Tracey’s tears had dried up a long time ago, but Mac still held her in his arms, still couldn’t believe that she’d actually broken down in front of him. He knew the beer was the catalyst but that didn’t change the fact that he’d seen Tracey’s vulnerable side up close and personal. The protectiveness he felt for her doubled in concentration.

After an eternity, she pulled away. Her sapphire-blue eyes watched him with new intensity. Different intensity.

Mac had kept his distance for three days but there was only so much he could take. Having Tracey in his lap, at his fingertips, had every cell in his body screaming for more. As desperately as he wanted to kiss her, he didn’t. Although she’d come alive under his touch, he still felt as if he’d forced the issue the last two times they’d been together. The only two times they’d been together.

As much as he wanted her now, he refused to take advantage of her sudden vulnerability. Had anyone else seen this side to her? The rare glimpse into unprotected blue eyes that tore him apart without even trying.

She traced a finger down the side of his face, soft and slow. Mac blinked and bit back the urge to groan. His groin tightened into a ball of fire and only Tracey could relieve the burn. Her finger stopped at the cleft in his chin. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her lips. After a long look, she squirmed off his lap. Cold air invaded where once he’d been warm. The loss of her weight felt devastating, as if he’d lost a part of himself.

He wanted to pull her back. Needed to feel her against him. Instead, he sat and waited. Waited for her to ask him to leave…or ask him to stay.

What she did do nearly killed him. She turned on all the lights and began unbuttoning her baggy, hip-hugger cargo pants. The brightly lit room wouldn’t camouflage any scars. She didn’t look at him, but determination settled in her eyes. Her courage sent an arrow of pain through him so hard and fast he could barely breathe.

She turned slightly as she pushed the pants over her hips and down her legs. White lace underwear contrasted against her smooth olive skin and Mac’s mouth watered as he stared at the lean body in front of him. She took a steadying breath and turned, exposing her scarred leg, standing in front of him with a stomach-baring T-shirt, a scrap of lace and all the valor of a platoon of soldiers.

Mac couldn’t move his gaze from her eyes. Knew he was supposed to look at her scar, but at that moment he couldn’t have cared less about it. There wasn’t anything in the world that could change the way he felt about her.

The strain in her eyes began to show. Her hands trembled at the effort of exposing her body. Mac’s curiosity finally won out. That and he couldn’t intentionally put Tracey through any more emotional stress.

One instant he was looking in her eyes and the next, her leg. And the scar. The long, thick indention looked as if someone had carved out a chunk of her leg then tried to pull it back together again with the insides missing. Skin pulled tight in some places, making it look painful, or at the very least, uncomfortable.

Mac tried to hide any emotion on his face. Tried not to give away the fact that it looked worse than he imagined. A quick glance to her eyes showed she noticed his reaction. A single tear streaked down her face as she bit her lower lip.

The need to comfort her pushed him off the bed. He knelt in front of her, her courage bringing him to his knees. He wrapped his hands around her small waist, pressed his cheek against her flat stomach and inhaled the lavender scent encasing her body. His lips brushed against her abdomen in a soft caress as his hands traveled down her hips and thighs.

She flinched as his hand brushed over the scar, but it didn’t halt his progress. Each hand grazed over each thigh, equally. Down and back up to cup her bottom and press her closer.

Mac traced the rim of her belly button with his tongue while Tracey’s warm hands curled in his hair, her breathing ragged above him. Desire coursed through his veins in waves, but the need to comfort her overrode anything else, especially any carnal craving he had.

He slid a fingertip along the lacy waistband, moved lower to the sensitive spot next to her hip bone, his lips and tongue circling, teasing and going progressively down.

Straight down to her scar.

Tracey must’ve realized where he was headed. She gasped and shoved away, but Mac caught her hand. Fear and longing mixed in her rounded eyes, conveying more than words ever could.

Slowly, he pulled her toward him, and slowly she came. He pivoted on his knees until she backed up against the bed, then he coaxed her to sit.

