by Eden Connor
Of all the times to suck at math.
Yelling was pointless, so I gripped the helmet—the sparkly purple one with ‘Hannah-built’ airbrushed on it that Santa had brought—by both straps, close to the fiberglass shell. Taking a deep breath, I slammed the open side against the apex of my widespread legs. Waiting one heartbeat, I thrust my hips, shoving my pelvic bone into the void.
Kolby jerked his head to the side and spat on the ground. My pit crew—the trio of Hannah men with gasoline in their blood—burst into raucous laughter.
Kolby jumped the wall and ran toward us. Colt took a wide stance on my left. Caine took up the spot on my right. Both jammed wide shoulders in front of me, and, dammit, I wasn’t in heels. I had to bend my knees to see anything.
“You think I’m stupid?” Barnes yelled, jabbing a finger toward the Barracuda. “That ain’t no ‘Cuda engine, Hannah. What the fuck are you trying to pull?”
Dale brushed past him. Striding to the front end of the car, he started unfastening the pins in the hood latches. “Pull the lever, Shelby.”
I reached inside and pulled the latch. Dale raised the hood. I moved forward.
Dale jabbed a finger toward the gleaming motor. “Your engine. Out of the twenty-two car. So, here’s the real deal, Barnes. You beat her, Rick says he’ll retire the goddamn thing. She beats you, you shut up and drive.”
“I didn’t bet four million bucks against that engine.”
Dale jerked his jaw high and slammed the hood. “Stick your four million up your ass, kid. But the car titles? That’s still a bet, because my baby wants that Audi and you shot your mouth off. Unless you just wanna hand her the keys now?”
Kolby spat. The lugie landed dangerously close to Dale’s foot. Caine and Colt tensed like horses in the starting box at the Kentucky Derby. The cocky bastard spun and stalked away.
“Got. To. Pee.” I tossed the headgear to Colt and started the jog across the infield to the ladies room.
I hadn’t gotten far when a golf cart slowed at my side.
“Wanna ride?” Lee pumped the brake. I slid onto the bench. “You lit his ass up, girl.” The old man grinned. “I see you finally got around to asking your daddy for them aftermarket hot rod parts.”
“Wanna hear a secret?” Waiting for his avid nod, I confessed what was under the hood. The old man howled with laughter.
“Hannah’s got some balls on him, I swear he does.” He pulled through the tunnel and swung around to the left. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he drew out a ring of keys. “Honey, I’m gonna unlock the driver’s lounge for you. Gonna take Dale a minute to fix them brakes. If’n you want somethin’ to drink, there’s stuff in the fridge, and a little couch you can stretch out on.”
He climbed out of the cart and shoved the key into a padlock. When he pushed the door open, I peered inside. A tiny kitchenette occupied the far wall. The sofa faced a wide screen television. A braided oval rug made the space cozy.
“Hey, Lee, can you fetch Caroline? She’ll keep me from pinging off the walls.”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” He scooped a Sharpie off the table by the couch. Pointing to the wall that faced the parking lot, he grinned. “Put your John Hancock up there, will ya?”
I used the sparkling restroom with relief. By the time I’d grabbed a cold bottled water and studied the wall filled with scrawled signatures, Caroline’s giggle made me turn.
“I heard about this place.” She stepped inside and closed the door. “Never thought I’d see it.
“Why? Lee said it was the driver’s lounge. I know you raced here.”
She came to stand beside me. Gesturing to the signatures, she explained. “Not just any driver gets to hide out in here. That’s Lee’s wall of fame. Bet he gets you to sign it.”
I waved the marker. “Pick the spot. But, I don’t get why.”
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because you just did something inhuman. Six gears, eight point two seconds. That’s a shift every one point three seconds. Takes most folks twice that long to let out their clutch.”
My brows went up. I blinked. “Did you just do that in your head?”
She giggled. “You can’t?” She drove her elbows into my ribs. “Use your cell phone, silly. It has a calculator.”
“To be honest, I thought about it. But, then I decided the distance needed to factor in there somehow, and I didn’t know how to work it out.”
