Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) (2 page)

They had already talked about the fact that the prognosis wasn’t good for Carter Blade. It was a miracle he’d lived this long. The experimental treatment seemed to be slowing the spread of the tumors, but it hadn’t stopped them. He needed more treatments, and those took money.

Morgan knew Lynn had encouraged the rest of the hospital care team to allow her dad to make the trip to Kansas. She also knew in her gut the truth she fought desperately against, that the days of her dad watching her race, coaching her along, could be numbered.

“I don’t know if I can do it without him, Lynn. After what happened to Lily—” Her stomach clutched at the unexpected thought. Unable to deal with that
now
she ignored the roll of her stomach and the ache in her heart that always throbbed when she thought about her little girl.

She pulled on her bra and undershirt, winced at the sting of the fabric that scraped across her tender back. Dirt, chemicals, and remnants of fuel had dried her fire suit to a stiff crust on the back. She shook it out, brushed it off and put it back on. She didn’t really want to wear it. It felt grainy and rough over her fresh underwear, but she’d forgotten to put the other clean ones, sent over by the network, in the hauler.

Lynn gave her a hug, pulled her close and held on for just a moment. “We’ll all get through this, Morgan. The best thing for your dad right now is to see you focused on your racing. He’ll know all the years he spent with you weren’t wasted. Think how proud and happy he’ll be when you win.”

Morgan hugged her back. “You’re such a great friend. I’d be lost without you. Give that darling husband of yours a big hug for letting you come and stay with me this weekend.”

“I needed a break anyway. He needed some father-daughter bonding time.”

Morgan stepped quickly back and turned away. Fathers and daughters were a weak point with her. She hid the pinprick of hurt. Would the pain ever go away?

She concentrated instead on how glad she was that Lynn could join her. Living and working in the world of men, it was nice to have the camaraderie and understanding of a girlfriend.

Even if said girlfriend had helped get her into this mess. Morgan wouldn’t be drinking margaritas again for a long time. She didn’t blame Lynn for suggesting she fill out that online application for a reality show. It must have been the alcohol. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. They had both laughed about her possibly getting chosen.

Now that she was actually a contestant facing the first challenge, she didn’t think it was a good idea at all. It was a stupid idea. It was also the only option she had at the moment.

The hauler door opened and Damon stuck his head inside. “The car is ready, Morgan. The crew went over it and said it’ll do. They wiped off all the chemicals and checked out the brakes.” He waited hesitantly, half in and half out of the door, like a puppy waiting to be kicked.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” She looked at her brother’s earnest face, golden-brown eyes and mink-colored hair that mirrored her own, and her heart softened for him. This couldn’t be any easier for him than it was for her, but he never said much about it.

She thought about her dad and called out to her brother. “Hey, slick.”

Damon paused at the door, and shuffled his feet as he looked at her.

“I’m sorry for calling you a moron in front of your girl.”

Ever cheerful, he immediately brightened. “No big, you’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m sorry about Kristi. It won’t happen again.” He started to back out the door, then stopped short. “Oh, and the camera guy said you’re not supposed to stop the crew from following you around or they’ll have to tell the producer.”

“I’ll tell the producer he can kiss my butt. I’m not undressing in front of a camera, or the guys that go with it!”

Idiots! It just never ended. Why couldn’t they just leave a girl alone to do her job? She was bone tired already and there was still an entire evening’s lineup to get through.

The roar of sprint car engines and the smell of dust came in through the open doorway.. The siren song of racers everywhere called to her. It was horsepower, the feel of it, the vibration of it, down-to-your-bones thrilling. She wanted to win, had to win. The money would make all the difference. That was her goal. Her dad was her motivation. She hadn’t thought it could be stronger, more powerful.

She’d been wrong.

The feeling grew and grew inside her, the desire twisted through her soul, made her who she was.
Get back in the car
, it whispered, seductive. She needed it, the speed, and the power, as much as she needed to breathe. She had to get to that quiet safe place behind the steering wheel. The world she knew and loved.

She gave herself willingly to the call. Like many before her, she wrapped herself in the arms of competition, her lover. It brought her to life, stroked her wearied muscles, and filled her with the elixir of desire. Strong and alive, she would dance the dance of the ages, the dance of men.