Mac moved between her legs, ran his hands along her arms. He studied the scar a little bit longer, intrigued at the intricate work that obviously went into saving her limb.

Tracey trembled under his scrutiny. “You haven’t said anything,” she whispered, staring intently at her lap.

Mac tipped her chin gently, forced her to look at him. Uncertainty gleamed in her eyes with a spark of dread. He had so much to tell her, so much to say, but he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know how to ease the pain that weighed down her otherwise unstoppable character. He moved his knuckles under her jaw, stroked her smooth skin, ran his finger along the erratic pulse of a vein in her neck, down to the hollow near her collarbone. “This is one of my favorite spots,” he murmured.

She took in a ragged breath, her eyes glassy.

“Did you think I’d react like Eddie?”

Tracey’s chin quivered and Mac realized that was exactly what she feared. But she’d shown him anyway.

His gut tightened; his chest constricted the massive pounding of his heart. “I’m glad you trusted me.” He couldn’t disguise the raspy emotion of his voice. Didn’t try. “You keep trusting me with the most important things you have.”

“I do?” she whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he told her. Her gaze softened as though the wall she’d erected cracked down the center. “Lift your arms,” he ordered quietly.

Tracey’s pleading eyes begged for something. For him to stop or continue? He didn’t know. He got his answer when she raised her arms.

Mac lifted the T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. The white lacy bra matched her underwear. It was as if she tried to keep her femininity a secret. He’d barely touched her but her dark nipples peaked tightly against the white lace, her body shouting for attention. He brushed his knuckles across both hardened tips then traced her cleavage with his thumbs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She quit breathing. Stared at him with rounded eyes that called him a liar. Tears rimmed her lashes as she suddenly batted his hands away. “Don’t patronize me, Mac. I know exactly what I am and beautiful isn’t on the list.” She tried to move away, but Mac grabbed her wrists and pinned her still.

“You’re wrong, Tracey.” His quiet voice stilled her. “Look at me.”

She closed her eyes briefly before meeting his gaze. She’d repaired that crack in the wall between them, sure of his insincerity. Her blue eyes filled with defiance and challenge, the ever-present qualities of Tracey that attracted him.

“You have the most incredible blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

She blinked twice. Fast. But still, she sat on guard, her defenses in place.

“You look at me…and…” He shook his head slowly in awe. “I can’t think straight.”

Her chest rose and fell with a few shaky breaths. Her body relaxed the tiniest bit.

“Your hair is so soft.” He let go of her wrists and ran his fingers through her silky black hair. His large hands caressed her shoulders and continued down her arms to her thighs. “So is your skin.”

He kept touching her, softly stroking her legs and exploring her body in the light of the room. His gaze settled on her face and Mac traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “These lips,” he murmured. “All I want to do is kiss these lips, feel them open under mine.”

The defiance in Tracey’s eyes melted into a glazed sheen, but she shook her head absently, obviously not used to the words coming from his mouth. “But, my scar…” she breathed. A horrible haunting look crossed her features and tore Mac apart.

“Your scar doesn’t define you, Tracey. Your strength, fearlessness and character define you. Yes,” Mac conceded, “that scar is big and it’s a part of you for the rest of your life, but it only proves how much courage you have. It proves you’re alive.” God, he wanted her to believe him. “It doesn’t take away from your beauty, Tracey. It just adds to that fire you have…the fire to win and be the best.”

Mac pulled his hands away. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t get past the feeling he wasn’t good enough for her.

Tracey’s brows pulled together before her jaw tightened. She took in several measured breaths. “That was good,” she said, nodding. “You almost had me. Right until the end when you couldn’t stand to touch me anymore.”

Mac took her wrists again and stopped her from standing. She’d completely misread his actions. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to touch you?” The intensity and force of his questions sent wisps of dark hair across her cheek.

“I think actions speak louder than words.”

That’s how it had always been with them. Their actions said what neither of them could verbalize.

