why are you supposed to be watching this?”

“Shh,” Chelsea whispered with a quick shake of her head. “Just watch.”

“What was the official cause of death?” one reporter asked.

Grayling squirmed in his seat. “It’s no secret that Joe had a heart condition. All the signs point to a heart attack.”

A reporter raised his hand, speaking when Ed acknowledged him. “Trace, before your accident four years ago, you were the youngest person to qualify for the Arrow 500 by setting a track record and the first woman to have the pole position. Now that you have another chance for the title, will you continue the race in spite of your chief engineer’s death?”

“I thought I’d already made myself clear about that,” Grayling replied, fielding the question. “Yes, we’re staying in the race.”

“Who’s replacing Joe Harper?” another voice called.

“Well,” Grayling said. “That’s something I’m working on. First of all, Joe can’t be replaced, but I’ve got a someone in mind who might do the job.”

“Who?” another reported shouted.

He narrowed his round eyes. “I can tell you I’ve known him for a long time. As soon as I hear back and nail it down, I’ll send out a release and let you all know.”

“Hey, Trace,” a man in the front row asked. “How are you holding up?”

Cameras zoomed in on the woman. She hesitated, but then took off her dark glasses. Her spectacular blue eyes nearly drilled a hole through the TV screen.

Goose bumps rose along Chelsea’s arms. Blood rushed from her head so fast that her scalp prickled. The lady looked exactly like her. Mills had found her.

After all this time…

“Let’s see,” Trace said, leaning toward the microphone. She lifted one hand in the air. “Say, this is your best friend…and,” she lifted her other hand in the air, “this is your father. Or your brother…or someone you respected who taught you all about life.” She looked out to the crowd. “Now, combine those two people.” She clasped her hands together. “Then take them away forever.” She let her hands drop to her lap. “You can guess how I’m holding up.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to race?” someone asked.

She laughed grimly. “Honestly…I don’t have a choice. Joe worked too hard to get us here and I wouldn’t dream of letting him down by not continuing. He’d come back and strike me down.”

The reporters chuckled, but the lady looked heartbroken.

After a few more questions, the press conference ended and Chelsea shut off the TV, still trying to comprehend what all this meant. The reality of setting eyes on her made Chelsea’s stomach roll.

Kim turned, her jaw nearly on the floor. “Oh my God,” she said. “She’s alive.” No other words emerged from her mouth. None were necessary. She’d pretty much summed up everything in Chelsea’s head.

Chelsea stood, but noodly legs barely supported her and she gripped the table’s edge. “I think it’s time I made a trip. She’s someone I should meet in person.”

Rarely at a loss for words, Kim closed her gaping mouth and blinked. “You’re not going without me. I’ll make some calls and find us a hotel. We’ll think of this as a last hoorah. A final
blowout
if you will.”

Some hoorah. At this point, the cost of a week at a hotel was peanuts compared to the debt she owed. “Thanks,” Chelsea said. “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“Hey, I’ve always said, we’re partners in crime.” Kim watched her in sympathy. “Oh, sweetie. I know this is hard for you, but this could change your life. She’s your double for God’s sake.” She spun around and ran to her office.

Chelsea sat back down and rested her head in her hands. She didn’t imagine that her life could spin more out of control. But it just had.

Three days later, Tracey walked into the garage, still shell-shocked. The press conference two days ago had been bad, but attending Joe’s memorial had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d never lost someone close to her before, much less the father figure Joe had been.

She’d been fooled into thinking she had a finger on life, but she’d
been a fool
to take Joe for granted. She never felt more alone, more desolate…not even when Eddie had walked out on her. Then, when she’d thought she had nothing, she’d had Joe. He’d been there for her through the best times and, more recently, the worst. Joe was her mentor. Her rock.

But now he was gone. She breathed through the staggering pain of the loss.

