Full Throttle(11)

“I have to go,” she said quietly.

He clamped down on his urge to hold her to him. “I know.”





CHAPTER FIVE




KANE FLIPPED the master switch, and his engine roared to life. The resounding echo from the crowd nearly drowned out the 700-plus horsepower rumble of the cars. His heart kicked him hard against his ribs. This race meant everything. His make-or-break moment.

After the week he’d had, he couldn’t wait to get this race started. He was eager to prove himself. He was ready to focus on something he was good at, something he could control.

He had no doubt the night would be long and hard, trying his patience and the professionalism he was supposed to maintain. The heat and fumes were overwhelming. Turning the wheel so often, for all those laps, was exhausting.

At least he wouldn’t have time to think about Lexie.

Naturally, that was the moment she chose to stick her head inside the race car. “Watch your fenders,” she yelled.

In moments they’d communicate only by radio—but a transmission anyone at the track with a scanner and headset or any fan at home who cared to log on to the webcast could hear.

He simply nodded and didn’t dare look at her. She was his car chief, not the elegant, soft woman he’d held in his arms a few nights ago. She was all business, and he had to be, too.

“Watch out for the rookies and the crazies. I heard Lomax and Devitt nearly came to blows earlier. Don’t get caught up in that. Be patient, then make your moves near the end.”

He nodded. His foot hovered over the gas pedal, and his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel.

“We need a win, Kane.”

A military fly-over dominated the air. The crowd roared again, drowning his response of “I know.”

“Be careful,” she said, leaning closer and laying her hand over his.

Before he could turn to look at her, to see if he imagined the personal tone, the slight catch in her voice, she was gone.

Harry stood in her place. “Ready, sport?”

“Very.”

“Keep your mind on the race.”

And not my daughter was the unspoken warning. “I will.”

“Clean stops all night. Clean and smooth. No mistakes.”

“You got it.”

Harry fastened the window net, then the car in front of him began to roll. Harry patted the hood, then stepped back. Kane followed the pace car and his three competitors as they exited pit road. They’d qualified fourth, and since starting up front, not getting lapped by the leader and staying out of trouble was advantageous, his position was ideal. He’d still encounter his share of bumping and banging, but he’d hopefully avoid too much craziness and desperation—which always seemed the hallmark of the middle-to-end pack of cars.

It was nearly impossible to keep the fenders pristine, but it was a matter of pride and survival that he stay as clean as possible.

As the field rolled around the track, he swerved back and forth, warming his tires. The day had been pretty hot, but the sun setting had cooled the track somewhat, and he hoped the change would translate to more grip for his tires. He mentally pictured the shifts he needed to make, and the way his car would look rolling smoothly around the track.

When the pace car turned off, the familiar rush of adrenaline would surge through his body. He couldn’t imagine ever tiring of that sensation, that sense of anticipation.

The promise of victory and glory hung in the air for all of them. Every fan’s driver held promise. The stories that would unfold had yet to reveal themselves. The tempers, heartaches, equipment failures and wrecks were only a vague mist in the future.

For now they were all champions. Each driver was equally certain he’d stand triumphant in Victory Lane. Each fan was sure he or she would be the one bragging to buddies later. Each crew chief, jack man and spotter was ready to be an integral part of both the struggle and celebration.

He and his team had worked hard over the last three days. He’d spent much of that time playing the video game version of Bristol, talking with the crew, performing the required schmoozing of VIPs, hanging out with the other drivers, and generally doing anything he could to put Lexie and the sparks between them out of his mind. He hadn’t spoken to or looked at her in anything less than a professional way. She had treated him the same way.

And still he’d found himself losing focus at odd times. Not a good sign, considering his occupation. At the drivers’ meeting earlier, he’d only half listened to the NASCAR competition director’s warnings about penalties for aggressive driving. He’d stared into space and wondered how long he could keep up the pretense that everything was business as usual between him and Lexie.

“Got me, K?” his spotter asked.

“Yeah.”

“A walk in the park, kid,” Harry put in.

