High Speed Hunger (2 page)

Chapter Two

Late Thursday evening, Ty wandered downstairs to the shop to look for his music CD, figuring he'd left it in the boom box.

He made his way down the interior stairwell and paused when he reached the landing. From the distant music, he wondered if one of the mechanics was working late.

Being the new guy, he didn't want to step on any toes, but he was only coming in to grab something quick not barging in to offer anyone advice or a hand.

Several Sprint cars were up on hoists, others 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.

Ty headed over to the boom box. He didn't see anyone by the cars. Maybe somebody had forgotten to shut the music off.

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, he wandered over to say hello.

As he neared the work truck parked by the far wall, he caught a glimpse of red hair through the truck windows. He squinted for a better view, but couldn't tell what or who it was. He rounded the back end of the truck, and wished immediately that he'd never come downstairs.

A red haired woman he thought he'd recognized was bent over a counter, her skirt pushed up over her hips as Bobby fucked her from behind. Ty stood frozen on the spot, speechless, unable to tear his gaze away from the two of them. At first, he thought it could be Eileen, but realized the girl was too skinny even if she'd dyed her hair.

Though he was glad not to see the woman he secretly wanted in that situation, at the same time, he was pissed Bobby would cheat on her . . . and right in her own shop.

The girl was arched back, her hair bouncing with each hard thrust. Sweat glistened on their exposed flesh. Ty swallowed the lump in his throat as Bobby wrapped a fist in the girl's hair and thrust deeper, shoving her body into the counter.

She cried out, grinding back against him.

Ty retreated. Now probably wasn't the time to start trouble with the team's number one driver, no matter how hard he wanted to pummel the jerk into the ground.

He spun on his heel, determined to sneak away, but brushed against a forgotten wrench sitting on the back bumper of the truck.

The clang of metal on cement shot like a firecracker through the garage.

Ty regretfully turned around and faced them, just as Bobby pulled out and away from the girl. He rushed to fix his clothes, his eyes wide with shock. "What the fuck are you doing down here?"

The girl smoothed her dress and made a quick exit through the side door, leaving Bobby to deal with the consequences alone.

"I don’t think it matters what
I
was doing, does it, Bobby?"

Bobby took a step closer, but halted. "You're not going to say anything are you?"

Ty shook his head, amazed how the prick could be so casual over what he'd just done. "What you do isn't my business." And he walked away, leaving his CD in the stereo.

Beating the shit out of Bobby would only raise questions he didn't want to answer. Probably best to pretend nothing happened.

* * * * *

Friday evening Ty was putting away some tools when Bobby strutted in, his snappy, annoying whistle shrieking through the wide-open space. Ty wished he'd blasted the radio to drown out the idiot's presence.

"
So
. . . ." Bobby said. "How you like workin' for Rajin Cajuns' team? They have car racing back in banana land?"

Ty gripped the wrench in his hand, every muscle in his body tense. Out of respect for Eileen and her father, he decided not to act on impulse and pound the piss out of this moron's face. Instead, he turned with a wry smile, glanced over him like he was no better than trash.

"Some of the best drivers are from
Jamaica, Bobby, but I wouldn't expect someone with a grade-three education to know that."

Bobby's eyes narrowed, and he let out half a chuckle, as if the statement didn't faze him, but Ty detected the fucker didn't like being one-upped. "Well, now, you're a smartass, ain't ya?"

"Better a smartass than a dumbass." Ty turned his back to Bobby and continued what he was doing. He wouldn't let a little immaturity get in the way of his job, but if the asshole started something, Ty would be the one to finish 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. "Does it turn you on to stand so close to my ass, Bobby? 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 hi to your little redhead for me. You know the one,
boy
."

The side door slammed. Ty chuckled and returned to work.

He couldn't believe Eileen dated the guy. For a smart woman who ran a racing business, she could do much better in his opinion. Bobby was
the
epitome of moron who clearly thought of nothing else but his own needs. And to know the man wasn't faithful as well tested every one of Ty's 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, Eileen and her father may take it the wrong way, think him a troublemaker.

Coming to the United States from Jamaica had been hard on him, leaving all of his family behind to see what the world had to offer. He'd arrived in Louisiana after reading an online ad for a crew guy at Rajin Cajun Racing. Raised on the track, he'd watched his father race at Vernam Field in Clarendon Parish back home. By the time he was fifteen, Ty was a local speed demon, out-running anything on wheels. But after the accident that killed his father, he'd questioned if he could sit behind the wheel ever again.

