Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (43 page)

Now he was accusing me of being complicit in some plot to steal his goddamn car? I didn’t even want the stupid Audi. I’d give anything to have the ‘Cuda back. 

With four million, Dale won’t need Jesse’s money.

Ernie dropped one eyelid inside my mind.
Be smart, girl. You done won that four million, right?

Right. Thanks, Ernie.

Squaring my shoulders, I blew out a breath and stood as tall as I could. “That money’s already mine. It might be in your checking account, but it belongs to me.” I had no idea where my cool tone came from. Maybe from the way Caroline clasped her hands under her chin. Her hair swung over her face.

The exchange we’d had a week ago on her front porch silenced my last doubt. This was my chance to make everything—literally everything, except Mom—right.

“You think so, huh? Well now, if you won’t race for cash....” Kolby stroked his chin. The huge crowd fell so quiet, I heard the traffic rush by out on Kenilworth Avenue, two blocks away. “Oh, I know.” He snapped his fingers. “I bet you’d race for ‘Cuda convertible number six thousand.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear. “You know where the 6k ‘Cuda is?”

He smirked. “Sure I do. Want it? All you gotta do is beat me fair and square and it’s yours.”

“No!” Caine roared. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Barnes.” He tried to break free, but other crewmen came to David’s aid, pinning Caine to the hospital façade beside Colt. My outrage soared to see my brothers held down like they were the criminals.

“Put up the four million she already won alongside that ‘Cuda, and you got yourself a race,” Colt urged, darting me a glance. “If she beats you twice, you gotta admit, it was her money all along.”

“Yeah!” The cry came from the crowd. “That’s fair,” another voice rang out.

For four million
and
the 6k ‘Cuda, I’d race the devil, barefoot and naked, down a gravel road.

Walking away was impossible anyway. If I refused to race, Kolby would forever swear Dale cheated him and even Dale’s staunchest fans would have a doubt in their minds. How could we start a new team under a cloud like that? No corporate sponsor would risk associating their brand with a name synonymous with cheating.

I knew to my bones, Barnes wouldn’t let this go. He’d keep the media whipped into a frenzy. He had them eating out of the palm of his hand, the same day he’d been charged with felony assault.

The fans didn’t want justice. They wanted vengeance. Street-style.

“Horsepower not hashtags. Am I right?” Kolby laughed, but worse, the crowd started clapping. “That’s how a racin’ family settles things, Shelby. But, I know you only been a Hannah for about five minutes. No, wait. Not one yet, are you?”

I’ll show you who’s a Hannah, goddammit.

“Don’t get much sweeter than beating a man with his own car,” I snapped.

Before I could speak, a man in a polo shirt and dark slacks stepped up beside Kolby.

I blinked.
Holy shit. Is the entire world in Charlotte tonight?

“I offer my team as the neutral crew. I assume NHRA Pro Street rules will apply?”

Caine demanded, “Who the hell are you?”

“Niles Jaeger.” The German reached into his shirt pocket, then extended a business card. Marley Taggert snatched it from him and thrust it toward Caine. “Director of Racing for Audi. While we’re waiting to hear Mr. England’s decision on whether we can join you on the track next year, we might as well make ourselves useful.”

“Yes. Fine. It’s a bet.” A red haze fell over my vision. I’d had a gutful of being accused of something we hadn’t done. “Leave the southern boy at home, Niles. I don’t know his name, but he used to run with my brothers. If they can’t come inside the stadium, I don’t want him there, either. I’m fed up with being called a cheater.”

“Wait a goddamn minute—”

I slammed a hand against Caine’s chest. Kolby’s hated face was all I could see. “You show up with a clone, or cry that you couldn’t get your hands on the 6k ‘Cuda—you welch again on any part of this bet, Barnes—and I’ll release the entire tape of the first race to the ESPN reporter who’s asking for it. You know, the part that shows you making deliberate contact
after
we’d both crossed the finish line like a petulant child? It goes without saying that, if you crash the Audi, you make yourself out a liar, after all this crying about how you only had it a week.”
Have I left anything out?