If he left her now, he’d be no better than Eddie. Although Mac may not have been worthy of Tracey, his conscience refused to let any part of him resemble Eddie.

Tracey shook her head sadly. “I think you want to believe everything you told me, but—”

Mac kissed her just hard enough to shut her up. He released her wrists, slid his hands through her soft hair and held her head. Any doubts he might’ve had about whether she wanted this kiss disappeared when her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips, and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He’d never ached for anyone as much as Tracey. Her vulnerable side leveled him quicker than if she’d cut him down with a rifle. It was that part of her that was still so fragile.

Mac gave himself a new job. He’d make Tracey feel beautiful. He’d prove to her that she was worthy of someone’s love no matter what kind of scar marred her body.

He disengaged his lips from hers and heard the denial in her moan. He grazed a path down to the perfect spot between her neck and collarbone, still tasting the salt of her tears.

She tilted her head back and Mac groaned as her breasts grazed his chest. Needing to taste her, he made quick work of the front-closure bra and feasted on one dark peak, sucking her into his mouth. The sounds coming from her throat sparked a fire in his body. He pressed her back against the bed and his mouth descended farther. Down to her navel, down to the waistband of her stark-white lace underwear.

He teased the rim of her waistband with his tongue. Her hips came off the edge of the bed on a moan. More than anything he wanted to feel her do that same thing while he was on top of her. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. This was about showing Tracey she was worthy.

Skipping over the underwear, he headed to that part of her she hated most. He kept his kisses, his tongue to the top of her thigh, slowly inching her underwear off until they hit the floor. His fingers caressed the jagged line along her leg as his lips trailed nearby.

A muffled sob surprised him and he looked up. Tracey had covered her face with her arm. His plan to show her he didn’t care about the mark backfired. Maybe the scar didn’t bother him, but she didn’t believe it. Time to abort and go to plan B. He eased her legs farther apart and began at her knee, working his way up on the inside.

Tracey’s cries disappeared, replaced with a sharp inhale. “Mac, you can’t.”

Mac reached the patch of curly black hair and breathed in her scent. “Yes, I can.”

She lifted her head in wide-eyed innocence. “But you ca…I’ve nev—”

He kissed her, separated her with his tongue and tasted her. Tracey all but came off the bed. Mac held her hips and kept a steady rhythm with his tongue, loving the sounds she made as he took her with his mouth. Her musky scent, her taste and those sweet moans turned him inside out. He was hard and desperate to sink inside her. But when her legs tightened around his face and her fingers clutched his hair, his need to take her all the way conquered all. He slid one finger into her slick heat, then two. All while his tongue stroked her into a burning ball of fire.

She writhed beneath him, called out his name as her body shattered, exploded around his fingers and shook until she lay limp on the bed. Her fingers loosened in his hair as he softly kissed her thigh.

Mac picked her up and eased her under the covers. He burned for her, but refused to give himself the pleasure her body could give him. In a couple of days, the race would be over and he’d be back to his business, away from the reminders of his cowardice.

Tracey’s heavy lids masked her blue eyes. “Mmm,” she purred, “are you going to come under these sheets and let me reciprocate?”

Mac brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. The thought of her going down on him sent a fresh wave of lust below his belt. “Why don’t you take a little nap and we’ll continue where we left off.” With all that beer in her system, once she went to sleep, she’d be out for the night.

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, he looked deep into her mesmerizing blue eyes. “Yeah.” He kissed her forehead and let his lips linger against her warm skin before pulling away. Her lids drifted closed and her breathing steadied. He quashed the urge to run his fingers along her jaw one last time. The knot in his stomach twisted painfully.

The last two times they’d had this kind of encounter she’d made it clear she didn’t want a morning after. Instead of putting her in the awkward position she obviously hated, Mac went to his room, closing the adjoining door between them with soft finality.

 

A hard insistent knock at the door woke Mac the next morning. A shaft of sunlight peeked through thick curtains. He glanced at the clock and rolled onto his side, quietly cursing the moron on the other side of the door. His restless night had ended about forty minutes ago when he’d finally fallen into a dead sleep.