Meeting Jonnie Lavoie a month ago had changed Ty's mind. The spirited man reminded him of his father and all those long-buried urges to get behind the wheel raced back full force. Aside from being completely opposite in looks from his own father, in every other way Jonnie was so much like the man it was uncanny. The sparkle in the eyes just before a race; the way he 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 team ropes, and treated him like family.

And then he'd met Eileen.

He'd never been attracted to a white woman before, but without a doubt, she changed his laws of attraction. Beautiful blue-grey eyes and incredibly long, curly golden hair, framed a heart-shaped face. Her curvy body with those childbearing hips and full tits haunted his mind at night. A woman with meat on her bones and a stunning smile put those skinny models in magazines to shame. And she was intelligent. Few women could run a racing team, keep up with the books and payroll, as well as tune-up the cars when they needed an extra hand. She was on the ball; he admired that. Thinking about the woman alone at night gave him an erection he could strike a match on.

With Eileen on his mind, he finished up shop, whistling a home-baked tune, then headed up to his bachelor pad, anxious to dig into the curried goat waiting in the slow cooker.

The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, the delicious aroma of Jamaican cooking hit his nostrils. He stripped out of his coveralls, leaving his muscle shirt on, and donned a pair of shorts. Then he washed his hands and quickly doled out food on his plate, his stomach rumbling.

He took a seat at the table and was lifting the fork to his mouth when somebody knocked at the door.
Bumbaclot
. "Yes?"

"Ty? It's me. Eileen."

He set his fork back down and gazed hopefully at his steaming dish, before getting up to open the door.

Eileen stood on the other side, looking nervous.

"Is something wrong?" He slid his gaze down her body, taking in her baggy jogging pants, rolled up just under her knees, and the loose-fitting, white tank top. She looked comfortable and yet sexy as hell, all at once. Then he looked up at her face. Her cheeks a rosy pink, she stared.

She stepped back awkwardly, as if changing her mind about being there.

Had she found out what happened last night and come to confront him about it?

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "Oh. Of course. I just . . . I wanted to drop in to see how you were doing. Did I interrupt—
what
is that smell?" She peered around his shoulder and looked toward the kitchen.

Ty couldn't contain his smile. He stepped aside, gesturing to the table. "Hungry?

I made curried goat."

"Is that what that is? Damn, that smells good, but I don't want to intrude."

Even though she insisted on leaving, Eileen walked into the apartment, seemingly floating toward his plate of food. Ty chuckled and closed the door behind them.

"I'll make you a plate. It's no trouble. My mother never taught me to make one helping of food, so there's plenty."

They sat together in silence, enjoying the meal. Ty watched, pleased, as Eileen devoured everything on her plate. He liked a woman with a good appetite. He'd taken some American women on dates before, and many claimed to be full after a salad; he assumed they stuffed their face at home afterward. He knew how women operated, thanks to
Cosmopolitan
. But it wasn't healthy to eat so little. Any Jamaican mother would attest to that.

After a while, Eileen finally looked up, her expression shameful. "I'm sorry. I feel like a pig, but that was
so
delicious."

Ty laughed. "That's good. I like that. Would you like more?"

Her pretty eyes bulged. "God, no. I'll bust out of my pants if I do. Here, let me get the plates."

Ty tried to stop her, but she snatched his plate, and proceeded to rinse the dishes in the sink. He was confused, wondering what to make of her. She seemed nervous and fidgety.

"Guests shouldn't wash dishes, Eileen."

She looked over at him and smiled. "But I wasn't really invited, was I? So tell me, how do you like your place? I've only been up here once before."

He looked about the small apartment he called home away from home. His little, white-walled box. "It's small, but cozy. It was already furnished."

An old seventies-style, brown plaid sofa-bed faced a huge, floor model TV and floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The table and two chairs, where they'd dined, 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 took her seat across from him. "My ma and pop lived up here before I was born. Pop was just starting out then." She had a faraway expression on her sweet face as she took in the apartment. "Look, Ty. 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?"

He wanted to tell her what he'd seen. She deserved to know the truth, but he kept his mouth shut. Getting tangled in her affairs wasn't his business, and he wasn't a rat either. "I have a hard time believing you came here just to say that."

