Turn & Burn (35 page)

Read Turn & Burn Online

Authors: Eden Connor

Tags: #stepbrother romance, #m/f/m, #m/m, #outdoor sex, #f/f, #menage, #taboo, #gang bang

BOOK: Turn & Burn
4.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“What were you driving the night you won this car? And what was the other guy driving that night?”

“Raced a brand new Ford Mustang Cobra with a ’68 Shelby GT 500. Now, that Shelby had a Hannah-built engine under the hood. Won by about two full seconds.”

I hoped he gave my fans that trademark Dale Hannah smirk.

“So, if everybody loves a ‘Cuda—and that’s the entire reason for this site—why were so few sold?”

He finally did what everybody did—caressed the wheel. Unlike most, he pulled it to the right. “I reckon I don’t have to tell you, this car corners like a damn truck. They stripped out all the power options to put more juice to the wheels, and the convertible’s haulin’ around extra weight, to make it harder to flip. But the biggest thing the entire Barracuda line had goin’ against it was Chrysler. They assigned two brilliant engineers to the program. I reckon Lee Iacocca hoped the pair would sharpen each other. But, that ain’t how it worked out. One undermined the other, instead.”

I darted a glance at Kolby, backing up to the start line again.

“The whole program was a series of compromises, rather than a single vision. As the years wore on, they compensated by throwin’ more horses under the hood, but they never fixed the light rear end and they never got a decent version out there that offered comfort and speed.”

He stroked the gearshift. “This thing’s got the heart of a thoroughbred. It just got raised as an orphan. I reckon nobody expected it to become nothin’. She’s that high-strung fox you dated once, but who had a bad home life. So, you turned away for somethin’ less high maintenance. Easier on the wallet. But all us boys are lookin’ back now, sayin’, damn. I should put a ring on her finger. Ride mighta been rough, but no one else ever stirred you that same way.”

“Looks like ten point two’s his best time.” Caine slapped me on shoulder. “Turn and burn, little sister.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I
adjusted the seat in a daze, sensing Dale had told me about more than the car. This place—this family—was like stepping in chewing gum. Lifting my eyes, I studied the faded red, white, and blue bunting on the stands. The crowd was swelling, but I was past caring.

If I ripped the guts out of this car, the way it had done me, I’d go down trying. I fastened the crash helmet strap under my chin, breathing deep and closing my eyes.

Each hitch in the engine sank through my skin. Every growl reverberated inside my chest. I didn’t need this to be about sex. Now, I understood, it had always been about power. Dale had given me more than a car to drive. Colt and Caine had given me something it’d take a while to sort through and figure out. I patted the dash and turned on the camera. “You and me, girl. One last time.”

Caroline waved like she’d walked into a spider web. “Go, Shelby!” I threw her a kiss, stomped the clutch, and shifted into first.

I took the right-hand lane. I was over the juvenile posturing. The time for gamesmanship was past. A green light was a green light. No matter which side it flashed from, I’d be gone.

This was for family.

The track official motioned me forward, then threw up his hand. “Whoa!”

He stuck his head in the window, eyed my racing harness, and tapped me on the head to be sure the helmet was fastened. Backing out, he slapped the hood and jogged backward a few steps. As soon as I completed my burnout, the Christmas tree lit up. I sucked down a gulp of air tinged with the seductive smell of burning rubber and gripped the shifter.

Red.

Amber.

I slammed the gas pedal and my foot tensed on the clutch. Since spending the afternoon here with Caine and Rowdy, the timing was part of me, like breathing.

Green.
A lift of my knee and the Barracuda reared. I was ready when she touched down, shifting into second. The faces in my peripheral vision blurred. As I worked through the gears, the bunting became a purple stripe against the wide white streak that was the grandstands.

I spied the flash of red numbers and pumped the brakes. I reached the end of the track and circled around the oval track, not bothering to check the board. Only one trip down the lane counted.

On the line again, the official flipped his fingers. I eased forward, braking when he raised a palm. On my right, Caine and Dale exchanged a look, but they didn’t come forward, so I eyed the tree.

Red.

Amber.

Clutch. Shifter. Gas.

Green.

Let’s be realistic.
My mother’s voice rang in my head as I flew down the track. Tears trickled from the corners of my eyes.

The board flashed by again.
Fuck you, Mom.

Again, I approached the start line. Again, Dale and Caine looked at each other and stayed put, like that Chevy truck was a damn pool float or something.

I lined up on the left, for the hell of it. Kolby was three feet from my elbow. He yelled, but I yanked the hand brake and shut his ass up with a good puff of burning rubber and the roar of the engine he said couldn’t win.

