Riding Shotgun (Mercenaries 3) (3 page)

The vibration in the engine escalated. Shit. She eased back on the throttle a hair, keeping one eye on her competitor. The buildings on both sides of the improvised track flashed by in a blur. She could make it. She knew she could. She gritted her teeth. One mile to go.

It seemed like an eternity. She could see the black car inching up on her left side. She roared over the finish line with less than a half-car lead. Way too tight for comfort.

Easing up on the throttle, she feathered her brakes and made a wide loop to bring the car into the parking lot. When it finally shuddered to a halt, she let out the breath she’d been holding and slumped against the steering wheel. That had been way too close for comfort. She’d been the odds-on favorite in this race, and it should have been a walk in the park. She didn’t like close finishes, and she didn’t like surprises when it came to her car.

“You cheating bitch, get out of that car.”

Kalie jumped as the driver from the black car banged both fists down on her side window, his face contorted with rage. What the hell was going on? First the car started having problems when it shouldn’t, and now this? The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was a kid throwing a temper tantrum because he’d lost.

It got weirder. Shotgun materialized behind the kid, grasping his arms behind him. “I think you need to calm down, feller.”

Shotgun? What was he doing here? And how had he known where to find her? She sure as hell hadn’t told him about the race. After their little tryst, she hadn’t expected to see him again. Did life ever get any easier? She released the door hatch and clambered out of her car, eyeing the kid with contempt. Sore losers didn’t get far in this business. “You lost. Get over it.”

Shotgun looked every bit as good as she remembered, and for some reason that pissed her off. She’d convinced herself that last night’s little dalliance had been a combination of hormones and poor judgment. Apparently not, or else her hormones and judgment issues weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet.

“I was supposed to win. They told me it was a set deal,” the kid snarled at her, while twisting helplessly in Shotgun’s grasp.

“A set deal?” She stopped, turning her full attention on him. “They said I was going to throw the race? I never throw a race. Who told you that?”

The kid stilled, his eyes going wide. Seemed he’d just realized he’d made a tactical error. “No one. It was no one. It’s just you’re a girl. Who can’t beat a girl?” His voice rose to an ear-shattering wail. “They’re never going to let me on the circuit again.”

Kalie looked at Shotgun and gave a slight shake of her head. “Let him go. If he’s stupid enough to think he was going to win just because he’s got a dick, he’s not worth talking to. And if he believed I’d throw the race, he’s even stupider.”

Shotgun smiled, and there was absolutely no warmth in it. “The lady said to let you go so I will. I understand that she needs to be respected. If I ever, ever see you anywhere near her again, it’s going to take more doctors than you can find in this city to put you back together again. Are we clear on that?”

“Yeah.” The kid nodded vigorously, keeping his eyes focused on the pavement. “I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just upset because I lost, you know?”

“No. I don’t. Now get your sorry ass out of my sight.” Shotgun shoved the kid aside hard, not paying any attention as the hapless driver landed on his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet and took off into the shadows at the corner of the lot.

Shotgun’s smile was decidedly warmer as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Kalie’s ear. “Nice driving. Want to go out for a celebratory drink?”

She looked down at her car. “Sounds like a hell of an idea. Just let me go collect my winnings.”

He reached out and pulled her toward him, lowering his head to ghost an achingly sweet kiss across her lips. “I’ll wait right here.”

That was a kiss? She pulled his head down and fastened her lips on his, devouring his mouth with all of the frustration that had been building since these incidents with the car had begun three months ago. When she let him go, the dazed look on his face gave her a fleeting moment of satisfaction. Maybe he’d stop referring to her as a little girl now!

Shotgun lounged against the wall of the garage as Kalie slid out from beneath her car and stood up, a wrench dangling loosely from one hand. She probably had no idea how adorable she looked with a smear of grease across one cheek. She looked surprised to see him.

“Did you want something?” The distantly polite note in her voice was a far cry from the passionate screams he’d managed to elicit from her the other night. This girl played major hard to get. She’d jump into his arms willingly enough when she wanted some action, but getting her to open up about herself, to let him inside her head, now that was a whole different matter.