I raised my middle finger in answer to her peal of giggles, wrote my name in the spot she picked out, and plopped onto the couch. Swinging my feet onto the cushion, I wriggled closer to the back, making room for her. She perched by my thighs.
Something in her expression as she looked around the room hit me like a hammer. I’d taken something else from her. I could almost see her adding them up. This room and what it implied. Her scholarship. College, period, it sometimes felt like, even though it wasn’t my fault she got pregnant, I’d had the fun and she’d had the baby. Racing. I’d taken that from her, too. Beating her, hitting a target she couldn’t hit, when I cared so little for the sport, was just one more thing I had that she didn’t.
She smiled, though, because that was Caroline. “Shelby, if I live to be a hundred, I’m never gonna forget your little ‘fuck you’ to Barnes. I just about died laughin’.” She waved her cell phone. “Want me to send you my recording? I had a hunch one of you would show out. To be honest, my money was on him showin’ his ass. But, I got it all on tape.”
“Sure, send it to me.” I gestured to her shirt. “Did you buy that to make Caine jealous?”
Her smile faded. The way she studied my face made my heart skip a beat. I kept smiling. I’d taken too many things from her. Caine wouldn’t be one.
“Gah!” Her mouth twisted and her eyes began to sparkle.” I can’t keep this a secret. We didn’t have sex yesterday morning. He’s trying to make you jealous. You got that man spinnin’, girl.”
She’d lie to protect our friendship. But I couldn’t tell if she was lying now or not. My heart twisted. Caine.
“No, ma’am. You’ve wanted him forever. I don’t care what he thinks he wants. Just give him a few of those ah-mazing blows jobs and change his mind.”
Giggling, she kicked her feet up beside me and leaned against the sofa arm. “Catch and release, Shelby. That’s all I wanted. I’m hopin’ to run into Rowdy so he can... uh, sign my shirt.” She flashed her brows up and down.
I didn’t respond.
“Seriously. Can you imagine how that’d work? Me and Caine? With Colt breathin’ down both our necks? And when we argued, he’d be all up in our shit.” She shuddered.
She was lying through her teeth.
“He’s always been yours for the takin’. You just wanted Colt. Who wanted Brandon.”
I jolted upright. “You knew?”
She shook her head. Leaning forward, she locked her arms around her knees. “Not till the other night, when I saw Colt and Jonny kiss. Then I was like, how did I not see it? They used to go out and race all the time, but neither one wanted me to go along.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes. I held my breath, aching for her. She was too loyal to let herself be mad at Colt, but this had to hurt like a bitch.
She was too loyal to admit how much she cared for Caine.
“I just wish... I just wish people would shut up, you know? I knew Colt was a tortured soul, I just had the reason wrong.” She stroked my arm. “I love you for not judging him. He’s all I got, besides Mom and Shelby.”
“No.” I shook my head, leaning forward and drawing my knees up. “Caroline, you’ve got me. I love you, too.” Raking my fingers through her waves, I leaned forward until our lips touched.
Pushing her against the sofa arm, I straddled her thighs and dragged my lips across her cheek. “And tonight? That run? That was all you, woman. No matter how many times Colt takes credit, you’re the one who taught me to shift.”
Her lips were so soft. Almost as soft as the expression in her eyes. Leaning down so my b
reasts touched hers, I kissed her, slow and deep. Pulling away, I smoothed her hair off her forehead, letting my fingers slide through the silken mass.
“I wish we could shift the whole world,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against mine. “Why can’t we just have it all? Live like one big, happy family that fucks each others’ brains out?”
My heart ached, because I could tell by her eyes, she meant every word. “I’d give you that if I could.”
I can give you Caine. Pain ripped through my chest, so intense, it shut off my breath. But I’d rather die than hurt this gentle soul. Nothing had ever worked out right for her. This would. It had to. She was due. All I had to do was stay out of her way.
Someone tapped on the door. “Brakes’r fixed, Shelby,” Lee called.
Caroline pushed my shoulders. I scrambled off her lap just as the old man came through the door.
Chapter Thirty
I pressed the brake pedal and blew a sigh of relief when I felt the brakes grab. It was fully dark now, but the stadium lights lit the crowd’s faces. During the short time it’d taken to fix my brakes, people had poured into the fairgrounds.
