Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) (18 page)

“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 last 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!

Tears filled her eyes, nearly blinding her. She couldn’t think about this now.
Concentrate!
Focus! I have to focus or
I’ll never make it!
Using the wing adjustment to give her more down force, Morgan drove her heart out. Back and forth she worked the wheel. It seemed they’d missed the setup on this go around. The car just wouldn’t handle. Evidently the crew had thought the track would stay wetter than it did. Dry slick in some spots, it was tacky in others. Tires gripping, and then not holding, she searched for a good line around the track. Chest tight and out of breath, she fought for every position.

The track and the car fought back. Hitting rut after rut, the car threw her ruthlessly from side to side. Sliding into turn four, she pulled up alongside Jim O’Bannon.

Stanley Morris, a local guy out of Concord, slipped his royal blue car underneath them for a pass. No way, not tonight. Morgan hammered the gas pedal. Pushing the car for all it was worth, she slid into the corner.

Back past Morris, Morgan took the lead.
Finally!
The white flag waved as she flew by it, foot to the floor. One more lap. Feathering the throttle in turns one and two, she heard a car next to her.

Jim’s number seven flashed by her in turn four, scraping her left front tire and sending her into a spin. Careening down the front straightaway, Morgan held on for dear life. One circle, two circles, here comes the wall. She let go of the wheel and closed her eyes. Not again
.

Expecting impact and not feeling any, she opened her eyes in time to see the checkered flag wave above her head. She came to a sliding stop, just past the flag stand.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Morgan hit the steering wheel in frustration. She’d lost. O’Bannon had pinched her off on purpose; she knew it in her gut.

The dust settled as Phil arrived on the ATV to push her over to the podium. She waved at him and felt him bump the rear of the car. Slowly it rolled in the direction of the winner’s circle. Or now it could be the loser’s circle.

The entertainment company had set up a special stage to finish off the reality series tonight. The last two contestants were supposed to appear on stage to await the outcome of the fan vote. The finale was to be filmed live with votes being tallied immediately by phone and internet.

By the time she reached the area, it was crowded with people. As usual, Blake was there, camera in hand, pointed in her direction. Jack reached in to help her get unbuckled. Morgan hung her helmet from the hook, with gloves tucked inside. She took a deep breath. Losing didn’t come easy. It never had.

“I’m sorry, Jack. You and Phil worked so hard. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, little girl. It’s not over yet.” Eyes full of love and sympathy, his touch was gentle as he helped her out of the car. He hugged her. “We’ll make it. We always have, right?”

“Hey, I thought I saw Mom in the crowd. Have you seen Dad yet?” Morgan knew he would have been in the pits to watch the race with Jack. He didn’t like watching from the grandstands. Stepping out of his embrace, Morgan noticed his eyes filled with tears.

“Jack, wha—”

Steve appeared and cut her off. “Morgan, we need you on the stage near the podium. You can talk to Jack later. The commercial break is almost over.” He reached for her hand. Confused by Jack’s reaction, she let herself be led away. Her eyes stayed glued to Jack’s, trying to read what he couldn’t or wouldn’t say out loud.

Cameras flashed and people milled about like cattle in a feedlot. Everywhere she looked people were smiling and laughing. Moving up the stairs to the dais, she could see Jim holding his trophy high in the air, his crew all decked out in Haskell’s Performance uniforms.

She glanced down at her own bare uniform and felt a small tug of satisfaction. It had taken her a whole afternoon from Ohio to North Carolina, to clip off the logos. Thread by thread. The pleasure it gave her more than made up for it.

It had taken another whole day and thirty cans to spray white paint over the Haskell logos on her car and the hauler. It looked like crap, but it was better than giving those jerks any more credit than they deserved. Thanks to that lovely article, everyone knew she didn’t have a sponsor, so why pretend? The look on Johnny Haskell’s face had been priceless. He’d truly thought she’d leave them on, rather than be embarrassed. Showed what he knew, the dirt bag. Blades didn’t bow and scrape to anyone, money or not.

Butch Cameron’s strong voice echoed through the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, two of the best sprint car drivers in the country.” With a wave of his hand he introduced them to the screaming crowd. “Jim O’Bannon and Morgan Blade!”

Standing above the cheering fans, she watched the people moving about. Scanning the faces, Morgan looked for her family. Where were they? Oh, there was Mom, and Damon tugging Kristi along behind. They weren’t smiling, or cheering. Slowly they made their way to the front, stopping directly beneath her. Standing next to them, Stephanie waved at her, holding a wiggling, waving Annie in her arms.

