Sultry in Stilettos (12 page)

He stopped and glared at her. “He
bought the race? Why would you let him do this? I thought they were
friends of yours.”

“They are. That’s why you’re going to
make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I’m counting on you.” She shrugged.
“That’s what happens when you have that kind of money. He can do as
he likes.”

Beckett could only stare at Serena as
she strode off. Her latest announcement just made everything so
much more dangerous. Not only that, it meant he wouldn’t be able to
survey the car. Only the driver and the pit teams had access to the
car before the race. And probability was high that Roberto didn’t
know a thing about cars. Beckett trusted the pit crew, but he’d
never entered a race where he didn’t do some checks himself, and
this made him nervous.

Not a damn thing he could do about it
now.

When he found Roberto, the guy was
hugging a barrel and dry heaving. “How are you doing? You ready for
this?”

Roberto lifted his head, and while his
eyes were lit with anticipation, his pallor was a little green. As
it should be. People had died attempting this trip.

“Fine, fine,” Roberto muttered, but
his eyes darted back and forth, back and forth.

Beckett smiled through
clenched teeth and tried to peer at the mechanics behind Roberto,
who were working on the car. “Relax. It’s your first Rally. We’re
not going to go crazy. Our priority is your safety. Your priority
needs to be having fun. When we pitched this to your wife, she was
so excited for you to try something like this.” This was not the
pitch they’d made to Lila. She didn’t seem the type to give in to
her husband, and she was the client in charge of this fantasy. Zach
or Serena must have pushed the idea.
But
why?

A fleeting grin passed over Roberto’s
face. “You’re right. I just feel like the kid in line at an
amusement park. Eager but a little scared too.” He eyed the barrel.
“Maybe more than a little scared.”

“You’re supposed to be a little
scared. If you weren’t, that would be a really bad
sign.”

Beckett left Roberto and the rest of
the pit crew to get ready. He grabbed his pads and ran through the
checklist one more time. Rally runs were dangerous. He didn’t want
any mistakes. He’d spent a couple summers growing up working in his
uncle’s car dealership and he’d loved learning about the inner
workings of the cars. That training helped in fantasies like this.
That and Zach and Serena had all the action fantasy guys take all
kinds of stunt driving classes and wilderness training.

From one of the side mirrors, Beckett
saw Carter come up behind him. “Everything ready, B.?”

Normally, Beckett didn’t mind the
nickname or Carter. But given the circumstances, he had to fight
hard not to sneer. “Yeah, we’re good.” Looking over his door-less,
Mini Cooper, he smiled. Maybe they even had a chance of placing in
this event.

He cut through the bullshit. “What do
you need?”

Carter leveled him a look. “I guess
you heard the news?”

“Yeah, nothing to do about it. I just
need the revised work-up on the cars to avoid. He’ll never make it
at the front of the pack.” He muttered a curse under his
breath.

Carter shrugged. “Don’t shoot the
messenger.”

Except he wanted to shoot Carter. He’d
have a real problem if he couldn’t get his mind in the game to
navigate.

An hour later, ten rows back from the
head of the race, Beckett strapped himself into the passenger side
with his planning guide of the best route. He tried to force his
brain to switch gears and enjoy the ride, but he couldn’t focus.
Riding shotgun wasn’t his style. More than that, he knew what last
minute changes could do. They hadn’t planned for this
contingency.

“Would you relax, Beckett? This is
going to be fun.”

Roberto’s smile was infectious, and he
no longer looked ready to hurl. He appeared to be having a ball.
For a brief second, Beckett exhaled. Maybe everything would be
fine. All he had to do was keep the client alive. How hard could
that be?

As Roberto gunned the engine for a
start, and they jostled to life along the bumpy road, Beckett
smiled. Nothing like a rally race in the morning to get the blood
flowing.

Teeth clattering together, Beckett
navigated and gave Roberto his best options for a route. More than
once, Beckett thought he’d bit through his mouth guard. But they
did well. Home base kept shouting instructions through their ear
pieces about position and who was coming up on their rear. Roberto
kept yowling with each bump and grinning like an idiot.

