by Fox, Sutton
Every fiber of her being protested. The high clear voice of her heart screamed, No, no, no. Stay. The cold hard logic of her mind whispered softly, it’s only two weeks...
Chapter 18
Furious, Tyler paced. The latest copy of We Want to Know! sat on the table in front of him. The popular rag sheet lay open, revealing the article about Morgan.
The wide-eyed faces of his remaining production crew stared at him from around the room. Silence greeted his angry glare.
“I want to know who is responsible for this leak!”
Hesitantly, Blake, Morgan’s cameraman, spoke. “Tyler, none of us know who it is. We didn’t do it. We like Morgan. Are you sure the studio’s media people didn’t put this out?”
Not one to miss chance at piling on, Jim O’Bannon’s cameraman, Mike, joined the conversation. “They do it all the time. There’s only two shows left anyway. It’ll only increase the ratings.”
Tyler folded his arms across his chest and sat. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think the studio did it this time. It’s got a funny slant to it. It seems like a personal attack. Going into her daughter’s death so many years ago, and how she lost her latest sponsor due to her prior breakdown. It’s bullshit. I can’t believe someone would do this to her. It even mentions the fact that her father is dying.”
Around the room everyone exchanged glances. “Tyler, if it wasn’t one of us, then who has the most to gain from it?” Steve, Morgan’s director, tented his fingers in thought. “Why would someone want to make Morgan look bad? To influence the fan vote at the end, maybe?”
“Well, there are only three contestants left. Eric Wilson from Kansas got sent home last week.” Tyler counted on his fingers. “Morgan Blade out of Denver, Colorado, Kyle Spencer from Davenport, Iowa and Jim O’Bannon from St. Paul, Minnesota.”
“It may be a moot point if Morgan gets sent home this week. Tyler, it may not even matter.” Steve stood up as he talked. “Speaking of contestants, we’ve got to get set up. They should be here shortly.”
“True, Steve, true. Thanks for your time, everyone.” Tyler dismissed them with a wave of his hand and a nod of approval. “Thanks for all of your hard work, just a few more days and we’ll be finished.”
Torn, part of him couldn’t wait. And the other part, well, he didn’t have any control over the other part. He rubbed his hands on his knees and worked to stretch the knots of tension from his shoulders.
The flight to Ohio and the drive out to the half-mile dirt track in the rental car proved uneventful. It had been Stephanie who’d pointed out the article about Morgan. The subject of many stories himself, he didn’t bother with them. Always one for gossip, she subscribed to several magazines and papers. A tote bag of some sort of reading material always accompanied her on every flight.
It was a little trickier explaining Morgan’s sudden disappearance to Annie. Thank heavens she’d slept most of the way. Her determination to come with him and see Morgan for herself made him smile. She sure was a stubborn little thing. It ripped at his heart when she’d told him she wanted to make sure Morgan wasn’t going away like Mommy.
How would she handle it when the show was over and Morgan did go back home? Would she understand? How would he explain it? For that matter, how would they both handle it? He didn’t want Morgan to go either. Yanking on a collar that suddenly felt too tight, he stood again to pace the room in silence.
Acid burned his churning stomach. It would be all he could to do finish this show. He’d had more than enough of this sorry game. What if someone ever slandered Annie that way? Not unlike his daddy, he’d probably hunt them down and beat the ever lovin’ tar out of them. Just like he wanted to do right now, for Morgan.
Taken aback, he stood stock still in the middle of the room. He loved her. Ah, the words were so simple, the feelings so complex. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head, amazed. Who would have thought? Their lifestyles and backgrounds weren’t even remotely the same. Hell, maybe that was part of it. Chuckling, he headed out to the track. Who knew? There were so many things at stake. Dare he try again? His heart whispered an emphatic yes.
*
“Thanks, kid.” Morgan held out her hand. Annie handed her the soft leather shoe with a smile. She pocketed the shoe and couldn’t help smiling back, even though she knew the helmet kept Annie from being able to see it.
