Turn & Burn (34 page)

“Shelby.”

I whirled, jerking my hand from Caine’s paw. Colt strode into the room.

“I done it. I couldn’t sleep, so I come out here. Moved the Camaro into the garage. Found the memory card.” He scuffed the low pile carpeting with the worn toe of his boot. “I wanted to....” His Adam’s apple bobbed and tears gleamed in his eyes. “You just keep givin’ me things, Shelby. Gifts I sure as hell don’t know how to handle. But, I reckon I know I don’t deserve ‘em. So, I had to step up. Can’t let you have the biggest set of balls in the Hannah family, now can I?”

All of us had been through some shit in the last couple of days, but for what?

“Jamie’s going to back out,” I blurted. “Either Bliss doesn’t want him to back a new race team, or he’s changed his mind.”

“Mother. Fucker.” Colt balled his fist and struck the wall.

“Don’t matter.” Caine grabbed my hand again. “It don’t matter, Colt. This is what Dad wanted, the three of us, workin’ as one. Jamie don’t mean shit.”

Caine gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I couldn’t read his expression. “Baby, all you gotta worry about is gettin’ behind the wheel for one eight-second run. Nothin’ else. Then you can go back to school and focus on graduatin’.” His grin seemed normal, but the pain in his eyes squeezed my heart.

Colt cleared his throat. “Reckon I’ll mosey inside. It’s time I got my ass out of y’all’s way.”

His eyes held a mixture of shame, and pain, and... whatever else I saw made my chest hurt so damn bad, I could barely breathe. I’d never expected to have to choose between them. I’d spent more time hating them than I had loving either one, but now, I couldn’t choose either. I wasn’t going to take one more goddamn thing from Caroline. If I just got out of her way, and stayed out, she and Caine might be happy. As for Colt, I didn’t want one brother without the other.

Greedy? Yes, but that was how our thing had always worked. I didn’t mind adding Jonny to the mix. I adored Caroline. Sex with her was awesome, especially if we had hard cocks waiting. But a threesome was hard enough to pull off, A... whatever the fuck one called a five-way relationship? Not even possible.

Nowhere else on earth would I actually consider the shit that seemed normal here. I had to get out of Concord. The sooner the better.

“I need to go pack my bags. I’m leaving after the race. My holiday’s officially over after tonight. I have to work the lunch shift tomorrow.”

“You always leave here runnin’.” Caine dropped my hand. “Left something in the truck. Be right back.”

Grabbing the mouse, I moved the cursor toward the first folder.

Something made me look in the tray. The icon for the dash cam software was showing, so instead, I clicked there. A browser window leaped open. Dale had just minimized it.

The frozen image was so blurred, I had no idea what I was seeing. I checked all three folders, nodding when each contained the neat rows of fifteen-minute video clips. Opening a new browser window, I emailed the three folders to myself, then sent the copies on the desktop to the recycle bin. Dale didn’t need to see every minute of these. Ever.

I clicked to empty the bin just as Caine returned. He held a white bundle underneath his arm. “This should fit.”

He tossed the soft mass on the desk. I lifted it, surprised when the bundle unfolded to be a one-piece suit.

“Nomex,” he explained. “Professional racing gear. Wanted you to look the part.”

“I gotta go.” I shoved the garment under my arm and jumped out of the chair. “I just need to ride.”

“Nerves. I know what you need.” He nodded, moving aide to let me pass. Before I cleared the door, he hooked a hand through my arm, jerking me around to face him. I opened my mouth to protest, but his lips came down on mine.

I shouldn’t kiss him. I should slap him or drive my fist into his nuts, but if the wall I’d built to protect me from my stepbrothers had ever worked, the drawbridge was down now, and I had no idea how to raise it again.

I
counted at least fifty cars and pickups in the parking lot when I followed Caine’s truck into the gravel drive. Every vehicle sported a bumper sticker. Most bore Kolby’s number, twenty-two. Swallowing hard, I tried to ignore the sweat trickling down the back of my neck, but the steady itch was a silent annoyance as I made my way through the tunnel beneath the stands that led to the strip.

