High-Speed Hunger

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High-Speed Hunger

Copyright © 2014 by Shady Grace

ISBN: 978-1-61333-713-4

Cover art by Mina Carter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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Also By Shady Grace

Writing as B.L. Bonita

Pulse

High-Speed Hunger

By

Shady Grace

The racetrack buzzed with the roar of engines. Dust clouded the humid air as wheels spun out, and rear ends fishtailed on the dirt track. Drivers pushed their Sprint cars to the limit, fighting each other for the lead in a wild race toward the finish line.

Eileen Lavoie shielded her eyes from the blaring afternoon sun and watched Bobby Donaldson overtake the lead car. Having earned top spot on several occasions, Ragin’ Cajun’s lead driver was considered the best Sprint racer in the state of Louisiana.

Reckless behind the wheel was an understatement for him, but his carefree style—or maybe lack of brains—made him a beast on the track. Coming in second or third wasn’t good enough, and even though his moves were considered dangerous, Bobby was on top of the game.

A flash of yellow from the pit below caught her attention. The crew moved in tandem, putting away the equipment. Her gaze halted on the new guy. The view from above was delicious.
God
, the man had a body any hot-blooded woman would kill to touch. Broad and tall with supple, dark skin, and an ass that screamed for a firm grip—

She jumped when loudspeaker static from the commentator announced the last lap. Bobby flew past the checkered flag, and the crowd went berserk.

Sprint cars raced around the last turn and punched it down the straightaway. Several cars bumped each other trying to force the other off the track. She knew the spectators would love a crash, but today’s race was a breeze compared to the World Bandit Cup. If the crowd wanted smoke and flames, the championship would be the race to see.

Bobby blew past the finish line with the second place car kissing his ass-end.

Why couldn’t she focus on him and not the beautiful specimen of man fit to be eaten in those yellow coveralls down below? The manager should be focused on the track and the spectators rather than lusting for the new guy.

Tyrone Ellis
.

Even his name sounded sexy.

According to her father, Ty had grown up on a racetrack in Jamaica but hadn’t driven for a few years. Despite the confident way he carried himself around the shop and his easy camaraderie with the team, she knew deep down Ty was just a quiet man who kept to himself. Hard to imagine a competitive spirit in the guy. But his easy smile made her body heat in all the right places, especially when he spoke in that rich and smooth accent. Every time words came out of his luscious mouth, a tingle sluiced through every nerve ending, like his words caressed her.

Eileen blew out a shaky breath and turned back to the racetrack. Bobby sped onto center field and did a round of doughnuts, kicking up dirt and punching the air out the car window with a mighty fist. Always the show-off for the crowd. She glanced at the stands, amused yet a little put off by the girls lifting their tops and jiggling their tits for him.

“Well, we done good! Didn’t we, LeeLee?” Her father leaned against the railing and watched the field.

“Always, Pop.”

Jonnie Lavoie—retired and legendary Sprint car driver—smiled through his thick, white moustache and set his big arm over her shoulder. Excited over another win for the team, Eileen gave his weathered hand a pat. For a long time it was just the two of them running the team, and being here with him at a moment like this was more than any dream come true. But taking care of him had added more years to her life than she wanted to admit. Pop’s drinking had progressed since becoming a widower five years ago. She had spent too many nights taking care of him, driving him to and from the hospital, or picking him up smashed from the bar. The last time she had a full night’s sleep seemed so long ago.

Pop pushed back, holding her at arm’s length. His wise eyes crinkled at the corners while he stared at her. “You need a vacation, baby girl.”

“Why, do I look tired?”

“You work too hard. You need to pamper yourself for a change.”

She cupped her father’s face, forcing him to listen to her. “When I need time off, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He nodded despite the concerned expression on his weathered face. “You’re just as stubborn as your mother was.” He shook his head and murmured something under his breath about stubborn young women and urged her toward the stairs. “On another note, Ty came to me the other day, asking for a shot at driving. What do you think?”

They headed down the steps from their balcony over the field. She didn’t know what to think about him driving. Usually, a member of the team had to work with the crew for six months before driving a car. But when they rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, coming face-to-face with the man in question, her mind went blank.

Eileen stared up at Ty, lost in his dark gaze, until Pop patted her hand, snapping her back to reality. “I’ve already made arrangements for him to drive next weekend on a test run, and you’re gonna watch him.”

“What?” She whirled around and gaped at her father. “Why me?”

Her father chuckled. “Because one of these days this team’ll be yours. You know a good driver when you see one. My money’s on you, girl.”

What was the point in arguing, when the amused, dark Adonis they were referring to stood so close? Embarrassment made her cheeks burn.

