Dangerous Race Read online

  Dangerous Race

  By Dee J. Adams

  Four years ago, race car driver Tracey Bradshaw almost died in a horrific crash. Now scarred inside and out, she’s making a comeback, but her team is plagued by a series of “accidents”.

  When the team leader dies under mysterious circumstances, former driver Mac Reynolds takes charge. The pair clash as Trace resents his high-handed attempts to control her, while Mac fears Trace’s recklessness will get her killed. Neither can throttle back the desire that spins out of control whenever they touch. Trace lets herself be seduced when Mac convinces her he finds her beautiful despite her scars, and she begins to hope for more. But Mac knows he’s not nearly good enough for Trace…

  Don’t miss the sequel, Danger Zone, coming out in February 2012.

  106,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who’s too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I’m able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding.

  We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration the first week of September. We’re pleased to offer novella Fatal Destiny by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone’s sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel, Mercy, can look forward to her follow-up story, Redemption, set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters.

  Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D’Abo’s Long Shot trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine’s trilogy kicks off with Double Shot.

  In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we’re also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we’ll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of CJ Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards.

  Also in November, we’re thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors, Liar’s Guide to True Love by Wendy Chen and Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you’ll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels.

  Whether you’re on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall!

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

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  Acknowledgements

  First, I’d like to give a huge thank-you to Kate Willoughby who has been not only a terrific critique partner but also a fabulous friend.

  Thank you, Janet and the rest of the fantastic Four F’s: TJ, Trish, Roben and Gina.

  Thank you, Holly, for telling me “I told you so.”

  Thank you, Marion, for introducing me to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and Donald Davidson for your history and knowledge of the IMS.

  Thank you, Kim 1 and Kim 2.

  Thank you, Nicole Gregory, for your enthusiasm and support.

  Thank you to Angela James and especially my wonderful editor, Melissa Johnson, for your patience and humor.

  Special thanks go to Mike O’Gara for your time and knowledge of the racetrack, and Lou Ann Baker for your utmost patience with constant emails. Any mistakes are my own.

  Finally, to the two most important people in my life who’ve supported me since the beginning, thank you to my husband, Sean, and my daughter, Katelyn.

  Dedication

  To two mothers so important to me:

  Rose Ann, I love you and miss you.

  Kathleen, I miss that I never got the chance to love you.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Cannondale Motor Speedway

  Power pulsed beneath Tracey Bradshaw’s legs, humming through every inch of her body like a well-loved song. She pressed on the clutch, shifted into high gear and the car screamed even faster.

  A warm spring sun glowed over the cool track and made conditions flawless. A perfect day to prove herself.

  She loved this. L-O-V-E. Loved it. It was why she’d been put on the planet and what she was born to do.

  “What do you think, Trace? Not the same as the quarter midget tracks you raced on when you were seven, huh?” Uncle Joe’s voice in her ear sounded much as usual, the ever-overprotective father she never had and the all-knowing chief engineer he had always been.

  “I think this one’s a little faster,” Tracey joked with a chuckle. “I like it better than the Brickyard too.” The Indianapolis Motor Speedway had been a blast, but this track rocked. “I’m feeling really good in the turns.”

  She’d graduated from Indy cars to Arrow cars six months ago. She’d battled the stereotypical jokes and the inflated male egos. She was as good a driver as anyone else on the track. Hell, she was better. The best.

  “What are you doing?” Joe asked as she zoomed past pit road. “I thought you were bringing it in. Over.” He could go from teddy bear to gruff lion and back again in the span of a heartbeat. Too bad she couldn’t adjust the volume on her earpiece. At the moment, he seemed especially loud.

  “Not yet. I feel good today, Uncle Joe. Who knows? I might even break another record.” The lightly populated grandstands flew by in a blur. It would be a real rush when a screaming crowd filled the seats.

  “For God’s sake, you’re only nineteen. You set three track records yesterday. Why don’t you save one or two for someone else?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Pride swelled in her chest as a smile curved her lips. She’d been speeding her whole life. Didn’t really see a reason to stop.

  Considering the American Racing Organization—ARO—had been around for thirty-two years, setting these records said something.

  But Tracey had so much more to say.

  “Damn it, Trace. Save it for race day. Come on in. Practice time is about done anyway.”

  She whizzed past her pit again. “Two more. I have enough time for two more laps. Don’t fret.” She knew he hated that word. “I’ll go fast.”

