Eli was deliberately keeping her from attaining the ratio between balance and power she needed to race the rough, makeshift oval track, and that didn’t make sense. It was definitely something he hadn’t told Doogan about.

There was no way she could win against the other rider. It wasn’t possible. The male racer knew it too. Doogan could see it in the young man’s confident expression and gloating smile.

A slender young woman dressed in cutoff denims that nearly showed the cheeks of her ass and a too-snug red bikini top moved to the side of the track, a white handkerchief uplifted as she took a deliberately seductive pose.

The two motors revved, riders leaning forward, one leg braced on the track.

The young woman holding the flag gave a little wiggle, and the motors revved harder. When the white handkerchief went down they shot from the starting line. Zoey took the lead for a moment only. Half the track, then the other rider edged past with less than half a cycle lead. Four circles of the track later, going into the final lap, in the first of two turns, Zoey leaned into the turn, fighting to find more power, for the impetus to force her ride into the lead, but the lack of proper balance and power was her downfall.

He lost his breath again; of course, this time he was certain it had something to do with watching the little hellion wipe out as she took the sharp curve of the track. It was a laughable excuse for a raceway, but the sight of her losing control and plowing into the bales of hay stacked for just such an occurrence wasn’t in the least amusing.

The crowd of onlookers gasped, no doubt aware every damned one of them would face her brother Dawg Mackay’s wrath if the unthinkable happened. Or, if he or one of his cousins caught so much as a whisper of her weekend activities among their group and they hadn’t been told, hell would explode over them.

Highly protective and all too aware of the dangers that could strike at his family at any given moment, Dawg Mackay, the eldest of the Mackay cousins, was known to become rabid where the females of his family were concerned. Especially in the case of his daughter, his nieces, or his baby sister, Zoey.

In Zoey’s case it appeared he had more than one reason to foam at the mouth. She possessed more than her fair share of Mackay kamikaze traits, if this race was any indication. What else did the little spitfire get into that she was hiding from her family? For a moment the knowledge that it could be damned near anything that involved an air of danger had his teeth clenching in concern. The fact that Eli was supposed to be watching her back through her adventures and keeping Doogan informed of them indicated that the young agent was holding quite a bit back. For this alone, Doogan was about to become Eli’s problem.

Jumping to her feet, Zoey jerked the helmet from her head. Snarling, she kicked at the downed cycle with the toe of her heavy riding boot, cursing worse than any sailor he knew if the words her lips were forming were any indication. Disgust curled the pillowy curves and tightened her delicate features as three young men ran to her in case help was needed. She didn’t appear to need any help, though. At least, not in the kicking-cursing activity she was currently involved in.

Flipping the fingers of one hand toward the ride, she ignored their laughing comments. Stalking away, she left them to collect the bike while she made her way to the edge of the raceway, where Doogan stood, silently watching her.

The winner of that particular little race met her at the finish line, several feet from where Doogan stood, a smile curling his lips as he brushed the dust from his leather riding chaps and jacket.

“Girl, I told you that cycle wasn’t balanced right.” The rider laughed in pleased satisfaction and held his hand out, palm up. “Pay up, sweet thing. Man, I just love taking a Mackay’s money.”

Zoey pulled a wad of bills from her snug jeans, slapped them into his palm, and bared her teeth at him in feminine irritation.

“I can help you, sugar.” The rider smiled playfully at the look. “For the right price.”

“Keep dreaming, Billy Ray,” she suggested with a little glare. “Your dreams are the only place where you’ll touch my bike. Or anything else of mine.”

It was said with grumpy humor, though. She was pissed at the bike, not the winner.

Billy laughed at the response. “Taking your money’s good too, girl. Give me a call, though if you want some help. I think Eli’s a little too spooked to give his best to it.”

Striding away, Billy Ray moved back to his own bike, where several other men stood waiting.

Propping her hands on her slender hips, Zoey lowered her head and shook it in an air of resigned frustration before turning and facing Eli as he moved to her hesitantly. Doogan could have told Eli he gave himself away with the very attitude he was displaying.

“Eli, you and I are going to talk,” she informed him, knowledge and barely hidden anger resounding in the low tone of her voice. “A very serious, perhaps painful talk.”

“You’re blaming me?” Eli’s expression was surprised; his gaze hardly made it, though. His eyes couldn’t lie with his face quite yet.

“Oh, Eli, I’m doing more than blaming you,” she informed him with narrowed eyes and tightened features. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Come on, Zoey, it’s not my fault you can’t beat Billy,” Eli protested without the fire he needed to convince her of his innocence.

The young agent was almost amusing. Doogan barely managed to hold back his grin as he watched and listened to the confrontation. Eli wasn’t convincing Zoey of anything because where it counted, he was actually scared of her.

He was more scared of her than he was of Doogan. Because he could actually lie to Doogan and make it convincing. That was faintly insulting, Doogan decided.

“Oh, Eli, you did not just blame me for losing that race.” One hand went to her hip; the other clenched the strap of her helmet as though actually considering using it on the young man’s head. “I know you’re not that damned stupid.”

Doogan himself would have already at least threatened to use the helmet on the young agent. Just because Eli was so damned scared of her. He deserved to have his ass kicked for letting such a tiny thing scare him like that.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who lost it,” he assured her, frowning down at her. “Come on, Zoey. It’s not my fault.”

She glared back at him. “I am not talking to you, Eli. Talking to you just pisses me off, so if I were you, I’d run.”

“Zoey . . .”

“And run fast.” Her voice lowered as he stepped back and actually turned and stomped off.

Now that was funny.

Doogan couldn’t help a chuckle this time as he watched Eli get as far as the middle of the crowd gathered around Billy before he stopped and turned back to watch Zoey.

That was when Eli caught sight of him.

Doogan let his gaze meet the agent’s and watched Eli’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I could help you with that motor,” Doogan offered as Zoey made to pass him, her head down, lips thinned angrily.

That brought her to a stop.

For a second, surprise and feminine hunger flashed in her gaze before it stilled beneath a sudden shadow of fear.

“Now, doesn’t that offer just sound a little too good to be true?” she drawled, not bothering to hide that Mackay suspicion and mockery that ran deep and wide. “Why would you want to help me, Mr. Chatham Bromleah Doogan the Third? You might actually get grease on your royal hands. That would suck now, wouldn’t it?”

He lifted a brow slowly. Well, he hadn’t expected an open-arms greeting, but he hadn’t expected such a confrontational attitude either.

“Do I have Eli to thank for this reception?” He nodded to Eli as the other man strode toward them, his eyes narrowed, disapproval lining his face. “I thought we were getting along rather good the last day we saw each other.”