Tyrone winked, making the situation even worse, and then shook Pop’s hand. “Hey, boss.”

“Good day, young man. I’m anxious to see what you can do behind the wheel. Don’t disappoint me now.”

“I’d never dream of it,” he answered, still staring at Eileen.

That damn Jamaican accent made her body react as if charged with an electrical current.

Those enticing lips should be illegal, too
.

She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. Best to keep her guard up with a man like him. She could envision herself saying yes to anything he asked just to hear that soul-stirring voice. “Think you’re ready to prove yourself?”

“You bet, girl.” His mouth tipped up at one corner, his gaze revealing a boldness that stirred a fire within.

Despite the urge to smile, she stood her ground. “It’s Eileen, not ‘girl’.”

The man had a way about him that annoyed her yet weakened her knees at the same time. Nobody knew she had a soft spot for men who took control, not even Bobby. That was her own secret she’d never, ever, let out.

“There you are! I thought you’d be in the stands cheering me on, LeeLee.” Bobby’s loud voice boomed over the crowd. Ragin’ Cajun’s lead driver sauntered toward them in such a way that his arrogance alone would win him a trophy. A few women called out, screaming how much they loved him. Eileen tried to ignore the jealousy rising within when he smiled and winked back. Sometimes she wondered if the attention from the groupies was all that mattered to him, and not the excitement found on the track.

Needing a distraction and some attention of her own, she launched herself at Bobby. “I was. Always, honey.”

He threw an arm over her shoulders and grinned. “That was quite the race, wasn’t it? I had them all beat. Easy as rhubarb pie.”

She giggled and ruffled his sweaty red hair. “The helmet got the best of you, though. Your flat hair makes you look like a rumpled cartoon character.”

He chuckled and then eyed Tyrone with what appeared to be more than competition. “The best can’t always be handsome.”

“I see that,” Ty replied, not at all fazed by Bobby’s obvious dislike of him.

Bobby stood taller and scowled at him. “You got somethin’ to say, buddy?”

Eileen glanced between the two men, sensing a fight may break out between them. “Settle down. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. Right?”

When she glanced up, Ty’s crooked smile made her stomach flutter. “Of course.”

“Good.” Turning back to Bobby, she tried to forget about the way Ty quickened her pulse. “Pop decided we’re gonna test Ty behind the wheel this weekend.”

Bobby squared his shoulders and frowned. “That’s bullshit. I’m all you need around here. This new kid’s got nothing on me.”

“Come on, boy,” Pop interrupted, sensing more trouble. “I got some new equipment for you to check out.” Grabbing Bobby’s elbow, he yanked him in the other direction. The glare Bobby fixed on Ty could’ve lit him on fire.

Eileen stared after them with a mixture of emotions. Even though she disliked testing out the new guy, the idea of someone else behind the wheel intrigued her. Her father would never allow him to drive if he didn’t sense something great in him.

Bobby needed to watch his attitude, too. Ty’s sheer size alone, compared to him, would put him in the hospital should they ever fight. Before they rounded the back of the hauling truck, Pop peered over his shoulder and winked.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t like me.” Ty shoved his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. She couldn’t help raking her gaze over the lower half of his body. When she glanced back up, his knowing expression made her blush.

“That’s just the way he is.” She forced a smile. “He’s a damn good driver, though.”

“A smart woman like you shouldn’t be on the arm of a man like him.”

She snorted, but he didn’t laugh. “He’s not that bad.”

When she realized he was staring at her lips again, it made her more nervous with each passing breath. “Yeah, well, men like that tend to care about what they want—not what you want, and you’ll never be more than a gorgeous trophy on his arm.”

Eileen let her jaw drop. He was right. But calling her
gorgeous
?

“And that’s a shame,” Ty added, his voice thick and sensual. “Maybe I’m too old-fashioned, but if you were my girl, you’d never have to wonder what I cherish most.
And
I’m a damn good driver.”

How does a woman respond to that? If what Ty said was true, then he was unlike any man she had ever met.
He doesn’t even know me
. “Uh…okay. Well, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Not knowing what else to add to their odd conversation, she nodded, shifting her gaze to the crowd now departing the stands. She needed to focus on something—anything—other than the tall and tempting human dessert standing in front of her.

“Have a good night, Mr. Ellis.”

When she smiled at him, he winked. “You, too,
girl
.”

She walked away, flustered beyond compare. Against her better judgment, she glanced back.

Ty stood in the same spot, still watching her.

Late Thursday evening, Ty wandered downstairs from his apartment above the shop to find his favorite CD, and when he heard a familiar tune, he paused in the stairwell. One of the mechanics must be working late, he thought, and entered the shop while humming to the song.