Magnetic Shift (12 page)

“But she won’t even talk to me.”

“Not my problem. You put yourself in this mess, you get yourself out of it. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

My head swayed back, and the crew’s eyes all landed on me. “Don’t look at me,” I said. “He’s the jerk.” Lenny shook his head and walked away.

Colton burst out, letting the side door slam against the
hauler, and narrowed his eyes at his crew. “Don’t you guys have shit you should be doing?” The men scattered back toward the pit.

Colton grabbed the hanging sleeves of his fire suit and began tying them around his waist as he turned. He froze when he saw me standing there, and our eyes locked.

My heart pounded. The urge to crumble into his arms came out of nowhere. Where had that thought come from? His stern expression faded. We stood there for what seemed like minutes. Finally, he sidestepped around me and left me there alone to catch my breath.

Saturday evening I opted to eat with the boys at Lenny’s RV, knowing that Dean and Colton would be at the hauler watching the ProNation race. As I finished my plate, a tall, creepy, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a two-toned navy suit and Stetson hat approached.

“Lenny. Long time no see.”

“I’m at the same place you are every weekend,” Lenny answered him.

“Can we talk?” The man eyed us all. “In private?”

Lenny put down his grilling utensils and took his apron off. “Sure, lets walk.” They hobbled off together.

I nudged Jimmy, who’d been sitting beside me. “Who was that?”

“That, my dear, is Carl Stacy. Team owner of the SunCorp 220 car.”

I pointed over my shoulder. “That was Carl Stacy?” I knew
who he was thanks to Roy, but I’d never seen the man’s face. He didn’t look at all how I’d pictured. “What’s he want with Lenny?”

Dylan cleared his throat and leaned forward on the edge of his seat. “Rumor has it he’s going broke, so he’s putting another team together next season, hoping to supplement his income. Looks like he’s trying to recruit.”

“Can he do that?”

“He can,” Jimmy said. “Question is, would Lenny jump ship?”

“Depends on what Carl offers him.” Dylan leaned back in his folding chair and chuckled. “Man, Dean’s not going to like this.”

I glanced to where Lenny and Carl were deep into conversation. “I guess not.”

“Oh, darlin’, you don’t know the half of it. Carl is Dean’s stepdad’s cousin.”

I snapped my glance back at Dylan. “His stepdad?”

“Yeah. The guy who beat him to a pulp every time he came home from a race. Dean’s stepdad drove for Carl until he died in a racing accident shortly after Dean went to the police with his allegations. Carl blames him for his cousin’s death.” He leaned back in his chair. “I tell ya, Carl practically blew a gasket when he heard Dean was starting up his own team last year and even more so now that he’s got himself a Cup series team.”

“Shut it, Dyl. Dean’s coming,” Jimmy said in a loud, throaty whisper.

Colton and Dean sauntered over and joined us.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Hey. Didn’t expect you guys here so soon. Race ain’t over yet.”

Dean pulled up a folding chair and took a seat. “Link’s done. Got caught in a pile-up in turn four. Car’s totaled.”

Dylan sighed. “Shit.”

My hand flew to the front of my chest. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Medics cleared him twenty minutes ago. He’s with his family now.” Dean glanced around. “Where’s Lenny?”

Everyone looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with other things.

“He’s with Carl Stacy over there.” I nodded to where they stood in the distance. Jimmy elbowed me. “What?” I glared at him. “He is.”

Colton hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his cargo shorts and stepped back. He had his shades on and his ball cap set low. It was too dark to see his full face, but something told me this was going to end badly.

Just then, Carl and Lenny returned. Lenny averted his eyes when Dean tried to meet them.

“Carl.” Dean stood and extended his hand out. “To what do we owe the displeasure?”

Carl took his hand, ignoring the jab. “Came to talk to my friend Lenny here.” He patted Lenny on the back with his free hand. “But he didn’t sound too interested in what I had to say.”

Dean let go of Carl’s hand and gave Lenny a side-glance. “I’m happy to hear that. No offense.”

“None taken. I heard you had a hard time controlling that rookie of yours during qualifying today.” Carl nodded in Colton’s direction.

Colton’s head dipped as his remaining exposed fingers curled up into his palms.

“Nah. Just a small misunderstandin’, ain’t that right, Colt?”

Colton lifted his gaze. “Right, boss.”

“Well, you better keep your kid, Rocket here, from trading any more paint with my 220 or there will be hell to pay.”

“What are you complaining about? Mitch won Daytona last week,” Dean said.

“Your rookie damaged my car real good. Repairs don’t come cheap, you know.”

“Rubbin’s racin’, Carl. It’s all part of the game. And since when do you worry about money?”

“That may be true, but if he as much as grazes my car tomorrow, we’re taking him out. I can’t afford to throw money around because of this kid’s inexperienced, immature nonsense.”

Dean’s face hardened. Carl laughed and tipped his oversized cowboy hat to the rest of the group. “Have a good night, boys. Oh, and Dean, one more thing.”

Dean squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s that?”

Carl jutted his chin up at Colton. “Your pops would’ve liked this one.”

Dean lunged toward him. Colton, Dylan, and Jimmy rushed to hold him back. “You son of a bitch. Stay away from my driver and crew, do you hear me?”

Carl strolled off, laughing. Dean pulled himself out of his team members’ holds, but Dylan kept a hand on his shoulder while Dean snarled at Carl’s back. “He’s not worth it, Dean. Let him go.”

