Turn & Burn: Revenge is a Red-Headed B*tch (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 2)

by Eden Connor

  “But it meant something to Caine.”

  What? I squinted at his face. “Not... Caroline?”

  He propped a leg on the edge of the tub to dry it. “Oh, it meant the world to Caroline, too, but I was a lot more worried about Caine. See, he’s Dad’s carbon copy. So, he was already programmed to fall for you, if for no other reason than you were Macy’s mini-me. It’s not me who has the thing for redheads, it’s him and Dad.”

  God, had every word out of his mouth been a lie? How did he keep them all straight?

  “I thought if I could show him you were no different than Macy,”—he shrugged and moved to towel the other leg—“but you blew that out of the water when you screwed the sheriff to save the car of a girl you barely knew. The only goddamn reason to do that was because you knew she meant something to us. So, I had to get rid of you.”

  As logical conclusions went, Colt’s sucked. I felt like a big chunk of his reasoning was missing.

  “Well, you did a fine job of getting rid of me. And, made a tidy profit in the bargain.” I dragged the pencil across my eyelid, wishing the point was titanium and dipped in poison so I could stab Colt with it.

  He cocked his head. My God, why couldn’t he wrap the damn towel around his hips? Every man I’d ever watched step out of a shower immediately wrapped the fucking towel around his hips, but not Colt Hannah. Oh, no. He was too proud of that big dick.

  I shoved the cap on my liner pencil and tossed it into the makeup bag. Wrenching the top off my mascara, I pumped the wand in and out several times, pulled the brush free, and raised my brows, leaning closer to the glass to swipe my lashes.

  “And ever since, when Macy brags about your grades, I gotta wonder how someone so smart could be so stupid. I figured as soon as I got home, you’d call me on that idiotic story. But then again, math ain’t your thing, is it?”

  He had the nerve to grin. I shoved the wand into the mascara and hurled the tube into my makeup bag. Fueled by outrage, I spun and swung. My palm connected with his cheek so hard, his head jerked halfway around. Pain streaked up my arm, but I couldn’t stop.

  “My math skills aren’t the point! Do you have any idea what you did?” Smack. “Can you try to pretend you’re human for one minute? Care to put yourself in my shoes?” Smack. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to approach every table in the bar where I work, and wonder if this will be the night when some guy will ask if I’m the same chick he’d paid you to screw?”

  He grabbed my wrist. The side of his face flamed—I doubted it was as red as mine—but his grip was gentle. “Shelby, no money changed hands.”

  No money changed hands. I blinked.

  “No money changed hands. A good time, that’s all it was.”

  I’ll kill him.

  “I’m not as naive as I used to be, Colt. For four years, that’s been the shit I had to live with. Now, you think you can say it never happened, and no harm, no foul, I should just believe you?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes shifted to a spot over my shoulder. “I needed you to stay gone.”

  I’m not a whore. It wasn’t true. As that idea penetrated, I realized how heavy the burden of believing Colt had sold me had been. I didn’t worry, at first, that I might run into someone who’d paid Colt to fuck me. I hadn’t seen that as a huge probability initially, not in Spartanburg. Then, bit by bit, as I ran into people who knew Dale, the idea had grown inside my mind, like a sponge dipped in warm water, until it crowded out everything else I knew about myself.

  “Why?” I could barely force the whispered word past my lips.

  “Because you beat Rowdy Collins.”

  “Who?” I screeched.

  Colt pressed the damp towel over the flaming print of my hand, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. “Widowmaker.”

  I saw the black car in my head... and the celebration afterward. My first fan fuck, Caine had said.

  “And that mattered because...?” I really wanted to slap him again for making me drag this new version of the tale out of him bit by bit, but I started shaking so hard, all I could manage to lift was an eyebrow.

  Please, don’t let this be another lie.

  He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said you and that Ernie dude watched the races together. Chris ‘Widowmaker’ Collins. Got off his knees after an upset loss to you and went on to win the NHRA Pro Stock Championship that year. The following year, he tried to make the jump to oval track racing, but so many people had him pigeonholed as a straight-track guy that he dropped ‘Widowmaker’ and had his name changed to ‘Rowdy’ on his NASCAR license. Pettison Racing gave him a shot last season. So, you don’t know that Chris Collins was voted Rookie of the Year this year?”

