Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3)

by Eden Connor

  Because us little women are so hormonal? Oh, you patronizing jackass. Fury slammed through me, shutting off my breath. The slight upward tug of the bastard’s lips dumped fuel on my outrage.

  Don’t let him play you, Mom. Francine said he was a bully. No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.

  Except, anyone who didn’t quit school in the ninth grade can make her feel inferior.

  I didn’t have time to muse on why that was my fault. I forced my fists open and pressed my palms against my thighs, so I didn’t haul off and do the very thing Caine begged me not to let him do. I’d end up sued within an inch of my life for poking the NASCAR exec in the eye. Probably end up with another cast, to boot. And the only lawyer I knew would end up being called as a witness for the prosecution. Not the best plan.

  While Mom opened and closed her mouth like a bass on a hook, I rounded on England. “I have something to say and I’d appreciate if you’d hear me out.”

  George nodded, but the look he darted the crewmen—and the cold, blank stares he got in return—stopped my anger in its tracks. George was definitely playing at something, but Dale’s men weren’t playing along.

  I realized something else.

  I was the only person here whose income wasn’t earned at this man’s pleasure.

  Dale’s voice reverberated in my head while I locked gazes with England. Show him what’s comin’ when he lines up against a motherfuckin’ Hannah.

  By God, everyone in sight seemed lined up against us now.

  I dug my nails into my palms, feeling like a soldier who’d wandered into a minefield. I squared my shoulders. I’d never seen a Hannah back down. I didn’t plan to be the first.

  “I want to know what you plan to do to see that this situation never happens again. Your fines don’t seem to deter much. I mean, you could’ve forced Barnes to get anger management counseling. Why didn’t you? Don’t you care about the people who earn your living? Or is everything about the almighty dollar?”

  The old man didn’t speak. None of the crewmen moved a muscle, but the air suddenly crackled with tension. Jamie nodded emphatically. This was the Christmas party all over again, a replay of the moment when Dale and Kolby had made the bet. The wary crewmen watched every move, weighing which dog they thought would come out on top.

  Did that mean they thought I had a shot at the win?

  I swallowed past a tight throat. “See, Dale and Mr. Ridenhour would’ve cut Kolby loose two years ago. You know why they didn’t?”

  The NASCAR exec blinked. “Well, I ‘spect that was because he was a winner.”

  “Was a winner? Okay, good start.”

  The flash in England’s eyes told me everything I feared was true. The spin engine was gathering speed, and when it stopped, Kolby Barnes would get another slap on the wrist from NASCAR—maybe even from the courts—and Dale would get the shaft.

  A shiver of fear ran down my spine, but I suddenly understood why Dale had made the bet with Kolby. He hadn’t put me up against Kolby to rig up some meaningless win. He’d done it to teach me that I had to set my nose on the line to have any chance at all.

  If you ain’t riskin’ nothin’, you ain’t livin’.

  I knew only one way to get over my fear. Get in the damn car and drive.

  All the power in the world under your hood and you’ve never lost. But my daddy taught me that since I’m here, I might as well race, motherfucker.

  “Not good enough. Rick didn’t cut him because he knew another team would pick him up.” A few of Dale’s crew exchanged looks from underneath raised brows. “And, Dale agreed with Rick, that Kolby would hold a grudge. If Barnes wanted, he could make sure—thanks to the occasional assist from his brother, like the one today—that no Ridenhour car would ever finish first, no matter the cost. I mean, I can almost see Kolby’s logic. It’s not as if you’d do anything except make him write a check. That’s crazy with a chaser shot of just plain pissed off.”

  My heart pounded like a sledgehammer. I fought to keep my tone conversational, because I knew he’d tune out if I started yelling. “How do you sleep nights, knowing you just keep sending a ticking time bomb out on the track?”

  From the corner of my eye, I noted enthusiastic nods from Jamie and Bliss Roark.

  “As for your press conference, I’ll die and take my brothers with me before I stand by while you excuse Kolby’s attack on a man with his back turned—with our implied consent.”