Swiping at a stray tear, Tracey refused to lose control. No sentiment allowed. Not now. She’d cry for Joe when she was alone, but not at the garage where someone could discover her. She had an image to maintain. Had to be tough.

She took another deep breath and smelled the ethanol and oil that represented her way of life. This seemed like the place to be. The place she and Joe loved most. Her eyes stung, but not from fumes.

Tracey flipped on a light that left part of the room in the dark and threw deep shadows across the floor. Tools hung neatly on the pegboard against one of the gray walls. Cabinets and shelves filled with extra parts lined the other walls and her blue Arrow car sat in the middle of the room waiting for her to jump in and drive. Everything looked right, but without Joe, it was all wrong.

Tracey went to her small office and traded her black linen pants and blazer for the familiar jumpsuit she wore in the garage. She couldn’t take the car around the track—it was someone else’s practice time, but she could tinker with it, shine it up. Joe had always wanted the car to sparkle.

A little while later, the doorknob rattled and set Tracey’s nerves on edge. No one was supposed to be here today. The door swung open wide and Matthew strolled in. He must’ve stopped at the hotel after the memorial and changed into the faded jeans and white T-shirt he wore now.

“Hey,” he said, his brown eyes widening in surprise. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” He flipped on more lights.

“I could say the same for you.” Her pulse returned to normal as she rubbed more wax onto the carbon-fiber hood, remembering how Joe used to do it with such care. How they used to joke about the
Karate Kid.
Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off.

Matthew looked devastated. “It’s weird. I felt like I’d be closer to Joe if I came here.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” She still couldn’t imagine life without Joe. She huffed a breath and fought for control, ignoring the pull on her heart.

Within the hour, most of the crew had arrived. Everyone found some stupid job to do, even though it was Sunday and Ed had told them to take the day off. Being at the garage meant being closer to Joe.

Joe would’ve laughed at everyone’s morose attitude. He would’ve been the first to make a rude joke or obscene gesture to lighten the mood. That was Joe. He set the tone. Now he was gone.

How would they continue without him? Who would scold her when she cursed and smile at her when she refrained? Who would give her the confidence, the pep talks and the soft pat on the back? Tracey held in the urge to scream, to cry. She rubbed the car so hard, her arm ached, but she wouldn’t break down in front of the crew.

The door opened, and Ed Grayling’s hefty silhouette blocked the sunlight. Her foster parents had all but abandoned her, but Ed Grayling had taken her in. He’d shown her love, respect, and introduced her to the only other things that mattered in her life. Joe and cars. He owned the car that she loved and drove. Technically he owned her too.

She quickly checked her distorted reflection in a nearby metal hubcap, smoothed her straight jet-black hair and tried to wipe the dark smudges from underneath her eyes. She’d said goodbye to Ed at the memorial, thinking she wouldn’t see him again today. She had an appointment with him tomorrow to meet the new chief engineer. Those last three words made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t imagine someone replacing Joe. Couldn’t see anyone filling his shoes or keeping the crew together the way he did.

She’d never met the man replacing Joe. He’d been at the top of his game years ago at Ed’s track and had never glanced in her direction. Besides, she’d been a teenybopper, too enthralled with Eddie and learning about cars.

She straightened as Ed approached with Eddie and another man. Her stomach rolled in nervous tension. A strange feeling rooted deep inside her belly. She wasn’t ready for this today.

Ed seemed genuinely surprised to see the whole crew. Maybe he’d wanted the garage to be empty. He spotted her, said a few words to the man next to him, then came toward her. It looked as if more gray hair had sprouted on his head since yesterday, and rings beneath his eyes showed the strain he’d been under.

Oh God. This had to be the new guy. Correction. New chief engineer. He’d flown in today from Europe. Her stomach flipped again. She couldn’t lose it. Had to keep it together awhile longer. She tried to stay focused on Ed’s hazel eyes or double chin. Anything but the man next to him.

The men drew closer, and she got the undeniable impression that her life was about to change even more drastically than it had already.