Caine pulled onto the grass, motioning for me to take the left lane, but I ignored him and lined up in the right-hand one.

He jogged to my side, already scowling. “You’re giving up a half-second you ain’t got to give.” The glass didn’t muffle his bark.

I cranked the window down. “I plan to make Kolby force a change in lanes.”

He shook his head. “He ain’t here yet. Just fucking take that lane, Shelby.”

I leaned forward to peer through my windshield. People crowded the low seats close to the rail. I saw a fair number wearing the number twenty-two—on everything from hats to sweatshirts, to jackets. Maybe the sheriff was wrong. From here, it sure looked like the arrogant driver owned this county.

When several jumped to their feet, I knew he’d arrived. I peered into the rearview mirror. Behind the sleek Audi loomed a jacked up four wheel drive truck painted neon orange.

“Well, well, looks like he brought Kasey for his pit crew. He might as well just sign the check and hand it over.” Caine scuffed the asphalt with the toe of his boot. “Be ready for a bunch of trash talk, Shelby. Those two love to mouth off, and when one brother’s around to instigate the other....” He shook his head.

“Oh, I think I can handle it.” I tossed my head, but was relieved when Dale’s truck barreled through the tunnel. Colt brought up the rear in the GT500. Dale swung into the grass beside the right lane pits. Colt pulled up beside him. I eyed Dale, but he greeted Jonny with the same hearty tone he’d used all week.

From the corner of my eye, I watched the tinted window on the driver’s side of the Audi glide down. I hoped that tint could be removed, since it was too dark to be legal.

I raised my voice again. “Nothing was said about choosing lanes. I got here first. I’m racing from the right and that’s all there is to it!”

Kolby climbed out of his vehicle. “Don’t want you on the track when I run my time trials. Move it.”

I propped one hand on my hip and turned, eyeing his NASCAR racing suit. “Ever heard that line about ladies first?”

“Ladies don’t try to compete in a man’s sport, so I reckon that makes you somethin’ else.”

I didn’t have to force my smile. “You’re right. I’m the redheaded bitch who’s about to kick your ass.” I swept a hand toward the strip. “Be my guest. But,” I strode close enough to drill a finger into his chest—“listen up. I only race from the right hand lane. Got it?”

Dale slammed a fist to his lips, coughing loudly. I stalked to the ‘Cuda and flung myself behind the wheel, trying not to laugh. Gunning the engine to a deafening roar the Audi couldn’t match, I slapped the gearshift into reverse and backed off the start line. I pushed in the clutch and revved the hell out of the motor again, skipping first gear so I could make the tires bark before I pulled off the concrete and stopped at Dale’s side.

“You do a pretty good crazy chick imitation,” he drawled when I hopped onto the hood.

I took the foil-wrapped piece of Juicy Fruit he extended. “Little something I picked up at school.”

He leaned a hip against the ‘Cuda, folding a stick of gum into his mouth. “Uh huh. I know my trash talk. More like you picked it up workin’ in bars.”

“Shows what you know. I’m convinced the college should shoot testosterone into the a/c once a month, just to balance out all the estrogen. Every full moon, my dorm’s like living in a lair full of honey badgers.”

Dale laughed so hard the car bounced on its shocks. I kicked my feet, watching Kolby move into the right lane. Smoke began to roil from his rear tires. “Can he really be that stupid?”

Dale tipped his Ridenhour cap off his forehead and dragged his nails across his furrowed brow. “That boy’s a different kind of smart. Just about the time you decide he’s got the brains of a garter snake, he’ll rear up and bite you on the ass with all the cunning and venom of a copperhead. Never seen nothin’ like it.” He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Swear to God, I think his mama dropped him on his head the day he was born.”

The tree lit up. I watched the lights count down with baited breath. The Audi came off the line like a streak of black lightning. I waited for the trap—the system that measured time and speed—to flash on the big board.

“Jesus.” I blinked. “Even I can beat that time.”

“Eleven point one. He ain’t on his game yet.” My heart dropped. Dale cut his eyes to my face. “You gonna be able to handle that rocket ship when it’s yours?”

That grin, dear God.
If he pulled over on the interstate and flashed that particular one at my mother... yeah, the whole we-got-married-at-lunchtime thing made way more sense now.