I wrenched the wheel, feeling the burn in my arm muscles. Circling the oval track, I eyed the people in the stands, looking for Mom, Francine, and Ernie. When I spied them, Francine waved, but Mom jumped to her feet, clapping. Ernie wasn’t with them, but I had a hunch I knew where he’d be.
To my surprise, I spied Phillip and Harry. Phillip got to his feet and shoved two fingers into his mouth. I grinned because Harry winced.
I turned again and headed for the start line, passing the shiny rescue squad vehicle and the Cabarrus County sheriff’s car parked side by side in the infield beside the track. Mack Brown stood by the front quarter panel of his car, one fat thigh parked on the edge of the hood. He still wore his reflective shades, but the grin was an accessory I’d never seen. I wrinkled my nose at the news van parked farther down the straight track.
Kolby was already in his car. He’d taken the left lane, but I’d made my peace with the right side, so I kept my eyes on the track official and eased into place.
Ernie and Richard Ridenhour chatted in the far end of the pits. Caine grabbed Caroline by the waist, lifting her into the back of his truck. She waved, jumping up and down like a little kid.
Dale jogged to the passenger door. It had to be a hundred degrees inside the car. This suit made a diabolical weight loss device. Sweat ran between my breasts, under my arms, and down the back of my neck. Most of the wetness pooled under my ass.
He yanked the passenger door open. “Had to roll ‘em up, kiddo. Every bit of drag’s gonna matter now. You’ll have the late start. Did you and Rusty happen to practice that?”
I shook my head. None of us had anticipated me turning in a faster time than Kolby.
“Don’t think it’s gonna matter. You and this engine are one, babe. She’s gonna give you everything she’s got.”
With a nod, I swiped my hands down the legs of the suit.
“I promise you, win or lose, we’re all with you. And when the race is behind us, I’ll start workin’ on buildin’ a fuckin’ kite.”
I frowned, unsure what he meant.
“I dunno if we can change which way the wind blows, kiddo, but we’re gonna have the time of our lives ridin’ the currents.” He turned, motioning to his sons. When Colt got to his side, Dale threw an arm around his neck, bending down and dragging Colt with him, so I could see their faces. Dale grabbed his wrist with his other hand and squeezed so hard, Colt’s face turned red. Caine bent, too, peering at his father with a grin. Dale let go of his wrist and slung his arm around Caine’s shoulders.
“Kick his fuckin’ balls in, Shelby.” Caine slapped the door before they backed away. Reluctantly, I rolled up my side window.
Everything I’d ever wanted lay just beyond the finish line, if I could get there first.
The tree lit. I gripped the shifter, shoving the clutch in till I felt the sweet spot. Jamming my foot down on the gas, I focused on nothing but the lights.
I had a hunch Rowdy had been right about Kolby coming in with a plan, but he hadn’t expected to get beat on time, either. So, he’d jump off the line and race, rather than play games at the start line. I hoped.
People got to their feet. Flashes went off. I pulled the hand brake and gunned the engine, starting my burnout. Kolby kept spinning his tires after I lowered my brake. Whatever, dude.
The track official gestured. Time to race.
Red.
Amber.
On my left, the Audi streaked off the line.
Green.
I was at his rear quarter panel when my front end jumped into the air, but the rear tires ground forward. By the time my tires touched down, he was four feet out in front. I held my foot on the gas and worked through second and third gear. The distance between us held steady.
He swerved. I froze. Heat painted my skin, but he straightened out.
The man’s lethal when he gets behind the wheel. He will have a strategy—for winning and for losing. Rowdy’s words rattled in my skull.
No, no. That’s not gonna work, asswipe. I know you won’t wreck the car your brother has his heart set on. I slid into fourth gear, grinning because the gearshift moved like silk. The big NASCAR engine continued to eat away at his lead.
Fifth gear was where the fun began. The motor cranked out rpms effortlessly. The Cuda’s nose cleared the Audi’s front fender. I shifted into sixth and that was all she wrote. His front end disappeared from my peripheral vision. The board flashed.
Eight point three.