Surprised, she realized she’d only thought about Lily a few times since the last race. Soft warm memories filled with love, not the rip-your-guts-out feelings she used to have. The little urchin in front of her seemed to dominate her thoughts lately. When she wasn’t thinking about Annie’s hot, studly daddy, that is. Whoa, girl. Let’s not get into that creep now.
“Don’t go upside down this time, Morgan.” Annie bounced with her usual exuberance and made twirling motions with her hands. “You’ll scare Daddy again.” She waved at Morgan and backed away from the car to hold Stephanie’s hand. Morgan waved back and gave Phil the signal to push her out to staging to wait for the race to start.
You’ll scare Daddy. Hah! For that matter, she’d scare herself. Instinctively, she reached up to pull her shoulder belts tight.
Daddy, my butt, she thought, huffing an unladylike snort. Morgan had put Tyler on ignore since arriving in Ohio. The last few days were just too much to think about. She’d bet her next win Tyler was the one who’d been responsible for that horrible gossip article. Who else could it be? After she’d spilled her guts to him, he couldn’t wait to use it to garner more publicity for his precious show. She had enough on her plate without adding one more jerk to the mix.
Mmm. Thinking of jerks, she watched Jim O’Bannon roll past her, driving a brand new sprint car sporting the Haskell’s Performance logo. When she’d pulled in she’d noticed his hauler had a new wrap sporting the same. They couldn’t even wait until the show was over to rub her face in it. Now they both had the same sponsor logos on all their stuff. Great. Obnoxious butthead. The problem being, he was getting their money; she wasn’t. So, they figured they’d get twice the exposure for half the money.
She’d think of a way to fix it. Men. Why did she bother? The back straightaway flagman gave the signal to move out onto the track. Rolling forward, she closed her mind to any distracting thoughts and focused on work.
Forty laps later, Morgan stood in Butch Cameron’s plush FASPRO traveling bus, along with Kyle and Jim, unable to believe her ears. Kyle Spencer, her only competitor besides Jim, was being disqualified. Incredulous, she listened to Butch explain how he’d listened to Kyle’s motors as he went around the track, especially coming into the corners. Apparently his motor kept skipping at irregular places during his runs.
Kyle had won this challenge, on a dry slick track, even with his motor sounding odd. Butch had requested an immediate inspection and discovered Kyle using a traction control device. Now he would be history.
Morgan recalled hearing his motor, and thinking it didn’t resonate quite like it should, but that sometimes carburetors did funny things. She knew traction control would down a cylinder as soon as the wheels broke their grip on the track, but that was cheating! She wouldn’t cheat, naïve though it might be, so she didn’t worry much about anyone else doing it either. But, jeez. Here? On national television? What had the fool been thinking? Pausing a moment, she knew. Who wouldn’t want to win?
“Kyle, load up your stuff and clear out.” Butch’s voice brooked no argument. With arms folded across a huge chest, he reminded Morgan of an angry god. A legendary character a mere mortal tried to thwart. His power and reach in the racing world were legendary, that was for sure.
Morgan watched Kyle’s face blanch as he turned on his heel and left the bus. He’d have a tough time shaking this off. Racers had incredible memories for stuff like this. Bending the rules was one thing, but being labeled as a proven cheater? No one ever forgot.
Butch turned to face her and Jim with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s down to
the two of you now. I’ll see you both in North Carolina for the eighth and final challenge, in four days.”
Exhilaration filled Morgan. Her lips parted in a smile and she positively beamed. “Yes, sir. You will.” Smiling like a fool, she followed Jim out of the bus.
“Why don’t you just salute him while you’re at it?” Jim’s surly tone let the air out of her like someone sticking a pin into a balloon.
Morgan turned to look at him as they walked side by side toward their haulers. She saw Tyler walking towards them with a smile on his face just for her. Another pain in her heart. She turned away, not acknowledging him and kept on moving. “You know what? I’ve had enough of you, O’Bannon.”
“Why don’t you just give up now, Blade. You know I’m gonna whip your ass. Save us all the trouble of hauling five-hundred miles to North Carolina.”
