Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2 Page 19

  The sun was behind her and so she had a perfect view into his caramel-colored eyes. They looked utterly serious. “This from a man who’s been notoriously bad about following me to secluded places and losing all kinds of control, and who just asked me to move in with him yesterday, but has yet to mention a single word about that today.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so disgruntled, but that’s how the words had come out. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” she quickly added. “That man just wants to hang out because he wants to keep an eye on things, and then says we’re out of control.”

  “Callie.” He invaded her space some more. “I haven’t forgotten about yesterday, nor am I about to let the matter drop. You sadly mistake me if you think I’m just going to walk away from something I want.”

  And I want you.

  The words were unspoken, but there in his eyes, and damned if Callie’s heart didn’t give a little lurch in response.

  “But this isn’t about that. This is about something strange going on and I would feel better.” He softened his gaze, lifted a hand to stroke the side of her face. “I would feel better if I kept an eye on the woman I care so much about…and the cars she designed and that mean so much to her.”

  Callie ordered herself to duck away, but her body wasn’t listening. “You’re just saying that.”

  He swooped in and stole a kiss before she could blink. “No,” he said, withdrawing a fraction of an inch, his sweet breath wafting over her face. “I’m not. Because if all I wanted to do was be alone with you, I’d wait until you came back to the hotel and ambush you in the parking lot.”

  “You don’t even know where I’m staying.”

  “Hartford Hotel. 211 Main Street.”

  The blood drained from her face. “Lucky guess.”

  “There’re only so many hotels in a thirty-mile radius. It was pretty easy to call them all and wait for the one that tried to connect me to your room.”

  Her gaze fixed on his lips. “You’re devious.”

  “No. Just desperate.”

  Their eyes locked. In that moment, at that exact instant, she admitted to herself that what she felt for Derrick was way more than simple attraction.

  “Desperate enough to fabricate a conspiracy?”

  He drew back a bit. “No.”

  Then his gaze hooked on something, something which caused him to draw back. Callie followed his gaze. Veronica. Her boss stared over at them. In the ensuing heat of the day she’d discarded her jacket, the black shirt she wore underneath no less revealing.

  “I want to keep an eye on things, just in case. I hope you’ll let me.”

  She should say no. Should tell him to leave with everyone else. Instead she glanced over at Veronica, turning her head a bit so her boss couldn’t see her lips. Stupid precaution, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Veronica didn’t know how to read lips. The woman was devious like that.

  “Come back later.” She leaned in close to him. “After everyone leaves. They’ll be a few of the crew guys here but they won’t say anything.”

  “Don’t tell them I’m coming back.”

  “You really worried?”

  He glanced behind her, toward Veronica. “I am.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was probably nothing, Derrick told himself. Callie was probably right. All the problems with the race car were just one giant coincidence. However he couldn’t shake the feeling there was more going on then met the eye. Actually, what he couldn’t shake was the look in Veronica’s eyes. She’d seemed so off balance. So completely…crazed. That was the only word he could think of to describe it.

  So he would lay low. Keep an eye on things. Sure, he might have a hard time sneaking up on the place what with no outbuildings. Still, he didn’t suspect anyone would see him walk up. He would just need to be careful.

  He left pretty quickly then, Veronica the Pirahnica sending him the evil eye the whole time. If yesterday he’d thought she might not like him, today he suspected she loathed him.

  He returned once the sun had gone down. It was actually pretty easy to park his car off the main road and then walk up to the race track. The entrance was well-lit and Klieg lights off the back of the haulers worked like a beacon to steer him in the right direction. Even from a distance he could tell Callie and her crew had made progress. He scanned the area, wondering if he should hide out in the parts truck or something.

  Parts truck, he decided.

  From there he’d have an unobstructed view of the other car—the one Callie wasn’t working on. The so-called backup car. The moon hung like a sideways smile, and since they were far away from the nearest city—if one wanted to call a town of 2,500 residents a city—there was no ambient light. In other words, it was as dark as rubber outside.

  It was even darker inside the parts truck. The hinges squeaked a bit as he let himself in, all the while fighting back a smile. He felt like frickin’ Sherlock Holmes. Who would have thought he’d fly four-thousand-plus miles across country to become a crime scene investigator, not that a crime had actually been committed. At least not that he knew of.

  Derrick quickly learned stakeouts were boring as all get out, and sitting in a parts truck, the smell of solvent and burnt oil filling the air, all while the temperature dropped, wasn’t a lot of fun. If he cocked his head right, he could watch Callie working on the car. Callie. The woman he’d begun to fall in love with. When he’d first said that to her he’d wondered if it was really true, but after a good night’s rest he knew it was. He cared for her even though she frustrated the hell out of him. Even though she didn’t want a thing to do with him. Even though she loved her X-TREME Racing League more than she could ever love him. See, that was the thing though. She did care for him—even if she had yet to admit it.

  Two hours later, Derrick gave up.

