Dangerous Race (27 page)

Just as a cobra strikes its prey, Eddie reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Looking for this?” he asked, exposing a lone key in the palm of his other hand. Before she could blink, he fisted the key and slammed her in the face.

The force sent her back against the door. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes and she automatically lifted her hand to her cheek, coming away with blood on her fingers.

Eddie rose, unsteady but on his feet nonetheless, and hoisted her up by the shirtfront. Chelsea grabbed at his wrists and took a breath to scream but he slammed her head against the wall to quiet her. More pain, more dizziness. Chelsea saw the end and it wasn’t pretty.

Then something caught Eddie’s attention as he listened to the sounds overhead. He looked at the monitor and his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck?” He shoved her aside and stalked closer to the small TV, watching as the cars raced around the track. The announcers started talking about Tracey and the anticipation of her win. About the accident that had knocked out most of her competition and blocked the entrance to pit road, making the track run slower on a yellow flag until debris could be cleared and forcing Tracey to stay on the track.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” Eddie shouted. He glanced at his watch as if just realizing the time. His whole body stiffened. His breathing was forced, hard. He turned, nostrils flaring, chest heaving, staring at Chelsea as if he couldn’t kill her fast enough.

“If Trace’s driving,” he said, advancing on her and grabbing her collar again, “then who the fuck are you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he slapped her across the face and sent her back to the ground.

Panic and terror washed through Chelsea. “Her sister!” she cried. “I’m her sister.”

“She doesn’t have a sister,” Eddie bit out. “She doesn’t have anybody.”

“We didn’t know about each other until a few days ago,” Chelsea explained, horror rising higher as Eddie descended on her. She expected more pain, but what he began to do scared her more than getting hit. He went for her pants, unbuttoned the top and ripped them down her hips as though she were a rag doll. Sweat broke out as she struggled against him. “Don’t, God, please don’t do this,” she begged.

And he didn’t. He just stared at her thighs. First the left then the right, and back to the left. He lifted her by the hip and turned her viciously on each side as if double-checking something before he pushed her away.

Then he went ballistic.

“You fucking bitch!” he seethed. “This whole time I thought you were her and
she…
” He kicked a bucket, sent it flying into the metal shelves. Next he attacked the shelves themselves and pushed at one until it fell over and crashed into the second.

Chelsea scrambled to pull her pants up as cleaning products littered the floor and the smell of antiseptics filled the tiny room. In two strides he was back and picking her up off the ground. His fingers tightened around her neck until she couldn’t breathe.

“You’re the one Matthew’s been seeing. The one who ‘looks a lot like Trace.’ Was that a fucking joke on me?” he growled. His eyes glowed, a pale, frightening blue, and spit glistened on his chin. “I think we’re back to plan A,” he hissed. He shoved her into a hard folding chair next to the monitor and pulled out a headset from his duffel bag. “Your
sister,
” he bit out, “is going to have a choice. She can either win the race and die and know that you’ll die too, or she can stop now, and kill herself.”

He was lying. Chelsea knew too much to live.

He leaned over and raised the volume on the TV.

“It seems like Trace is finally coming in for that pit stop,” one announcer said.

“Perfect timing,” Eddie said, pulling out a small metal box from his bag.

He planned on blowing up Trace’s car now. During the pit stop. Without hesitation, she lunged forward and scrabbled for the box.

Surprised, Eddie lost his grip and the detonator flew across the room. He reached for it, but Chelsea pounced on his back and held him off. Eddie flipped her over and she landed hard, the breath knocked from her lungs, agony searing her chest. By the time he retrieved the box, Tracey was out of the pit and moving again.

Eddie’s eyes went wild. A roar of frustration bellowed from his lungs as he picked her up and slammed her cheek with a hard fist.

Chelsea crashed to the floor in a daze. Pain throbbed from her eye through her head, ripping into her chest and down her whole body. A second later it worsened when Eddie yanked her up by the hair.

“Over here, sis,” he grunted, shoving her back in the chair. “You’re the one who’s going to tell Trace exactly what her options are. You better make it very clear that you don’t want to die today, otherwise…” He pulled hard, nearly ripped out a fistful of hair. “It won’t be nice to watch.” With one hand, he hit a combination of buttons and a green light flicked on at the bottom of the box.

Muttering a vicious oath, he released her, reached for his duffel bag then scrawled something across the back cover of a notepad. Chelsea sobbed as he grabbed another fistful of her hair and shoved a headset in her face.

