Tracks To Love: An Enemies To Lovers Alpha Hero Romance Read online

  The men glared at each other.

  “You agreed to do this, Tate.” Cord’s words were slow and deliberate as he pointed his expensive ink pen across the table at the racecar driver.

  Tate stood and paced the room. “It was a beer conversation at Happitizers Bar over a year ago.” He paused his movements and slipped his hands onto his hips in a menacing stance, showing a sexy form with a bit of muscle bulging from his biceps.

  Oh, God, he’s even more gorgeous pissed off.

  “Yes, but you committed your car. It’s the first 2015 Z06 released in shark grey, and we need Speed Shield to do the wrapping, since your car is in Dallas. They’re the best at game graphics anyway, and you’ve got the connection with Trey. Then we’ll use North Dallas Video for the live shoot.” Cord closed his laptop. “C’mon man, don’t do this.”

  Speed Shield? Why the Speed Shield in Dallas?

  “There are other places besides Speed Shield.” I uttered before thinking. Of course it was a lie, because the company was top notch and known in the racing world for its high quality work.

  Tate looked me straight in the eyes. “Trey and his team are world recognized and I think you’re more than aware of that.” His low voice was direct and made a statement. It was a signal to mean he knew the owner, Trey, and I were friends. Dammit.

  Dallas was home. It held my past with Rowan and the racing life we shared—until he was gone.

  At that point, the foundation of the building dropped out from under me, leaving me ready to hurl what little I had in my stomach. “Excuse me for a moment, fellas.”

  Craving a change in body temperature, I felt the cold stone tile of the bathroom wall through my silk blouse as I leaned back against it. Sweat beaded my forehead and the back of my neck. I dabbed at it before wiping the residue of vomit from my lips with a paper towel.

  Visions of Rowan’s motorcycle reaching almost two hundred miles per hour right before the crash flooded my brain and made me weak in the knees. I tried my damnedest to avoid any triggers that might pull those horrible images back into my mind, and this project would put me at serious risk mentally.

  The sound of an engine’s roar, over and over, racing around the track again and again, spun in my mind like a cyclone and caused me to shudder uncontrollably.

  Repetitive. That’s what the pain of the last three years was like. Repetitive, over and over, like an unyielding vicious cycle.

  Slowly opening the conference door to slip in, hopefully unnoticed, I found Cord standing with his computer bag over his shoulder and smiles on all four of the men’s faces.

  “Nice of you to return, coffee girl.” Tate coughed, his eyes locking on the dermal piercing above my lip, and I suddenly wondered if he liked them—or not.

  Since he likes coffee showers so well, I’ll make a mental note to repeat it. My mind was so snarky and ready to launch, I had to fight my tongue before I got fired.

  Cord and Bryan departed, leaving me to iron out the new agenda with Tate and Marcus. We worked through lunch, but I didn’t dare put anything else in my stomach. I merely stirred my salad around, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

  When Marcus volunteered me to escort Tate to the airport in the company limo, I fought the urge to crumble in front of them. There was no escaping this project without leaving my job. I knew what I had to do.

  Survival.

  Marcus took the private elevator to his penthouse while Tate and I entered the other elevator car for the office below, so that I could retrieve my purse. As we descended in silence, he focused on his phone while I rehearsed the resignation letter I would type as soon as I returned to my apartment.

  No job is worth my sanity…

  Traffic was congested, and the limo driver hadn’t made it under the portico. I thought, with the way my day had gone so far, what was a little rain? In my attempt to run for the open door, the heel of my dress shoe caught the curb, my legs twisted, and I collapsed into an ungraceful tumble. Strong hands gripped my arms, pulling me back before I could face plant on the concrete.

  Tate.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, wiping wet hair from my face as he slid into the car beside me.

  “You’re bleeding.” His gaze was on my knee. A handkerchief appeared from nowhere; then he applied slight pressure. “I think you may need a few stitches.”

