Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (31 page)

Robert picked up the electronic pen and tapped the note taking app. “Go.”

“Thanks, Mack.” I disconnected the call and inched closer to the patrolwoman’s bumper.

Each heartbeat whispered.
Get to Caine. Don’t let Dale die. Get to Colt. Don’t let Dale die. Get to Caine. Don’t let Dale die. Get to Colt.

We rocketed across the state line into North Carolina. Two more Crown Vics waited by the side of the road, lights flashing. One jumped between me and the South Carolina vehicle. The other car fell in behind. My initial escort dove off the first exit ramp with a flash of her headlights. The lead car accelerated past a hundred.

I nodded as my speedometer climbed. “That’s more like it.”

“Jesus Christ, you’d think this guy was the Pope,” Robert muttered.

“This is ground zero for NASCAR, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Just wasn’t expecting... this.” He waved a hand at the windshield.

“But, this car’s the fucking bomb, babe. Best of all, it was free.”

Was he just clueless? I wished to God I’d never laid eyes on the damn car. IF Dale didn’t make it, then would become the moist expensive car on the planet. 

My phone rang. I frowned. The number had a 704 area code, but wasn’t one I knew. “Hello?”

“Miss Roberts, this is North Carolina Highway Patrol Officer David Glass.” He had the smooth, singsong voice of a DJ. “I’m ahead, and Officer Randy Buck is behind you, ma’am. Both long time Ridenhour fans. You have our sincere sympathies. Don’t you worry none. We’ll get you to your daddy, sweetheart. Don’t be surprised if we get some company along the way. Mecklenburg County will pick you up at the Billy Graham Parkway exit and lead you in. I’ve seen you drive and I know who taught you how. Let’s drop the hammer.”

“It’d be nice to hit sixth gear. Thank you, Officer Glass.”

He barked a laugh. “Must be nice to have six, but damn almighty, I’ve seen you work ‘em. Don’t show me up now.” The call time flashed.

The ominous silence from Mom worried me. Did they have to sedate her? Had the neurosurgeon given her bad news about Dale and no one had called because I was driving? Was that why I had two police escorts now? Were they fighting to keep the only father I’d ever known alive long enough for me to say goodbye?

“Why not let Dad talk to the prosecutor? I texted him before we left Spartanburg. He’s already at the hospital.”

I darted Robert a shocked look. “Why? Why’s he at the hospital?”

He looked like I’d slapped him. “We’re family, Shelby. Besides, Dad called this. He’s the man you want in your corner now, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He already has a plan.”

“I think I can handle a simple phone call.” I barked the numbers to Siri.

The attorney answered right away. “Franklin Grainger.”

I introduced myself, then launched into my pitch.

“Throughout his career, Mr. Barnes has failed to grasp that he has any re- responsibility other than to win. He’s been a loose cannon since day one. It was only a matter of time before he hurt someone. On behalf of The Hannah family and every child who witnessed the horror in the pits today, I beg you to set an example, beginning with Kolby Barnes’ bond. If you have access, please take a moment to review the video of the incident. Your clerk can find it on You Tube, just search ‘Kolby Barnes knocks out crew chief’.”

Wincing, I added, “Look for the most recent one, dated today. Mr. Barnes has had multiple altercations in his short career.”

“One moment, ma’am. I’d be interested in seeing that.” I gave Robert a triumphant look, despite the way my insides jerked. While we waited for a response, another car joined the parade, a local Gastonia city police vehicle. He rode along for about three miles, then dove off an exit, flashing his headlights.

“I see what you mean.” The prosecutor finally spoke. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Bond hearings start in half an hour. We don’t allow cameras in the courthouse, but I see the man I suspect is Mr. Barnes’ attorney. He won’t turn away from the bright lights. You’ll see his statement live, I’m sure.”

Two more Crown Vics joined the procession on the far side of Gastonia, another North Carolina Highway Patrol car and a Mecklenburg County Sheriff’s vehicle. A few miles later, two more NCHP vehicles joined the procession.

Robert muttered, “When President Bush came through Charlotte, his motorcade didn’t have this many cops.”

The churning light bars and headlights behind me seemed surreal, far too close to the funeral procession I’d thought Ernie would’ve enjoyed. Something squeezed my heart between gigantic hands.
Be careful what you ask for.