  It seemed he was on a fool’s mission. Nobody had attempted to approach the car, and to be honest, he felt a little silly sitting inside the parts truck all alone. Maybe he was overreacting. Race cars could break down. Callie could have bad luck. It could happen. Disappointed, he headed in her direction.

  “You just about finished here?

  “Jesus!” Rich gasped, dropping his wrench. A couple of the other guys looked up as well, all of them appearing startled to see him.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” one of them asked, the light off the end of the race car transporter bleaching out everyone’s skin. “I didn’t even hear you pull up.”

  “Neither did I,” echoed someone else. “I parked down the road a bit. Anyone seen Callie?”

  “She’s inside,” Rich said, pointing toward the hauler.

  It reminded him of the old days, Derrick thought. The times when he would pull an all-nighter in order to fix a car. Nowadays he showed up at the track to drive, or do promotional appearances and not much else. Gone were the days of actually working on something. Heaven forbid. He might break an arm and be unable to drive.

  “Callie?” he called as he opened up the sliding glass door off the back. At the end of the aisle was an office, though it was slightly elevated so you couldn’t really see who was inside. He spotted a pair of legs. “You in there?” he called.

  The legs moved. Callie emerged a few seconds later. “Did you catch someone?”

  She looked tired. No, exhausted, and it was all he could do not to rush to her side and pull her into his arms. “No. I gave up.”

  She looked disappointed, maybe even relieved. “I didn’t think you would. No one would want to sabotage our racing league.”

  “I guess not.”

  She held her ground. Derrick was tempted to close the distance between them, but he was aware of the eyes of her crew upon them. This time of night when the reflective surface of the glass doors didn’t have the sun shining on them it was easy to see inside the hauler. He was certain everyone was curious about what he was doing out at the race track at such a late hour.

  “You heading out soon?”
he asked to fill the silence.

  She nodded. “I think we’re almost done.”

  “The car looks good.” He glanced through the window. Four pairs of eyes quickly shifted away. He almost laughed at how busy they tried to make themselves appear. “You’ve done a lot of work.”

  “I had to overnight the ruined quarter panels and front fenders from our engineering facility. Cost us an arm and a leg, but at least it’s fixed. We’ll have two cars ready to roll tomorrow.”

  “Everything else look sound? No broken struts or frame rails?”

  She shook her head. “All looks good.”

  “So tomorrow you’ll run two cars?”

  “We will. I’m actually looking forward to it. It’ll be like a mini-race.”

  When she smiled, her whole face lit up. He loved that about her. Even with her glasses on he could see the light in her eyes.

  “Will you go out on a date with me?”

  Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “When all this is over. Next week. Will you let me take you out?”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, but then she smiled a bit. “What happened to wanting to move in with me?”

  “I still want that.”

  Her smile faded. “So you were serious.”

  He stepped toward her, but she stopped him with a hand. “Of course I was serious. Did you think I was just saying that to get into your pants?”

  “The thought did occur to me,” she admitted.

  “Ridiculous.” He tried to tell her with his eyes just how silly, but he suspected he failed. “Sex is great with you. Better than great. It’s unreal, but I would never ask a woman to live with me just to get into her pants one more time.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Have you ever asked a woman to live with you before at all?”

  “No. Never.”

  She appeared to consider the words for a moment.

  “You’re the first,” he added.

  He watched her take a deep breath, felt like smiling for some reason as she straightened up a bit, maybe even threw her shoulders back. “I’m flattered.”

  “But…” he prompted.

  “I can’t.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She picked up a bolt sitting on the counter, fiddled with it a bit before saying, “What if you’d met someone when you first started racing cars? What if that person had asked you to pick up and move right when your career started to take off? Would you have done it?”

  “Of course,” he answered.

  “Would you?” she asked. “Really? Knowing how much time and energy you would need to devote to your career? Would you think it smart to do something like that right at that moment?”

  “Love can conquer all, Callie.”

  She stared at the bolt. “Can it, Derrick? I’ll be working long nights—like tonight. You’ll be racing, not to mention forming your own team. When would there be time for us?”

  He hadn’t thought that far ahead, he admitted. “We could do it.” He took another step. “If you loved me.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Do you feel anything for me, Callie?”

  He couldn’t breathe as he waited for her response, began to feel light-headed as the seconds ticked off.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “No. Not that much.”

  “So you admit you do care for me little bit?” Crap. Was that him sounding so desperate? So needy? So damn clingy?

  “Of course.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I do care, Derrick. I care a lot. Just not enough.”

  It was like a stab to the heart. A physical pain. A moment of sheer disbelief. “I see.”

  She walked toward him then, paused when she was inches away. “Goodbye, Derrick.” She reached up on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck at the races.”

  She walked away from him. It was the hardest damn thing Callie had ever done before and was likely to do ever again.

  It was for the best though.

