Turn & Burn (30 page)

“About the car.”

I popped the sheet over the edge of the mattress and raised my head to frown. “Which car?”

“The new car Dale’s talking about buying you.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in the taut cotton and turned to grab the flat sheet.

“I uh, plan on getting Kolby’s Audi. No purchase required.”

She snapped the folded sheet open. “Let’s be realistic.”

I tried to breathe through the pain that sliced me.

“How’d you like driving the Passat yesterday?”

I blinked. “Fine.”

She moved to the foot of the bed to tuck in the sheet. I moved, too, like her puppet, grasping the bottom edge of the sheet with one hand, lifting the edge of the mattress with the other, still locked in sync, like I had been since the day she’d taught me to help with this little chore.

“I think I’m going to give you the Volkswagen and let Dale buy me something else. It only has forty thousand miles on it and it’s much nicer than anything you’ve ever had.”

Except, Dale wants to buy me my first new car, like a real Dad. Except, that’s just not true. I’ve been driving a collector’s dream car.

“Why can’t you just trade it in on an automatic?” It’d been four years since she’d showed up driving the thing. Even if it had been financed, she’d be in good shape on a trade.

“Hrmph. The man thinks that you don’t get your money’s worth out of a new vehicle unless you put the first hundred and twenty-five thousand miles on it. I stay home sometimes, just so I don’t have to drive that thing. All those damn vehicles in the yard, and nothing’s automatic.” She scowled, like I’d had a hand in choosing her man.  

So, one more time, I was supposed to pay the price for her snap decisions? The Dale Hannah I knew hadn’t picked a Volkswagen Passat. If the damn car had been free, he’d have walked past it to peer under the hood of the closest Ford or Dodge.

“I plan on leaving here in that Audi RS7day after tomorrow. And
if
I lose, I’m not letting Dale buy me anything. I don’t feel comfortable taking a new car from him. I’ve arranged to ride home with Jonny after the race, just in case.”

“Don’t be so,”—her mouth turned down and the skin around her eyes tightened—“obstinate.” Snatching the comforter off the floor beside the dresser, she slung the coverlet into the center of the bed, then yanked one side. “Just tell him you’ll take the Passat.”

My cell phone buzzed. I read the message from Caine with relief. She could get on her knees and work for her Lexus or Jaguar or whatever.

“The guys are here. I’ll just grab some clothes, so Caine and I can go.”

“Shelby.” I halted in the doorway, but refused to look back. “No one expects you to win. Dale might not like Kolby, but he’s a professional driver, with several Cup wins under his belt. I have no clue what the hell the man expects this race to prove, but when you lose, he’ll laugh and say something that sounds profound, but isn’t. Then, he’ll load you into his truck and spend one more damn day away from this house and all the things I need him to do, so he can find you a car.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her snatch a pillowcase off the dresser. I took a step.

“Shelby, don’t you dare walk out on me. You’re right, of course. You barely know him, because you’ve avoided me ever since I found someone to love. I understand you feel jealous. But I need you to tell him you’ll take the Volkswagen.”

An unseen fist squeezed my heart with such force, I couldn’t get enough breath to respond. My name echoed through the still house in that tone that made me grit my teeth while I dashed down the stairs.

“You’re her minion,” I snapped at Colt when I hit the driveway. “So, you and Jonny got this, right?” I scowled into the back of the trailer, grabbing Caine’s shirt. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on,” Caine said, mildly. “Carry this armload of clothes, will you? This won’t take long if we all pitch in.”

I stared down at the bright, unstained concrete driveway, unwilling to lift a finger to help Mom do a damn thing.

“Gotta pee first.” Whirling, I rushed through the garage and into the kitchen. The door was closed to the first bathroom I found. Squeezing my thighs together, I eyed the traffic on the stairs. Colt and Jonny each had an armful of clothes, but they had to wait while one of the delivery guys tromped down, carrying huge pieces of cardboard.

I leaned my head against the door, suddenly worn out from living my fucked-up life. Now that Harry had Phillip, even his place would no longer be a refuge. Maybe I could stay with Ernie and Francine until the dorms reopened.

“Jamie?”

I jerked upright, startled by Bliss’s furtive tone. I pressed my ear to the door and held my breath, wishing my heart would beat more quietly.

“Now that I’ve had a chance to get a better look at Macy’s daughter, I agree with her. This girl doesn’t have what it takes to win a race. She’ll choke it down on the start line. She’s wandering around in a dance leotard, for heaven’s sake. Shelby’s nothing like Hancock’s bull dyke of a stepdaughter. So, you can stop worrying. If Dale can’t raise his part of the money, you won’t have to tell him you’ve changed your mind about backing Hannah-built Racing.”

“S
helby. How you been, sweetie?”

I threw my arms around Lee Haney. “Good, Lee, real good. How about you?”

“Well.” He chuckled while I searched his face. Maybe I spied a few new wrinkles, but his eyes twinkled. “Can’t complain. I’m thinkin’ about chargin’ admission for this race. Everybody in town’s talkin’ about it.”

“I wish we could close it down to pit crews and drivers only.” My heart took the usual nosedive whenever someone mentioned a crowd. Who was running their mouth? Had to be Kolby. Dale had been busy reminiscing with Ernie when he hadn’t had his head under the hood. Colt and Caine had Jonny to occupy their spare time. I couldn’t recall seeing either of my brothers tapping out text messages.

I spied Chris and waved. It took an effort to think of him as Rowdy. “Guess my trainer’s ready to put my ass to work.” I grinned and hopped into the ‘Cuda, rolling down my window as I drove through the gate and passed through the tunnel leading to the straight track.

“Sounds like Caine’s been under that hood.” Chris cocked his head. “Pop the release, will ya?”