Dean cursed under his breath and stormed off toward his motor coach. No one dared to follow him. My gut churned, knowing what he must be going through. As much as I liked to
think that I had bigger things to worry about than Roy’s abusive behavior back home, I still cringed at the memory of his hand coming down on me more times than I could count. So many times I’d thought of using my ability to end him, or just threaten him, but I knew it would’ve made things a lot worse. Dean and I shared that. He’d found the courage to report his stepfather, but was still paying the price thanks to Carl. In situations like ours, you were damned if you did, and damned if you didn’t.

chapter ten

“I still say you should report him,” I heard Colton telling Dean in the kitchen. I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand to check the time. It was almost noon.

“It’s his word against ours, Colt. NASCAR’s not going to do anything about it. Not until he actually does something.”

“Yeah, after the damage is done and he costs me the race.”

“He’s just trying to get under your skin, Colt. Don’t let him. You do, and he wins regardless. Now get your butt in gear. The team needs you out in the garage.”

I buried my face in my pillow for a few seconds then grumbled as I pulled myself out of bed and shambled over to the door. I reached for the door knob.

“Is
she
coming?” Colt asked in a softer tone.

I hesitated. Was he talking about me?

“She’ll be there.”

I picked that moment to step out of my room. Both Dean and Colton glanced my way.

Colton slipped his shades on, his face hardening. “I’ll see
you later, Dean.” He spun and ducked out the door.

Dean set his elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two are going to have to talk sooner or later.”

Ignoring his comment, I shuffled past him to the cupboard and pulled down a box of Frosted Flakes, then snatched the milk from the fridge, closing the door with a hip check. Not the best choice of food this late in the day, but I didn’t think I could stomach anything else.

“Lexi?”

“Dean, all I want is an apology. Until then …”

Dean sighed. “Okay, well, I’ll see you out there.” I nodded. Dean shook his head and left me to eat alone.

With an hour left before the race I began making my way to the hauler when my phone chirped in my back pocket. I reached for it and swiped my thumb over the screen. Dean had sent me a text.

911. Where are you?

911? What could have possibly happened for him to summon me via 911? I picked up speed and turned the phone sideways to make the screen keys bigger. I wasn’t used to this texting thing yet.

On my way to the hauler. What’s up?

Within seconds, my phone chirped again.

Get your butt here now! How fast can you Re & Re an engine?

Remove & Reinstall? Shit! I didn’t bother replying, I ran past fans, golf carts, security gates, and rounded into our garage stall. White smoke wafted through the air and lingered at the
ceiling. Blown head gasket. It had to be. But how and why? I glanced back at the hauler. Crew members were hauling a new engine down from the top compartment.

“Son of a bitch. Son of a fu—”

“Colton!” Dean yelled from in front of the toolbox.

“Dean. I’m here. What the hell happened?”

“Lexi, oh, thank God. No time to explain.” He handed me some safety glasses and a few tools. “Get under that hood and start dismantling. We need all hands on deck. I want that engine removed yesterday.”

A stabbing pain shot out from my core. “You want
me
to dismantle the engine?” My eyes flicked to the engine bay of the car. “Here?”

Dean wanted my speed, but I couldn’t use my ability now. Not in such a public setting.

“This one’s finished and the backup car will never be ready in time. This is your moment, kid, now get to work.” Dean patted me on the back and rushed off to help the others.

Shit.

I bit my lip and glanced around to pinpoint everyone’s distance. Fans were being redirected to the neighboring stalls to give the crews space to work, and the crews were so busy that no one besides Dean seemed to know I was even there. Could I pull this off? I plunged my hands down into the engine bay and mimicked the normal removal process with my wrench while loosening every one with the twitch of my wrist. No one hovered, and the noise from the neighboring team’s air guns and impact wrenches masked my lack of tool use. The task took longer than if I’d been alone, but was fast enough to put a smile on Dean’s face when I told him to bring the engine crane over.
I ducked under the car, unbolted the engine and transmission from their mounts, and gave them the go-ahead to lift her on out.

I stood off to the side, wiping my hands with a shop rag, antsy as I watched the techs take the transmission and exhaust from the damaged engine and install them onto the spare one, preparing it to be dropped into the car. I fought the urge to push everyone aside and yell out “let me do it,” knowing that, in a perfect setting, I could have done it all in half the time it was taking them. Instead, I just stood there, biting the inside of my cheek into hamburger meat. Colton stood opposite of me, watching his crew hurrying to reconnect the cooling and ignition systems. I wanted to help so bad, but with all the techs now elbow-deep in the engine bay, there was no room for me.

When Dylan finally leaned into the driver side window and fired her up, she growled and purred like a charm, and everyone cheered.

Dean motioned Dylan to shut her off and got everyone’s attention. “Good work, guys. Do a final check for coolant and vacuum leaks, and let’s get her to the inspection booth.”

The boys rolled the car out, leaving Colton and me alone in the garage.

“Son of a bitch,” I heard him mutter from where he stood near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s with you?” I asked. “It’s fixed.” It hadn’t been my intention to sound so harsh. I actually wanted the tension between us gone, but Colton took it the way it sounded.

“It’s fixed, but now I’m forced to drop from a fourth starting position to the rear of the field for doing a last-minute engine swap.”

“Oh … I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah, well.” he dropped his arms. “That’s just another reason why NASCAR’s not the place for you.” He took off before I could react.