“Just thought I’d hang around a bit, watch you work on the car.” If you’d asked him last week if he believed in love at first sight, he would have laughed. Maybe that romantic bullshit was okay for Sarge or Jackson. Sure. They’d both fallen fast and hard for their gals. But he was different. Hardnosed. Pragmatic.

He’d seen too much, done too much. He wasn’t the kind of guy a woman would want to keep in her life. He knew that and he was okay with it. The women he occasionally took to bed knew the score. He was just scratching an itch. Nothing permanent about it.

Then came Kalie. The first time he’d touched her, holding her down on the ground while he disarmed her, he’d felt a curious shifting in his chest. She was different. Together, they were different. He’d known she was telling the truth long before he marched her down that cliff, because he couldn’t possibly feel this way about a woman who wasn’t one of the good ones.

Yeah, he was falling in love with her. And that was okay. She needed him. Needed him to look after her. Even if she didn’t realize it yet.

She cocked her head, a frown marring the perfection of her forehead. “Why?”

He smiled, letting her see the gentler side of him. Hiding the side that wanted to rip her clothes off and bury himself deep inside her again and again, until he was finally sated. Only he’d never be sated, never have enough of her. “Because a woman with a wrench just turns me on, little girl.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I thought we established that I’m not a little girl.”

He grinned. She wasn’t about to let him get away with anything. “Oh yeah. We did that, but maybe I need a reminder?”

She stared at him for one long moment, and he held his breath. Then she laughed, the sound musical in the grimy garage. “Nice try but I have work to do. The left cylinder head gasket is going on this pile of crap, and replacing it is not fun. Especially considering I already replaced it less than a month ago.”

It was his turn to frown. “I’m no grease monkey, but aren’t those things supposed to last longer than that? Like years longer?”

She nodded grimly, the humor gone as quickly as it had arrived. “Yeah. They are. Something strange is going on here, and I don’t like it. This isn’t the first perfectly good part to fail at a critical time.”

“A critical time? What do you mean?”

She sighed. “It started to give way during the race yesterday. That’s why I laid off at the end and let that kid get so close to me. If I’d opened the car up full in the home stretch, the engine would have blown sky high.”

They said it was a done deal
. The kid’s words echoed in Shotgun’s mind. Suddenly the identity of the people who’d told the kid that took on a whole new importance. “Who has access to your car? Who would have been able to sabotage it?”

Kalie shook her head. “No one. I work on it myself, and the only person who gets remotely near it is the guy who fuels me up before the race. He’s just a kid, and I’m not sure he could identify the parts of the engine, let alone sabotage them.”

“What else has been going wrong lately? You mentioned this was just the last in a series of incidents.”

She shrugged. “Other parts’ failures. Tires shredding their steel belts. Bits of metal snapping when they shouldn’t. Anyone else would just call it a run of bad luck…” She squirmed uncomfortably.

“But?”

“But I know better. When I put my hands on the car, I can feel it working. I would know if there’s a problem. Like Saralyn can read the computers by touch, I have an affinity for machines. I should be able to tell if there is a problem and my car should never, ever have issues during a race. Ask anyone. My rep is built on what they think is my amazing luck with the cars.”

He stared at her shrewdly. “Does anyone else know about your abilities?”

She shook her head. “No one who wasn’t in that lab with me. I’m not dumb enough to risk my life by bragging. Which means I can’t go accusing anyone of anything without explaining why I think something is going on.” She sighed “And then there’s the fact that no one should be able to get near my car. Maybe I’m just going crazy.” She looked up. “I have no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

He grinned again. “Because I’m your very own Prince Charming and I’m going to solve all of your problems?”

She smiled ruefully. “Yeah. And then we’ll live happily ever after in a great big palace full of antique muscle cars.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. I was thinking we could live in a little house in the woods with a white picket fence and a station wagon full of kids, but if you want a palace…”

She wrinkled her nose. “A station wagon full of kids? Seriously?”