I jerked the snap free on my helmet, stomping the brakes.
The ‘Cuda jerked to the right, slamming into the three-foot concrete barriers. The car came off the wall like a pinball, heading for the opposite side of the track. Another jolt hit me from the right rear. The ‘Cuda smashed into the wall again. Metal screamed and smoke poured from underneath the hood, obscuring my vision.
I shoved in the clutch, but the car stuck to the wall. Sparks arced across the window glass at my side. The grating shriek of metal against concrete hurt my ears, but the drag slowed my forward progress. I jerked the wheel to the left and stood on the brake.
The rear end slid out. I braced for another contact with the Audi, but it never came. I felt my left side tires lift. The car tilted.
My brain flashed an image of the barricades on Old Cottonmouth Road.
I held my breath as a thousand pounds of Detroit steel passed the point of no return. My stomach catapulted. The ‘Cuda flipped onto her side. My shoulder slammed into one of the braces on the roll cage.
A sharp pain sliced through my head and neck. My left shoulder made a hideous grating sensation. A harsh tingle danced down my arm and I lost feeling in my hand. Then, somehow, the car flipped again, landing on her tires with a hard jolt.
I gripped the steering wheel, staring out the front glass and trying to get my bearings.
The big engine still growled. I stretched as far as I could, reaching for the keys to cut off the ignition, but I couldn’t reach them. Bits of safety glass sparkled like diamonds on my suit and everywhere else I could see. A crack began at the lower left corner of the windshield, staggering across my field of vision. My shoulder seemed to be wedged into the door.
Unsnapping the latch at my waist, I shed the safety harness. A breeze lifted the pall of smoke, revealing that I faced the start line.
Sirens wailed as the rescue squad vehicle raced down the wide dual lane. Kolby was still in his car, about ten feet ahead. Something wet streaked the concrete, between all the black tire marks. Whatever it was didn’t extend to the Audi, so I supposed the liquid leaked from the ‘Cuda.
Gas leak. That’s why my head’s killing me. Gotta get out of here.
The driver’s side door bowed, jamming against the uncomfortable carbon fiber seat. Not getting out that way.
The throb in my head built, but I slid into the empty spot w
here the passenger seat used to be.
That ass wrecked me on purpose.
I grabbed the door handle kicked the door open. Jumping clear, I straightened. Caine, Dale, and Colt raced down the track.
I strode toward the Audi.
Mack slammed his car to a stop on the far side of the barrier. I was shocked at how fast the sheriff jumped out and dashed to the wall.
“Shelby! You all right, honey?” There was no way that fat man could wedge his ass in the narrow spaces between each barrier.
Ignoring Mack, I glared at the Audi’s front end. Both front corners were mangled. Ripped Fiberglass dragged the ground like false eyelashes after a long Ladies’ Night out. The sleek hood buckled in the center.
“Are you drunk?” I slammed my palm on the Audi’s hood and glared at Ridenhours’ favorite son through the windshield.
The asshole swung his door open. “Lost control for a second. You okay?”
“You lost control of a car that can do this run on cruise control? Really?” I gasped for a deep breath, cutting my eyes toward Mack Brown. “I think you’re drunk. Prove you’re not. Or I swear to God, I’ll have the sheriff test you.”
“Barnes? You been drinkin’, son?” Mack barked. “If I search you, or Kasey’s vehicle, will I find an open container?”
Kolby got out of the Audi and sauntered toward me. The glint in his eye, his smirk—oh God, I knew damn well, he’d put the Audi into me deliberately. It made perfect sense. I’d won, but now both cars were damaged, so in effect, I’d won nothing.
I couldn’t even look at the ‘Cuda, but my heart bled over the damage. Anger raced through my bloodstream like wildfire.
“Prove it. Tip your head back and touch your nose.” My left arm still felt numb, so I used my right hand, tugging the headgear off by the strap.
He spread his legs and tipped his head way back, lifting his left arm to bring his finger to his nose.
Your shoe size is definitely bigger than your fucking IQ.
I let the strap slide through my fist, clenching the buckle. Watching through narrowed eyes, I waited until he swapped hands. When he raised his right arm, he still stared at the sky.