  “That’s what worries me,” he groused.

  Tracey pictured Joe’s tan, deeply lined face. She could see his gray-peppered brows knit together as clearly as if he were next to her. She grinned to herself. “You worry too much, Uncle Joe.”

  The line crackled with static. “One of us has to.”

  Not her. She was on top of the world. She had everything she’d always wanted—a car in winning form and a man who loved her. The pieces of her life were finally coming together. Her future lay out in front of her. She’d never go back.

  She focused on the road as she came up to turn four. “Almost done. One more,” she said into her mouthpiece. She barely heard Joe sigh as she came out of the chute.

  Something caught her eye in the empty grandstands. It only took two milliseconds for it to register. Someone, a man, threw something over the protective fence. A red water balloon? Shit! Was he kidding? Water on the track at her speed was deadly.

  The balloon splattered. Fear slammed into her like a semitruck at full speed. Blood drained from her head as sweat prickled her back. It wasn’t a water balloon. It was an oil balloon. The black mass splashed across the track…

  A death sentence.

  Neil, her spotter, and Joe evidently saw it too. They boomed some very colorful language in unison. A regular cussing choir.

  Tracey eased off the gas, going two-twenty. Braking at this speed was just as deadly as liquid on the track.

  “Oh God,” she muttered. She swallowed back the panic as crewmembers swore loudly and violently over the headset, voices full of alarm. “I got it, Joe.” Tracey downshifted and steered away from the oil slick, careful not to overcompensate and throw herself into a roll, but her right tires sailed over it before she could slow down. Turn one came up…way too fast.

  “I’m in control. I’m
in control.” She chanted as much to herself as to Joe. Her heart hammered. Her palms sweated, soaking her gloves.

  “Tracey!” The fear in Joe’s voice matched the fear racing through her veins. She was in trouble. He never called her Tracey. She’d been Trace since the day they’d met ten years ago.

  She barely touched the brake.

  The car slid and control slipped away. There was nothing she could do but ride it out and try to manage the crash. The world flew by. She gripped the wheel, her gloves stretched taut over her knuckles. But the wall came fast, and she took her hands off the wheel to keep from breaking her wrists. Oh shit…this was going to hurt.

  Her car slammed into the wall broadside. Tracey’s low roar meshed with the crunching metal, a war cry to fight the fear that pounded through her as she took the ride of her life. Turning and turning and turning. End over end. The smell of burning rubber and the rush of air as her car flew apart.

  The whole nose of her car split. Then white, hot, searing agony burned her left thigh. Her leg was being shredded. The excruciating tearing of flesh blinded her with pain.

  Something slammed into her head, nearly ripping it off her shoulders. And still the car kept turning, the noise deafening.

  Then it finally stopped.

  She was still. Dazed. The sound of a spinning tire whirred in her head.

  Something was wrong. She was upside down. The left-side straps of her five-point harness were stripped away. Hanging by the right side of her body, she looked down at the track, an inch from her face. A red puddle grew in front of her eyes and she searched for its origin. Blood streamed from her thigh like a grotesque fountain. She gagged at the sight of a fourteen-inch metal chunk lodged along the entire side of her thigh. Hot iron pain branded her.

  She hadn’t planned to die this way. Not in the crumpled remains of her race car. She was supposed to have a long life with Eddie…maybe have a couple of kids. Even as the thoughts skittered through her head, she felt the blood drain from her body, knew her dreams would never come true.

  “We gotcha, baby girl. We gotcha. Hang in there.” Uncle Joe was suddenly there, his voice low and calm.

  Someone sliced the remaining restraints and she fell into Joe’s strong arms. He dished out orders the way he always did, but none of his words made sense to her. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Joe opened the visor of her Kevlar helmet. “Trace, can you hear me?”

  She tried to focus. “I broke ’nother record,” she mumbled. Words wouldn’t form the way she wanted. A stab of pain rocketed from her leg and she arched her back to fight it.

  “Hold on, Trace.”

  “I’m th’ first…” she licked her dry lips, “…female t’ die at th’ track.” Joe spun in front of her eyes, turning over and over, just like her car.

  “No way. Not here. Not today.” His words drifted farther away.

  Someone took her helmet off. That wasn’t right. How could they pull it away from her face so easily?

  “Stay with me Trace.”

  Blackness closed around her and for the first time in her life she had no urge to fight. She welcomed the comfort with open arms, just as she would a long lost friend.