He flashed her his sexiest smile. “Well, since we seem to have trouble keeping our hands off each other, there’s going to be a passel of kids involved, which means we’ll be needing a station wagon. Or maybe a minivan.”

Kalie rolled her eyes. “Suddenly the gasket seems like the least of my worries. Why didn’t you tell me you were delusional?”

Shotgun shrugged and paced across the distance between them. “I find girls tend to stick around longer if they think I’m at least reasonably sane. But, to get back to the car problems, is there anyone with the opportunity to sabotage your car? Or a motive, for that matter?”

“Well, the motive is easy. Anyone who wants to beat me in a race.” She paused, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “Or wants to make sure I don’t qualify for the season’s big windup race next month.”

“Tell me about that one. How do you qualify?”

“The bookie decides based on your performance in the races throughout the summer. If you win enough, and the bettors like your style, then you get an invite. A maximum of twenty drivers compete, because the roads they run are on the outer circles and any more would be too dangerous. The route is different each year, so the drivers can’t prepare in advance. It’s a hundred miles of the toughest racing in the Provinces.” She paused. “I’ve run it three years in a row now, and until recently I thought I might have a chance to win it this year.”

“What’s the payoff?”

She shrugged. “Enough cash that I’d never have to worry again. My rep would be made solid.”

Shotgun let out a soft whistle. Money was a huge motivator, even without the prestige of winning something this big. “Sounds serious. I know a lot of lowlifes who would create major mayhem for a lot less.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but how? No one but me goes near my car.”

“Let me think on it. There must be something here you’re overlooking. In the meantime, what kind of plans do you have for tonight?”

She blinked. “Tonight? None. Why?”

“Because I’d like to introduce you to my teammates. Saralyn is planning a barbeque to celebrate Jackson’s birthday and I told her I was bringing you with me.”

She arched one of those delectable brows. “Don’t you think you should have asked me first? What if I had plans?”

“You’d change them because you wouldn’t want to disappoint Saralyn.” He tried out his innocent look, which usually had the effect of scaring the crap out of people. “So how about it? You said you didn’t have any plans, and I need to show the guys that I can score at least one date every year or two.”

She laughed. “It’s been that long since you managed to get a date?”

He shrugged. “Of course not. But the women in question usually don’t hang around long enough to meet the guys. I think it has something to do with my awesome social skills.”

“I’m sure it does.” She shook her head. “Let me finish pulling this cylinder head off, and then I’ll go get cleaned up for the party. I can’t get another gasket until tomorrow. Are you going to come pick me up, or should I meet you there?”

Shotgun grinned. “I knew you’d say yes! I’ll just wait here, and take you back with me. That way you won’t have a chance to change your mind.”

* * *

“So you’re the one who’s stolen our sharpshooter’s heart.” Kaeden looked like something right out of a Norse mythology book, complete with the long blond hair tied back with a leather strap. He enveloped her in a bear hug before she had time to avoid it.

“Easy, Sarge. The little girl doesn’t like to be mauled by strangers.” Shotgun managed to extricate her from his buddy’s clinch.

Kalie rolled her eyes. “For the umpteenth time, I’m not a little girl.”

“Well, you’re not very big.” The speaker was a lanky man with a mop of dark curly hair. Trace? Or Pete? She was so not good at this friendly group thing. She’d already managed to forget half their names.

“Trust me, if you piss her off she’s big enough.” Saralyn came to her rescue. “I remember how she used to drive the guards nuts back in the lab. If you’re not careful, she just might consider resurrecting some of her nastier tricks.”

“Well now, that’s a serious threat.” The laughter in his eyes betrayed his total lack of concern for her possible retaliation.

“So Shotgun says you’ve been having some trouble with your car lately. He thought maybe someone might be sabotaging it on purpose?” Right, the guy with the dark hair was Pete. This was Trace.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. A couple of minor incidents, but I think I’ve got it under control now.” She flashed an irritated look at Shotgun. He’d been talking to his teammates about her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.