  “I didn’t know that Rowdy Collins was the dude I raced. But, anyway, he let me win.”

  He eyed me with the same look he might give a cat tracking mud across his freshly polished hood. “Why in the hell would you think that?”

  I thought back. “Because... because I thought they all let me win. I figured out that was how you suckered me into the game, so I wouldn’t realize you....” Were selling my ass. Which he now swore hadn’t happened.

  Colt squinted from beneath pinched brows, looking at me like I’d grown two heads. “Why the fuck would anyone let you win? Guys like their dicks sucked prob’ly more than we like to breathe.”

  My eyes went wide. “Seriously? I beat him, fair and square?”

  Colt’s grip on my arm tightened. “So, if you thought Collins let you win, what in the name of God made you challenge Kolby Barnes?”

  I glared. “It wasn’t me who challenged him. It was Dale.”

  “But you didn’t back out.”

  “Well, no. I was just so pissed off about the shit Barnes said about Dale to the press. The real question is why Dale thinks I can win, but I suppose anyone could win with that engine?”

  Colt’s brows rose. “So, you aren’t racing for a fancy new Audi? You’re racing for the family honor?”

  It was lucky for him he still held my wrist. I would hit him again for that snide tone. Like the family honor was no business of mine? From where I stood, I was the only person who’d paid a price to maintain our so-called reputation. “That was Dale’s idea, too. I just saw red and wanted to put the prick on his knees.”

  “Again, Shelby. Why are you racing if you don’t think you have a prayer?”

  I shook my head. “Dale thinks I do.” His mouth tightened and my mouth fell open. “And that’s why you had to get rid of me, isn’t it? Someone told him about the race with Rowdy?”

  “Booyah.” He touched a finger to the end of my nose. “Exactly. Rowdy told him when he asked Dad for your phone number. He even sent Dad a goddamn clip of the race.” He squinted again. “Good God, you were standing right there when Dad showed it to Ernie. Four fucking years later. He’s changed phones twice, and he still carries that clip around.”

  I could believe Colt was capable of anything, but this was just out there. Except, the bitterness in his tone was unmistakable.

  “You’re actually admitting that you put me through hell because you couldn’t handle not being the only driver in the household?”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Pretty much. I don’t think women belong out there. Jesse was already trying to push Marley on every team owner he knew. I didn’t want people laughing behind Dad’s back for doing the same.”

  It didn’t matter one bit that I was primed to dislike Marley Taggart on sight. This was outrageous. “You really are a jerk, aren’t you? Did it ever occur to you that I might not want a damn career in NASCAR?”

  He dropped my wrist and finally began to buff his chest with the towel. “Jerk, maybe. But not a pimp. And I’d feel sorrier about your little tale of woe, but you could’ve saved yourself the stress by doing some basic math. What in the hell made you believe Caroline could earn sixty fucking grand to buy that damn Dodge Challenger, but your fine ass was only worth a few tanks of gas?”

  It took
a couple of heartbeats for me to realize the answer. A red haze flashed over my field of vision. I balled up my fist and punched. When I made contact, my fist sank into the soft flesh of his groin.

  “Ack!” he croaked. His knees buckled and he hit the wet bath mat with a thud. He clapped his hands to his nuts. He curled forward and his shoulder hit my knee, knocking me backward and pinning me against the vanity. The reality of what I’d done shocked me.

  For one second. Then, watching him writhe at my feet swept any remorse aside. I loved the way he hunched over in agony. Loved his strangled cry of pain.

  “Because, you ignorant bastard, my father walked out on my mom when he found out she was pregnant with me. And in twenty-two fucking years, he’s never bothered to check in to see if I lived or died. Sound familiar? Because I’m always worried I’m not good enough to make up for the fucking sacrifice Macy made by deciding to keep me.”

  I drew back in rage. He caught my foot, but not before I connected with his kneecap. His loud squawk of pain didn’t make me feel better, since I saw no blood.

