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Authors: Shady Grace

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BOOK: High-Speed Hunger
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Several Sprint cars were up on hoists, and others were parked in neat rows along one of the walls. The team had over a dozen cars, each one of them souped-up to the nuts.

When he realized nobody was in the shop, he headed over to the stereo. Maybe somebody had forgotten to shut the music off when the garage closed.

Just as he was about to flip open the CD compartment, a movement on the other side of the shop caught his attention. Thinking Mak—the lead mechanic—must be tinkering around out of sight, he wandered over to say hello.

One of the work trucks had been parked by the far wall, and once he neared the back bumper, he caught a glimpse of red hair through the rear window. Unable to discern who the person could be, he rounded the back of the truck and regretted the decision.

A woman he sort of recognized was bent over a counter, her skirt pushed up high. Bobby took her from behind. Ty froze to the spot, his eyes wide, unable to tear his gaze away from the two of them. At first, he thought it might be Eileen, but she didn’t have red hair. Though he was glad not to see her in that situation, at the same time he was pissed Bobby would cheat on her…and right in their family-owned shop.

This must be the worst possible situation he could land himself in.

The girl’s hair bounced with every hard thrust. Sweat glistened on her bare back as she arched over the counter, exposing her pale breasts. Ty swallowed the lump in his throat when Bobby buried a fist in the girl’s hair and pumped harder.

They had no idea he stood there—turned on by the torrid vision they created, yet disgusted by their lack of regard for Eileen—while they grinded against the dirty tool counter.

After a heart-thudding moment, Ty retreated. Now wasn’t the time to start trouble with the team’s lead driver, no matter how much he wanted to pummel the jerk into the ground. But in his haste to get away, he bumped a forgotten wrench sitting on the back bumper of the truck. The clang of metal on cement shot like a firecracker through the garage. He swore under his breath, let his shoulders drop, and turned around to face them.

Bobby yanked away from the girl, his eyes wide while rushing to fix his clothes. “What the fuck are you doing down here?” The girl righted herself and made a quick exit through the side door, leaving him to deal with the consequences alone.

“I live here,” Ty said through clenched teeth, wanting to tune the fucker up.

Bobby took a step closer, but halted. “You’re not going to say anything, are you?”

He shook his head, amazed how the prick could be so casual over what just happened. “What you do isn’t my business.” And he walked away, leaving the CD in the stereo.

Beating the shit out of the team’s lead driver would raise questions he didn’t want to answer.

 

***

 

A few days had passed since Ty had caught Bobby cheating on Eileen, and he wasn’t looking forward to seeing the prick any time soon. But as luck would have it, he was putting away some tools when Bobby strutted into the shop. The idiot’s snappy, annoying whistle shrieked through the wide-open space. He wished he’d blasted the radio to drown out the moron’s presence.


So
…” Bobby said. “How do you like working for Ragin’ Cajun’s team? They have car racing back in banana land?”

Ty gripped the wrench in hand, every muscle drawn like stretched elastic. Out of respect for Eileen and Jonnie, he decided not to act on impulse and drive the tool through Bobby’s skull. Instead, he turned with a wry smile and eyed the prick like he was no better than trash.

“Some of the best drivers are from Jamaica. But I wouldn’t expect someone with a third grade education to know that.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a chuckle, acting like the statement didn’t faze him. Ty knew better. “Well, now, you’re a smartass, ain’t ya?”

“Better a smartass than a dumbass.” He turned back to the task at hand. He wouldn’t let a little immaturity get in the way of his job, but if the asshole started something, he would enjoy finishing it.

“You best watch your back, boy. I’m number one around here, and ain’t nobody gonna get in my way. You say one thing to my girl about what you seen, and I’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?”

Ty didn’t bother to face him, though the word “boy” spread through his veins like lava. “Does it turn you on to stand so close to my ass? Cause I’ll only tell you once. I don’t swing that way.”

Bobby blew out a few curses and stalked off. Just for the hell of it, Ty added, “Say hello to your little girlfriend for me. You know the one.”

The side door slammed when Bobby exited in a blaze. Ty shook his head and returned to work.