Kane smiled in spite of the nervous energy fluttering in his stomach. Time to put aside the personal stuff. Long past time. He had a job to do.

“I’ve got a feeling about this one,” Lexie said.

Kane’s heart jumped. So much for his focus.

Fasten your seat belts, guys. It’s going to be a bumpy night.

Still, he liked hearing her voice in his ears, calm and reassuring when everything around him was about to go haywire. He didn’t want to rely on her, but he knew he could.

“Go, go, go,” his spotter shouted in his ear as the green flag dropped.

The field roared across the start/finish line and were into the first turn in seconds. The focus Kane had sought kicked in. As the cars scattered low and wide, all dreams of winning evaporated. Survival was the key. There wasn’t time to concentrate on much else.

But if he could be consistent and get lucky…who knew?

He fell into a rhythm of acceleration, braking and turning, and was grateful nobody did anything crazy. Being Bristol, that lasted almost fourteen laps.

“Wreck in Turn Four,” his spotter said. “Slow for the caution and stay low.”

As he rolled by the accident, the safety crews were already out, clearing the debris and escorting the drivers to the waiting ambulances. The mandatory ride to the infield care center, however, wasn’t going to be smooth, as both drivers were shouting at each other and punching their helmets into the air as if they’d like to do the same to each other.

Barely five minutes had passed in the race.

“Those two are going to be in trouble,” Harry commented in his ear.

“I’m glad I don’t have to face NASCAR,” Kane said. NASCAR officials were serious about professional behavior on the track.

“Not yet, anyway,” Lexie said dryly.

“My nose is clean,” Kane said in mock defense.

He could practically see Lexie grin. “After only fourteen laps? Imagine that.”

It felt good to banter with her again. Actually, it felt good to do anything with her other than endure forced smiles, awkward pauses and careful moments of avoidance. Maybe they could have a relationship by radio. But then there were physical parts of him that didn’t see the advantage in that deal at all.

Since cautions always bred more cautions, it was a wild night. Kane stayed in the top ten for a long time. At least until lap 162, when Danny Lockwood tried to pass him, misjudged the distance and clipped his front fender. They both spun and recovered, but lost valuable track position.

During the caution, Kane fumed. His balance between patience and aggression tipped precariously. He’d never gotten along with Danny, probably because the guy was a reckless egomaniac whose uncompromising driving had already taken him out of one race that year. A few years ago, he and Lockwood had nearly come to blows after a race.

All year, Danny and Lexie had been cold to each other. Kane had always assumed this was because Danny knew she was the best car chief out there, and his ego wanted her. But maybe there was more to it….

Lexie was pretty easygoing with the other drivers, crew chiefs and car chiefs. A lot of them treated her like a sister, and their respect was always present—either because of her father’s experience or her own.

What was Lexie’s problem with Danny? What was really going on?

Stay focused, pal. Race and deal with the rest later.

The anger and passion he continually fought against wouldn’t be quiet, though. “That was Lockwood, right?”

“He’s the only one in neon green I see,” Harry said.

Lexie said nothing.

Which said volumes in his opinion.

His blood already pumping hard, the idea that Danny and Lexie shared some…conflict that he wasn’t aware of made him want to punch the idiotic punk. He itched to talk to Lexie, to find out the real story.

Was he letting his imagination and frustration control him? Like Victor Sono the other night, was he actually jealous of Danny? Wasn’t this what Harry feared, that a relationship between him and Lexie would make him lose focus?



LEXIE’S HEART POUNDED. The ground rumbled beneath her feet, absorbing the impact of the powerful engines as the cars rounded the track. She scanned the seemingly endless crowd above and around her, pleased when she spotted the pockets of yellow and red T-shirts and caps that signified Kane’s fans. The rows and rows of stands seemed to extend so high above her, she was sure they reached heaven.

Maybe God will have mercy on us.

Thankfully, Kane said nothing more on the radio about Lockwood. The guy was a jerk, and she didn’t want her driver’s focus to waver. Dealing with him—and recalling the stories her father had told her concerning The Fight That Almost Happened—wasn’t healthy for Kane’s concentration and championship attempts.