A RACE FOR REDEMPTION
SERENITY KING
Copyright © 2012 Serenity King
Smashwords Edition
http://www.serenityking.com/
Copyright © 2012 by Serenity King
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.
This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
Published by
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P.O. Box 20457
Huntington Station, New York 11746
http://www.serenityking.com
Cover Art: Fantasia Frog Design
Editor: Debra Stang
Proofreader: Novellette Whyte
Note about eBooks
eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author Serenity King.
CAVEAT
This work may contain adult language and sexually explicit scenes. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Note about eBooks
Caveat
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Excerpt from Someone to Watch Over Me
Other stories by Serenity King
About the Author
About A Race for Redemption
Connect with Serenity on Substance B
Chapter One
Tracey Powell listened on her headset as her sister Samantha, better known as Sam to her friends, spoke to her.
“That’s it Tracey. Yeah, you’re looking good, sis!”
Tracey gave a shout of laughter as she took another lap around the track, her speed accelerating, her hands gripping the wheel. “She’s feeling sweet under me, Sam! We might have a chance to win yet. Whoo Hoo!! Team Powell is on the rise!”
“Don’t get too excited, sis. It’s just a training run. We still have a long way to go. But you are terrific out there.”
“Damn straight, sis! This car has some extra kick to it. I love it!” Tracey said with another bark of laughter.
“Yes, well, Shane and Daniel are looking terrific, too.”
Sam was always the cautious one. Tracey snorted. “Daniel’s on our team, Sam. As for Shane, I’ll beat the smugness out of him yet.”
“Daniel’s on Team Daniel. That’s enough. After this lap, bring her in.”
“Roger that, Sam,” Tracey said.
Everybody had been on edge during the week leading up to the big race. Tracey and Sam were both shocked when their father and brother had announced that they’d picked someone other than Tracey to represent Powell this year—Daniel Ashby. Sure, Daniel was a decent driver, but not any better than Tracey. So she’d had a run of rotten luck this year, but she’d had it under the direct supervision of Daniel himself.
Daniel had been her trainer, or so she’d thought. Apparently, the jerk had just been trying to get on the team, or, more specifically, take her spot on the team. She’d been hurt at first when the announcement had been made. Now she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted redemption. Her family wanted to make a name in stock car racing, and they thought Daniel was the man to do it. No one expected a mere “woman” to win the race.
Tracey needed this win, but Liberty was not her track. No matter how hard she’d tried, she just couldn’t win here. But this year she’d practiced until her hands were raw and cramped from gripping the steering wheel. She was feeling more confident, especially since she was now under the leadership of her sister.
“Okay, baby, open up for me and show me what you got,” she said to the car. A glance at the tachometer as she picked up speed told her that she was in pretty solid shape. “Yes, come on baby, we got this.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt a bump that sent her car spinning out of control. She steered into the direction of the spin, but it was no good. She fishtailed into the ramp and flipped over.
Shane Westbrook took the third lap around the track with ease, still keeping his full speed. The car felt fantastic. He was confident that it would do him justice in the race this weekend. Team Westbrook was in for another win. He would most certainly be taking his victory lap this weekend.
Shane sighed nostalgically. His team didn’t know it yet, but this year would be his last year of racing. He was tired of it and wanted to settle down. Maybe start a family. Oh hell, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted. He just knew that it was not this anymore. At 33, he was just tired of the constant barrage of women in-and-out of his life, and even racing itself was becoming a bore.
He turned his mind to the weekend’s race. He knew Daniel Ashby was gunning for him. Shane wasn’t worried. Liberty was his course. He’d beat Daniel and anyone else that tried to take him on. Most thought he was cocky. He wasn’t. What Shane considered himself to be was confident. This one was in the bag. He owned it as if he’d stolen it.
“I’m bringing her in boys. She’s sweet like candy. Piece of cake.” He heard his crew’s laughter in the background.
Shane pulled up to where his crew chief, Chuck Mason, and the rest of the crew were waiting to take the car for the necessary maintenance and climbed out.
“Great run, man,” Chuck said.
“Yeah, she was smooth. May need a few minor adjustments, but other than that she’s ready to go,” Shane said. He spun around as someone yelled his name.
“Hey, Shane, baby. Why don’t you let me ride you like you rode that car?” Shane grinned. He had known he would be met by a shitload of fans. He loved his fans. Most were women—young, old, and older. Damn, but you have to love this sport, he thought. A part of him was surely going to miss it.