How could Eileen date the guy? For a smart woman who ran a racing business, she could do better. Bobby was
the
epitome of a moron who thought of nothing else but his own needs. And to know the man wasn’t faithful, tested every one of his nerves.

A woman like Eileen deserved a good man, and Bobby just didn’t cut it…not by a long shot. The guy shouldn’t be trusted, but what Ty thought didn’t matter. Even if he did confess what he’d seen to her, or even her father, they might think he was trying to blackmail Bobby in order to take his job. Earning their trust mattered most, and he had all the patience in the world when it came to Eileen.

He thought back to when he’d first arrived in the United States, and how many months he’d wasted trying to find a different career. In the end, all it took was coming across an online ad for a crew guy at Ragin’ Cajun Racing for him to realize this job was perfect for him. The Lavoie’s were good people, and he wouldn’t do anything to screw up their relationship.

Even though leaving all of his family behind to see the world, he had more opportunity in the U.S. to expand his skills and make a name for himself. Raised on the track, he’d watched his father race at Vernam Field in Clarendon Parish back home. By fifteen, he was a local speed demon, outrunning anything on wheels. But after the accident that killed his father, he’d questioned getting behind the wheel ever again.

Meeting the spirited Jonnie Lavoie a month ago rekindled those urges to race again. Aside from being opposites in appearance, Jonnie was so much like his father it was uncanny. The sparkle in his eyes just before a race, the way the old man rubbed his thumb over his pocket watch as the cars ripped around the track. He even wore two different colored laces on his boots—just like his father had done. Ty had known then and there, he’d found where he was meant to be. Jonnie had shaken his hand, shown him the ropes, and treated him like family.

And then he’d met Eileen.

He had never been attracted to a white woman before, but without a doubt, the boss’ daughter had changed his personal laws of attraction. Beautiful blue-gray eyes and incredible golden hair, framed a face he would enjoy waking up to every morning. Those sultry curves haunted his mind at night. But most of all, he loved how her eyes lit up with every stunning smile.

Eileen Lavoie was intelligent, too. He’d seen her deal with the drivers and crew, run the office, do the books, and keep the joint running smooth. The woman even knew how to fix the cars if needed. Thinking about her alone at night gave him an erection he could strike a match on.

With her in mind, he finished putting his tools away and cleaned his work space in the shop. Whistling a home-baked tune, he headed up to his apartment, anxious to dig into the leftover ackee and salt fish he’d cooked up the day before.

The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, the delicious aroma of home hit his nostrils. Eager to eat, he stripped out of the coveralls, left the muscle shirt on, and donned a pair of shorts. Then he washed his hands and doled out food onto a plate. With stomach rumbling, he took a seat at the table and was lifting the fork to his mouth when somebody knocked at the door.
Bumbaclot
.

“Who is it?” he shouted, not in the mood for company.

“It’s Eileen.”

His annoyance vanished, replaced with curious anxiety at having the beautiful manager at his apartment. He pushed away from the table and answered the door. She stood on the other side, appearing shifty and nervous.

“Is something wrong?” He couldn’t help eying her baggy jogging pants—rolled up just under her knees—and the tight-fitting tank top revealing her tempting bust. She looked sexy and comfortable all at once.

She stepped back, maybe deciding she shouldn’t be there.

He wondered if she’d found out what happened the night before and came to question him about it. “Are you okay?”

Shy eyes met his. “Oh. Of course. I just…I wanted to drop in to see how you were doing. Did I interrupt—” She peered around his shoulder and stared toward the kitchen. “
What
is that smell?”

Ty couldn’t contain his smile. Stepping aside, he gestured to the table. “Hungry? I made ackee and salt fish.”

“Damn, that smells so good. But I don’t want to intrude.”

Even though she insisted on leaving, she walked into the apartment, seeming to float toward the table. He chuckled and closed the door behind them.

“I’ll make you a plate. It’s no trouble, but be warned. It’s spicy and salty.”

They sat together in silence, enjoying the meal. Ty watched—amused—while she devoured everything. A woman with a good appetite was a keeper, his father had always said.