The sign announcing we’d entered Mecklenburg County flashed by.
Cruise,
by Florida Georgia Line, blared through the speakers. With a guilty start, I brushed the button on the wheel to answer the call.

“Caine?”

“Shelby. I was thirty feet away and didn’t know it was happenin’. I feel like I’ve been dipped in melted glass. Now that it’s coolin’ off, I think I’m gonna shatter. Rick has the jet in the air, headed for the Greenville airport. Just throw a change of clothes in a bag and get to the airport. Please, hurry. I... I need—”

“I’m almost to the Billy Graham Parkway exit. Two miles.” The pain in his voice ripped something inside my chest.

“Really?” There was something about that breathless word that tightened my throat. “You’re driving? You’re almost here?”

“Just hang on, Caine.” I had to tell him before he said something we’d both regret. “Robert and I are almost there.”

The exit loomed. Four county cars waited along the side of the ramp. I saluted the NCHP officers in thanks. The silence from the phone caused me to look at the screen, but Caine hadn’t disconnected. I swiped my hands down my bare thighs.

“For fuck’s sake, keep your hands on the wheel!” Robert barked.

“Contrary to what some people want you to believe, this thing doesn’t just swerve for no reason,” I snapped.

Two deputies moved in front, two behind. The closer we got to downtown, the heavier the traffic and the narrower the lanes, but somehow, no lights caught us. My concern for Dale never wavered, but a new worry surfaced.

How would my stepbrothers treat Robert? I darted a glance at his pressed khaki pants and the Polo shirt with the little horse embroidered over the chest. I winced. Pink was such an unfortunate choice.

“For God’s sake, look where you’re going!”

Just for spite, I raked my hair back from my face with both hands, finishing by flipping the mass off my neck. The car held steady. Maybe he had no idea what a front-end alignment was, but he visibly relaxed when I returned my hands to the wheel and shifter.

At last, I spied hospital signs along the route. Another glance at the screen confirmed Caine was still on the line. “On Kenilworth Avenue now.”

“When you see Loop Drive, take a left. Continue to the intersection and turn left again. There’s a fenced lot at the rear of the hospital. I’ll tell the cops out there to be on the lookout for you.”

Brake lights flared. Slowing, I craned my neck from side to side, gaping. Crowds of people and television vans lined the street on both sides of the road. “What the hell’s going on? Is there some kind of parade?” I slammed a fist against the wheel.

“They’re fans, Shelby. Don’t say anything to the press,” Caine warned.

All these people were here for Dale? Ridenhour Racing’s various logos stared at me from nearly every head or chest.

Why did Caine think the press would know who the hell I was? I’d never even been to a NASCAR race. This was about Dale. And Kolby. Not me.

“Good grief. This is a mob scene.” Robert scowled.

Some of the people jamming the sidewalks held signs. Even more held cameras. A few pointed in our direction. As I passed by, some in the crowd surged into the street, heedless of the blaring horn blast from the sheriff’s car behind me. The deputy ahead of me lowered his window, waving, once we made the left turn. A metal fence stretched across the rear of the hospital.

Two city police cars braced either side of the gate. Uniformed cops, legs splayed and hands on their gun belts, stood outside the gate. I lowered my window.

“Can you dig out my wallet?” I jabbed a finger toward my purse, which rested beside Robert’s feet.

I turned in between the police cars, braking beside the officer. Lowering my window, I looked to Robert for the wallet so I could show my I.D.

“Shelby! Shelby Roberts!” A strange man stuck his arm through the window, shoving something in front of my face. Questions fired like gunshots. “Is this the car you won off Kolby Barnes?”

Jerking my head up, I blinked.

“Did the drag race between you and Kolby lead to this incident?”

“Do you accept any responsibility for the fight? Didn’t your behavior with your helmet at that race, in effect, cause your stepfather’s injury?”

“What?” My heart slammed into my ribs. 

“No comment,” Robert snapped. “Put the damn window up.”

“Back away from the car,” a stone-faced policeman barked. “Back away from the vehicle, now!” He turned his chin toward the microphone fastened on his chest. “Send a unit to the rear gate. Looks like we’re gonna get to make a few assault collars.”

The threat did little to stop the reporters’ forward press, but the ones at my window bailed.