Ed drew Tracey into a hug while Eddie hung back with Matthew. “Hey, Trace. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah. I keep hearing that, Ed.” She pulled away. If she couldn’t have Joe, she didn’t want anybody else. The feeling in her gut made her want to howl with the injustice of it all.

“Uh…I guess there’s no point in waiting ’til tomorrow. Trace Bradshaw, this is Mackenzie Reynolds. Mac, meet Tracey Bradshaw.”

Tracey’s stomach nose-dived, but she forced herself to look at him. God, he had to be almost half Joe’s age. Early thirties, maybe. Their gazes locked before Tracey blinked. She concentrated on Ed’s words.

“…used to drive for me years ago.”

“Try a decade ago,” Mac replied with a wry grin. Straight white teeth peeked out from behind full, sensual lips.

He seemed too tall to be a driver, well over six feet with huge shoulders. She couldn’t believe he’d ever fit into an open-wheel race car. His hair was as black as hers, wavy and thick. His dark gray eyes appeared to have the knowledge of the world in their depths, and that square jaw was straight out of
GQ.
So was the cleft in his chin. The worn black leather jacket and blue jeans made him a renegade. How had she missed all this ten years ago?

“Nice to meet you, Trace.”

She took his extended hand automatically. The strength and warmth behind the shake rippled up her arm and through her body. “Yeah, same here,” she said, pulling away quickly, not liking the effect he had on her. Not the tingling sensation in her hand nor the tightening in her belly. A whispering voice in her brain screamed
caution!

The garage got quiet. Too quiet. A heavy weight dropped on Tracey’s shoulders. It was up to her to get the tone back. The laughter and the jokes. Joe would have wanted that.

“So, you’re our new chief engineer?” she asked.

Mac nodded. His eyes narrowed as if he recognized it was a tough pill to swallow. “Look, I realize this is awkward. I knew Joe. Admired the hell out of him. I’m going to do the best I can and get us across the finish line. First,” he added with a definite twinkle in his smoky gray eyes. He flashed a quick half grin, doing his best tightrope walk between the solemn attitude in the garage and the desire to win.

That was good. At least he wanted to win. After working so hard to get here, she wouldn’t settle for anything less. Tracey forced her gaze away from his dimpled chin, straightened her shoulders and mustered the most sincere smile she could manage. “Well, we like first. Don’t we guys?” She turned her head and included the dozen men in the garage. “It beats rolling over the finish line last.”

A ripple of agreement flowed around her.

Tracey shoved aside the guilt at continuing life as usual. Her focus had to remain the same, only now she had to win without Joe.

Ed’s cell phone rang and interrupted the strained silence. Scowling at the number on the display, he flipped open the top and checked his watch at the same time. “Hey, pun’kin.” It had to be his wife, Beverly. “I know…we’re running late, sweetums. I still have to make a quick trip to the hotel to drop—” He flinched and held the phone from his ear. Just about everyone in the vicinity heard Beverly chew him up and spit him out. “Yes, I—” She’d cut him off again.

Mac gestured for him to leave. “I’ll get a lift from someone here,” he told Ed quietly. “Go ahead.”

Ed nodded thankfully with wide eyes. “We’ll be right there, love bug. I swear.” He flipped the phone closed. “Sorry about this, Mac. Beverly has a charity dinner tonight, and Eddie and I promised weeks ago that we’d be there. She’s pitching a fit.” He headed toward the door. “C’mon, Eddie. We’d better hurry before your mother divorces me. Mac, you sure you can catch a ride?”

“Sure. I can always call a taxi. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead.”

“I’ll have a rental waiting for you first thing in the morning,” Ed promised, waving as he walked out the door, Eddie in tow.

Mac turned back and looked at Tracey expectantly.

Apparently, her new duties included tour guide and MC. “I guess you want the nickel tour, huh?”