Without missing a beat, he turned to the first person that held a hat out to him which displayed his number on it. Quickly signing the cap, he then turned to someone else and signed a t-shirt. A group of young ladies were shouting his name. He looked up and flashed them his signature smile. They couldn’t have been any more than 18 or 19… if that. Shane estimated they had to be either seniors in high school or young college students.
“Hello, ladies! How are y’all doing on this fine day?” Shane knew his assumption about their ages was correct when they started jumping up and down and screaming like banshees.
“Ohmygod! He spoke to us. He spoke to us!”
He couldn’t help but laugh at them when one chided another who looked as if she were going to pass out. “Daria, calm down. You don’t want him to think that we’re immature imbeciles.” Shane reached out to shake Daria’s hand and was alarmed when she started to take deep, gasping breaths.
> “Hey, is she okay?” he asked with a frown.
“Oh, no. You are not having an asthma attack right now Daria?” the girl who had told Daria to calm down moaned. “Oh God this is so embarrassing.”
“Uh, I think she needs her meds or something, darlin’,” Shane said to the young blonde giving her friend a lecture. He was becoming more alarmed by the minute.
“Emily, stop yelling at her. Get her inhaler out of her bag,” another young woman shouted.
“I told you that we should have left her at home. Now we can’t get our autograph,” the young blonde yelled back.
Shane raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Just give her what she needs to be okay, and I promise to give each and every one of you an autograph,” he said as he watched the young lady gasping for breath. She seemed to calm down after taking two puffs from her inhaler.
As promised, he signed an autograph for each of them. He signed a few more autographs before turning and walking past all of the guards where, to his surprise, his brother Adam was hanging out with the rest of the crew. Not only were they his crew, they were also his friends. They often hung out together, but Adam usually didn’t stick around for social hour.
“Hey, Adam, what’s up? Surprised you’re still hanging around here.”
“I heard that Tracey Powell’s car flipped. I hung around to see if she was okay. Daniel’s a troll, but Tracey’s pretty neat.” He blushed a little at the final statement.
Shane’s heart dropped in his chest. You never wanted a racer to get hurt. He knew that Tracey was trying to place. Shane also knew that some were giving her a hard time because of her recent streak of lousy luck. Then she’d taken a beating from the press when her brother had tried to replace her with Daniel, her trainer. He’d spotted her on the track earlier and she’d looked a lot better out there today than she had in a long time. Shane wondered what had happened.
“Is she okay?” he asked casually, trying not to let his concern show.
“She’s good. They towed the car away. I heard that she was going to the ER over at County to get checked out…just procedural stuff is what’s being said. Who knows? Her crew will keep things close to their chest, and the media will put their own spin on it. But she looked okay. She was standing up when they helped her out of the car. I’m surprised you didn’t see or hear the ruckus. Damn Shane, you must have been focused out there.”
“It’s a practice run, so I actually wasn’t paying too much attention to anyone else. You of all people know how I am behind the wheel,” Shane said.
Adam chuckled. “Well according to the media, care of Daniel Ashby, the Westbrook’s and the Powell’s are rivals. I thought you’d played into all the hype and didn’t give a damn that she flipped.”
“Ashby seems to have diarrhea of the mouth all of a sudden,” Shane snorted. “Tracey’s a fellow racer. Rivals or not, I wouldn’t want to see her hurt.”
“Chuck and the crew invited me out with them. We’re going to grab some grub. Are you coming?” his brother asked.
“No. Y’all go ahead. I have some business to take care of. I’ll pick up some barbeque later before I hit the sack. Have to keep my mind ready for the race,” Shane responded.
“We understand,” his crew said simultaneously from the sidelines. His brother just looked at him beneath lowered lashes as if he knew Shane was lying, or thought so, anyway.
“What business?” Adam asked.
“Mind yours, Adam,” Shane said before walking off.
Chapter Two
Tracey had just left the ER and was glad to be back in her hotel room. Her family had insisted that she go to the ER to get checked out, even though she’d known she was okay. She’d been scared shitless when her car had flipped. Tracey had never had that happen to her before. Sure, she’d experienced spin outs. What race car driver didn’t? Those things happened on the circuit all the time. It was a part of racing. But her heart had jumped in her throat when she was suspended upside down in the car. Still, being scared was a far cry from being hurt, and other than being a little sore she was fine.
Lord, she didn’t even want to turn her television on. She had no doubt that the news reporters would have a field day with this—just one more stroke of bad luck to befall her. Some of the reports would be accurate; however, she knew from experience that most of them would be full of errors, if not outright lies.