“Get off my butt, O’Bannon. What is your problem anyway? Is the big—and I use that term loosely—tough guy afraid of being beat by a girl?” Morgan stopped and sneered at him. Eye to eye they stood in the dirt facing one another. She knew they were drawing attention to themselves and the cameras were still filming, but she’d had enough. The weeks of frustration and worry, the stress of the challenge and fear for her father finally found a direction.
Caught by surprise at her outburst, Jim stood and stared open-mouthed at her. He turned to walk away and Morgan grabbed his shoulder and whipped him back to face her.
“Let’s finish this right now. I’m sick of your snide remarks, your back-handed comments and your shitty driving.”
She knew the last insult found its mark when his hands fisted and one pulled slightly back.
“That’s it, you little bully, you’d hit a woman, wouldn’t you? Well go ahead, if you think that makes you a man. You’ve stolen my sponsor right out from under my nose, you slimy son of a bitch.” Fury filled Morgan as she glared at the man standing across from her. In her mind he represented every bad thing that had happened to her over the last several years. It was her turn to kick Fate’s ass and she wasn’t backing down this time.
Cross words and tempers flaring always drew a crowd. A circle of onlookers gathered around them eagerly awaiting the next insult.
“You don’t belong here. Your father and his half-assed small time operation. A one-car team? Did you really think you could make it? Let alone satisfy a sponsor? Me and guys like me will eat your ass for breakfast every time.”
Eyes hot, she glared at him. People could insult her all day long, but nobody insulted her father. He’d worked and scraped for everything they had. Even if they weren’t rich, he’d been a good provider and a loving dad.
“That’s what you think. I say you’d better think again.” Her peripheral vision revealed Tyler standing at the back of the crowd with a smirk on his face. Like gasoline to a match, it lit her up.
Without thinking, driven by emotion, she balled up her fist and swung with all her strength. The connection of her hand with Jim’s jaw jarred her arm all the way to her shoulders. Damn, that hurt!
She bent over and grabbed one hand with the other to stifle the pain as she watched Jim’s eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped straight to the ground.
“That’s enough, people!” Butch’s bellow made everyone scatter. His imposing form, towering over everyone except Tyler, immediately brought things to a swift conclusion.
Jack was at her side. He grabbed her arm and did his best to lead her away from the security team and back to the hauler. “Come on, Morgan. That’s enough, gal.”
She looked back to see Tyler lower a hand to help Jim rise. Her eyes narrowed, taking in the kind way Tyler assisted him with standing up. Slimy snakes, both of them. The emergency safety workers huddled around them, trying to move Jim toward the ambulance.
“Jack, do we have any white spray paint”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “We may have a can or two. Why?”
“We’re going to need a lot more than a can. There’s something we’ve got to do.” Filled with renewed enthusiasm, she hurried back to the hauler. She had to find a pair of scissors.
*
Tyler walked back with Jim to make sure the little cretin didn’t go by way of Morgan’s hauler. The last thing he needed with the show almost wrapped was this kind of bullshit. He didn’t know if he’d ever voice it, but he was damned proud of Morgan and the way she’d held her own. He’d wanted to cheer when she’d thrown that punch.
Morgan had been ignoring him since he’d arrived here. If he could just get a moment, he wanted to corner her and find out why. He’d thought things were going great when she’d left Tennessee. She’d seemed to really like his family. They’d left no doubt in his mind that they all adored her.
Jim’s chuckle brought Tyler out of his musings. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“Yeah. I said I fixed the bitch.”
Tyler’s head started to pound with the force of his wrath. If he found out this slime ball had cheated, he’d be out of here so fast his head would spin. Didn’t he have enough brains to realize who he was talking to?
“What do you mean, you fixed her?”
“I fixed her. Nobody will want to vote for a loser.”
Tyler clasped his hands behind his back to keep from wrapping them around Jim’s throat. Okay, apparently brains didn’t enter into it.
Biting back his urge to throttle the man, he choked out one word. “Elaborate.”
“Did you see that story? The one in We Want to Know!? I took care of that,” he jeered and let out a snarly male laugh.
Tyler expected him to reach down and grab his crotch next. Loser. No wonder the guy couldn’t get a date.