  The executive’s eyes widened, but with more informed ears than mine hanging on every word, he didn’t have the balls to call me a liar.

  “So, in hopes you’ll do the right thing now, I’ll do you the favor of letting you hold your press conference first.”

  While England held my gaze, sweat inched down my sides. I tried to calm my racing pulse, but my chest heaved. A couple of the crew smirked. The NASCAR president’s eyes snapped with fury. The Andy Griffith mask slipped and I glimpsed the hard-driving executive under his skin.

  Ernie’s rambling stories came roaring back to my mind. This man’s grandfather and great-uncle had built the sport from nothing. His father and uncle had made NASCAR into a holding worth nearly a billion dollars—billion—with a ‘b’.

  But George, born into wealth, had several other high profile businesses. He didn’t focus as hard as his forefathers had done on NASCAR as a whole. Ernie said ‘Georgie’ cared only about the bottom line. When the recent recession hit NASCAR hard, he’d turned a blind eye to Kolby’s shenanigans, because the Barnes brothers’ wild ways put fans in the seats. And somehow, thanks to this man, Kolby got it in his head that he didn’t need to listen to his crew chief.

  When Dale couldn’t get the little bastard’s attention, was it really so farfetched to believe the rest of the drivers decided to attack the Ridenhour team, in hopes they could force Ridenhour to get control of Barnes? All that had done was wreck Richard’s cars, make Dale’s job harder, but I’d bet my last dollar, the toxic work environment made George even more money.

  Thanks for the lessons, Ernie. I held England’s hard gaze, despite the way my legs shook. It seemed to me that whoever spoke next, lost.

  George dropped his penetrating gaze to his cell phone, thick thumbs moving across the screen. “We need a more private spot to chat, Macy.”

  My outrage climbed. How damn dare he try to go around me? My questions deserved answers.

  “Shelby.” Robert’s warning tone flipped the switch on my temper. He tried to grab my hand but I shook him off, remaining fixed on the NASCAR exec.

  “No, you do not need a private chat. I said what I had to say in front of everyone with something at stake here. If you can’t return the favor, I doubt we’re interested in hearing you out. This incident is a direct result of your failure to lead.”

  “Really, now, is it?” the NASCAR exec snapped. “If you ask me, that little stunt of a race Dale dragged Kolby into back at Christmas led directly to this unfortunate set of circumstances. Now, I reckon I got no control over what my men do on their own time, but I sure as hell asked Dale to get you to take that drag race footage down ‘fore the new season started. For the good of the team.”

  He held up his phone and turned the screen to face me. “Almost nine million hits and climbin’? No wonder Kolby’s temper’s riled. So, you’d be better off askin’ yourself what you could’ve done to stop this incident, young lady.”

  Robert, Jr. gave Caine an ‘I-told-you-so’ look.

  “Shelby, as your attorney, I advise you to stop talking right now,” Senior barked. “My client has a First Amendment right to leave that footage up. Not to mention, as a popular vintage car vlogger, she’s a member of the press.”

  The misery in Colt’s eyes pinned me. My heart did that idiotic thing it always did whenever I stared too long into one of their faces.

  Before I could think what to say next, England spat. “The press conference starts in five minutes. The crowd’s expectin’ to see you, Macy, not your kid tha
t ain’t even related to Dale.”

  Mom nodded. “Robert will write our statement and I’ll read it. I want people focused on Dale, not on you.” She smoothed her hair and slid her hands down the front of her shirt.

  Oh, hell, no, George. You shouldn’t have gone there. That low blow makes me think you’re hiding something. And, FYI, Mommie Dearest, I don’t need to be fixed.

  Doris wormed her way into the tight circle. She pursed her lips, giving me a narrow look. “Macy, all you need to do is tell them what the doctor said and remind people he can’t have flowers in the ICU. Have them send a donation to some charity. In situations like these, the fans expect to see the wife.” She cut her eyes toward Senior. “Not the wife and her lawyer.”

  Who the hell does this bitch think she is?