Half a dozen different times during the night, he’d wanted to open the damn adjoining door and lie down next to Tracey. Hell, he’d wanted to do more than that. He’d wanted to feel every inch of her smooth skin, kiss those full lips and run his hands through her silky hair, then bury himself deep inside her. But he’d forced himself to stay put.

“This better be good,” he groused when he opened the door. He rubbed his eyes, and wiped his hand down his face.

Detective Hahn stood at attention with a uniformed officer next to him.

Apprehension sliced through Mac’s gut before real fear streaked down his spine. “What happened?” He moved toward the adjoining door without thinking. “Is Tracey—”

“Trace’s fine, Mac.” Hahn said. “It’s Eddie Grayling.”

Mac froze. His stomach flipped. He didn’t want to hear that Eddie was dead or think about the consequences for Tracey. “What about him?”

“Where were you last night around two a.m.?”

Bile rose up and Mac ignored the implication. “What happened to Eddie?” he gritted out.

“Someone nailed him over the head with a crowbar last night. He’s at the hospital under observation. Answer my question.”

Mac sighed, relief strong. “I was—” with Tracey, “—here,” Mac said. That fierce protectiveness of Tracey blossomed strong in his chest and he refused to force her into corroborating his story. Besides, he’d only been with her part of the night.

“Alone?” the detective asked.

Mac gestured to the empty room. “What does it look like?”

“I need you to get dressed and come with me to the station,” Hahn said.

Mac stiffened. Complete clarity shattered any remaining cobwebs in his brain. Maybe leaving Tracey had been a stupid idea after all. “Why?”

“Just routine. Need to ask you some questions.”

“Routine, my ass. What the—?”

“Mac? What’s going on?” Tracey stood in the adjoining doorway. With her lids still heavy from sleep and a big robe around her slim body, she looked like a teenager. She also looked a little green around the edges, as though she’d indulged in one too many last night.

“Nothing, Tracey. It’s okay. Go back to sleep,” he said, trying to usher her back to her room.

“It’s not okay.” She pushed past him. The vulnerable lady disappeared. In-your-face Trace was back with a vengeance. “What’s going on?”

Hahn’s brows rose as he glanced behind Tracey. “Is that door always unlocked?”

Tracey clearly realized the insinuation. “When my other room was destroyed, Mac wanted me…Mac thought I’d be safer if he was close by.”

Strained silence filled the room as Hahn glanced between the two of them before focusing on Mac. “We’ll wait for you in the hall,” he said.

“Wait!” Tracey ordered. “What happened?”

Hahn debated for a few seconds. “Eddie Grayling’s in the hospital. Someone attacked him last night at the garage.”

Tracey’s olive skin paled a few shades. A combination of worry, disbelief and fear replaced the hard look in her eyes. Mac put his arm around her shoulders and didn’t give a rat’s ass what Hahn thought.

What the hell was happening and when was it going to end? Had Eddie been hurt intentionally or had he been at the wrong place at the wrong time? Why would—?

“Two minutes, Mac.” Hahn watched him before glancing at Tracey. “We’ll be outside.” He left the room with the officer in tow.

“First Joe. Now Eddie.” Clearly shell-shocked, Tracey looked up at Mac with confusion in her eyes. “Why does Hahn want to talk to you?”

“Just routine,” Mac said, echoing Hahn and throwing the whole thing off as inconsequential. He grabbed a pair of jeans tossed over a chair and headed to the bathroom.

 

Tracey believed that as much as she believed in the tooth fairy. No one pounded on a door this early in the morning and called it “routine.” She swallowed back the new wave of nausea that crashed in her belly, followed Mac and stopped in the bathroom doorway. The sight of his bare chest with his low-hung jeans still unbuttoned sent an unwanted thrill of tingles directly to her middle. Sex was the last thing she needed, especially since her stomach was still protesting last night’s beers.

“Is Eddie okay?” She worked hard to keep her eyes on Mac’s.