  Chapter One

  Cannondale Motor Speedway, four years later

  “How’s it feel, Trace? Over,” Uncle Joe asked, concern clear in his voice.

  Sun spilled over the partly cloudy sky in a duplicate of that hellish day. Even the engine screamed as it had that day. Maybe Joe was thinking the same thing.

  Tracey smiled at the crackling question over her earpiece. She whizzed past her pit. “Good. Really good.” The familiar vibration was a homecoming. Especially on this track. She’d worked harder than an ox to get back to where she’d been four years ago.

  She’d gone through hell and back. Three years of rehab had kept her from what she loved most—racing. She’d spent hundreds of hours in physical therapy, making progress and dealing with setbacks. The days had turned into weeks that morphed into months until she’d finally made it here.

  Back at the Arrow 500, the biggest, toughest, most grueling car race in the world—she knew this year belonged to her. She felt it in her bones. She even felt it in the stainless steel rod that now worked as her left femur. No one could stop her this year. She was invincible. And just like her car, made with heart and metal, ready to win.

  She darted a glance to the grandstands and tamped down the sudden apprehension of speeding down this straightaway. She refused to be afraid on this track or any other.

  “Why don’t you bring it in? Take a break. Qualifying isn’t for another two hours.”

  Her leg ached today, but she chalked it up to stress. “Is that an order, Uncle Joe?”

  “Yes. That’s an order. If you think—”

  “Whoa, wait.” Tracey laughed. “I just asked a question. Slow down. I’m coming in.” She didn’t want any extra aches and pains before qualifying and she didn’t want Joe stressing any more than usual.

  He chuckled over the wire. “Roger that. You telling me to slow down—that’s a first.”

  “Well, we’ve been through lots of firsts.” Her first steps in rehab, her first lost love, her first lap around the track almost three years after the accident. Those were just a few. “Why stop now?” she added.

  For as long as she’d known Joe, most everyone had called him by his nickname: Uncle Joe. She’d hung around the track for two years before he’d welcomed her into the garage. Besides being a chief engineer, he was the go-to guy for advice. But for four years he’d been much more to Tracey. He’d opened his home to her and seen her through the worst days of her life. He was her best friend and mentor and she wouldn’t be back on the track without him.

  Two hours later, with clouds gone and the sun blazing down on the track, Tracey strapped herself in the car. Joe leaned over the side, his large forearms resting on the tub. “Now remember what we talked about,” he said.

  “I know, Uncle Joe. I’m not deaf.” She tipped her head, remembering his specific words. “I still hold all the records. I’m only here to qualify. I don’t need the pole position to win, but I have to keep an average lap of two-eighteen to stay with the pack. Is that it? Can I do this now?” Would he ever treat her like an adult instead of a child?

  Joe focused his gaze on the track ahead of the car. A half smile curved his lips. “Would you just fucking humor an old man?”

  Tracey patted his forearm, glancing up earnestly. “How am I ever going to quit swearing if you keep doing it?”

  He looked right at her, saw straight through her and didn’t blink. “Don’t think you can change the subject, Trace.”

  Well, at least she’d tried.

  “You’re not getting superstitious on me now, are you?” She studied the somber expression on his face. “C’mon, it’s not as if this is my first race back. I’ve been in the driver’s seat for almost a year. Granted, I haven’t won yet, but that’s about to change. This is where I belong.” She rested a hand over one of his forearms. “I’m fine.”

  It was true. She knew what her life was about. One goal. One focus. Winning.

  Joe swiped a hand across his forehead. “Well it’s a good thing one of us is fine, ’cause the other one of us is still getting too old for this shit. My heart can’t take it.”

  Tracey shook her head. “I don’t care what the doctors say, your heart is stronger than a bull’s.”

  She saw Matthew Rivers, her best mechanic and close friend, heading toward her with her ex. “Oh, brother,” she groaned. “Don’t look now, but Eddie’s coming. I was hoping I’d get through today without seeing him.”

  “Now, how the hell would you do that? Wherever Ed Sr. is, you know Junior is bringing up the rear.”

  “I know, I know, wishful thinking on my part.” To be Eddie-free for one full day seemed like a gift she’d never get.

  “It’s been years. I thought you two had things straightened out,” Joe said.

  Tracey made a sourpuss face that didn’t come close to expressing how she really felt. “He’d like to think so. But why wouldn’t he? I was the recipient of the dear Jane letter, not him.”