Magnetic Shift (19 page)

“We haven’t been formally introduced. The name’s Carl Stacy. I’m—”

“Mitch Benson’s team owner.”

He leaned closer. “So, you have heard of me. Only good things, I hope.”

“Not exactly.” I wrinkled my nose at the stench of chewing tobacco. “You’re the guy trying to take Lenny away from Dean, and the guy desperate enough to sabotage Colton’s chances at making The Chase.”

His grip tightened. “You’re a lippy little thing, aren’t you, darlin’? I shouldn’t have expected less from a salvage yard floozy. It’s sweet you think he even stands a chance at winning the cup.”

I snarled and wiggled myself out of his grasp. “Oh, I know all about you. Lexi Adams. You’re Dean’s little charity case.”

“You know nothing.” I spun away, but Carl blocked my retreat and towered over me. The man eclipsed the sun, leaving me standing in his shadow.

“I hear you’re good with your hands, that you’re quick at taking things apart. Tell me. How do you do it? I’ve never seen or heard of a trained mechanic that can yank an engine out as fast as you did a few weeks ago. How is it that you can?”

“Natural talent, I guess.”

A smirk crept up one side of his face. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re hiding something.”

“I am not. I’m just used to dismantling things, that’s all. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I took a few steps back.

He tipped his hat. “Alright, then. I’ll see you ’round … Miss Magic Fingers.” He strolled off, keeping a confident swagger to his step.

Magic fingers? This guy’s creep factor had just risen to a new level. If I had any doubts left about this man’s involvement in the sabotage, they were gone now. His fascination with my skill made me nervous. Could he be smart enough to figure me out? I didn’t care what Mitch said. Carl Stacy was a little too interested in what DSG Racing was up to not to be involved.

I shook the shivers from my shoulders and hurried back
to the hauler for a chance to hitch a ride back to the motor coach lot outside the stadium. I wasn’t going to let Carl ruin my good mood. Colton would be back soon, and that was all that mattered.

chapter seventeen

It’d been three days and still I couldn’t shake the creepy -crawly sensations slithering inside me due to my run-in with Carl. Something about the way he called me “Magic Fingers” really got under my skin, and I kept trying to figure out what he meant by the nickname he’d given me. No one had ever seen me use my ability, so how could he suspect that my skills were anything but a natural-born talent?

I didn’t tell Colton about the confrontation. I didn’t want him to worry before his race. He’d qualified third on Friday and was excited with the car’s overall setup. Telling him would only dampen his good mood.

Carl’s hauler sat in the parking space next to ours and, as I feared, he’d perched himself up on the roof, waiting for the race to begin. The idea of having that man so close for the next 500 laps churned my stomach.

Colton tugged my arm and whirled me around. “You coming?”

I bit my lip to hide my grin. I still hadn’t gotten used to how
good he looked in his race suit, ball cap, and shades. Really, what was it about guys in uniforms? I could’ve sat there and stared at him all day. Colton pulled me close and led me to his car. The anthem played and the jets flew by. I covered my ears as their piercing sounds funneled and echoed inside the large stadium.

When it was over, Colton removed his hat and set it on my head, pulling it so low over my eyes that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He chuckled and pulled me toward him. “I’ll see you in five hundred laps.”

“Play safe.”

He leaned down and captured my lips in a bruising kiss. My mind fogged and I curled my toes. I clutched his neck, not wanting to let him go, as though this kiss would be our last. Every fiber in me wanted to cling to him, but I had to let him go. His hands left my waist and gripped the top of the open window of his stock car. He swung inside, handed me his shades, and strapped himself in. Something ached in my gut, sucking the happiness right out of me and I didn’t know why. He smiled at me while placing his earpiece, then pulled on his helmet. Lenny fastened his window net.

It was time to go.

Why was I so worried? I was going to be in his arms again within the next few hours. I hurried to meet Dean on the roof.

“Drivers, start your engines!”

Fans cheered, cars roared to life, and my heart hammered inside my chest. This race, although five hundred laps long, was going to be fast-paced. The cars took to the track, the green flag dropped, and I sat on the edge of my seat. Colton drove great, keeping up with the best and staying out of the few crashes that
happened early on.