Mac shrugged and spit toothpaste into the sink. “Hahn said he’s at the hospital under observation.”

Apprehension crept up fast and scary. “What does Hahn want with you?” But a fresh queasy sensation told her she already knew the answer.

“He wants to know where I was at two o’clock this morning.”

A wave of relief washed through Tracey and she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “You were with me.” The words came out. The memories flooded. His lips all over her body, between her legs. Her tingles turned into colossal goose bumps.

Mac stared at her from the mirror, the same memories filling his dark, smoky eyes along with a spark of desire so real and intense that Tracey’s heart seemed to stop for a second.

Heat spread through her body like wild fire. A low steady pulse started at her core.

Mac shook his head and looked away. “I wasn’t with you all night.”

She’d found that out when she’d opened her eyes to her empty bed and the loud rapping against Mac’s door. “Why?” The question was small, but loaded, and it hung in the air, a dark cloud ready to release acid rain.

Hard pounding at the door made Tracey jump. “Time’s up,” Hahn shouted from the hallway.

Mac brushed past her. He threw a T-shirt over his head and dug his feet into a pair of cross trainers. “Coming,” he called.

Tracey opened the door and eyed the detective. “Why do you want to talk to Mac?” she asked, tired of being kept in the dark. Hahn shrugged and looked as though he might not be honest with her. “We know this has something to do with me, Detective. The least you can do is answer my question.”

Hahn regarded her. “We found a pocket knife near Eddie.”

“So,” Mac said from behind Tracey.

“So, it has the initials M. R. engraved on the handle.”

Tracey understood the implication as quickly as Mac, but it seemed extremely circumstantial at best. The initials could’ve applied to any number of people.

“I can tell you right now I don’t even own a pocket knife,” Mac said.

Hahn nodded but waved him out anyway. “Well, until we check for prints and get your statement, we’re swimming in murky water, so let’s do this and get it over with.”

“Wait. What about the video camera?” Tracey asked. “Didn’t you see who did it?”

The detective shook his head. “Whoever did it smashed the camera and took the tape.”

Despair crept in on Tracey. She hated the feeling of utter helplessness. Hated being unable to stop the chain of events that continued to spin her life and the lives of everyone around her into a frenzy.

Mac squeezed past her into the hall. “Call Matthew,” he said. “If I’m not back in a few hours, have him take you to the track. I don’t want you to be alone.”

The genuine concern in Mac’s eyes propelled more chills streaking down her back. What if her stalker came after her out in the open?

Hahn tipped his head to the side and put a finger in the air. “You’re not talking about Matthew Rivers, are you?” he asked. “Because he’s otherwise occupied, as well.”

Mac closed his eyes and sighed as if something had just registered in his head. “He’s coming with us, isn’t he?”

“I’ve got two officers at his door right now,” Hahn said with a nod. “We’re going to caravan to the police station.”

Anger shot through Tracey like a bullet. “This is insane. Why are you questioning innocent people?”

Taking her shoulders, Mac looked her in the eyes. “The initials, Tracey. They apply to Matthew too.”

The ground swayed beneath her. This was affecting everyone around her. First Joe. Then Eddie. Now Mac and Matthew were both considered suspects. Lord have mercy, this was the second time Matthew’s name came up. Hahn had been suspicious about him finding her pills outside the office door. Even Ed had become a suspect because of her life insurance policy.

Mac’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “Tracey?”

She snapped out of her stupor and blinked into focus. “I’m okay. I want to go with you.”

“There’s no point,” Hahn told her. “We’re just going to question the guys, then probably release them.”

“Probably?”

The word came from Tracey and Mac at the same time. They glanced at each other, both realizing it was the first time they’d ever been in agreement. Vertically speaking.

“Don’t leave by yourself,” Mac told her. “If we don’t get back by practice time, then stay here.”

Hahn gestured toward the elevators and Mac looked at Tracey one last time. She wanted him to touch her. Wanted him to reassure her that everything would be all right, but instead he nodded once and followed the detective.