“Talk in here,” he instructed. “Tell her when she stops, the car will blow up. If she wins the race, I’ll kill you. Say this first.” He held the notepad in front of her. “Word for word. I want this to be a private call.” He yanked harder on her hair and sent fresh pain through her head. “Let’s see how much she loves her sister.” He hit a button on the side of the headset and Chelsea heard voices. “Don’t mention my name, or so help me, I’ll trigger this fucker to take out the whole pit crew. Do you understand me?”

Matthew was part of the pit crew. She couldn’t take a chance Eddie was bluffing and she nodded. Sweat beaded her brow and she swallowed back the terror.

“Talk,” Eddie ordered, yanking at her hair viciously for emphasis.

“Tra—?” Chelsea had to clear her throat. Please, please, let her sister be a good listener. “Tracey…are you there?”

Tracey was totally focused on the track. This had been the race of her life. She was going to win and visualized crossing the finish line first under the checkered flag. Much of her life had been spent waiting for this race. This win. Her car had run perfectly, the strategy excellent. Nothing could stop her. The fatigue in her arms and most especially her leg barely registered on her radar.

She nearly blanched when she heard Chelsea’s shaky voice on the headset, but it was Mac who asked the first question.

“Who is that? How did you get on this channel?” he barked.

“Tracey,” Chelsea said again, “can you hear me? It’s Chelsea.”

“I hear you, Chelsea, but this isn’t a great time. Maybe after—”

“Watch the chute out of turn two, Trace.” Chelsea’s voice cracked and Tracey’s adrenaline shot higher. That was the code to switch to a private channel. The whole crew knew it, but how the hell would Chelsea know it? Unless Matthew told her…but why?

A cold chill zoomed down Tracey’s spine as she switched channels. “Chelsea, are you there?”

“There’s a bomb in your car, Tracey.” The terrifying alarm in Chelsea’s voice accompanied a gasp as if she’d been hurt. “It’s set to go off when you stop.” Her voice cracked and she cried, “If you win the race, he’ll kill me.”

“Who?” Mac boomed over the headset, obviously having changed the channel. “Where are you, Chelsea?”

She sobbed before speaking again. “I don’t know. Tracey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but at least I got to meet
everyone
in your life. I’m—”

The line clicked. “Chelsea?” Tracey said. But she got no response. Her blood turned cold. She didn’t see the track for a second as her mind whirled. She couldn’t stop and she couldn’t win. She checked the screen on the steering and didn’t think she had enough fuel to finish the race. She was dead no matter what she did, but Chelsea’s life depended on her.

Tracey had been going flat—running full throttle—through every green lap, but now eased her foot off the gas, trying to conserve, seeking to lose. She faced a new challenge of running slower than the track but not slow enough to cause an accident.

Tears blurred her vision. He’d won after all. The bastard had gotten to her through Chelsea. She finally had someone she could truly call family and now…

Three cars passed her, one right after the other, all vying for the lead, jockeying for position as they headed to turn one.

A little bit of Tracey’s heart broke apart. Maybe she was going to die, but she couldn’t let her sister die. Oh God, Matthew had been on the headset too. Had he changed channels and heard Chelsea?

“Matthew? Are you there?”

“Chelsea’s been missing for almost four hours.” Matthew’s ravaged voice shook with rage. “I didn’t know about it until just now. Goddamn it. I should’ve—”

“Any way to figure out where she might be?” Tracey asked. No time for recriminations. Just constructive thought.

“Did you guys hear a buzzing on the headset when she spoke?” Mac asked.

“It might’ve been the sound of cars.” Tracey hadn’t been able to pinpoint it with the roar of the engine in her ear, but that could’ve been what she’d heard. Then intuition told her and she felt her sister’s fear as though it were her own. “Yeah,” she said. “I can feel it. She’s here. At the track.”

“She’s got to be
under
the track,” Matthew chimed in. “I had my eye on the chute at turn four and every time a car came out I heard it in the headset. I’m going to look for her.”

Tracey took a deep breath, tried to think. “Mac, any—”

“Whoa!” Neil, her spotter, shouted. “Yellow flag. Yellow flag. Stay high out of turn two, Trace. The three that just passed you collided and skidded into the infield. Debris on the backstretch. Stay high, stay high.”

Panic flared as the yellow flag went up and Tracey kept the lead. She couldn’t win. She checked the reading on her dash screen. “Mac, I’m running out of fuel. I’m not even going to finish the race before this thing stops.”

“Yeah you will. Go to trim two and conserve fuel. Don’t argue, Tracey. Let’s talk about this like rational adults.”