  George turned away. “The rest of you? You will line up behind us and keep your mouths shut. You will respond to no questions. Any man—or woman—who doesn’t stand with us has just turned against us.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck who speaks for the Hannah family. But that person better be ready to go in five minutes, or forfeit their right to speak.”

  I gave England’s back a tight smile. “Five minutes is insufficient time for me to collect my thoughts, thanks to the concussion Mr. Barnes gave me at the end of a clean race. So, in hopes you’ll do the right thing, I’ll let you go first. I’ll speak to the press at ten p.m.”

  The older man stopped in his tracks. Spinning, he glared with narrowed eyes. “You take a swing at me, you best not miss.” He turned on his heel and stalked into the waiting room, motioning for Richard to join him.

  I smiled at the old bastard’s back. Better stock up on Grecian Formula, honey.

  “Jesus, Shelby.” I looked around, meeting Colt’s stunned eyes. “NASCAR’s Dad’s whole world. Can’t burn every bridge.”

  Jonny stepped into the spot George vacated. He shook his head. “This is the moment to stand united. Shelby hit the nail on the head, Colt. The man’s insane. We gotta back her play.”

  Colt shoved his hands through his hair and slammed his forehead against the wall.

  “Thanks, asshole.” Caine glared at Senior. “It didn’t have to go down this way. You just had to go and shake your fuckin’ law degree in everybody’s face, didn’t you?”

  I looked down at my phone. No matter what else happened, Mom wasn’t going out there. George would make her part of his dog and pony show and Doris fucking knew it. I scrolled through my inbox, searching for the email I’d sent myself from her phone last Monday. She’d forfeited her right to stand up as Dale’s wife. Maybe she needed a refresher on why that was so.

  I searched by date. Nothing.

  I searched by email address. Not here.

  I looked for the tiny paperclip denoting an attachment. The most recent attachment I found sent from Mom’s email address was four months old. Tacky graduation invitations she’d wanted my approval to order.

  Who had I sent that video to, if not to myself? I remembered watching while the attachment loaded, so I knew the phone forwarded the clip, but, to whom? My hands had been shaking, so had my finger slipped? Who was listed before and after my name?

  My stomach heaved again when I remembered the idiotic way she had me listed in her contacts. ‘Daughter-Shelby-ICE’ came right after Dale—and just ahead of Doris.

  No matter which of them had received the video....

  Oh, fuck, no. What have I done?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Missin’ somethin’?” Doris purred.

  Better I sent it to her than to Dale. But... fuck me.

  “Do you seriously think she should stand up in front of two hundred cameras with a black eye?” I snapped, unnerved by the woman’s smug expression.

  Mom made a small sound and touched the bruise.

  I pressed my advantage. “Those lights will see right through any makeup. Caine already explained, Dale named me the family spokesperson. Unlike you’ve insinuated, Doris, I don’t get bullied.”

  Doris used her cell phone to point, ratcheting my unease up two notches. “Who’s doin’ the bullyin’ here? Of course,”—she deliberately looked from me to Caine and back to me—“I’ve heard some things that make me think there’s not much that you won’t stoop to.” Her eyes glowed with triumph as she betrayed Mom’s confidence and slid the knife between my ribs. To protect Barnes.

  Nice try, bitch. Guess who got her gold-plated mean girl card after your boy rammed his car up my tailpipe?

  I spread the first two fingers of my hand into a wide ‘V’. Jamming them underneath my eyes, I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face while I stared into the cunt’s over-made eyes.

  “Let me know when you see shame, Doris. I’ll be waiting. When the shoe fits, I tend to buy a pair of those bitches and strut.”

  Caine snickered.

  Bliss tipped her head close to Jamie’s. “Oh, my God.” Her theatrical whisper carried as well as if the driver’s wife had shouted. “I heard she was bangin’ Colt.”

  Mean girls. They just never outgrew that shit, did they? Every secret shared was a chance to score later on.

  “Your point?” I snapped. “My relationship with my brothers is your business... why?” I tapped the toe of my boot and glared. Every eye rounded. From somewhere in the back of the cluster of men, someone laughed.

  “I always heard incest was best,” one of the crewmen muttered.