Dean tensed when the pits opened and it came time for the first scheduled pit stop. Dean always tensed at this point. Colton wasn’t the only one with a job out there; the entire pit crew had a hand in the team’s success. A speedy, well-executed stop meant the difference between coming out in front or in last place.

Colton ducked onto pit road and tucked the car quick and easy in front of his marker. We were off to a good start. Within a blink of an eye, the crew had jacked the passenger side ready for the tire change, but then they stalled.

“Come on guys, let’s go!” Colton yelled.

The crew scrambled. Something wasn’t working.

“What the hell’s going on, chief?”

I could see Lenny wiping his brow, looking stressed and panicked. Dean cued his mic. “Come on, guys, everyone else is already back out on the track.”

“Guns are jammed, boss!”

“What do you mean ‘Guns are jammed’?
All
of them?”

“Dammit!” Colton said.

“All but one,” Lenny replied, his voice shaken.

“A four-tire change with one impact wrench? Son of a—” Dean tore past me and practically jumped down the ladder. By the time he reached the pit stall they had managed to get Colton back out on the track.

“Three laps down,” Jimmy announced.

“Son of a fu—”

“Colton. The kids,” Dean reminded him. Fans young and old could listen in during races. Colton needed to control his anger. My heart went out to him, but I kept my hopes high. At
any other track, the delay could have cost him big, but with Bristol being such a short track, Colton still had a fighting chance at recovery.

Colton rounded the first and second turns and an eerie feeling fell over me again. I refocused, looked around and saw Carl staring at me from his hauler. He flashed me a crooked grin before leaning over his railing to spit. I scrunched my face in disgust.
That’s attractive
.

He continued to stare my way with an all-knowing gleam in his eyes. Like a man with a secret he could hardly contain. Had this last pit stop issue been his fault? Had Carl found a way to sabotage the crew’s tools? I blinked and forced my attention back out to Colton coming around for his next lap.

“You’re gaining positions,” Colton’s spotter blared through my head set. “Hang in there.”

Colton said nothing. I took a peek down at the pits. Dean, paced furiously while race officials tried to calm him down. I felt for him. His first Cup season had barely begun and twice his team had fallen victim to sabotage. NASCAR still wasn’t even in a position to do anything about it other than add this latest incident to the ongoing investigation.

In no time, Colton made his way back up the field into the lead, still gaining positions.

“You’re doing great, Colt. You’re running faster than the leader. At this rate, you’ll catch up to him quick,” Lenny told him.

Colton remained silent. My heart ached for him to respond. I desperately wanted to hear his voice, but dead air filled my headset.

Dean remained in the pits, probably wanting to keep an
eye on the tools and equipment after they’d been replaced and inspected. The following stops moved as flawlessly as they usually did, and with thirty laps left to go, I couldn’t stand still. Every nerve in my body was on fire.

Colton ran with the leaders again.

I shot a glance at Carl. He couldn’t be too happy that this incident hadn’t kept Colton away from Mitch.

They were now neck-and-neck for the second spot. Colton went high then tucked down close to Mitch. I noticed Carl wildly gesturing as he shouted into his mic, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Twenty laps to go,” cued Jimmy.

Cars rumbled around the track more loudly than at any race I’d been to so far. The bowl-shaped stadium and concrete banked track amplified the noise, intensifying the atmosphere.

Colton and Mitch moved ahead of the leader.

This was it, the chase to the checkers. I didn’t know whether to be sick or to scream my lungs out with encouragement.

They slowed and banked into turn four. Mitch jerked up against Colton, forcing him up the bank and into the wall.

“What the …” Colton yelled in my ears.

“Again.” I heard Carl cheering from his rooftop. Mitch ducked low, and up he went again, crashing sideways into Colton’s car.

“Someone tell that guy to lay off!” Colton screamed.

“Message is on its way,” Lenny shouted, telling Colton he’d already radioed the race officials to relay the message.

“Take that car out of this race or your career is over,” Carl yelled. I snapped my head toward him. Had I heard right?

Mitch dipped low into turn one and bashed up against
Colton, sending him into the SAFER barrier. My eyes grew wide. This was all Carl’s doing. He was threatening Mitch’s career to get him to do his dirty work.