With a loud sigh, Tracey headed to the bathroom to shower and change into something more comfortable. She had to brace herself for the phone call from her parents and brother. Sam had been able to hold them off for a little while. Tracey just wasn’t in the mood to have the same old argument with them. They wanted her to quit and let Daniel finish the race. That was not going to happen. Tracey was determined to race for as long as she could. She was in for the long haul. She might not win, but she sure as hell intended to place in the top ten. Or maybe she would win. Why not? She’d show the men of her family—and Daniel. Tracey Powell was going to win this year.
Tracey stripped off her clothes and jumped into the shower. She was just drying off when she heard what sounded like a knock on her hotel room door. Grabbing one of the big, white, fluffy towels, she wrapped it around herself and then took another to wrap her hair in. She would put it in her signature ponytail later. The knock on the door—louder this time had Tracey racing to answer it. It had better not be her brother, Declan. He was flying in this evening, no doubt to give her what for. She loved her brother immensely, but if he came to her with one word of negativity she’d make sure he wouldn’t be able to father children for a long time.
Without asking who it was or looking through the peephole, Tracey jerked the door open—she tried to anyway. Hotel room doors were so heavy and slow that any jerking was fruitless.
“If you’ve come here to give me a lecture you can save…” She stopped midsentence as she saw that the person on the other side of the door was not her brother.
“Trust me, I didn’t come here to give you a lecture,” her visitor said pushing her inside the door and closing it behind them, and then proceeded to lecture her anyway. “You know better than to answer the door half-naked. What if I had been a reporter, or even worse, a crazy fan?”
Tracey’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Quite frankly she just didn’t know what to say, nor did she know why he was here in her hotel room. She watched him take off his baseball cap and shades and throw them on the table. Yet she still couldn’t form a word, let alone a sentence. The only thing she could hear was his drawled out southern twang which was even more pronounced when he was angry. His blue eyes shot fiery darts, another indication that he was not a happy camper.
“What happened on the track today? Are you okay?” He asked, as he walked over to her and took the towel from around her head. He tilted her jaw first to one side, then the other, looking into her eyes as if he were a doctor or something. “Why aren’t you answering me?”
“Probably, because you haven’t given me a chance to answer yet,” she said, finding her voice at last. “What are you doing here? And why are you angry with me?”
“Never mind that. Are you hurt?”
“No.” She wouldn’t tell him that she’d been scared out of her mind. She’d keep that bit of information to herself.
“Good. Come here.” Her supposed rival, Shane Westbrook, pulled her into the circle of his arms and brought his mouth down to hers. Her lips parted voluntarily, allowing his tongue access.
Tracey’s arms instantly encircled his neck, causing her towel to drop to the floor. She felt his groan of appreciation as he deepened the kiss, grasping her hips, lifting her up off the floor and more intimately into him. Without missing a beat, he walked with her over to the bed and placed her on it—with him on top of her—their lips still locked in a passionate kiss. His legs parted her naked thighs—his cock coming into contact with her center—her juices wetting the front of his jeans.
Tracey couldn’t believe this was happenin
g. That it was real. Yet the thickness between her legs assured her that it was. Her hips gyrated against him. He growled his satisfaction into her mouth.
“I am definitely overdressed,” he whispered against her lips, before lifting up off of her. He removed his clothes swiftly, and joined her back on the bed before she could voice her objections.
She looked at him as he undressed, enjoying the view of his toned body, sun-streaked, short, brownish blond hair, and blue eyes. His long, thick erection, bobbed up and down amidst a triangle of short curls a shade darker than his hair. As much as she wanted all of him inside of her, in her heart of hearts, she knew it would be wrong.
“From the look in those beautiful dark eyes of yours, I can tell you are having second thoughts. Don’t,” he ordered. “This is going to happen, Tracey.”
“We can’t,” she murmured.
“We can and we will,” he said sternly, before taking her lips again in a mind-blowing kiss.
Damn those soft lips of his. She could never resist them. His calloused hands on her breast aroused her more than she had thought possible. Tracey loved nipple play, and he played so well with them. His lips moved from hers, pulled one taught nipple into his mouth, and suckled. The sensations caused her lower body to lift up off the bed.
“Easy, darlin’, you keep doing that and this will be over real quick. Neither of us wants that. Now do we?” He chuckled against her breast and then turned his ministrations to the other breast—taking the hardened peak gently between his teeth, and sucking.
Tracey moaned out loud. “Umm, that feels lovely. Don’t stop.”
“Hadn’t planned on it. Not yet, anyway,” he murmured against her breast, while deftly parting her legs with his hand. Inserting a single finger inside of her slickness, he began thrusting in and out.
“Oh, man,” she cried out, moving her body in tune with his finger. She was a breath away from climaxing.
Race for Redemption Page 1