Watch this, motherfucker.

Red.

Amber.

Sometimes love doesn’t look like you think it should.

Green.
I leaped off the line, but the stands and people were already blurred. Blinking fast, I worked through the gears. First. Second. Third. My breath came in gasps, and then, I couldn’t breathe, but my limbs moved of their own accord. Fourth. Fifth.
Motherfucking Sixth.
I slammed the gearshift into position and lifted my foot off the clutch.

Red dots lit up on the big board at the finish line.

Brake.

Brake.

Brake.

Jesus effing Christ, brake!

I yanked the wheel to the left. Tires screamed when I hit the oval track. I kept the wheel turned hard to the left, feeling the ache in my arms as I spun into the grass.

The stands flashed by at a dizzying speed. The brake pedal was useless. I came to my senses and slammed in the clutch, gearing down.

Finally, the car lurched to a stop. I gasped for breath and blinked sweat from my eyes. An intense flash of heat swept over my skin like an ocean wave, leaving behind a film of sweat to be trapped by the racing suit.

When my vision cleared, through the windshield, I saw Caine leap the barriers and start racing toward me, with Dale on his heels. Why’d they have their arms over their heads?

Something caught my eye to the right. Colt jumped up and while I gaped, climbed on top of the cab of his truck. Turning in a circle, he vaulted onto the hood, hands first. Twisting his body, he leaped off the front end, landing on his feet. I slammed my eyes closed and collapsed against the uncomfortable headrest.

Sensations streaked through me as my body sorted out the reactions to the physical forces that hammered me. My nipples pounded. The thud in my clit kept time with the engine, which sounded like it was trying to catch its breath, too.

My bladder ached like it would explode.

“Lost the brakes,” I whispered when Caine yanked the door open. I jabbed the harness latch and tried to swing my leg out of the car, but the limb refused to move. Caine shoved his shoulders into the car, jamming one arm under my legs and one behind my back. I wriggled out of the harness and looped my arms around his neck, trying to tell him I had to pee, but he took two steps back and started spinning.

His voice came through his chest, making an indistinct roar in my ear. I couldn’t make out the words, but underneath the gasoline, I smelled Hugo Boss, Dial soap, and Caine.

Colt galloped to his brother’s side. He grabbed Caine’s arm, stopping his spin. Caine let my feet drop, but before my toes touched the grass, Colt gripped me under the arms. Lifting me again, he straightened his arms, and for some reason, he started spinning, too. Maybe I should puke. That might stop their annoying shenanigans.

My hearing came back in a rush. “... that fuckin’ time?” The cords in Colt’s neck stood out. I shook my head, grateful beyond words when he stopped revolving. He lowered me until my nose touched his.

“Eight point goddamn
two
. Didja come?”

“Gotta pee,” I gasped. “Out of gas. Lost the brakes. And the timing’s fucked. How long’s it gonna take to fix?”

Dale’s bark of laughter made me look over my shoulder. The sudden motion made my head reel, but all three of his mouths stretched into a wide grin.

“She sounds like a goddamn racecar driver to me.” He slapped Caine between the shoulder blades so hard, he stumbled forward. “Let’s get to work. I’m shootin’ for twenty minutes, Shelby. Go wave at your fans, girl.”

I had a different salute in mind. “Put me down, Colt.”

I had to take a wide stance, else I’d fall flat on my face, but when Dale moved toward the car, I had a clear line of sight to Kolby Barnes. The man stood in his pit box, arms crossed and glowering in our direction. I jerked the strap loose and yanked off the headgear.

I stood still as I could, until my brain shed the sensation of spinning. Kolby never moved. Something flashed at the end of the track.

Shelby Roberts-Hannah. 8.2 seconds.

Roberts-Hannah?

The guy in the tower got cute and the words changed.

Manual gearshift, y’all.6-speed.

There were maybe two hundred people in the stands. Every one of them got to their feet, clapping.

I took the helmet in both shaking hands.
Eight point two.
The meaning of those words sank into my brain. A quarter mile. Six gears. One thousand three hundred and twenty feet. Eight seconds and twenty tenths.

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.”

Other books

The Alpine Pursuit by Mary Daheim
The Wolf King by Alice Borchardt
Captive Surrender by King, Rebecca
Bitter Taffy by Amy Lane
Tomb of the Golden Bird by Elizabeth Peters
Unforgettable Embrace by Clancy, Joanne
Trashed by Jasinda Wilder
Revenge of the Rose by Michael Moorcock