With her plate almost licked clean, Eileen glanced up with a shameful expression. “I’m sorry. I feel like a pig, but that was
so
delicious.”

He laughed. “Would you like more?”

Her pretty eyes bulged. “God, no. I’ll bust out of my pants if I do. Here, let me get this.”

She snatched their dishes from the table and proceeded to rinse them. Every once in a while Ty cringed when a plate banged against the sink.

“Guests shouldn’t clean up,” he teased, eyeing her fidgety movements. Then and there, he decided if he fed her again, there might not be any dishes left if she washed them.

“But I wasn’t really invited, was I? So tell me, how do you like your place? I’ve been up here just once before.”

The tiny space he called home was a little white-walled box. “It’s small but cozy.” An old seventies-style, brown plaid sofa bed faced a floor model TV and floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The table and two chairs overlooked the parking lot and racetrack out back. Beyond that, the kitchen and bathroom. “It’s simple, just like my life.”

Eileen returned to the table and sat across from him. “My folks lived up here before I was born. Pop was just starting out then.” A faraway expression crossed her sweet face. “I know we don’t know much about each other, but I like to know each and every one of my employees. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Okay?”

Ty wanted to tell her the truth, but getting tangled in her affairs wasn’t his business. “I have a hard time believing you came here just to say that.”

She settled back in the chair and crossed her arms. He fought the urge to stare at her tits pushed up near to her chin. “No. I also wanted to make sure you and Bobby…. Well…I know he can be a dick, but he’s our best driver. I need everyone on the team to get along.”

He’s a dick all right
.

“Why are you with him?” Ty wanted to know what she saw in him. Imagining the two of them together—laughing and making love—didn’t seem right.

She looked at him, her gaze sharp. “Can you promise me you’ll get along, at least until after the big race?”

He managed to control his laugh at the ridiculous situation he was just put in. “I’m sorry. But I can’t promise you that.”

After a moment of silence that seemed to drag on for too long, she nodded and got up. “I don’t understand what happened between you two, and maybe I never will. But thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

He didn’t know how to make her open up to him, but he sensed they had a connection few men and women were lucky enough to find. She observed him like she wanted to know him more, and that spoke volumes. At least it allowed a small bit of hope.

Before she left, there was one thing left to say. “Eileen?”

She turned just outside the door and glanced back. “Yes?”

“I
will
promise you one thing. When you’ve had enough…I’ll be right here waiting.”

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

In the ladies washroom at their favorite bar and grill, Jennifer—the teams’ secretary—exited a stall and came to the sink.

Eileen smiled at the young woman. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Jennifer washed her hands and then leaned over the counter to freshen up her lipstick. “It’s not bad. Could be better. Too many dirty old men for my liking.” The young girl fluffed her crimson-red hair and adjusted her tits.

“Have you had a chance to meet the new guy yet?”

“Who, the black guy?” Jennifer’s eyes popped for a second, and then she made a face in the mirror.

She stared, dumbfounded over the girl’s disgusted expression. “What’s the matter? You don’t think he’s handsome?”

Jennifer snickered. “No thanks. He’s too dark for me. You, on the other hand, are a lucky woman to have Bobby. He’s gonna make you rich.”

The snooty way she said it made Eileen want to smash the secretary’s little face in the mirror. Instead, she forced a smile, turned away to freshen up her powder, and pinched some color in her cheeks. It was one thing to know Bobby didn’t like Ty, but that was over the competition. Jennifer had just revealed a side of herself she didn’t like at all. Skin color shouldn’t matter. In Eileen’s eyes, character meant everything.

And she didn’t feel lucky to have Bobby at all. Maybe she’d become too comfortable. Maybe she couldn’t do any better. The thing she knew for certain was happiness had walked out the door a long time ago.

The blonde woman reflected in the mirror looked horrid. Maybe it was the overhead lighting, or maybe those were serious dark smudges under her eyes. Either way, she felt like shit. Pop was right—maybe a vacation would do her some good.

Eileen finished up and didn’t bother holding the door open for Jennifer. She exited the washroom and wandered back to their table.

BOOK: High-Speed Hunger
7.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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