Stepping closer, the fresh-faced officer peered inside. In his hand, he held a wallet-sized image of my senior collegiate portrait. “Yep, that’s you. Pull ahead.” Impatiently, he waved, but I couldn’t seem to get my foot off the clutch. More strangers with cameras swarmed the car. Some jumped between my bumper and the slow-rising barrier.
The orange-and-white striped barrier.

My heart slammed into my ribs. The surging crowd faded. The car sat firmly on the asphalt, but inside my head, it leaned sharply to the right. The left side tires jacked into the air, higher and higher, until the ‘Cuda stood on two wheels.

“Ma’am, pull through the gate!” 

I blinked away the dark moment and managed to let out the clutch. The car lurched through the open gates. The people crowding around my car dove out of the way.

Dale’s going to be okay. I didn’t cause this.
I’d give anything if I hadn’t watched the video of the fight. I had to get my emotions under control before I saw my mother, because if I dared break down for five minutes, she’d fall apart for days.

Robert let out a low whistle. “What the hell is that?”

Caine, Colt, and Jonny jogged down the steps of a gleaming black bus. An undulating red stripe started at the bus doors and swooped to the rear—a good forty feet. The Ridenhour logo sprawled in letters nearly two feet high.

My brain clicked into gear. How could I forget? The Hannah-Built logo was all over the car. I’d taken the Audi off Kolby in the race, and now, I’d driven it here. No wonder the press was salivating.

A muffled roar went up from the sidewalk. At least six security guards immediately surrounded my brothers. Caroline’s hair glowed like pure gold in the setting sunlight. She hurried down the steep set of steps. Jonny hung back so he could tuck an arm around her.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off Caine.

I rolled down the lines of parked cars, trying to breathe.
Okay, Robert being here is a good thing. This is how it is now.

Caine broke through the phalanx of guards. He parked himself on top of a concrete parking barrier, legs spread wide, to motion me forward.

Shrieks filled the air. Women, mostly. I wanted to scream, too. Caine’s jeans were so threadbare, I had no idea how they held together across his sculpted thighs. Surely to Jesus, was that the same T-shirt he’d worn the night he and Colt helped Dale move us out of our apartment? The faded state of the garment suggested it was.

“Whoa!”

Rolling to a halt, I turned off the car and felt for the handle, craning to stare at the mob outside the fence. Caine bounded down the side of the car and jerked my door open wide.

“Gotta get you up to see Macy before she falls apart. Why didn’t you answer her calls?” He stuck out a hand to help me stand. Terrified I’d fall apart at his first touch, I snatched my purse from Robert and struggled to my feet without Caine’s help, gritting my teeth. If I touched him right now, when it felt like I was in the grip of that long-ago rip tide, I might never let him go.

Colt loped to Robert’s door. Yanking it open, he stuck a hand inside. “Mr. Automatic. Looks like we’ll have time to get acquainted.”

I glared at Colt over the top of the car, but he kept his eyes on Robert, who gave a shaky laugh.

“Just glad to be on solid ground again. Damn, she drives like a maniac.”

“I know, right?” Colt made Robert’s remark sound like a compliment. The slap he delivered to Robert’s shoulder seemed a shade too hard to be friendly.

Caroline darted around Caine, but Colt grabbed her arm. “There’s a hundred cameras aimed our way. Do it inside. Go, go!”

“How’d you get an escort?” Caine asked as we hustled toward the service entrance.

“I, uh, asked Mack Brown.”

Caine’s eyes turned flinty. He curled a hand around my upper arm. “Didn’t know you and Mack was buddies.”

We dashed up four cement stairs and onto a small stoop. Someone up ahead wrenched the door open. Once inside, the guards in the lead turned right. Clammy air settled around me like an unwanted hug. The stench of a strong antiseptic made my stomach roll. I had to stretch my legs to keep pace. Caine grabbed my hand, towing me along, until I felt like a duckling in a giraffe stampede. A stitch caught in my side, but we finally halted outside an elevator marked Staff Only.

“Macy tried and tried to call you.” Caine’s eyes held an accusation. Had she told him she only reached me through Robert? Did he think Robert and I had been—

“I was at Target.”

His eyes narrowed. “And then, you got Mack to send the Highway Patrol?” With Caroline behind me, I couldn’t explain I’d exchanged numbers with Mack in case we needed to talk about Caroline’s rent problem.

“Dude, we had at least ten or twelve police cars riding shotgun.” The excitement in Robert’s tone made me wince.