  “So, you’re a doctor now?”

  “No, but I played one on TV,” he joked, and for the first time, I saw a softness in his eyes.

  Okay, just maybe he has a secret, charming persona he lets out on occasion.

  We shared a smile, and I suddenly sensed he had a different side to him, one that he worked to hide from the world.

  His body was protectively leaning against mine, giving me the opportunity to inhale and I found his scent divine.

  No, stay focused.

  When he told the driver to head for the Hotel Riu in Times Square, I sent him a questioning glance. I was supposed to be escorting him to the airport.

  “While you were staring off into space in the elevator, I was making a hotel reservation to stay another night. We’ll get a doctor to look at your knee. Then you can have dinner with me.”

  Plotting a resignation from a coveted role at an advertising agency isn’t exactly staring off into space. “I’m not having dinner with you. Not tonight, not ever.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier today.” A warm smile and friendly eyes reached out to me and almost took me in. “I owe you an apology, and I thought we could start over. After all, we’re going to be working very closely together.”

  Ha, that’s where he’s wrong.

  Giving him a slight laugh, I said, “You’ve lost your mind, right? We’re both covered in coffee and as best I can recall, we have nothing in common but contempt.”

  He slid his hips over on the seat, giving him space to face me. “I figured out who you were the moment you sat in front of me at the table, Willow. The hair may not be bleached blonde anymore, and there’s a new bit of bling.” He paused to touch the diamond just to the right of my top lip. “But underneath, you still have a racing passion. I understand why this type of project might be too much to ask of you, but you’ve got to stare your demons down someday. Why not do it with me?”

  What the hell does he know about my demons? And he was a freakin’ fool if he thought I was gonna be his beck and call girl by day and his booty call by night. “No, thanks.”

  “Please? I promise not to bite, and the hotel is already prepared with a change of clothes I ordered for you.”

  “You make too many assumptions, Mr. Conway. The answer is still no.”

  When the driver dropped Tate off at the hotel, I didn’t bother to get out. I’d said all I needed to say, even though his dark eyes sparkled when he smiled, and in some ways, I did enjoy his cocky banter. But the “no” still presented very easily.

  For me, there was never going to be a choice.

  Racing would never be a part of my life ever again.

  3

  Tate

  As much as I hated coffee splattered all over my custom suit, I couldn’t help but be amused at Willow’s flustered face. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes got huge—it was utterly sexy. The minute we sat down at the conference table, I realized who she was.

  A few years back I saw her at a mutual sponsor’s party in Dallas with her boyfriend, Rowan Fields, whom I’d known in the racing world since he was eighteen. He was hell on a bike and an overall nice guy. She was sexy as sin, her curves filling out a lace top and tight leather skirt, and long, tan legs that were any man’s dream.

  The hair threw me for a split second. I recalled the blonde from years ago, but realized I actually preferred the brunette color she now wore. Her dark eyes didn’t give much away, and I was hooked immediately. There was mystery in those eyes.

  Why New York after living in Dallas?

  The banter back and forth with her was fun. I tend to be attracted to women who have a bit of tes
tiness to them. Hey, if they can’t play the game back, I’m not interested. But, I realized I went overboard when I referred to her as an idiot, and I’m sure she heard that.

  So, I tried to be a gentleman and repair the way I behaved at the meeting. I thought dinner was an honest gesture and even ordered new clothes delivered for her. When she went off on me, it caught me by surprise. What’s a guy supposed to do? Hell, we’re jacked either way. I wasn’t planning on jumping her bones that night, but the thought of ‘eventually’ did cross my mind. The girl was hot, she definitely had my attention for the moment and besides—I was single.

  My bandwidth was pretty full with racing season in full swing. I went into that conference room regretting that I’d committed myself to the project, but when I saw Willow and knew I’d be working with her, I couldn’t sign the contract quick enough.

  Make money and have some fun on the side? Hell, yeah.

