Dangerous Race (4 page)

“Oh.” Tracey shrugged. At least he picked an easy one. “Stressful day. If I’ve got other stuff on my mind, I forget to walk right.”

Mac’s brows pulled together. “You forget to walk right? How do you do that?”

“It’s easy if you’ve got a steel rod instead of a thighbone, but I’m sure Ed told you all about it.”

His dark eyes seemed to see through to her very soul as he shook his head. “Ed didn’t tell me a thing. I mean I knew about your accident, but aside from the articles I read in the paper, I don’t know anything.”

“If you read the papers, then you got the story.” She walked out the door and waited for Mac so she could lock up. God. She just wanted to go home, if she could call a hotel room home.

Mac stood next to her as she punched the code into the electronic combination lock. “Do the numbers change from day to day?” he asked.

“Nope. Same code.” Tracey turned and started walking. Dark clouds obscured a half moon and a cool breeze chilled the air. “I’m parked over here.” She climbed into her white Navigator as Mac hopped into the passenger side. His bulk dominated the cab and the temperature seemed to rise without benefit of the heater.

They reached the hotel, rode up the same elevator and walked down the same hall.

She should’ve realized that Mac was taking Joe’s room at the hotel…right across the hall from hers. She was stuck with him for the next two weeks.

Lord, have mercy.

The sun blazed over the track as Trace zoomed past Mac while he stood in the pit. Twice she’d taken the corners too low and rolled over the white paint, and Mac had kept his mouth shut. But he wouldn’t again. So far she’d been lucky the tires had kept their grip. She rounded turn four, hit the line again and this time the car wiggled. Mac’s stomach nearly dropped to his feet until Trace recovered control of the car.

He struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Watch the corners, Trace. You’re too low.”

Her frustrated sigh told him all he needed to hear. “The track is dry. I’m good, Mac. I’ve got it covered,” she said tightly.

How many times had she uttered those words today? In that same tone. Enough that he didn’t want to hear it again. “Yeah, so you said, but I saw that wiggle. If the tires get hotter and you keep going over that line, the car is going to be very dangerous and I don’t think we want to deal with a spin at this point in time.” Or ever. “Agreed?”

Her stony silence left him in the cold. He never should have agreed to help Ed. Yeah, he owed the man in a big way, but what the hell had he walked into? Trace might be gorgeous to look at, but her attitude needed a complete overhaul. Mac sighed. He had to consider the loss she was dealing with and the stress of the race. At the same time, he needed her to show him a little respect, especially if he intended to run this crew and get her car over the finish line first.

Evening the score with Ed required winning this damn race and Mac would accept nothing less. Not from himself, not from his driver.

“I’m not sure the headsets are working,” Mac said. “I didn’t hear you, Trace.” Tension zinged over the wire. The crew pretended not to notice the standoff, but they weren’t very good at it. Clearly they’d never been in this situation before. Mac would’ve paid money to ask Joe how he’d dealt with her.

Trace didn’t say a word until she brought the car into the pit one lap later. She stripped off her helmet and her flame retardant mask and gloves with methodical precision. When she leveled him with her gaze, Mac saw the distinct snap, crackle and pop in the fire of her sapphire-blue eyes. Eyes that perfectly matched her race suit that perfectly matched her car. With the sunlight shining down on her, and her race suit accentuating every curve, she looked more like one of the trophy models at the end of the race. Granted, she was shorter, but with that hourglass figure, height didn’t matter.

“May I have a word with you.
Alone.
” She stalked back toward the garage and didn’t leave Mac much choice other than to follow.

“Sure,” he muttered. Not that it mattered. Not that she heard him. Or cared. He let her storm in front of him until she turned.

“Are you coming?” Her tone nearly put a frost on his bones.

“Right behind you.” But he didn’t change his pace. If she wanted to throw a hissy fit, then he’d keep his distance for as long as possible. She stopped and impatiently jammed her helmet under her arm while waiting for him. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“You could say,” she said as he reached her and they started walking together. She had to move slower if she planned to talk with him and he could tell that made her angrier. “Is there a reason you can’t pick up the pace a little?” The lady operated at a hundred miles an hour in her every endeavor.

Mac shrugged. “Not sure what the hurry is.”

Trace froze. She tensed every muscle in her body before exhaling hard. “I’m trying really hard to keep it together, Mac. But if you don’t adjust your attitude toward me when we’re in the garage and on the headset, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

“My attitude toward you!” Mac was dumbstruck. She’d been treating him like a novice all day and he had so much more experience when it came to racing and running cars, he wanted to shake it into her. “I know I’ve been out of the States for a long time, but in the old days, respect was a two-way street.”