He didn’t bat an eyelash. “Well, then, it’s a race. How about Thursday? Dial ins at five?”

Caine spun me to face him. “Wait a goddamn minute. I got somethin’ invested in that car. So does Caroline. We all do. Besides, what if you’re—”

I slapped a hand over the microphone. “Don’t you dare. You say that out loud and it’s all anyone will ever remember about me.”

He started to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “Please. I’m trying so hard not to be my mother. Don’t turn me into yours. I have to do this. I want to do this.”

Turning toward Barnes, I unclasped the mic. “I have exams this week. I graduate Sunday at two p.m., but I can make it to the racetrack by nine Sunday night. To recap, ‘Cuda convertible number six thousand will be there. No pics, no promises. I better see the car itself, or the race is off.”

Kolby frowned. “I reckon she thinks I’ll be on vacation Sunday, fellas? She might be right, but just in case I ain’t, let’s say midnight. Give my fans time to make it over from the Speedway. Dial-ins at eleven?”

“Fine.” My first race had been at midnight.

“Don’t you want to know what he’s driving?” Niles asked.

A red haze licked the edges of my vision. “I don’t care if he shows up driving the space shuttle. Right lane, left lane, early start, late start—none of it matters. I kicked his ass once and I’ll do it again.” I sucked down a breath, jabbing a finger toward Barnes. “But. When I take your money and the ‘Cuda, you will retract every accusation you’ve made about any Hannah to date. Got it?”

The German coughed into his fist. “Well, well, she might be more than a party girl after all. See you Sunday. Drop off your cars for inspection by nine p.m. the evening of the race. Ladies first. Shelby will run her time trials at ten p.m. Your dial-in begins at eleven, Barnes. Any DQ equals an automatic loss and all wagers will be paid. Ladies and gentlemen, see you on Sunday.”

The German turned away, melting into the crowd. Most of the camera lights winked out. Some reporters raced toward the waiting vans. Others buttonholed fans, looking for crowd reactions.

The crewmen scattered like ants in a rainstorm. About half the Ridenhour team entered the hospital. Others bounded down the stairs and jogged toward the clutch of drivers, several of whom were now giving interviews. 

All of them, except Marley Taggert. She held her spot, eyes fixed on me—or Colt.

“Hell, yeah!” Colt crowed, bringing his hand down on Caine’s shoulder. “You’ve wanted that ‘Cuda all your life. Nice of Barnes to buy it for us.” He slung one arm around me.

Caine gave Colt a look that could peel paint off a cement block wall. “Will you please get your head out from up your ass? You think I give a fuck about that car?” Jerking free, he stalked toward the front door. Gripping the handle, he cast a dark at me look over his shoulder. “You comin’ with me to see Dad, or what?”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Colt cocked his head. “Barnes might as well have handed you that ‘Cuda. Drag racin’s about three things, the car under you, a good start off the line, and smooth, fast shifting. You’ve got him beat before y’all even get to the strip.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Marley stalked toward us. “Me and Jamie backed your play.” Her dark-ringed eyes flamed with anger. “You might’ve forced George to do something about Barnes with that highbrow message, but what’d you do? Peeled off to pursue your own grudge. So much for Make Mine Heroic.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Or was this about you all along?”

W
hen the elevator doors slid open, I stepped into the tiny box, dredging up the courage to meet Caine’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this without crying.”

“You will, though. You always think you can’t do a thing, then you just go out and handle it.”

What kind of game was he playing? My stomach knotted when the door closed. Now, he’d yell or punch the wall, when I couldn’t run away. “Just get it over with, Caine. Tell me how stupid I am to race Barnes again.”

He scrubbed his hands across his face. “It’s your car, your bet, and your ass on the line. I don’t have to like it. All I have to do is fine-tune that Audi till it runs like a scalded dog.” I noted the tension around his eyes and the way he clenched and unclenched his fists.

The panel with the buttons was within reach. Either of us could reach out and touch it, but neither did. I waited for the other shoe to drop.

He scowled and rolled his neck. The snap and crackle of tension resounded like gunshots inside the close space. He didn’t focus on my face, but on a spot over my left shoulder. The knot in my gut drew tighter.