She couldn’t help herself, she smiled and waved back.
Dad, where’s Dad?
Once more, her gaze passed over each individual. Finally her gaze came to rest on her mother’s face, vivid in grief. Tears she hadn’t been close enough to see before slowly made their way down her mother’s pale cheeks. Brown eyes locked to blue. Hands held out palms upward, she uttered one soft word.

“
Dad?
”

The negative shake of her mother’s head told Morgan everything she needed to know.

Her vision spiraled. Everything blurred. She dropped to her knees, consumed by grief.

She looked outward and watched from a faraway place as Lynn did indeed hold her mother tight as she cried. Lynn raised her head and their eyes met. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” She couldn’t hear the words, but simply read her friend’s lips and body language.

Unable to take any more, still on her knees, Morgan bowed her head. Oblivious to the crowds and cameras, she buried her face in her hands, and wept.

She’d lost. Everything.

The realization of just how much she’d lost stunned her. Rocking back and forth, she cradled her pain. Her father was gone. All this effort had been in vain. He’d left her anyway. She needed him,
dammit
. How could he leave her?

Morgan wanted to stand up and howl with rage and sorrow. The weight of it crushed her. There would be no prize money. It would be her responsibility alone to shut down what was left of her father’s racing operation. How would they go on? Who would provide for her mom and Damon?

A tornado of emotions whirled her in their tight grip. She wiped at the tears falling unchecked down her face, but it did no good. They wouldn’t stop.

“Morgan. Morgan, are you all right?” Butch’s soft whisper belied the strong hands that lifted her to her feet.

Hiccupping, she couldn’t get the words out. “My...it’s my...” Brushing at her running nose and taking a deep shaking breath she tried again. “My dad.”

Butch held her gently against his big chest, and stroked her hair. “I know. Your mother told me. I’m so sorry. He’d be so proud of you right now.”

“How could he be proud,” she hiccupped, “when I lost?” Tears fell unchecked, dripping off of her chin.

In the background Morgan could hear the announcer’s voice talking about sponsors, going over the prize money and the racing contract. All things that didn’t matter anymore. The faceless voice said computers were hard at work tallying all the votes, with fifteen minutes to go. Fifteen minutes of hell.

Please, let me sink into the ground. Let it swallow me whole.

“Morgan!” Annie’s voice carried high above the noise and cut sharply through Morgan’s pain. She looked down to see Annie in Tyler’s arms. It looked like she was reaching for the stage, struggling somehow.

Tyler. A fresh wave of sadness washed her away with the thought of him. Leaning her head into Butch’s chest once more, she mourned. It was over. She’d never see Tyler or Annie again. What reason would there be? Loving him wouldn’t be enough.

What?

A flash of insight gave her truth. Stripped to the core, she loved him. And his beautiful little girl. Too late. She’d faced the truth with no time left. The show was over. Tyler would go back to California or Tennessee. She’d go back to Colorado, to try and put the pieces together, one more time.

Something pulled her arm. Annie had somehow made it on the stage and took her hand, pulling her from Cameron’s grasp. Childish hands reached for her neck. “Up, Morgan, up.”

Seeing no alternative, Morgan picked her up, balancing the precious bundle on her hip. She inhaled deeply, the little girl smell soothing her battered heart. Of their own accord, tears leaked from her eyes again. Willing them to stop, she snuffled and tried to wipe her eyes with her free hand.

“Don’t cry, Morgan.” Smiling and unaware, Annie wiped at her tears with both hands. She cried harder. “Its okay, Morgan. You didn’t go upside down.” The child tried to comfort, not knowing the source of Morgan’s pain.

Trying to smile for Annie’s benefit, Morgan let out a flimsy laugh. “No, I didn’t, did I?”

Squirming, Annie pushed against Morgan’s shoulders, wanting now to be put down.
Kids, jeez.
There was no pleasing them. She slid the child to her feet and watched as Annie bent over.

Morgan couldn’t help herself. She smiled through her tears as Annie bent from the waist. Without a care in the world, butt facing the audience and the cameras. What the heck was she doing?

Annie stood up and turned to Morgan. Innocence cut right to the heart of the matter. She held her own dusty shoe in her small hand. Reaching out, she gave it to Morgan. Lightning blue, Annie’s gaze met her own as the soft words struck her sorrow-filled heart.