Tracey didn’t wait until they were out of sight. She ran back into the room and jumped into her own shower. It did wonders for her hangover.

Mac may have meant well, but she didn’t plan to hide the rest of the day. The first thing she needed to do was check on Eddie, then she could go to the police station and be there to take Mac and Matthew either to the track or back to the hotel.

Only as she dressed did she think of something else, someone else. Chelsea. If Matthew and Chelsea spent the night together then at least he had an alibi.

Mac had her as an alibi. Or did he? Tracey sat on the edge of the bed. They’d been together at midnight, but she couldn’t say what time he’d left her. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep almost as soon as he’d…

More memories, more heat. His lips and his tongue had wreaked havoc in places she’d never imagined. Tracey gave her head a hard shake to clear her thoughts. Mac couldn’t be involved. He showed up after Joe died. He’d been in the car with her, had gone in the lake with her. Mac had nothing to gain by taking her out of the race.

Then why did he leave you alone last night? Where did he go?

Had he gone looking for Eddie with some kind of revenge in mind on her behalf? Ridiculous. Mac would never hurt Eddie. Even the idea was beneath him.

Tracey picked up the phone. She refused to be haunted by ludicrous questions. She started to punch the numbers to Chelsea’s room then hung up. What about Chelsea? She didn’t know this woman at all, but after a couple of days she was ready to call her for support. What if Chelsea had something to do with this? Just because she wasn’t here for Joe’s death didn’t mean she couldn’t have commissioned it, as Mac had suggested. She’d seemed genuinely concerned at the hospital the other day, but that might’ve been a world-class acting job. What about the day at the mall? They’d had fun, laughed like kids? Was that also an act?

Who had anything to gain with her out of the race? Only two people came to mind. Ed and Eddie. With her gone, Ed stood to make a fortune from the life insurance policy, and Eddie would be driving the team car. But why would Ed pick now—this race—to try? What was the point? Since Eddie was the latest victim, he couldn’t be her stalker. Maybe one of the other drivers thought she was too much competition, but eliminating her didn’t guarantee a race win for anyone.

Tracey squeezed her eyes shut and groaned out loud. She couldn’t live her life like this, suspicious of everyone around her. She picked up the phone again. If Chelsea and Matthew were together, then neither one could’ve hurt Eddie. With that sound logic, Tracey punched in the numbers to Chelsea’s room. After several rings a sleepy voice answered.

“Chelsea?” Tracey asked.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Tracey. I’m sorry to bother you so early.” Tracey glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. “I was wondering if Matthew was with you?”

“No. No, he’s not. Why? Is everything okay?”

“So Matthew stayed in his room last night…alone?”

Silence over the phone told Tracey she’d just entered uncharted territory. She hated prying into Matthew’s life, Chelsea’s life, but hadn’t Chelsea waltzed into her world without a second thought?

“As far as I know,” Chelsea answered. “What’s this about, Tracey?”

Since her sound logic had just been blown out of the water, Tracey only had her gut to rely on and her gut told her there was no way Matthew was behind this. Chelsea, on the other hand, was a different matter. Tracey swore softly. “I was hoping you guys were together last night.”

“Tracey, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

That sounded genuine. “Look, I don’t know if Matthew’s said anything to you about me, but I’ve been having a few problems with a…a stalker.” Tracey explained what she knew about the previous night and waited for Chelsea’s reaction.

“So, the police think Matthew might be responsible for attacking Eddie?”

“All I know is he’s being questioned along with Mac.” Tracey paused. She didn’t know if she should make the offer she had in mind or keep her mouth shut. But since she’d never been able to keep her mouth shut, and she could possibly end this madness today, she went for it. “I was going to go to the police station and make sure the guys have a ride home. Do you…Did you want to come with me?” Tracey heard shuffling over the phone, as if Chelsea were sitting up.

“Uh, I don’t know if…You know what…yeah, sure.”

“How fast can you meet me in the lobby?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”