  Mom’s mouth sagged. In that instant, I knew I’d blown up her bid for respectability. The accusation was right there in her stricken eyes. It wasn’t on her for confiding in plastic bitches like Bliss and Doris. No, the crime was that she’d lost their respect—because of my behavior.

  To underscore my assessment, she burst into tears.

  “Shelby? He’s your stepbrother.” Senior jerked his hand off Mom’s arm and stepped back, like he thought the urge to get horizontal with a step-sibling might be contagious.

  Oh, you gotta go, asshole. “Mr. Kossel, thank you for coming to express your support. Should we need your professional services, I’ll be in touch. Until that time, this is a matter for Dale’s family.”

  Kossel looked to Mom, but Mom studied her toes. Her cheeks glowed, right through the thick makeup. The tips of her ears turned scarlet and unattractive blotches spread down her neck. You’ve known this jerk-off for five minutes and his opinion matters? My outrage spiraled.

  “I will make the statement and that’s final. You know why,” I gritted through clenched teeth, struck to the bone that, no matter what, I was always the cost that was too high to let her have the life she deserved.

  She lifted her eyes to mine, finally. I held Mom’s gaze until she dropped her head and stepped out of the circle. The sea of crewmen parted, letting her flee into the waiting room. I expected Bliss to follow, but the nosy bitch stayed put.

  Senior straightened his tie. “If people stopped makin’ bad decisions, I’d be out of a job by daybreak. C’mon, Robbie. I’ll buy you the biggest steak in town while we watch this press conference.” I expected him to hold his hand out for my ring, but he strode toward the elevator.

  Robert hesitated, looking from me, to Caine, and back to me. “This is the bump on your head talking,” he began, in that reasonable tone I despised. “That man in there,”—he swept a hand toward the ICU doors—“risked your life for a publicity stunt. Even you think Barnes is insane, and yet, you’re going to defend Dale for putting you on course to collide with the man? Shelby, we both know that race should never have happened.”

  He turned on Caine. “You don’t love her. You’re using her. Playing on the fact that she’s never had a father isn’t macho. It’s pathetic.”

  “Last chance to walk outta here under your own power, college boy.” Caine jerked a thumb toward the elevator, eyes glinting. Every taut line in his body radiated menace, but Robert dismissed him.

  “Oh, I’m going.” My fiancé—how did I let that happen?—hes
itated, studying my face. “I know how you feel about Dale, but he dug this hole for himself. Come back to school with me. Let them clean up their own mess. Are you so damn sure you know these people? Shelby, ever since I’ve known you, you avoided them like the plague. Until you got the concussion. Make the logical conclusion, please.”

  Oh, he’d make such a good lawyer. He’d put his finger on my biggest fear. That my stepbrothers were playing me one more time.

  This was the moment to walk away from the Hannahs for good. I’d pictured life with Robert a million times. He offered safety. Security. And second-class status, essentially. His goals would define our lives.

  The way Mom’s goals had defined my life. Second-hand pants that didn’t fit.

  “Yeah. You should go with him.” Colt’s voice had an edge that made even Doris and Bliss jerk in his direction. “Go on, Shelby. Just go. Don’t stick around long enough to tear up what we got, only to turn around and leave again.”

  My stupid, traitorous, little girl’s heart whispered. He’s hurt and he’d die before he let anyone see that. Especially me. Especially any woman.

  He pushed past me. “Hey, Jesse. Thanks for comin’.” For the first time since my arrival, I realized the NASCAR legend—and his little buzz-haired bitch of a stepdaughter—stood with the rest of the Ridenhour crewmen. “This is officially a three-alarm cluster fuck.” Stepping up behind Marley, Colt dropped his hands on her shoulders for a quick massage.

  When Marley peered at Colt over her shoulder, her big fucking eyes said it all. My brain did one of its unwelcome sideways leaps, throwing up an image of Dale at their wedding, making a stupid toast about how two NASCAR powerhouses were finally united.

  I breathed through the pain, but realized a choice had been declared—by Caine, and by not denying our relationship, by me. Colt hated to lose.

  Still....