Tracey’s pulse revved. That was Mac’s code to switch to another channel. He’d said he wanted insurance to talk to her privately during the race, especially since they were sure it was an inside job. He hadn’t trusted anybody and anyone who knew them also knew they fought constantly when it came to strategy. Mac had said it was the perfect way to switch lines if they needed. She adjusted the channel, knowing he was the only one on the line. “Mac,” she said, hating the worry in her voice. “What do I do?”

“We, Tracey. What do
we
do? Give me a second to think of something.” As if he knew she thought it was hopeless, he continued, “I’m going to get you out of that car.”

“You heard her, Mac. I can’t stop for me and I can’t win for her. There’s no way out.”

“There’s always a way out.” He paused on the line. “Go back to the other channel. I’ll let you know when to switch back. Sound desperate.”

“That won’t be hard,” she muttered.

“Tracey.” Mac paused again. “I’m not going to let this happen. Trust me.”

A lump the size of an orange settled in Tracey’s throat and she switched channels. After three laps the yellow flag lifted and cars started passing her. Losing the lead was a blessing and a curse. She stayed on the outside of the track, sounding hopeless over the headset. It didn’t take effort.

She didn’t see a way out. Her heart broke at the unfinished business of her life. She’d never told Mac how she felt. Never said the words “I love you” because he’d made it crystal clear that he was leaving. Although he might have feelings for her, she wouldn’t mislead herself into thinking he loved her.

Mac had told her she was fearless, but she wasn’t. She hadn’t been able to admit her feelings. Not to herself, not to him. Only now, facing death, did she see she loved him. Really loved him. He’d been there for her at every turn. He hadn’t let her down since the minute they’d met. If anything, it was the opposite. She’d pushed him away from the beginning. She’d—

“Okay, Tracey,” Mac said over the wire.

She switched channels again.

“I’ve got it,” Mac boomed. “We take the fence down on the grand prix track on the infield. Drive to the middle of the green and jump out when the car slows down.”

“That’s nuts, Mac. Besides, how are you going to take the fence down?”

“Trust me.” His low voice implored before disappearing from the line.

Tracey switched back to the first channel and continued to circle the track.

“What the hell?” Neil said. “Mac’s got a tow truck, Trace. Two of the guys piled into another truck too. Where the hell are they going with two tow trucks?”

Neil didn’t know what was going on and Tracey didn’t say anything. A few seconds of silence nearly killed her. The fuel reading neared empty.

“Son of a bitch!” Neil roared. “Yellow flag, yellow flag. Two cars that passed you just kissed the wall at turn three. They’re both in the infield. Quick one here—piece of debris they gotta grab. You’ve got the lead.”

It was insane. Truly, incredibly insane. “You mean out of all the cars that passed me, I was still running third?”

“Freaky day, Trace,” Neil replied. “The crash at the entrance to pit road put you a lap ahead and another crash at the end of pit road put you another lap ahead. It’s like God wants you to win.”

Chills ran down Tracey’s spine. Neil’s statement was a bad omen. Simple as that. She ran one lap under the yellow before the green flag came out and forced her to pick up speed.

Neil came over the headset. “Last lap, Trace. Coming under the white. White flag.”

She switched back to Mac’s channel. “What’s going on, Mac?” she shouted, panic rising steadily as she came to turn three.

“The fence is down, Tracey! Head to the infield when you hit the straightaway after turn two. Unbuckle and get the hell out. I’ll be there.” Mac paused and emotion sizzled through the static on the line. “I love you, Tracey.”

He loved her? He
loved
her. Tears sprang from her eyes as chills ran down her spine. She had nothing to lose and there was a good chance she was already dead. Maybe that’s why he said it, but it didn’t change how she felt about him. “Mac…I…Oh God, I love you too.”

The checkered flag waved ahead. Cars should’ve been passing her like rockets. She was barely moving at a hundred and sixty. The fuel reading dipped lower and she needed to get to the infield before she ran out of gas.

“Car coming up fast on the inside,” Neil warned. “It’s Correlli. Ten lengths. Five lengths. Inside! Inside! Inside!”

Tracey drove under the checkered flag in what had to be the most bizarre finish in race history, nose and nose with her rival, Derek Correlli. The crowd went crazy. But who’d won? Her bomb problem took precedence as she came around turn one and headed for turn two and the infield.

She saw where the tow trucks had flattened the fence and cruised over the wire. Her car sputtered beneath her. She didn’t even glance at the fuel reading. She was running on fumes. She unstrapped her harness as she coasted onto the green. The car teetered on the uneven terrain. She stripped off her helmet and jammed it on the gas pedal in an effort to find any speed before she climbed out of the slow-moving car and jumped.