“So, you took care of that, did you?” Tyler played along, wanting to know just how far he’d go.
“Oh yeah. I told ’em everything. Weak-minded bitch. Couldn’t keep her act together when her daughter died, and had the nerve to think she could come back to the race track.”
“Really,” Tyler answered coolly. “I heard she beat you more than once after that.”
“Lucky breaks. That’s all.” Jim lowered the ice pack he’d been holding against his chin. He smiled at Tyler, full of male camaraderie. “Just lucky breaks. She needs a man to keep her in line.” This time he did reach down and grab his crotch in a crude gesture. “If you know what I mean.”
Tyler snapped. Appalled at the man’s crass behavior and disparaging remarks about Morgan, he’d had enough.
The years he’d spent boxing as a young man served him well. The right hook he’d practiced, over and over, held him in good stead now. For the second time today, Jim O’Bannon hit the ground.
Nobody talked about his woman like that. Nobody.
Chapter 19
Morgan felt the cool breeze of the North Carolina night tickle her with soft fingers of moisture. It carried the smell of approaching rain. She stood in the pits, lights shining down on her.
“It wasn’t in the drawer. I couldn’t find it.” Annie’s face buckled, tears formed in her eyes. “I looked everywhere.” Tears spilling down her face, Annie shrugged. One pink-banded pigtail askew, she held her little hands outward. “I don’t know where it is.”
Oh, God. Morgan felt like she’d kicked a puppy. She hadn’t meant to snap at the precious child. It had become their ritual before every race, Annie giving her Lily’s shoe for good luck. She knew Annie felt important doing this and it seemed to help her feel like she was part of everything going on.
Panicked, she had to get on the track. She needed Lily’s shoe. It had been years since she’d raced without her good luck charm. She headed for the hauler, to take one last look for the shoe.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, little one.” Morgan dropped to her knees and hugged Annie hard, trying to soothe her tears. Anguish raced through her, it wasn’t Annie’s fault. She looked beseechingly at Stephanie. “Can you hold her? I’ve got to go.”
Morgan rifled one las
t time through all the drawers and cabinets. The shoe was nowhere to be found. Her hand smacked the wall in frustration. She could have sworn she’d put it in the drawer, but after all the hassle with O’Bannon she didn’t remember.
Jack stuck his head through the doorway. His face looked worried. “Morgan, you’ve got to go. It’s third call. Now.”
“Be right there.” Her heart clenched at Annie’s tears. “Don’t worry, Annie. It’s not your fault. I’m sure I misplaced it.” With a hug and a teary smile, Morgan hurried outside to the waiting car.
Everyone seemed to be on edge tonight. Jack and Phil had been giving her a wide berth since early afternoon, studiously avoiding her, and then treating her like spun glass when they did talk to her. Guys were weird at best.
She tried not to dwell on the missing shoe and what it might mean. A promise was a promise. She’d do her best, for her daddy, no matter what.
Buckled in and rolling out on the track, she scanned the crowds. The place was packed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to quell her roiling gut. It hadn’t felt right since late last night. She’d woken up in the middle of the night. Sat up like a shot from a cannon, feeling sort of sick, like. A flu bug would be horrendous at this point. That, she didn’t need.
The first warm-up lap brought her around by the grandstands. Scanning the crowd, she thought she saw Lynn at the fence. She must be tired. There would be no reason for Lynn to be here. Her parents were supposed to be here tonight, along with Damon and Kristi.
She had to win. She would to make them proud. Driving into formation for the fan salute of rows four-wide put Morgan’s car running along the outside wall. There! Her mom was waving at the fence, and Lynn stood next to her with Damon and Kristi behind. She didn’t see her dad. He must have gone to the concession stand. Wait. He couldn’t do that by himself. Could he?
The sickness in her stomach coalesced into grim heart knowledge. “No!” she screamed as the green flag dropped.
Down the front stretch they flew as if chased by hungry lions. Motors roared into turn one, screamed around turn two. Down the back straight quick as lightning, dust flying. Anger spurred her on, the voice in her head screaming, He’s not dead!