Her eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest.

"No. I also wanted to make sure you and Bobby . . . well, I don't want you two fighting.

I know he can be a dick, but he's our best driver. I can't have him injured before the big race."

He's a dick all right, and can't keep it in his fucking pants either.

"Why are you with him?" He
really
wanted to know. Imagining the two of them together, laughing and making love, didn't seem right.

She looked at him squarely, her eyes resembling a sky before a storm. "Promise me you won't beat him up."

Ty couldn't control his laugh. "I'm sorry, but I can't promise you that, Eileen.

He'll get what's coming to him one of these days."

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. After a moment of silence that seemed to drag on for too long, she got up and pushed her chair back in. "Thank you for dinner.

It was delicious."

He walked her to the door, wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. He didn't know how to make her trust him, open up to him, but he wanted her to.

Ty sensed they had a connection few men and women were lucky enough to find. She looked at him like she wanted to know him, and he'd love to know more about her.

Before she left, there was one thing he had to say. "Eileen?"

She turned just outside the door and met his gaze. "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 Chelsea's Bar and Grill, Jennifer, the Ragin' Cajuns'

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 applied fresh lipstick. She puckered her lips as she leaned over the counter. "It's not bad. Could be better though. Too many dirty old men for my liking." She fluffed her crimson red hair and adjusted her tits.

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

"Who, that Jamaican guy?" Jennifer's eyes popped for a second, then she made a face in the mirror.

Eileen stared at her, dumbfounded over her disgusted expression. "What's the matter? You don't think he's sexy?"

Jennifer snickered. "Yeah,
Mon
," she mocked. "Got a spliff,
Mon
?" She laughed, striking a pose as if smoking a joint. "Sorry, but he doesn't have a chance with me. You, on the other hand, are a lucky woman to have Bobby."

The snooty way she said it made Eileen want to smash the secretary's pretty little face in the mirror, but her professional frame of mind warned
lawsuit
. She forced a smile and turned away from Jennifer to freshen up her powder. She had to force herself to ignore her anger. It was one thing to know Bobby didn't like Ty, but that was probably over the competition. Jennifer had stereotyped a man she didn't even know, and it seriously bothered Eileen.

Jennifer was wrong, too; Eileen didn't feel lucky to have Bobby at all. He only gave a shit about himself.
Then why the hell am I with him?
Maybe she'd become too comfortable. Maybe she didn't think she could do better. The only thing she knew for certain was that she hadn't been happy in a long time.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. God, she
did
look tired. Maybe it was the cheap, overhead lighting, or maybe those were really dark patches under her eyes.

Either way, she felt like shit, and Pop was right—she needed a vacation. She needed to get away from everything and everyone.

Eileen finished up and didn't bother holding the door open for Jennifer as she exited and made her way back to the team's table. Tonight they were celebrating Bobby's win from earlier in the week.

Several couples had gathered around the pool tables. A group of drunken girls bumped and grinded on the small dance floor in the center of the room.

Chelsea's Bar and Grill was the best place for a good time in their neck of the city.

Bad to the Bone
by George Thorogood resounded through the place as she took her seat at the staff table. Everyone was laughing at something, or shouting to each other over the music. Everyone . . . except Tyrone. He sat next to her father, who was saying something in his ear at the other end of the table, but Ty's dark eyes were locked on her.

The side of his mouth curved up at her shy smile.

She couldn’t get his words from last night out of her mind.
"When you've had
enough, I'll be here waiting."
She was better off not thinking too hard about those words, but how could she not? The guy made her skin tingle from a single look, had an accent that made her wet with every word, and he seemed like a true gentleman. The complete opposite of Bobby.

And
he could cook.

A waitress brought a round of whiskey shots to the table. Eileen couldn't help but notice how Bobby eyed the woman. She knew her boyfriend liked to look—what man didn't? Still, it bothered her knowing Bobby didn't seem to give a flying fuck if it hurt her to see that. His hungry gaze slid over the waitresses tits, barely concealed in a skimpy, black tank top. When she looked over at Ty, fully expecting him to be staring at the server girl as well, she was surprised and embarrassed to discover the waitress didn't hold his attention for even a second.

He's looking at me like that again . . . . Why does he make me feel so hot?