  4

  Willow

  Dear Mr. Zion, I was both surprised and flattered when you chose me as your newest intern, but due to…yada, yada, yada.

  The words repeated themselves over and over in my brain as the driver battled the rain and traffic to my apartment building. I couldn’t wait to get to the computer and take care of my banking issues, then type out my resignation.

  I had the phrasing down, but no matter how perfect the letter, a short stint at any job would surely hurt me as I searched for another position. Walking out on a project was not my style, but I knew my therapist would advise me to do the same just as soon as she returned my call.

  My phone beeped with an email message from Marcus:

  While today started with strain, I just received a message from Tate. He will work with you and you only, or the project’s dead. To make sure that you stay focused on the goal, I’ve deposited a bonus in your bank account for your help in getting the contract signed. You’ll also find a package waiting at home for you as a token of apology. Thank you for turning things around. See you for the video shoot in Dallas.

  But of course Marcus couldn’t apologize for being so cunning and manipulative about forcing me to work on the campaign. Imagine that.

  Wait…

  Tate signed the contract? Perhaps he took my dis as a serious challenge.

  My breath caught when I opened the bank app on my phone and discovered a large deposit, more than my entire annual salary. Holy hell!

  “No, the answer still has to be no. I can’t be bought,” I uttered softly as tears flooded my cheeks. That money would have gone a long way to help Mom pay off the mortgage on our tiny house in old east Dallas.

  Watching the raindrops run down the car window, I recalled the days and nights I lay curled into a ball after Rowan died. He was my life, and racing was his world. I couldn’t go back to revisit that pain, when underneath the dark of the night, even breathing was a struggle. Grief paralyzed my lungs even now, as I remembered the moment he faded from life right in front of me on the track.

  He soared, I sank.

  Reaching out to Amanda by text, I prayed she wasn’t on duty and would be free to talk. She was my best and dearest friend in the entire world. I couldn’t guarantee that she’d always agree with me because, well, she was that everything’s black and white type. But I knew I’d get an honest opinion out of her.

  Amanda had been the first one to tell me to survive. It had become my motto. She’d encouraged me to leave nursing, even though we’d been shift partners for several years and she openly admitted how hard it was to put my needs before her own selfishness. Her husband Ben was like a big brother to me, and he’d had a great relationship with Rowan. After the tragedy, the two of them were always there to fill the space when I felt empty, but you can’t replace losing someone you love to death.

  The minute the car came to a stop outside my building, I grabbed my luggage-sized bag and bolted, thanking the driver over my shoulder. As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I heard familiar, female giggles as I approached the door.

  The roommate from hell.

  “Willow, you’re home early.” Mariah sprang up from the couch, leaving her half-naked boyfriend to jump around for his clothes.

  “I’m actually three hours late. Seems you’ve lost track of your day.” Pointing toward the sofa, I said, “Hey, last time I checked, you have a bedroom for that. The sofa, my sofa, isn’t for your nasty-assed boyfriends and you to screw on.”

  Mariah looked over a bare shoulder toward her flavor of the week. “Les, I’ll catch up with you later,” she said with a short tone of dismissal.

  Then she turned her naked body to me. “What crawled up your ass?”

  “As soon as we’re alone, we have to talk.”

  In order to put some distance between us before I shredded her eyes, I walked to the right of our tiny kitchen and opened the door to my bedroom. With haste, I pulled things out of my closet until I came to the box I kept in the bottom, which contained a folder of important documents, my passport and birth certificate, along with my checkbook and spare checks. I rarely wrote checks, using online banking and my debit card for most transactions. Keeping my account balanced to the penny was something my mom had taught me very well. I always maintained a solid handle on my finances, because I learned early not to count on anyone else to help me. Growing up in a dysfunctional family will provide that hard knocks training. Survival.