No people, no pain. The place where her mind was simply another function of the car she drove, and reaction times were everything. Winning was everything. Nothing else mattered. She didn’t have to feel, she didn’t have to hurt inside, she didn’t have time to think about the train wreck that was her life.

Renewed and revived, Morgan grabbed Lynn by the arm and turned her toward the door. Beyond Damon’s head she could see the camera crew focused in her direction. “Let’s go, boys and girls. What is it they say?” She thought for a second, and laughed a bitter sound. “Oh yeah, it’s show time.”

Chapter 2

Tyler Dalton absently watched the red-haired stripper slide sinuously around the pole, while he waited for his boss to finish reviewing the résumés for the reality show contestants. Pretty in an overly made-up way, she smiled at him across the room and proceeded to climb the pole. Briefly, his full attention was captured by her lean, strong arms moving hand over hand, making her breasts sway back and forth while raising herself high above the patrons.

Her breasts must be real; implants didn’t usually move that way.
Okay, Dalton, you’re losing it
.

He felt a slight fascination, similar to watching a spider build a web. He might not want to touch it, but he couldn’t turn away, either. He liked strong women. Most women of his acquaintance didn’t have that kind of upper body strength. Hell, most women he knew wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near a place like this. If he had his choice he wouldn’t be caught dead in it, either. But, Samuel, his boss, couldn’t seem to get enough naked flesh.

Tyler enjoyed the scenery as much as the next guy, but strip clubs weren’t his thing. Especially not since he’d caught his now ex-wife dancing in one for drug money. Every time he had to do this, his gut tightened as he walked through the door. Would he run into her again? He hoped not. The thought made him feel tired and used. Running a hand through his hair, he turned away from the woman.

The thought of Cindy was better than a cold shower any day. Crazy bitch. He still couldn’t believe she didn’t want anything to do with Annie. His little blue-eyed angel, Annie, the love of his life. Her chirping laugh and sunny blond
e pigtails always made him smile. After four years, it was finally over, almost. There was only one thing left to do.

He laughed at the irony of it. He exposed peoples’ secret weaknesses to the rest of the world through television. They never knew the joke was on him. Tyler had been so blinded by the cool blond
e beauty of his former wife, he’d never stopped to wonder if she had any secrets. She did, and when he’d found them out they’d almost destroyed him.

Sprint cars flashed across the big screen television on the wall at the back of the stage. The stripper, now lowering herself off the stage, tried to catch his eye. Finished with her set, she’d have a couple hours to work in a few lap dances or private room trysts before she went back on stage. She winked at him and he ignored her, moving his chair to the right to get a better view of the screen behind her. The first show commercials would be on any minute.

The initial crowd reaction held great importance. He needed to be able to see their reaction to the commercials. This wasn’t the first time they’d done a partial preview in one of Sam’s favorite clubs. The only good thing he could say about them was that at least people left him alone for the most part.

He reached for his beer and scanned the room. A few seats remained empty at the long mahogany bar off to one side. By ten o’clock people would be standing three deep just trying to get noticed by the frazzled bartenders. Pub tables scattered around the stage floor sat half full of patrons taking advantage of happy hour specials.

“Tyler, are you sure I can’t talk you into doing another reality show? They are hot, hot, hot right now.”

Tyler looked at Samuel Hanover, President of Hanover Entertainment. Over the last eight years he’d gained weight, wealth, and jowls. Tyler knew, because he’d watched it happen. He’d even done his part to help it along, producing one hit reality series after another. Sponsors were always clamoring for more airtime.

Samuel sat at the head of the table with the best view of the stage and screen, like a king surveying his kingdom. Tyler watched him flip idly through the dossiers of the new show contestants as if reviewing them for worthiness, trying and failing to keep his eyes from following nubile flesh around the room. Sam’s hand paused as one folder caught his attention.

“You’d think people would have enough reality in their everyday lives. This time, I’m through, Sam. I’ll fulfill the terms of my contract, I give you my word on that, and then I’m out of here. This is the last show. I need to be home with Annie.”

“She has Stephanie, and God knows the rest of your sisters never give you a moment’s peace.”