The moment Beckett started to relax
was when they got slammed from behind. Roberto’s hands clamped
around the steering wheel, and Beckett watched as the muscles in
the guy’s jaw worked. “Hang on. You are in control. This is your
car. You can recover from the tap. Just keep in cont—”

Suddenly, the car pitched forward
again, and Roberto was no longer in control of the wheel, but
rather fighting with his seat holster. A string of Italian words
flew out of his mouth. Beckett didn’t understand the language, but
from the tone, something was really wrong.

Beckett grabbed hold of the steering
wheel, trying to control the front end of the buggy while they
careened downhill. In his side mirror, he watched as car after car
made the turn and headed uphill through the rest of the course.
“Roberto, hit the brakes.”

Roberto’s eyes bugged, and he darted
his gaze between Beckett and the steering wheel, then back again.
He pumped the brakes, but they only picked up more speed as they
continued downhill. Road debris jostled the car and sliced
Beckett’s arms as he held on for the ride.

“Roberto, down shift. Now!” As Beckett
alternated between calling out instructions and radioing home base,
he searched for something that would provide them and easier
landing. A quarter mile ahead, he saw the rolling hills to the
right.

Beckett grabbed onto the steering
wheel and aimed right for them. He’d rather wreck the car than take
a chance and wreck them both. As Beckett cranked up the emergency
brake, Roberto white knuckled the steering wheel. The next thirty
seconds went by so quickly, Beckett had no time to
think.

Roberto cursed beside him, and the
only warning Beckett had was the right shoulder harness flapping.
Fuck. Roberto’s harness had come undone. “Hold on to the brace
bar!” Beckett shouted.

Roberto did as he was told, but the
brace bar wasn’t enough. They hit a bump in the road, and the top
half of Roberto’s body jerked out of the buggy. “Fuck. Grab my
arm.”

The other man wasn’t big, but at the
speed they were going, when Roberto snaked his tan hands around
Beckett’s arm, it felt like over a hundred pounds of dead weight
yanking on his shoulder. Pain radiated in the joint as sweat poured
down Becektt’s face. The emergency brake was helping, but it only
stopped the rear wheels, and they were still picking up speed. How
the hell was he going to crash land them without killing Roberto
and sending the guy flying?

Beckett could feel the sweat on
Roberto’s palms as they slid on his arms, and he tried for
purchase. Beckett met Roberto’s frozen stare with a hard one.
“Listen to me, man. You’re not going to die. I won’t let that
happen. I’m not letting you go.”

Beckett tried again to yank Roberto
back to a sitting position, but no luck. The guy was already two
thirds of the way out of the seat, and without leverage, Beckett
couldn’t make that happen.

As they got closer to the grassy
hills, Beckett veered hard to the right. The car slowed as they hit
the grass. He aimed right for the center hill, then let the
steering wheel go. With his other arm, he reached for Roberto.
“Here, grab my other hand. I have to pull you in before we land
this bitch!” he shouted.

But Roberto shook his head from side
to side. “Can’t, let go.” The Italian’s eyes locked on Beckett.
Beckett knew the look of someone who knew they were about to die.
He’d seen it on his mother before she passed away. He wasn’t going
to let someone else die on his watch. If Roberto wasn’t going to
take his other arm, then Beckett had no choice but to pull him in
with his one arm.

Beckett checked their
distance to the hill—about thirty feet. Wrapping his right hand
around the brace bar, he gritted his teeth.
Fifteen feet
. He made sure his knees
were at a ninety degree angle.
Ten
feet.
He ignored the pain in his shoulder,
held his breath, and yanked.
Five
feet
. A foot to go, and Beckett slammed
his teeth together, pulling with everything he had.