Eddie yanked on Chelsea’s hair, forcing her up. “A fucking photo finish?” he raged. He stared at her with vicious eyes of a lunatic. “You obviously don’t rank much with your new sister.”

“But she slowed down. It’s not her fault,” Chelsea pleaded. “We don’t even know if she won or not. The other car might’ve—”

“It’s not enough!” he shouted. “She’s supposed to die. If she doesn’t die, then guess what that means?”

A loud explosion boomed overhead. Eddie turned to the TV faster than Chelsea could blink. The monitor showed a plume of smoke and the burning inferno of a car in the infield. The noise of the crowd was deafening until everyone went silent.

Chelsea’s pounding heart broke apart piece by piece. Despair brought hot tears to her eyes. Tracey was dead. Without a doubt, she was next.

The announcers were having a field day. “Oh my God, we’ve never seen anything like this. Trace Bradshaw’s car just exploded into a ball of fire,” one said. “We can only speculate if engine problems caused her to slow down at the end of the race. We don’t have all the details yet, but as we find out we’ll pass them along to you. We’re still not sure why she didn’t bring the car into her pit.”

“Maybe she had some indication her engine was going to blow and that’s why she drove to the infield green,” a second announcer said. “No word yet on her condition.” There was a solemn pause. “This lady might’ve saved countless lives by staying away from pit road. A chain reaction with all those ethanol tanks could’ve been catastrophic.”

“It’d be a tremendous loss to the racing world if she didn’t get out of that car in time,” the first announcer replied.

“Yeah, a real loss,” Eddie spat out. He hauled Chelsea to the corner of the room. His left hand twisted in her hair as he dragged her in front of him.

The announcers’ voices continued in the background. “It’s official,” one said.

Eddie turned to the TV, eyes glowing with the rage of a madman.

“Derek Correlli has won the Arrow 500! In one of the most incredible races in the history of this track, Correlli came from behind to beat Trace Bradshaw by five hundredths of a second.”

Chelsea didn’t hear anything else. Didn’t need to. The maniacal look in Eddie’s eyes told her what she already knew. He planned to kill her no matter what happened. Panic gripped her, strangled her chest until no air went in or out.

“Please, don’t do this,” she begged. “Tracey lost just like you wanted.”

Eddie ignored her. “It’s not good enough,” he gritted out. He pulled back a fist, vicious intent in his eyes.

Every muscle tensed in fear, Chelsea screamed for all she was worth.

He hit her, cutting off her scream and any chance of being heard. An explosion of pain burst in her head and the impact sent her to the ground. Terror, pure guttural terror swept through Chelsea when she looked up and saw him grab the pipe. The loud thudding of her heart beat a death song. He planned on killing her, slowly and painfully, exactly as he’d said. She screamed again as he raised the pipe over his head. Screamed for her sister, for herself.

The bright glare of the sun blinded Mac as he ran toward Tracey’s car. His pulse pounded as hard as his stride on the uneven green. He hadn’t seen the impact Tracey had on his life until the prospect of not having her at all hung over his head like a guillotine. He hadn’t realized until now that walking away from her would truly make him a coward. He’d been running for the past decade. He was done running.

Now he knew what he wanted and he might have lost it.

He thought he’d seen her poised to leap before a blinding glare shot through the trees. Had she jumped or not? Mac ran harder, faster.

“Tracey,” he yelled. He refused to believe she hadn’t gotten out in time.

But there was no response, only the roar of her burning Arrow car. Mac’s stomach threatened a revolt. He ran toward the other side of her car, as flames reached for the sky and heat nearly suffocated him. A sand dune dipped below the green…Maybe, if she’d jumped there…Mac reached the edge and looked down. He almost fell to his knees at the sight of her sprawled facedown on the sand. But his revelry disappeared as she lay motionless on the ground.

Mac crouched next to her, a knot the size of Texas stuck in his throat. Afraid to move her, he brushed the hair off her cheek. “Tracey?” he whispered. His heart nearly stopped beating. He ached to see her sapphire-blue eyes. Reaching for a wrist to check her pulse, he stopped when her lids fluttered open.

“Mac,” she murmured.

Relief, strong and sharp, took him over the edge. His eyes stung and Mac thought he might bust from the sheer joy of hearing her voice.

She reached for him.

“Whoa, whoa,” Mac said, trying to keep her down. But in the next instant she was in his arms, holding him tightly, making every one of his dreams come true. This was what he’d been missing his entire life. Her body shook against him and Mac closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her. “For a minute, I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured in her hair.