  “Selfish. Fucking. Asshole.” I raked the scattered pots and pencils into the bag, spun, and stalked out of the bathroom.

  Thank God, the board with keys to every vehicle was still on the wall beside the bar. I grabbed the spare key to Mom’s Volkswagen and stormed out the side door, even though the damn car was underneath the carport. Stalking down the driveway, I glared at the seven doors fronting the massive new garage. What the fuck did a car have to do to rate an enclosed space?

  Racing up the hill, I wanted to be anywhere but here. I should’ve caught a ride back to Spartanburg with Harry last night. I was no closer to finding a way to strike back at my stepbrothers, but they just kept ripping open old wounds.

  The single thing that made me take the turn that led to the mall, rather than heading toward the interstate was the idea that Mom would stick the family portrait over the mantle in their new house. If Colt fucking Hannah wanted a home cooked meal, at least he’d have to look at my goddamn face on his way to put his feet under Mom’s table.

  Small comfort, but the only one I could find.

  Was the bastard lying now or telling the truth?

  Would he risk a new lie after Dale’s ultimatum?

  Of all the photography studios there must be in town, why had Mom chosen one inside the mall? I cruised the crowded lot, hoping to find a parking space that wouldn’t make me hike a mile in high heels. A few shoppers struggled alone with their packages, but there were several families, arms laden and laughing, as they made their way to their vehicle. I wanted to hold on to my anger with Colt, but watching two boys about fifteen tease a younger sister brought tears to my eyes.

  So, Caine used to love me and Colt had to get rid of me because he was jealous? Neither tale sounded remotely like a reasonable explanation for what... whatever it was they’d done to me. I had no idea what to believe anymore. Did they take money from their friends to have sex with me, or not?

  Maybe it was time to talk to Caroline. After all, Colt said she’d known of their plans. Maybe guilt had kept her from calling me, too.

  Red taillights caught my eye. I braked and waited while the sedan reversed. I dived into the space. Adjusting the rearview mirror so I could see myself, I finished applying my makeup and jerked out my hot curlers.

  I had ten minutes to find the photography studio, and no idea where it was inside the building, so I texted Mom before I jumped out of the car and rushed into the crowded mall. With a groan, I eyed her answer. I wasn’t moving the car again. I’d just have to hoof it.

  The place was exactly the zoo I’d expect two days before Christmas.

  I dodged a line of children and disgruntled parents waiting to have their photo taken with Santa Claus. The holiday music grated on my nerves and I muttered curses at the crowds thronging the concourse.

  Teenagers running through the melee, four abreast, sent me careening into some poor soul holding a handful of shopping bags. The man jerked away from his perusal of a window display to glare.

  His eyes went wide. “You!”

  My heart jumped inside my chest when I recognized his thin face. “You! I have some questions for your ass.”

  “Well, thanks to you, I already had an unpleasant chat with the sheriff. Nice touch, siccing him on me at Christmas, bitch.”

  “I want the truth.” I grabbed his jacket sleeve and glared at the man I remembered from that horrible day in the grocery store. “Gerald, is it? Just what exactly did Colt do or not do to me?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” He broke my withering glare to glance around before looking at me again. “Me and Colt did make a deal, but it sure as hell wasn’t to have sex with you.”

  What the fuck is wrong with you people? “Then why would you say all those things to me?”

  He dropped his head to study the floor. “Because I wanted to rattle Colt.”

  I shook my head back and forth slowly. “Not following. You told me he owed you a refund, because—you know why. So, if not me, then what did you pay for?”

  “Nothing.” His dark eyes darted around the crowd.

  The guy felt guilty about something, but what? This was getting out of hand. I jerked my phone out of my purse.

  “I have to be somewhere in two minutes, asshole. Spit out the truth, or I swear to God, I’ll call the sheriff right now. In fact, I see mall security.” I lifted my hand to flag down the hired security guard.

  His face paled. He grabbed my arm. “Okay, okay, don’t have a hissy fit. You know what goes on out on Old Cottonmouth Road when y’all aren’t racing, right?”