I threw my arms around his neck. “You’re still spotting me that one speeding ticket, right?”

“I dunno, kid. You’re costin’ me an arm and two legs.” He couldn’t quite hold the scowl.

“I think you got me confused with Mom.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He shook with silent laughter and gripped the hand I draped over his shoulder. “Light up the road one good time, hon. I got your bail money.”

I blinked back sudden tears. This moment with Dale—basking in the pride and assurance radiating in his tone—was something out of my dreams.

Colt and Jonny dropped his tailgate and hopped on to watch Kolby’s next run. Colt’s baseball cap was set backwards and sunlight glinted off the gold rims of his Oakleys. Did he and Jonny sit too close? Was anyone watching them? Trying to fight my anxiety, I tucked the protruding tag inside the back of Dale’s shirt.

“Shelby!” A sharp whistle followed the call. I searched the stands, waving when I spied Caroline walking across the infield.
Did she own that Rowdy Collins shirt before last night?
Sauntering to the truck, she elbowed Colt, who wriggled to one side, while Jonny moved the opposite way. Jonny leaned forward, kissing Caroline on the cheek.

Dale stiffened, but I relaxed. Caroline finally looked in my direction. Her giggle floated over the applause that told me Kolby had completed another run. My heart did a little jig.

The Audi zipped past in reverse, the pulled up at the track official’s signal. Another man wearing an ‘official’ windbreaker scrawled his time on his windshield. The tree lit again.

“No tune between runs.” I jerked around to meet my own face, reflected in Caine’s black aviator sunglasses. “He’s gonna trust the technology.”

Dale nodded, popping his gum like automatic gunfire. “That’s all he believes in.”

Kolby got another excellent start. He didn’t seem fazed by the Christmas tree. I eyed the guy leaning against the door of the huge orange truck on the opposite side of the track. He jerked his hands out of the pockets of his baggy khaki shorts and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Hannah! Wanna save some gas and just walk them keys over? Been wantin’ a ‘Cuda since I was seven. Nice of you to donate one.”

The board lit up.

Ten point nine? Not awesome.

“Nah. We’re here now, Kasey. Reckon we’ll run,” Dale drawled.

The testosterone wafting across the lanes nearly blotted out the stench of gasoline.

I couldn’t sit still any longer. I’d explode. “How about telling me a bit about the ‘Cuda, on camera? For my You Tube site?”

Dale craned his neck to stare. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” I jumped down. “Too bad the passenger seat’s gone, but I have questions for you. C’mon.” I tugged his sleeve.

“Just drop the top, honey, and you get behind the wheel. No sense in me messin’ up where you got your seat set.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “You’re getting behind the wheel, Dale. I want my fans to see you there. I wanna see you there.”

He lowered the top and lifted me into the back. Shoving the seat back, he climbed behind the wheel. I stuck my hand through the steel bars and turned on the camera.

“Hi, guys. This is my stepdad’s car, as you know, and he’s agreed to an interview. Have I mentioned that my stepfather just happens to be Dale Hannah, the crew chief for Ridenhour Racing? After letting me drive his baby for four years, he’s decided to get rid of it. But, we’re sending her off Hannah-style. We’re at the Cabarrus County Fairgrounds Drag Strip, about to put the ‘Cuda up against a new Audi RS7, owned and driven by Kolby Barnes.”

I reached through the cage and squeezed his shoulders. “Whoever wins, walks away with both cars. If we win, Dale’s got a buyer for the ‘Cuda, so this is my last video.” I swallowed hard. “Before we get underway with our time trials, I have a couple of questions. Dale, is it true you won this car in a drag race, right here on this track?”

“Yep.”

I dug my nails into his shoulders. “Care to tell us who you beat to win it?”

He chuckled. “Well, I don’t rightly know the dude’s name. He was backed by someone else, and that guy actually held the title. I didn’t know that till after the race, though. But, I don’t know too many ways to get a free car, so, when he hauled this baby in here on a trailer and offered to take on all comers for the title, I jumped on it. It was a publicity stunt. I doubt he was expectin’ to lose.”