“They’re only trying to help.” Tyler rubbed his hand over his eyes in frustration. “She’s not their responsibility, after all. She’s mine.” It felt good to say it. He felt free. The constant court battles had weighed him down more than he’d realized. Smoky air filled his lungs as he inhaled and thought about the papers that had arrived today in the mail. Tyler now had sole custody of his five-year-old daughter.

“What if I give you a raise? How about another series? What can I do to keep you?”

Out of respect for Sam’s position, Tyler held in his irritation. “Not a damn thing. You know money isn’t the issue. You also know how important family is to me, Sam. Annie’s been through enough already.”

Sam returned his attention to the open folder in front of him. “Why in the world did you pick a woman?” He looked at the photo, then back to Tyler. “You do remember this is a racing reality show? At five-foot-two and one hundred ten pounds, she’s not exactly model material.”

Tyler leaned back and sipped his beer. It never ceased to amaze him that Sam still thought of women as ornaments. Those attitudes should have died with the dark ages.

The television announcer’s voice flowed smoothly into his ears. “Welcome, race fans, to another evening of
Race for the Ride,
brought to you by Cameron Motorsports and Hanover Entertainment.”

Visions of colorful sprint cars, four-wide around a dirt oval, flashed onto the screen, followed by a collage of living, breathing fans. Tyler watched Sam watch the screen, and knew he was looking for the obligatory, full-on tit shot guaranteed to make every red-blooded American male heart beat faster and tune in every week. Once the shot appeared, it was quickly followed by assorted flash ads from sponsors not unlike the circus mid-way hawkers of times past, encouraging everyone to partake of their wares.

Tyler continued to watch Sam’s face and scan the crowd. He felt like a lion stalking its prey. Quietly, softly, then it would spring and there would be hell to pay. Instant reactions he needed to capture. Those brief unguarded moments before people shielded their emotions. He’d seen all of the trailers many times during the editing process anyway.

There, across the room. A table full of young women pointing at the screen and talking animatedly to one another. On the other side of the dance floor, a group of young men, elbowing each other and pointing with unabashed curiosity at the television. Conversation at their table slid to a halt.

He vaguely heard the announcer change tone, assuming the persona of racing analyst providing the names and hometowns of the ten contestants.

Refocusing his attention on Sam’s question, Tyler looked him in the eyes, not backing down. “I chose a woman contestant for this show because she was one of the most qualified applicants. My staff and I feel she has something to add to the team, and that she’s capable of winning. It is a contest, after all, isn’t it, Sam?”

He looked at the screen, at the larger than life shot of Morgan Blade. Her resume was impressive; she’d been racing since she was nine years old—karts, quarter midgets, mini-sprints, 360 and now 410 sprint cars. She was a winner in every division. “The woman holds a BS in Mechanical Engineering from Colorado State University, and graduated with honors. Christ, man, she knows more about your fleet of cars than you do.”

“She can’t win.”

“What do you mean she can’t win?” Tyler was puzzled. Sam had never had this reaction to any female contestants on any of the other reality shows they’d done before. “Of course she can, if that’s the way it turns out. The audience has the last vote, remember?”

“I don’t want her around for the last vote. Racing is a man’s sport and that’s the way it needs to stay. Women don’t belong in it.”

“Oh, I get it. They don’t belong there unless they’re half dressed holding trophies or signs?” Tyler couldn’t believe his ears. This wasn’t even Cro-Magnon, it was Neanderthal. “It’s too late, Sam. She’s in.”

“I tell you what, Tyler. This is your last reality series; you do what you do best, and that will take care of the problem for both of us.”

“And if I don’t?” He thought about the sad brown eyes looking out at him from the woman’s photo. Even in a group shot she stood out, a loner, set apart somehow. Her life appeared to be perfect. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what had put the sadness there.

“You will. You can’t help yourself. That is part of what makes you so successful, my boy. You like to know what makes people tick. And so does the rest of America.” Sam closed the folder and pushed the stack across the table to Tyler. “Be on that plane to Kansas in the morning.”

He’d be on the damn plane. He’d never backed out of a commitment, and he wouldn’t start now. Three months on the road; then it was over. Two months if he pushed hard. He would push hard, all right, and devil-be-damned to anything that stood in his way.