  I knew what Mack Brown said went on out there, so I nodded.

  “I was there one night when Colt and Brandon McKenna showed up. The rest of the racers didn’t come, just those two. They raced in their trucks. Colt won.”

  “So what?”

  “Colt won,” he repeated. “And I saw what happened next. So, the next time I ran into Colt, I told him I’d do a much better job, if he was interested.”

  Better job at what? Dude, I know you can’t drive.

  Something Caine said came back to me. Girl, no man wants to lose out here. My mouth fell open. “He and Brandon raced... for head?”

  Gerald smirked. “Oh yeah. Hottest thing I ever saw in my life, those two studs going at it. Next time I saw Colt out there, I told him I’d love to tune up that monster of his.” He darted another look around. “Colt said he’d think about it, but I knew he was just blowing me off. I mean, after all, the man’s fucking gorgeous. So, I offered to pay him. He said I had to race first. He took my fifty bucks and told me when to show up.” Gerald screwed up his face and shuddered. “You know how that turned out.”

  I jerked as upright as possible on my high heels. “Wasn’t so good for me, either, asshole.”

  I was having an out-of-body experience. Had to be, because Colt Hannah didn’t stick his dick in other guys’ mouths. Did he? Except, according to Harry, Phillip’s curiosity led to their meeting in a gay bar. Curiosity had made me jump into the Hannah brothers’ game with both feet.

  There was only one thing worse than being a slut—at least to the folks around here. Being gay. The truth of that hit me like a fist. This was something Colt would lie, cheat, or steal to keep buried.

  “So, why in the hell didn’t you just tell me he was—you know?”

  “Bi-curious? I’m not gonna out no man, but I wanted him to get in touch. I figured he’d at least come ask me why I’d tell you something like that. Didn’t you ask him about it?”

  “Yes. He said every word was true. Did he ever let you... um...?” I couldn’t help laughing. “Have a taste?”

  Gerald shook his head. “I’d forgotten about it, really. Like he’s the first pretty boy to play me? But when the sheriff showed up asking questions, I couldn’t tell him the truth, now could I? You’ve got to get him off my ass. The last thing I need is a cop following me. They put us in jail if they catch us out there,
and they tell the rest why we got arrested. You have any idea what the straight inmates do to us? The guards just watch.”

  I thought about punching the man. This was so not about him. “It was seriously just something you made up off the top of your head? How in the hell does that happen? I mean, I have a good imagination, but, damn.”

  He shrugged. “I was reading this trashy gay novel. Two brothers sold their sister and her boyfriend did bad, bad things to them.” The avid look in his eyes made me think that he wanted those bad things done to him.

  Then, it hit me. I knew exactly what to do to even the score. The idea was pure perfection.

  I gave the man my widest smile. “Gerald, I promise, Colt’s gonna pay up. Consider it my Christmas gift to you.” I even exchanged numbers so I could text him. “Gotta go. See you soon.”

  “The sheriff—”

  Fuck you, Gerald. It’s your turn to lose a few nights’ sleep.

  By the time I found the portrait place, Colt was already there. Mom fussed, but I had my mind on other things.

  “Let’s just get started, shall we?” I stepped in front of the backdrop and gestured impatiently to the harried photographer. “I have some last minute shopping to do.”

  “What happened to your face, bro?” Caine demanded, eying Colt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I passed the Cabarrus County Saddle Club, then rounded a curve before I saw the small cemetery, covered with granite markers and the occasional angel. Adjacent to the graveyard, a well-kept brick church peered down from a small hill. The sign near the road proclaimed, Jesus is the Reason for the Season.

  I slowed and looked in the opposite direction, hoping to see Caroline’s Viper. I knew the house was somewhere near here, but Caroline had always either picked me up or met me somewhere.

  The nice ranch-style home on the other side of Zion Church Road was built of the same red brick as the church, so I guessed it was the parsonage. The next house was a cottage, wrapped in white vinyl siding. Perhaps four rooms, five at the most, but the huge yard was dotted with massive oak trees. The driveway held a silver SUV and an older Ford sedan, so I kept going.