Her eyes rounded as if he’d slapped her and her smooth olive skin turned rosier. “Don’t you dare speak to me about respect,” she said succinctly. “I give it when I get it.”

He couldn’t disagree more. “You wouldn’t know—”

“Hey, you two.” Eddie jogged up and stood between them. “We drew straws to see who was going to referee and I lost, so whatever you do, don’t start swinging. I don’t want to get hit.”

Trace barely hid a look of disgust. “Grow up, Eddie. No one’s swinging.” She mumbled something as she turned and continued toward the garage, and Mac would’ve sworn she’d said, “Yet.”

“I’ll be in the trailer when you’re not too busy,” she called over her shoulder.

Ouch.

“She’s in a mood,” Eddie muttered, facing Mac.

He sure as hell hoped she got out of the mood. A good relationship with his driver directly correlated with her performance on the track. “Should I expect this all the time, or can I attribute her temper to stress?” Mac asked.

Eddie glanced at Trace as she disappeared around a corner. “She’s hurtin’. Joe and she were tight. That and all the coverage going on with the race…I think she’s freaking out a little.” A knowing smile crossed his lips. “She’ll never let on though.”

“Yeah. Why’s that?”

“She’s got something to prove. To my Dad, to the other drivers on the track. Probably to me too.”

Did that have anything to do with the fact that Eddie had driven the car while Trace was in rehab? Or just that she’d struggled for so long to get back into a car in the first place?

“Sounds deep.”

Shaking his head with a half grin on his face, Eddie stared at the cement. “It is what it is. The tornado that is Trace. She hasn’t been the same since the accident.”

Who would be? He sure as hell wasn’t the same after his accident.

“She had a severe concussion, right?” Mac had heard stories of people going through complete personality changes after receiving serious head trauma.

“Yeah…among other things,” Eddie told him. “It was touch and go for a while, but…what’s that saying? She emerged from the ashes like a Phoenix.”

No doubt about that. Mac had been surprised to look at her face and see no sign of a scar anywhere. He’d never heard if there was an end to the story, either. “Whatever happened to the guy who threw the oil balloon?”

“He disappeared.” Eddie adjusted his sunglasses. “Cops thought it might’ve been a one-time thing. A wacko who wanted to see the effects of oil and a car going two hundred miles an hour. They didn’t have much to go on and the incident never repeated itself at any other track.”

“So they never discovered if someone was out to hurt Trace specifically or if it was a random crime?”

“Correct.”

“That must’ve burned Trace,” Mac thought aloud.

“Like I said, I think she’s got something to prove.”

“It sure doesn’t look like the incident affects her driving. She’s as focused as any driver I’ve ever met.” He knew about focus and knew it could be obliterated in a split second. Now if he could tinker with her attitude…

“Honestly,” Eddie said, scratching his jaw, “I don’t know that she ever thinks about the accident. She doesn’t remember the crash or too much that happened right after it. She was out of it for a long time.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Mac started toward the garage, but stopped. “Hey, your dad told me you’re working on the numbers for a new car.”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to convince him that Grayling Racing should be more than a one-car operation. If I can prove that we can make it work financially, he’ll buy the second car. He just doesn’t think it’s in our current budget.” A knowing smile split Eddie’s mouth wide. “I’ll tell you what though…I know I can do it and I guarantee I’ll be here racing next year.”

“I don’t doubt that either,” Mac replied. If anyone could make the numbers work, Eddie would. The guy had more brains than a race car had horsepower. He’d already seen Eddie wheel and deal years ago when it looked as if Grayling Racing might go under. Eddie had been the one who kept it afloat.

Mac started moving again and glanced over his shoulder. “I better go find Trace before she accuses me of bailing on our conversation. Tell the guys I said thanks for the concern, but in the words of our ever-popular driver…‘I’ve got it covered.’”

Mac stepped up into the back of the trailer. After the race, the car would be loaded in its own space on the roof and the parts would go back in the cabinets that lined the inside. Trace had an office/bed at the very end and it was her home away from home on the track.

He spotted her behind the Plexiglas door at the other end. She looked as cool as a glass of milk right out of the fridge. The lady didn’t need a stitch of makeup to warrant a second glance. Sitting at the small table in the corner, she’d popped the top off a lemonade can. A pack of bubble gum sat on the table’s edge.