Her heart
ka-thumped
. She cleared her throat and looked at her father instead.

Great.

Pop swayed in his chair beside Ty, his face red from too much drink. His eyes glazed over. His appearance may have been comical had she not seen him like this too many times over the years. Drinking was his comfort, but sooner or later, it could be the death of him. Losing him would devastate her, especially after the loss of her mother.

"Pop, you're gonna pass out."

"Nah." He swiped his hand out in dismissal, knocking over an empty shot glass.

"I been drinking whiskey long before any of you fools were born."

Eileen and Ty shared an amused glance.

"Let the old man do what he wants. Besides, the party's just getting started!"

Bobby hollered, grabbing a full shot glass and throwing it back. Jennifer giggled from her seat across the table and did the same; only she choked on the strong drink and turned red. She shook her head and pounded her fist on the table.

"Fuck, yeah! Take it down, baby!" Bobby cheered.

Eileen groaned.
Great.
Not only would she have to take care of Pop, but Bobby would probably need an escort home, too. She had enough shit on her plate, and she knew too well what Bobby was like when he drank. He'd try to seduce her with his awkward moves and booze breath.

"Do you race, Eileen?" Ty asked, raising his voice above the others.

His question was a pleasant surprise, but just as she opened her mouth to answer, Bobby interrupted, "Nah, she don't do anything fun."

The look Ty gave him was nothing short of murderous, and it gave Eileen a little ego boost; although, it also made her nervous. The last thing they needed was a fight when they should be celebrating.

She got up and went over to her father, who was now unable to hold his head up straight. Leaning down, she whispered, "Let me take you home, Pop. You know they won't let you sleep in the bar."

Pop rolled his head and she saw him eye Ty. "See what I—
hiccup
—go through?

My girl here is always frettin' and whinin' . . . ."

"Pop, that's not fair."

Ty laughed. "Whining or not, she's right, and she's the boss, too."

Eileen mouthed
thank you
to Ty. She needed all the help she could get.

"Fuckin' hell. Fine." Pop pushed back in his chair, nearly toppling Eileen over. He stood and fell toward the table.

Ty got up immediately and gripped Jonnie's elbow, holding him steady. Eileen looked over to Bobby who was deep in conversation with Jennifer. It pissed her off knowing he cared little for her father except for the money he paid him for racing. But Pop didn't know that, and she didn't have the heart to tell him.

"I'm taking Pop home," she shouted to Bobby.

He waved his hand in the air, not bothering to look up.

"I'll help you get him to the car," Ty said.

Embarrassed, Eileen didn't look at him. "Thank you."

They dragged Jonnie out of the bar and into the parking lot to her Camaro. He bounced between them, tripping over his own feet.

"Tell my boy not to worry about me," he slurred. "My baby will get me home."

Ty and Eileen exchanged a worried glance but said nothing. When they reached her car, she opened the passenger door, and her father practically fell onto the passenger seat. She reached over and clicked the seat belt before closing the door.

She sighed deeply, leaning her back against the frame. For once she'd like to enjoy a nice, sensible evening where she wasn't looking after anyone. Since Ma died, all Eileen did was work and take care of
the boys
.

"You look like you need a vacation, Eileen."

Her eyes whipped open. She'd forgotten Ty was still standing there. "Are you saying I look rough?"

His teasing smile made her stomach flutter. "Nah. You could have the weight of the world on your shoulders and still look incredible. But you can only take on so much before you fall apart."

She hated to admit it, but he was right, and he seemed to care about her. Another thing about him she liked. The guy was little more than a stranger, and yet, she felt like she'd known him for years.

Awkward silence dragged on between them.

Ty dug his hands in his jean pockets. She hadn't noticed until now how he looked without coveralls on. His jeans were baggy and the white T-shirt he wore was probably three sizes too big, but it suited him. She gazed over his features. Broad, muscular shoulders. Gold chain hanging from his neck. His jaw was clean-shaven and his hair layered in cornrows. But it was his dark eyes she couldn't stop staring at. They seemed to say so much without revealing anything at all.

"You sure you want to leave Bobby here? I could take your dad home."

"Bobby can take care of himself, but thank you anyway." He didn't need to know that she worried about Bobby, too. As far as Ty was concerned, she was the co-owner of a racing team and held everything in check. He didn't need to know her life unraveled, like a frayed rope, a bit more each day.