Ricca tapped an impatient
foot as she watched Beckett sleep. She pretty much hadn’t left his
side since Mexico. Right after the crash, everything had been so
chaotic. When the distress call had come, she’d wanted to be with
the first responders, but she’d had to stay behind and do some PR
of the,
No, we don’t know what possibly
could have happened
variety. And
the,
Of course we’re sending out best
responders to the scene,
dance. And the
pat-pat, rub-rub with Lila.

When the medical team had brought
Beckett and Roberto back, she’d been nearly as sick with worry as
Lila was. Seeing Beckett on that stretcher made her forget how
angry she was at him for kissing her. For challenging her. In that
moment, she didn’t care about their confused relationship. She’d
only wanted him to be okay. He could have been killed in that
crash.

The Ambulance had taken both Beckett
and Roberto to the local hospital, and Roberto had been airlifted
back to San Diego, though by the looks of him, he’d be fine. No
need to risk any other mishaps by keeping him in Mexico any longer.
Beckett appeared to be fine as well. Well, mostly fine. He’d
dislocated his shoulder and had a mild concussion. But from what
she could understand of the rapid fire Spanish the med team had
prattled at her, he was lucky to have survived and would be
fine.

They’d sedated him and put him on a
flight back home. Now, as she watched his chest rise and fall, she
thought about what she’d say to him. Of all the irresponsible
things—to let a client drive when they were unfamiliar with the
terrain. Serena had insisted that Roberto would be fine, and
Beckett had acquiesced because they’d had no choice. But honestly,
Ricca thought he should have fought harder. Roberto had no business
driving a course that dangerous. And he hadn’t even covered the
first rule of safety—to check all harnesses. But Beckett had been
there. Why hadn’t he checked?

She scrubbed her hands down her face.
She needed a break. For the last four days, she had taken shifts
with Caleb, Micha, and Jaya to watch over him and see if he needed
any help. Lila and Roberto had even called several times to see how
he was doing. Roberto felt terrible and kept going on about how
Beckett had saved his life.

Tears pricked Ricca’s eyes, and she
rapidly blinked them away. No point crying for a man who didn’t
want her. No point watching the pot either. She’d finish cooking
dinner, then get back home and finish up the preliminaries for the
next fantasy for Lila and Roberto. While still a little shaken,
Roberto was just as enthusiastic about all the fantasies. In
particular, he wanted Lila’s first to be over the top romantic.
Ricca just hoped Lila’s would be far less adventurous than
Roberto’s had been.

Standing up and stretching
her legs, Ricca snuck one last look at Beckett’s sleeping
form.
He could have died.
A small shudder stole up her back. He could have
died, and she’d never told him how she felt.
No, don’t be an idiot.
Just because
she was playing Florence Nightingale for him didn’t mean he had
dirty nurse fantasies about her.

Padding into his kitchen,
she stirred the curry on the stove. He loved curry. The food should
last him a couple of days till he could cook on his own. Who was
she kidding? She loved cooking for him, taking care of him.
Oh fantastic. She’d turned into a Stepford
wife
. Too smothering, just like Charles
had said.

“Get a grip, Ricca,” she mumbled to
herself.

With no desire to commune with her own
thoughts, she turned the CD player in the kitchen on to low. The
smooth calypso sounds on Beckett’s iPod made her smile. She’d
turned him onto some new artists. For a moment, she let the soft
music flow into her soul.

With little effort, she slipped into a
mild dance as she cooked. No matter the lies she told herself, she
was happy Beckett was going to be okay—fool that he was. She had to
be careful though. They’d both already crossed the line of
friendship. At some point, they’d have to look at the whys of what
they both had done if they wanted to stay friends. But today wasn’t
the day for that. Once he was back at work, they could sort it out.
She would handle whatever he said to her better than she’d handled
him in college.

The pang of the memory snapped her
backward in time. The one time she’d ever thought there could be
something between them. Of course she’d been delusional. Swim stars
didn’t chase after plump, homely Trini girls. But Beckett had
seemed different. Like now, he’d been more Jaya’s friend, but he’d
had a couple of classes with Ricca. He always made it a point to
sit with her, partner with her for projects. And he’d been sweet
and charming—just like now.