He nodded. “That’d be good. And maybe you could introduce me to the crew.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be good to do,” Tracey said. She backed away from him, his presence in the garage a little overwhelming. He wasn’t Joe, but then no one was. Already this man had her uneasy, but she couldn’t figure out why.

One by one Tracey introduced him to the guys and watched how he listened and made a connection with each man. The crew took to him better than mosquitoes to stagnant water. Once they all started talking, Tracey disappeared into her office to look over some paperwork. There was only so much goodness she could muster.

Exhaling, she sat behind her desk, picked up the papers in front of her and forced herself to focus. She shuffled through the endorsement proposals that had fallen avalanche-style after she’d qualified, for the second time, for the Arrow 500. She snorted, finding the same companies who’d wanted her to endorse their products four years ago…until her accident. It had nearly cost Ed everything. The proposals had disappeared right along with her thighbone. No one wanted a disfigured race-car driver hawking their products. Not unless they thought she was about to make history, which she was.

She’d come a long way from the dirty, three-bedroom house where she’d been raised. The faster she drove, the more sponsors she attracted and the farther away she got from her family. As if the Pickets would ever be family. The only reason they had taken her in the first place was for the monthly stipend. Tracey shook off her thoughts of the past, sipped on her lemonade and got back to work.

Hours later, after sorting through the companies with products she believed in and those she didn’t, she called it a day. The pain in her leg told her she’d been sitting way too long. She pulled her black pantsuit from the door hook and headed out.

The garage was quiet, the crew long gone. One light illuminated the center of the room. She stood next to her car and ran a loving finger over the rear wing. She ached with loneliness. The tears she’d been holding back threatened to spill. “We’re going to have to do this without Joe,” she whispered to her car, taking comfort in that old habit.

“You’ve got me.”

Tracey’s pulse leapt and she whirled around. Mac was leaning against the doorframe, looking as calm as his voice had sounded. She should have known he was there. The guy sent out waves of energy just standing still. “I thought you hitched a ride back with one of the guys.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He shrugged a huge shoulder. “I was hoping you could give me a lift. I thought we might talk a little. You disappeared pretty fast today.”

Because she’d been holding off the inevitable. “I had some sponsor proposals to go over. And you didn’t scare me,” she added.

Mac nodded.

She turned away from his probing stare. He walked up behind her, and she caught the faint smell of leather and got annoyed that her heart rate jacked up another notch.

“Trace, I’ll be honest with you.” His low voice struck a chord that sent a foreign tingle down her spine. “I’m a little nervous about this whole situation. I want you to know that it won’t stop me from making sure you have the best car on the track.”

Gathering up her courage, she faced him. “Ed told me you know about racing from the inside out, and that you were his best driver when he bought his first car.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care. As if looking at that damn dimpled chin didn’t faze her. “I’m sure everything’ll be fine. It’s only for this race, until he can find someone permanent.”

Mac grinned wryly at her less-than-stellar compliment. “Wow, thanks. Nothing like a glowing review to boost my confidence.”

Tracey sighed and held back a smile at his sarcasm. “Look, Ed told me he had to call in a chip to get you here. I don’t know what’s in your past that you have to do this for him, but I get the impression you’d rather not be here. If that’s the case, we’ll all stick it out for the next couple of weeks, win this race and go our separate ways.”

Mac nodded. His gaze traveled to her lips and instant heat bubbled up from Tracey’s center. She didn’t have the time or inclination to be attracted to this man. In fact, she’d gone four years without having any interest in
any
man and she planned on keeping the status quo.

She brushed past him toward the door, purposely ignoring the instant bolt of electricity she felt at the contact. “You coming?”

“Yeah, sure.” He fell into step behind her, his presence as formidable as King Kong’s. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

A dozen different things popped into her head at once, but he sounded as if he had something specific in mind. “What’s wrong with what?”

“You’re limping. You weren’t limping earlier.”