  She did care for him. She’d known the moment she’d watched his car slide off the track that things had gotten serious. She cared for him more than she would have ever thought possible given the short amount of time they’d spent together. He was her hero. Her lover. Her friend. Still, a relationship with him would be disastrous. She’d watched so many driver’s marriages fail over the years, had often wondered why women were foolish enough to fall for one. Not her. Especially not now. Her heart and soul belonged to the X-TREME Racing League. That was a much safer bet.

  “I’m going to let you guys finish up.” She walked past them before they could say another word.

  “Sure thing, boss,” someone said, Callie didn’t know who. She headed straight for her rental, the dark blue looking black beneath sparse moonlight. She hadn’t locked it. Had, in fact, left her keys beneath the driver’s seat. She started it and immediately gunned it. Tomorrow promised to be a bitch of a day, she thought, barely paying attention to the road in front of her. She nearly ran over a jogger, Callie cursing the way her eyes kept tearing up. Damn it. She had no reason to cry. She’d broken up with him.

  Sleep didn’t come easy for her. And the next day Callie woke up with a splitting headache. Coffee didn’t help, either. Fortunately, she didn’t run into Veronica in the lobby, and even though Callie knew she’d hear about it later, she didn’t call her to see if she wanted a ride out to the track. She grabbed a copy of the local newspaper on her way out, but she refused to flip to the Sports section and read the headline.

  To her utter shock, Veronica was already at the track, her boss greeting her with a wide smile. “Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  Manic.

  She had to be. Veronica’s mood swings were like the rise and fall of a barometer—unpredictable and oft times leading up to no good.

  “Morning,” Callie said, heading straight for the race car they’d worked on the night before. It looked good. The boys had done a great job.

  “Let’s shoot for an early start,” she told Chet. “First driver to show up is the first man out on the track. Whoever shows up next gets into the backup car. Let me know when we’re ready to start.”

  She let herself into the hauler without a backward glance, barricading herself in the office. She braced herself before opening up the paper. It was as bad as she’d expected.

  X-TREME RACING LEAGUE—X-TREMELY INCOMPETENT.

  What followed was painful to read. It was a brutal summary of the events that had happened the day before, with the reporter’s own colorful slant. They were all inexperienced incompetents, according to him. And Veronica…well, she’d been portrayed as a silly socialite, someone with so little to do she’d created her own racing league. The reporter predicted by the end of next year, XRL would be no more.

  “We’re ready.”

  Callie glanced up from the article she’d been reading. She resisted the urge to shield it from Chet’s view, but what was the point? Sooner or later everyone in XRL would catch wind of what the media was saying. The trick was to weather the storm.

  “I’ll be right there.” She folded up the paper before Chet backed out of the door.

  It took her a moment to compose herself. She actually surveyed herself in the mirror, looking for chinks in her armor. She’d worn red today—a color of courage, she’d thought.

  Or blood.

  Stop it. Today would be a better day. It had to be.

  “Who’s up first?”

  “Derrick and Bill,” Chet reported, handing her a headset.

  “Let’s have at it then.” She surveyed the parking area. Media again. Bah. This was supposed to be a closed session, but Veronica had superseded the order for reasons known only to herself. It looked as if a few of the other drivers were starting to arrive as well. All in all a full house. Terrific.

  Chet gave the order for the drivers to take to the tra
ck. Callie glanced toward where the cars were parked. Derrick stood by his vehicle, a white firesuit pulled over his tall frame. They’d put him in the original car she’d designed, the one they’d repaired the night before, but he didn’t get in immediately. He stood there, looking at her. Callie stared back.

  It was for the best, she told herself. She turned, slipped on her headphones, just in time to hear Bill’s voice come through the tiny speakers. “Should I start it up?”

  “Go ahead,” Callie heard Chet reply.

  The car engine cranked over. She listened with half an ear. It sounded like the timing was off.

  BOOM.

  A percussion wave hit her square in the face. She screamed, tried to shield herself. When at last she looked up, she gasped.

  Bill’s car had exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  One minute he was on his feet, the next Derrick was flat on his back.

  “Derrick!” he heard someone cry.

  Callie? His ears rang so badly he felt like he was inside a bell.

  “Oh my God, Derrick.”

  He couldn’t move either. His body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending buzzed—like he’d been shocked.

  “Derrick, are you okay?”

  He was surprised to find himself on the ground, looking up. To his right he spotted a huge column of black smoke. To his left Callie, eyes wide, concern shading her gaze. There were footsteps. People running. A sound he recognized but it took him a moment to place. Fire extinguishers.

  “Step back,” someone ordered Callie.

  He grabbed her hand before she could move back. “She stays,” he said, though it took effort to speak. His back felt broken.

  “Derrick. Oh, God, Derrick,” she murmured. “I thought you were—”

  Dead.

  “What h’ppened?”

  One of the EMTs shined a light in his eyes. Derrick blinked against it.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced in the direction of Bill’s car, only to look away. She was blinking rapidly, as if about to cry. “Bill,” she said softly.

  She had a dirt smudge on her cheek. He tried to wipe it away.

  “Don’t move,” the EMT ordered.