“We’ll talk, okay? Right now, let’s just get through this visit with Dad. I need your help to do that.” He moved his gaze to my face. “I don’t know what you’re lookin’ for out of this. I don’t know what you think we should be.” He snorted. “But, I shoulda known you wouldn’t give me time to get bored.” 

Tenderness washed away the storm in his eyes. He wasn’t going to be a dick? He spread his hands. I flew into his arms, holding on for dear life. He pressed one big palm between my shoulder blades. With the other, he cupped my ass, pulling me closer. My heart... hearts shouldn’t do what mine did. It expanded, contracted, and sprouted wings, all at once. His gentle kiss to the top of my head nearly forced open the waterworks I fought to stem.

Mom darted into the corridor as soon as she caught sight of us. “How’d it go?”

“Someone lost their temper.” Caine massaged my neck. “She’s racin’ Barnes again come Sunday.” He managed a half grin. “Redheads. What’cha gonna do?”

“Shelby, no!” Mom wailed. “You’re graduating Sunday.”

“The race isn’t till midnight. I have to do this. I can’t just let the asshole keep talking shit about Dale.”

“But, I went to all the trouble to plan you a party.”

A party? When Dale was in a coma?

“Better cancel now and avoid the rush later.” I was in no mood for her bullshit. Not tonight. Mom’s mouth fell open, but Caine tugged me toward the double doors.

“We’re goin’ to see Dad.” He pulled up in front of the double doors and slapped a big button on the wall I hadn’t noticed. The doors wheezed open and we stepped through. The waiting room and corridor were cool, but the Intensive Care Unit rivaled any freezer in any restaurant where I’d ever worked. Shivering, I paused at the nurse’s station.

“We’d like to visit Dale Hannah, please.”

“Room three-oh-four. Ten minutes, no longer.” The nurse pointed toward the overhead signs with room numbers. Dale’s room was to the left.

I can’t cry. I won’t cry.

Caine pushed the door open. “You’re gonna be pissed at all you’re missin’, old man. Let me see... first, there’s the big family news. Your oldest son is officially datin’ your daughter. Who, by the way, is gonna make a fine front man for the new team. She took the job out for a practice lap today. I don’t think George is gonna sleep too good tonight.”

Liar. George will sleep just fine.

A thick tube disappeared past Dale’s colorless lips, held closed by two strips of clear tape. Another, smaller tube ran down one nostril. I gripped his hand, unsettled by the coolness of his skin.

“Hey, Daddy.” Had those silver threads at his temples been there the night we’d gone to dinner with Robert’s father? I didn’t think they had. Pressing the back of my hand to my lips, I cast Caine a desperate glance.

“Dad, you shoulda seen her.” Caine tugged a chair close to the hospital bed. “She’s everything you said she’d be, and then some. Lit old George up like a Christmas tree. But, here’s somethin’ I never saw comin’. She even got David eatin’ outta the palm of her hand. I swear, he’s thinkin’ on joinin’ the new team.”

I knew in my heart, my speech had come up short. Nothing I’d said had resonated with the crowd. All they cared about was racing—and the grudge match with Barnes.

“David?” I found looking at Caine much easier than looking at the tubes running down Dale’s throat and nose. “I thought he was a foregone conclusion?”

The machine at the head of the bed made a sighing noise that drowned out the slow
beep, beep
of the heart monitor. I followed the power cord to the wall plug. Dale’s life hung by that slim thread, thanks to a decision I’d made.

Now that my anger had receded, the folly of what I’d done jumped out at me. I’d challenged the owner of fucking NASCAR. Had agreeing to the bet let George off the hook? I hated to admit it, but Marley was probably right.

Caine snorted, slouching in his chair. “Hear that?” He made an exaggerated sigh, turning toward me. “Why would David leave Ridenhour? Not only is he Barnes’ car chief, he’s sittin’ in the catbird seat. The minute Dad walks out the door with half the crew, Richard will let Dave write his own check. More’n we could pay him, for sure.”