What is Deadly Race about?
Race car driver Remy Borden likes fast things: bikes, cars, and men. Her plans to become the first woman from the Cayman Islands to race internationally gets sidetracked when she’s injured and pulled from the final race because of a fiery confrontation with another driver.
Life goes from bad to worse when the racetrack owner is killed and she’s suspect number one because his death puts her back in the race. But racing again proves difficult when Dr. Jackson Wilson insists she stop racing until she heals, making her wonder if his ‘doctor’s orders’ don’t have ulterior motives-the racetrack owner was his friend.
She and Jackson search for the truth behind the murder when accidents start happening at the racetrack, and an adoring fan gets too close. Soon the simmering attraction between her and Jackson boils over, forcing her to admit Jackson makes her think of a life beyond racing.
Elke was born and raised on Grand Cayman and lives there with her husband and two kids who keep her on her toes.
She’s a coffeeholic, checklist fanatic, and future space explorer. She has a sarcastic/quirky sense of humor and loves meeting new people. When not writing, she’s helping other writers in Cayman through her organization CayWriters.
The author of For the Love of Jazz and Deadly Bloodlines, book one in her Deadly Series. She stumbled into writing romantic suspense because of her fascination with serial killers, but writes other genres because characters keep telling her their stories and she’s a sucker for a crazy story.
Connect with Elke:
Amazon: http://myBook.to/DeadlyRace (universal link to all Amazon sites)
Can’t wait? Read on for an except of Deadly Race.
“I didn’t really have a relationship with her. She was someone I wanted, but she didn’t know how I felt until an hour ago.” Would she decide to kick him out of her apartment for either leading her on or being a complete ass?
She gripped the couch tightly and it collapsed beneath her hands. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted in anger. Here comes her emotional eruption. He braced himself.
“You put me through all of that for nothing?” She said it with so much control he wondered where she got it.
“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he reasoned.
“Wasn’t nothing? Do you know how many times I felt guilty because you had a girlfriend, or know how many nights I lay awake imagining I’d go to hell for the dirty thoughts I had about you in this apartment, inside and outside your car, even the examination table in your office?” She paced before him.
Jackson was speechless, and turned on, as he thought about everything she’d just mentioned. He remembered the night she kissed him in the car and wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted, or if they’d been in a secluded area instead of outside her apartment.
“Hey!” she shouted, pulling him from his erotic thoughts of her spread out over the roof of his car.
“Stop that! You don’t get to have a fantasy in the middle of my rant. Got it?” Her index finger pointed at him.
He wanted to smile, but knew she’d probably knock his lights out if he did. “Please continue,” he said as politely and seriously as he could.
“Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She ran a hand through her hair.
Honest about that? She couldn’t be serious? “Honest about wanting someone I hadn’t even told how I felt? I hardly knew you, Remy, and you wanted me to share something I’d kept secret for nearly two years?”
“Two years?” Her voice echoed in disbelief.
It sounded ridiculous to hear it out loud.
She must’ve thought so, too, because she laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but then escalated to full, out loud, boisterous laughter until it was so extreme she fell to the floor behind the couch.
He walked over to where she lay. “It’s not that funny,” he insisted.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and laughed harder.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this at my expense.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she waved it away as another fit of laughter overtook her. “You might not believe this, but I’m incredibly shy.”
She roared louder and gestured with her hand for him to stop talking.
He couldn’t blame her for laughing. He’d been anything but shy around her. She had a knack for bringing out emotions in him that were less than passive, with her audaciousness and that unfiltered mouth of hers.
The sun’s reflection cast mini mirages across the crushed rock racetrack. Humid air floated off the surface like steam, creating an illusion the surrounding landscape was melting—the trees, control tower, and fans in the stands. A light breeze blew small whirlwinds of white dust across the track, but couldn’t cut through the thick heat and humidity of a sunny summer day in Grand Cayman.
Stock cars lined up in the distance, a staggered rainbow of colors. Their drivers made last-minute checks or chatted with friends who hung over the edges of the truck tire barricade. Remy Borden soaked up every detail playing out around her, letting it permeate through all her senses. She never grew tired of the sounds of the gurgling car engines, or the repeated conversations from the drivers and spectators.
Her family wasn’t in the crowd seated in the stands, but she didn’t care. They never watched her race—too scared she might get hurt. The kids she taught and their parents were in the stands, and that was good enough for her.
She bit back the urge to laugh, jump up and down, and wave her hands in the air wildly like a child who’d just found out they were getting the gift they’d nagged their parents for.
She stroked the hood of her burgundy and black Toyota. “Ready for this, honey?” she whispered. It was a ritual she’d performed since she raced motorbikes as a teenager, connecting her to the machines the way gardeners believe their plants grow better after being talked to.
Her fire-rated jumpsuit was hotter than hell, but she didn’t care. Tingles ran up her arm when she lifted the helmet off the passenger seat. She tucked windblown strands behind her ears before sliding it on.
Her chest tightened as she slid past the roll cage into the seat and secured her safety harness. Her glove-covered hands trembled as they skimmed across the steering wheel.
Her gaze moved over the bare console and checked the temperature gauge and oil pressure, making sure everything was as it should be. Perfect.
Excitement shot through her at the feel of the engine roaring beneath her legs when she started the ignition. The other drivers made their way to the starting line and took their position based on their timed race. She cruised toward them and took her assigned place.
On either side of her were veteran racers, battle-scar David and lightning Adam. Directly behind her was crash test dummy Jason, and in front of her was cocky Sam. Jackass Sam was a better name for him. She couldn’t wait to make him eat her dust. Again.
Dirk, the racetrack owner, stood behind the barricades watching them like hawks about to attack prey they shouldn’t.
The track marshals were in position with their flags. The starting flag rose.
The cars around her roared and adrenaline surged through her veins as she revved her engine.
The racetrack stretched out before her and the cars blurred to nothingness. Sounds became a dull buzz in the distance. She pressed the gas pedal.