Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) (17 page)

In the hallway she could hear the sound of breakfast being served, room by room, to those who could eat it.

“Mom, have you eaten?” How long had her mom been by her father’s bedside without a break?

“I’m not really hungry. Thanks anyway.”

“Would you like to take a break? Go home, catch a nap or a shower? I can sit with Dad while you do that. Spend some time on yourself, and then come back. I’ll be here.”

Three hours later Mom headed home with Damon and Kristi as chauffeurs. An hour after that, the patient in the next bed checked out. Morgan sat quietly in the empty room, watching her father sleep.

This wasn’t the man she’d grown up with. The man she remembered was vibrant and full of life. She missed his laugh the most. Big and booming, always ready, like his smile.

The first time she’d rolled her sprint car, she must have been about sixteen. He’d been right there. Lowered the window net, made sure she was all right, then hauled her out and danced a jig with her in his arms, laughing with relief the whole time. Smiling, he’d kept her close to his side the rest of the night.

Not this pale, weak replacement. Body ravaged by disease and the drugs that tried to cure it, no, not this emaciated shell.
Dammit,
she wanted her father back!

“Morgan?” his soft voice queried, while his hand reached out for her.

“Here, Dad. I’m right here.” She grabbed his hand with her own, squeezing gently. This too, was familiar. How often he’d held her hand as they strolled around the pits at one racetrack or another, sizing up the competition.

“I’m sorry I had them bring you back. Night before last, I felt awful, I thought...” He picked at the sheet with his free hand and gazed out the window. “I thought, well, it doesn’t matter a helluva lot what I thought. You’re here and I’m glad.”

Morgan didn’t want to voice what he’d thought, so they both danced around it. “I’m glad too, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be here for you.”

“It’s the damndest thing though, I feel better.”

“What?”

“I feel better today than I have in weeks.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her ears. “But, earlier, the coughing? You don’t look better, you look like hell.” She tried to banish the hope that bloomed viciously in her heart.

“I just swallowed wrong, that’s all.” He waved his hand in the air. “You women hover, hover, hover. Damn near smother a man.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. It was either do that or run screaming. Just like her dad to change the subject and the direction of blame.

“Morgan, you can’t afford to miss this opportunity. You’re in second place.”

“Yeah, so what? It’s not important right now.” Respect kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t believe they were having this asinine conversation, not when he was so sick.

“Yes. It is. It may not seem important. In the long run, it’s very important.
Think, my girl, think.
How many people tried out for this? Almost two thousand? How many are left? Three. And you’re one of them.”

Could she get away with stomping her feet? Damn fool just wouldn’t listen to her. “But, Dad—” She let go of his hand and gripped the silver bed rail until her knuckles were white with the strain.

“No, more buts, young lady.” He tried to be stern, but lay back against the pillows with a tired smile instead. “It’s two weeks, Morgan. Let’s cut the crap. They told me I could go home, but if I keep feeling like I feel today, I’ll be around quite a while.”

“Well...” Even though he smiled at her, Morgan could see through the act to his exhaustion. There was no way she believed him. It just didn’t occur to her to disobey him openly. He was her dad.

“Think about it. If you pass this up now, you may not get another chance. This could change your life.” Eyes earnest, brown matching brown, he stared directly into hers. “For the better for once, Morgan. Let it be for the better. Promise me you’ll go and finish this. Promise you’ll give it your best shot.”

He squeezed her hand, willing her to feel how important this opportunity would be to her future. He did his best to convince her to believe in herself as he believed in her.

In a voice rife with indecision, she answered. “Okay, Dad. I promise. For you, and all the hours you’ve spent our whole lives, I’ll give it my best shot.” Gripping his hand in return, she leaned over to kiss him tenderly on the cheek.

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.”