He disliked Caine and Colt. Maybe he was working for Kolby. And maybe I was paranoid. I wished Caine hadn’t stopped to fill up the gas cans. Surely, Dale would’ve mentioned not showing anyone, if it mattered. After all, could Caine tune the damn thing without Chris seeing it? Hiding the engine swap smacked of cheating, so I pulled the lever. Chris worked the pins in the hood latches free and raised the hood.

Chris immediately peered around the hood. “This sure as hell ain’t no stock Barracuda engine.”

I leaned my head out of the window. “No, that’s the engine out of the twenty-two car.”

He stared for a minute, then started laughing. “Damn, Dale Hannah’s got balls the size of Texas.”

He strode to the window and leaned in. Letting out a long whistle, he asked, “I reckon Caine fabricated that roll cage?”

“I guess.” I gazed at the empty spot where the passenger seat had been. The carpet and back seat had been removed, too. The seat under me was new, and the carbon fiber it was made of was hard and uncomfortable. Steel pipe formed a basket around me. It didn’t make rational sense, but the cage made it difficult to take a deep breath if I thought about it too hard.

Chris stuck his arm through the window, sliding a hand across the metal.

“He’s a fucking god with a torch.”

“For a man who admires his work so much, why don’t you like him?”

“Got no problem with Caine, really. It’s Colt I can’t stand. But Caine’s always got his back.” He scuffed his boots on the asphalt. “Makes it hard to be friends with one and not the other.”

“Be nice. He’s on his way. Stopped to fill up the gas cans.”

He studied my face. “Just not gonna let me get you alone, are you?”

“I’m trying to get ready for a race,” I snapped. “There’s a lot riding on this, you know, even if it’s not a NASCAR-sanctioned event. I can fuck anybody, any time, and so can you. So, right now, you’re either part of the solution or part of the problem. Which is it?”

He gripped the top edge of the door, looking into my eyes. Finally, he broke into a smile and nodded. “Leaving early is worse than leaving late, because of the DQ. If disqualifications aren’t part of this bet, then look for Barnes to make a lot of false starts. That’s what I do, in his shoes. Wear you down and wait for you to get a bad jump off the line, then turn and burn.”

I frowned. “But that’ll make him look—”

“Foolish? Like a rookie?”

I nodded.

“Shelby, Kolby’s no rookie. I’d rather look foolish than cough up four million dollars. Don’t underestimate him. The man’s lethal when he gets behind the wheel. He will have a strategy—for winning and for losing. If it were me, I’d exploit your lack of hours behind the wheel. That’s why I say he’ll go for the series of bad starts and wait for your mistake.

“Then I can’t make one. Let’s do this.” I took a deep breath. Holding it for a long five-count, I let it out slowly and fixed my peripheral vision on the lights. Yanking up the handbrake, I started my burnout.

“Gonna use both lanes.” Chris cupped his hands around his mouth to yell. Don’t you dare get a preference, you hear me?”

I wrenched my head around to stare, open-mouthed. I let off the gas to hear him better.

“You like the left-hand lane, amirite?”

I nodded. I always picked that lane.

His grin evaporated. “I knew it. Get your ass over, right fucking now.” He slapped the hood. I slammed the visor of my borrowed helmet down and jammed the shifter into reverse.

I’d made three—horrible—starts by the time Caine arrived.

Chris greeted him with a middle finger. “Well, hello, motherfucker. Pisses me off to know that I’d still have my damn engine if I’d have just claimed the left lane that night.”

Caine cut his eyes toward me, but lifted his shoulders with a cocky grin. “That’s racin’.”

“A
bout damn time the pizza got here.” Caine sprang off the loveseat and snatched the pile of cash off the coffee table. I stared at my shoes to keep from grinning while he hurried to the front door. Since when had pizza ever arrived, way out here in the sticks, less than fifteen minutes after we’d ordered?

Caine’s voice boomed from the small foyer. “Just go through that door and hang a right. Everybody’s in the den.”

Colt muted the television and looked up. “Who’s that?”

“I invited Chris.” Colt still scowled. “Rowdy. Whatever.”

Colt’s brows drew together. “Why?”

I leaned close enough to whisper. “One, he helped me out today, big time. Two, I want to fuck him. Three, you need more friends on the track, Colt.”

Jonny snickered and closed the recliner’s footrest with a snap.

“Hey, y’all.” Rowdy turned the corner and stepped into the den. He threw up a hand. Colt gave him a short nod, but Jonny said hello. I patted the cushion next to me, but our guest stopped beside the coffee table. “Red Viper came down the drive behind me. Made me wonder what the hell was behind those seven garage doors.”

“I uh, might’ve invited Caroline, too.” I flashed Colt a grin. If it killed me, Caine was going to have sex with Caroline tonight.

“Not givin’ tours today. Santa’s been known to hide shit out there.” Colt finally stood and extended a hand. “How’s it hangin’, Rowdy?”

“Have you met Jonny Jet?” I gestured in his direction. “He’s driving in the Xfinity series with Colt next year.”

“Yeah, I heard somethin’ about that.” Rowdy let go of Colt’s hand in a hurry, but pumped Jonny’s. Eyeing the way he and Colt glared, I clenched my internal muscles. With any luck, they’d take all that competitive aggression out on me.

“Merry Christmas!” Caroline stepped into the room. Caine followed on her heels.

“Damn. Shelby, you shouldn’t have. But, thanks for the gift. I already know it’s a perfect fit.” Jonny moved around Rowdy, who peered over his shoulder, wide-eyed.

I couldn’t blame him. The red dress hugged Caroline’s curves like cable-knit skin. Her hair gleamed and she’d taken the time to blow dry the waves out of it. Jesus, even I wanted to fuck her. I’d never seen her wear dark lipstick, but the scarlet gloss looked great on her.