The former leader came up quick behind Colton, boxing him in with nowhere else to go.

“Behind you,” Jimmy called out, but it was too late.

The nose of the fourth place car scooped up Colton’s rear end and propelled it up into the air.

The scream that escaped my throat burned on its way out.

Colton’s car tumbled at speeds only an Olympic gymnast on a competition floor could achieve down the embankment, end-to-end.

My chest ached from screaming.

Carl watched the scene, smiling and enjoying every second. “You did this!” I screamed at him.

Violent pulses hammered inside my head, trying to let my curse break free. My mind hazed with static and magnetic energy. I gripped the aluminum railing, watching Colton’s car get ripped to shreds. Chunks of rubber and plastic broke off and propelled into the air each time his car made contact with the ground. Another car collided with him, sending him back up the turn only to roll back down after smashing into the wall again. The next blow came from the inside, crushing him against the SAFER barrier.

I leaned over the railing, trying to see through the thick gray smoke rising from the scene. Mitch was going after him for the final blow. Burnt rubber, leaking fuel, and hot motor oil filled my lungs. Sparks of tiny, white lights exploded in my head and an excruciating pain sliced through my temples. Every inch in me filled with hurt. My ability simmered, fueled by my
rage, and I could no longer control it, I could no longer contain the beast that was ripping through my defenses. Pain seared through me as I involuntarily reached my arm out toward the track. I tensed and tried to refocus, but when Mitch’s car hurtled up into the air, I knew my last attempt at containing my curse had failed. All I could do now was watch through a haze of my tears as the roof of his car hit the pavement on the high side of turn two with a sickening crash. It skidded to the bottom of the track, its body torn to pieces, roll cage exposed.

Colton. Where was Colton?

Eyes frantic, I searched the rest of the chaos until I found him, his car back on all four tires at the base of the bank nearest to the flat surface in front of pit road.

Race officials and paramedics rushed onto the track. I tumbled back, clutching my shirt where my heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest. My scorched lungs squeezed and burned with my every breath. This had to be a dream. This couldn’t be real. I hadn’t just lost my marbles in front of all these people. I hadn’t …

I rolled onto my stomach, gripped the bottom rail of the railing, and lifted my heavy head. Carl Stacy stared back at me, his eyes as wide as his sockets allowed, mouth agape in horror. Why was he staring at me like that? Had he seen what I’d done?

Tears streamed down my face, pooling over my lip. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

Blood.

Bright red smears covered my fingers and sent my gut rolling. I frantically clawed at my face with the pads of my fingers and the back of my hands, seeing more red, more blood. Not only did I have a nosebleed, but I was crying blood. I looked up at
Carl, at his unchanged, fear-stricken face. He saw everything. He’d seen what I’d done. He knew it was me.

“Lexi!”

The hauler swayed with Dean’s hurried steps up the ladder. “Come on, we’ll meet Colt at the medical care faci—”

I faced him, still on my stomach.

Dean gasped. He threw himself at the railing and leaned over the edge. “I need a medic! Damn it, I need a medic up here, now!”

He knelt down next to me and pulled off my ball cap and headset.

“Christ, Lexi, what the hell happened?” His hand brushed back my hair. My short, gurgling breath struggled to reach my scorching lungs. One word managed to slip out my lips.

“Colton?”

“Shh … Colton’s going to be fine.” Dean looked down at his shaking, blood-covered hands, then wrapped them around me, rocking me back and forth.

“Lexi. Oh, Lord, Lexi. What happened to you?” His voice faded. My heavy head fell against his chest. I was numb, unable to feel anything. Haze and darkness enveloped my mind. I tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but everything swirled … and then it all went black.

chapter eighteen

I opened my eyes just a sliver. Flourescent lights turned the inside of my eyelids a pale orange. Panic bubbled up inside me, and I sat straight up on the bed, eyes wide.
Where the hell am I
?

“Lexi, calm down,” a voice sternly instructed.

I curled my fingers around the metal bed rails. Pain stabbed the back of my left hand. There was medical tape crisscrossed over the hilt of a needle jabbed into my skin, hooking me to a fluid bag hanging from a stand to my left.