Lemonade and bubble gum. God, she was just a kid. Younger than his brother. So why did he keep having outrageous thoughts of stripping off her race suit to see what hid underneath? He couldn’t afford to think about her in any other capacity besides his driver.

He opened the door and gestured toward the cushioned bench along the side of the trailer. “May I?”

She extended her hand and set her drink on the table. “Sure. Why not? Make yourself at home.”

The words themselves weren’t so bad—it was the clipped, forced tone that rubbed Mac the wrong way. But what had he expected? He sat and stretched out. He didn’t want her to think that Eddie had distracted him from their earlier conversation. “You were saying,” he said. “Something about respect.”

Trace stood and paced in front of him. “Look,” she said. “I know it’s tough being brought in here on such short notice and we’re still trying to get to know each other, but you’ve got to give me some room. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need you acting like some kind of nervous…” She couldn’t seem to come up with the right word, and if she said
father,
Mac thought he might puke on the spot. “…car owner,” she finished.

Whew.

Back and forth, she paced. The Energizer Bunny had nothing on this woman. Did she ever stop?

“I trust you, Trace. I have no doubts as to your abilities. In fact I—”

“Then you have to let me practice and run the car the way I know how. Which means you can’t lecture me on how close I was to the line or—”

“I would hardly call what I said a lecture,” Mac replied.

“The point is we need to come to an understanding.”

He agreed. Sitting here arguing about it wasn’t going to help matters at all. Mac stood and extended his hand. “Hi. Mac Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”

Her brows quirked together in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Starting over.”

She nodded and shook his hand. Her warmth and strength shocked him as it had when they’d first met. “Trace Bradshaw.” She didn’t give him a hint of a smile, but the determination in her eyes and the conviction in her voice made him think he had half a chance at getting along with her. “Nice to meet you too.”

Seven days. One frustrating, agonizing week of head-on collisions with Mac, and Tracey was tired of it. After they’d talked and started over, she’d thought they’d get along fine, but as the days wore on, the opposite was true. They disagreed about everything. Strategy, practice time, track speed, car setup…anything and everything that had to do with racing. Sure, she’d argued with Joe, but at least they’d had the same philosophy. Not the case with Mighty Mackenzie Reynolds, God of All Things with Four Wheels.

Tracey swiped her card key off the dresser and headed to the door. As soon as she opened it, she saw Mac’s door open from across the hall. Damn it. Not again. Although they’d been on opposite sides of the fence all week, unfortunately their clocks were timed in synchronicity. It never failed that the two of them left together and came in together. If she tried to leave early, she’d catch him apparently trying to do the same. They couldn’t get away from each other. Today was no different. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was purposely following her.

Tracey kept it civil. “Hey,” she said, walking toward the elevators.

“Hey.” His low voice hummed through her.

She couldn’t look at him. Didn’t attempt it. Because no matter how much they argued, she still thought he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. In the last two days she’d even fantasized about kissing him. Feeling his hands on her skin and his tongue in her mouth, the weight of his body on top of hers…

It was absolutely ludicrous. Because she resented the hell out of the man. She disagreed with his decisions and felt belittled by his know-it-all attitude. So what if he was eleven years older than her. Joe had been more than twice her age, but at least he’d treated her with a little respect. He never talked down to her the way Mighty Mac Reynolds did.

Most of all, she hated the feeling of loneliness that had descended like a low-flying vulture ready to pick at her hollowed-out carcass. Loneliness that made her ache for something she’d never have, because she’d never let anyone get close to her again.

Why, all of a sudden, did she feel this way? Joe’s death had thrown her into a tailspin, that’s why. The sudden sharp longing for a man couldn’t be because she wanted Mac Reynolds. Tracey groaned inwardly at her spastic thoughts. She told her stupid heart to slow down.

During the elevator ride, the silence screamed as loud as her car in high gear and it was just as deafening.

“Where are you headed?” Tracey asked. They didn’t have any track time because of Fan Appreciation Day. She looked straight ahead, avoiding his imposing frame in the mirrored walls and the damn dimpled chin that made her want to brush her tongue into its depths.

“Same place as you.”

“I doubt it.” She shook her head and forced herself to look in his eyes. “Ed’s picking me up. We have a meeting with the medical examiner. Joe’s autopsy report came in and he’s going to tell us the findings.”

Mac nodded. “Like I said. Same place as you.”

Tracey bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming. She hated that he knew her every move. It seemed she couldn’t get away from the man except for when she went to bed at night. And even then he haunted her.