Ty stepped closer and bent to kiss her. Shocked, realizing his intention, Eileen turned her face, but his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. Instant heat spiked through her. She exhaled nervously, wanting to turn back and kiss him. But she couldn't. She wouldn't cheat on Bobby.

Ty pulled away. "I'm sorry. I—never mind." And he walked away, leaving her there, leaning against her car. She stared after him, wondering what it would feel like to give in and possibly learn what he meant the other day.
If you were my girl, you'd never
have to wonder what I cherish most.

When the bar door closed behind him, she decided to ignore the attraction she felt. As much as the thought of being with him entered her mind more and more each day, she couldn't act on it. Bad enough she'd slept with and dated her lead driver, redoing her love life all over again with a crew guy seemed worse.

She made her way to the driver's side of the car and got in. Pop's loud snores and whiskey breath filled the confined space. She turned on the ignition and slammed the beast into gear, squealing the tires as she sped out of the parking lot.

Pop swayed in his seat, knocking his head against her shoulder when she took a sharp turn. He grumbled and pushed himself upright. "Where you takin' me, LeeLee? Is it racing time? Show me what ya got . . . ." He gagged on that last word.

Eileen cringed. "Please don't puke, Pop. I'm taking you home to bed."

He crossed his arms and made a face like a petulant child. "I don't want to."

She laughed. "Why?"

"Because your mother—
hiccup
—isn't there."

Eileen glanced at him, and for the first time in a long time, she was reminded of how lonely he must be. After her mother had died, he became a different person. He retired from driving and lost the passion for the business as he once did. It hurt her to think what he must be feeling.

"You should go out more often, Pop. Start dating. I know you miss Ma. Hell, I miss her too, but we have to keep living just as she would want us."

"Bah." He swung his hand out and the tip of his fingers hooked into her loop earring. The stud ripped out and stars burst before her eyes.

Eileen screamed and swerved. Pain unlike anything she'd felt before burned through her skull. The car spun around, fishtailing on the pavement until they came to a sudden stop against the curb. Vehicles rushed past, honking wildly.

She grit her teeth, trying to ignore the pain in her ear. Her heart pounded and her white-knuckled grip clung to the steering wheel.

"What you go and do that for? Oh, shit." Pop fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his hanky. He pressed it against her ear. "I'm so sorry, baby.

Fuckin' hell."

"It's okay, Pop; it was an accident."

As her father kept pressure against her ear they stared at each other. His blue eyes were wide, glistening with tears. "See what I gone and done now?" His chin quivered. "Maybe that Ty boy was right. I should listen to you."

She couldn't help smiling although it was a little forced with her ear stinging and pounding with pain. "That would be nice, Pop. I'm only trying to look out for you."

"I know, and I know I don't pay you enough attention, LeeLee. But I love you, and I'm proud of you. Without you I woulda gone and killed myself drunk after your mother left us."

The way he said 'left us' sounded like she simply packed up and left one day. She bit back a sob. She didn't want to think about what could've happened. All that mattered was that they still had each other. "I know, Pop. That's why I want you to slow down. We have a racing team to run."

A stunning smile lit his face, making the deep lines around his mouth more prominent. "I know, baby girl, but I want you to be happy too. Racing isn't everything."

Tears filled her eyes.
Happy
wasn't in her vocabulary these days. "I want you to be happy too. What about that mail lady? I see the way you look at her. Why don't you ask her out on a date?"

He grumbled under his breath. "What would a beautiful woman like Melody Evans want with a raced-out drunk like me?"

"Aww, come on, Pop. You're handsome, a legendary racer, a great father, and you loved mom better than any other man ever could have. She'd be a fool to say no to you."

Pop made an annoyed face. "I'll think about it."

"Good. Now, let's get you home. I have a busy day tomorrow."

His silly grin warmed her heart. "Yep, and I'm lookin' forward to what you're gonna do with that Ty boy. He's somethin' ain't he? Good worker."

The mere mention of Ty's name sent her stomach aflutter. "Yes, he is."

"Now let's get home so I can bandage you up good and tight now."

Her eyes popped and she shook her head. "No way in hell you're fixing me up.

I'll do that myself, thank you." She put the car in gear and drove off.

Though her father was a bitch to get in his house and tucked into bed, she managed to return to the tavern an hour later, with one good ear and no puke in the car.