  The remaining checks’ numbers were inconsistent, which meant several were still missing. I had my answer as to how but not whom. Someone had used me as their pawn for a five-finger discount, but little did they know, I had fire in my belly—and I’d see that they get their punishment.

  Setting my files aside, I noticed the gift from Marcus on my bed, and the brand on the box pulled my attention like a giddy child’s on Christmas morning. Bergdorf Goodman.

  Inside, the delicately placed tissue held a beautiful white blouse. Fendi? Wow, did he ever have great taste. There was a handwritten notecard enclosed.

  I want to apologize for my behavior today. I’m used to getting what I want, but not at the risk of being a complete ass. You’ve been through a lot and deserve more from your employer. Please accept my apology and enjoy a cup or two on me.

  Marcus

  He’d even included a Starbucks gift card.

  The slamming of the apartment door meant the boyfriend had got the message, and yanked me back to reality.

  “Someone sent you a blouse?” Mariah asked, standing at the foot of my bed and wearing a t-shirt big enough to fit a Giants defensive lineman. When I turned toward her, she noticed my coffee stained garment and gasped. “Oh my gosh, what happened?” Her eyes continued to trail down my body. “And you’re bleeding?”

  “Long story. We need to talk about your guests.” I paused and moved to the other side of my bed. “Seems someone has gotten into my checkbook and written some checks for cash, which has left me overdrawn. The only place it’s been is here. I’m not saying it’s you, but perhaps one of your guests?”

  She sat on the storage bench at the end of my bed and frantically ran her hands through her hair. “I would never…”

  “I didn’t accuse you. I said one of your guests, and you’ve had quite a few in the three months we’ve been living here. Mariah, you meet these guys, and then you let them just camp out in our personal space. You can’t do that. Since the checks read cash, I’m hoping the bank has video or something. I’m going to file a report and push the issue, but no more guests for a while. It’s a fair request.”

  She stood and approached me with a finger way too close to my face. “I pay equal money here, and you don’t get to tell me what to do.” Her sudden belligerent behavior suggested she had something to hide.

  “Move your finger before it becomes your next meal.” Once you stand your ground, be prepared to answer the fight. I could hear Rowan’s words in my head.

  Rowan had taught me to defend myself. When we met, I’d just left a violent boyfriend, and my body still bore the war wounds o
f that relationship—my arm was in a cast. The last thing I needed or wanted was another angry man in my life. But Rowan was carefree and different, and it hadn’t taken long for me to fall in love with his protective, nurturing soul.

  He took me to the gym when he wasn’t racing or training and I wasn’t working the emergency room night shift. He taught me to be tough in a fight. He was a scrapper when challenged, if nothing else. He brought out a side of me I’d never known existed. He’d raced hard and partied plenty, but he hadn’t feared life—he lived it.

  Mariah took a couple of steps backwards and put her hands on her hips to match my own posture, her curly auburn hair a mess in her face. She looked like a train wreck. It was then that I first saw the bruises on her arms, and realized she’d dropped a lot of weight in the short time I’d known her.

  “If you don’t agree, I can call the apartment matching service and break the lease here, your choice,” I told her. It was more a matter of dealing with the devil I knew than the giant unknown.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I know nothing about your checks being stolen.” She threw her arms in the air and spun around, exiting my room. Something told me she was lying.

  Breaking the lease wasn’t going to be a problem since I was about to be unemployed and moving on anyway.

  First things first, though. I was desperate to speak with Sonya, my therapist for the last two years. Even though I was no longer a full-time patient, I knew she would agree with me that leaving the agency was the best solution.

  When I sat down on the edge of the bed, my stinging knee finally got my attention. I was surprised to find quite a wide vertical gash, with dried blood smeared all over both legs and shoes.

  Zombie movie casting, anyone?

  Grateful I still had a bag of supplies from my old job stashed away, I painfully cleaned the area and applied Steri-Strips to pull it together as best I could. Tate had been right. I needed stitches, but an emergency room visit wasn’t in my budget.