Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (55 page)

Stalking toward the Mustang with my head down so no one saw my tears, I collided with Mack Brown. The box flew out of my hands. I cringed at the tinkle of glass, but when Caine made like he might kneel to help, I slapped my hand against his shoulder.

His big speech was just more lies. God, are you flat out of princes?

“No. I can do it. I think I’ve had enough help from you.” I glanced at the sheriff. “Sorry.”

I knelt, wishing with all my heart that I’d married Robert and never come back to this place. What was it about the air in this damn town that made my common sense evaporate? I’d gone on national television, for fuck’s sake, proclaiming my family’s innocence. I’d asked Caine point fucking blank if Dale cheated and he said no.

My winning wasn’t winning after all.

Of all the hard truths I’d learned, that one had the power to crush my soul.

I snagged the fake oak frame. Glass cascaded into the bottom of the box when I flipped it over to slide the back out. Marley wouldn’t want the cheap frame anyway.

A thick piece of folded paper sprang free. Since wedging paper in the back was a common trick to keep the backboard from sliding out of a stand-up frame, I hurled the thick rectangle toward the trash can by the front door—and missed.

Caroline scurried to pick up the sheaf. Mindful that the sheriff stood over me like the archangel of doom, I picked shards of glass off the asphalt.

Bitter liquid seeped under my tongue. It made a twisted kind of sense to accept that I was nothing special while I knelt at Mack Brown’s feet.

“Whoa. This ain’t trash.” I glanced up. Caroline unfolded the rectangle. “These are worth about,”—she squinted—“well, rumor has it there ain’t never been but a hundred shares ever issued. So, if NASCAR, Inc. is worth the six hundred million dollars folks say, then this right here is twelve million bucks. Except, I’d swear, George England’s family owns every single share.”

“Damn.” Jonny loped to her side. “Let me see.” He grabbed the corner of one thick sheet and whistled. “Looks real enough to me. Issued in 1946.”

“What?” Mack Brown held out a hand. Caroline surrendered the papers. “You’re right. The England family owns all one hundred shares. One aunt, one uncle, and George.” The fat man flipped through the sheaf of papers. “Where’d these come from, Shelby? Who’s Ernie Tipton?”

“My friend. He just died,” I squeaked.

“Was he richer’n God?”

I shook my head, meeting the sheriff’s stunned eyes. At least, I thought Mack’s eyes were stunned. Of course, I had no idea if that thing he did with his mouth that showed his teeth was a smile, either.

“No. His wife teaches middle school in Spartanburg. Well, she just retired. Ernie called himself a horse trader. He sold Richard and Dale a race car built by... by Cotton Gowens a long time ago, after all of Rick’s cars got torn up at Darlington. That’s how they all met.”

Mack pushed the flat brim of his hat up. “Well, according to this contract, this Tipton fella loaned George England twelve million dollars two years ago. These two shares are collateral for the loan.”

The wheezing sound the fat man made always made me cringe. “Accordin’ to the note, if England didn’t repay the loan by April 15th of this year, along with some hefty interest, the shares became hers.”

April 15
^th
. Three days after Ernie died.

I landed on my ass, uncaring that the asphalt was sticky with spilled soft drinks and chewing gum. Mack put the papers in my hand. One look at Ernie’s signature proved my undoing. The ugly cry I’d fought all week welled like a tidal wave.

Francine’s gonna be okay. I miss you so much, Ernie.

Caine scooped me off the ground. “Colt, pick that box up. I reckon it’s Marley’s. Jonny, fetch the take-out box from the GT500. Lowe, we’ll hang tomorrow night. I’m takin’ my woman home and tuckin’ her into bed. Anybody who rings her phone, or mine, will deal with me and it won’t be pretty.”

“Wait.” Colt spun Caine before he could deposit me on the truck seat. Leaning close enough to kiss, he raked my hair out of my eyes.

“You just keep givin’ me gifts I don’t know what to do with. What you done for Marley—”
His eyes. Oh, God, his eyes. He loves her.
“That’s worth about twelve million bucks to me. I love you.”

I sobbed so hard, I thought my sternum might crack, because deep down, I’d convinced myself that Colt didn’t love me because he couldn’t love anyone at all.

“So,” Mack drawled. He jangled a fat ring of keys. “Does this mean y’all don’t wanna spend a little one-on-one time with that 6k ‘Cuda?”

H
annah vs. Barnes Reloaded! Midnight Grudge Match May 24
^th
. Bring the family and pull for your favorite! One race to remember. One prize you’ll never forget. See the rarest ‘Cuda of them all!

I stared through the windshield. The last golden letter ran off the right edge of the sign. The screen broke apart into a million stars, then the message started anew from the left.

“Jesus Christ in short pants.” Tucking her keys into her pocket, Caroline skidded across fat chunks of new gravel to shove her head in Caine’s open window. “And I thought the flashing sign down by the highway was a big deal. I nearly ran into the ditch trying to read it and make the turn at the same time.”

“Holy crap. Did Mr. Haney steal that from the Speedway?” Marley abandoned her car and jogged to my door. The lights from inside the stadium lit her shorn hair, dark brows, and open mouth. 

The black screen boasting the words occupied two-thirds of the massive billboard. The smaller side on the right bore the sponsor’s name and logo.

Heroic Car Polish welcomes you to the historic Cabarrus Fairgrounds Raceway and Drag Strip. Where Legends are Born.

Caine hunched over the wheel to get a better view. “Girl, you ain’t lyin’. I’d swear that sign down by the highway said general admission seating was twenty-five bucks and reserved seats start at fifty.”

Caroline tossed her head. “Oh, first thing in the mornin’, me and Lee are havin’ a little chat. Right before I take a peek at his books.”

I choked down another sob. It was all a lie.

“Be nice, but get our cut,” Caine retorted.

The length of steel chain fell. Colt and Jonny jogged backwards, dragging the tall gate barring the tunnel entrance open.

Caine gripped the shifter and shoved in the clutch.

“Hang the fuck on,” Colt barked, “I wanna take a picture, for Dad.” He jogged into Caine’s headlights. “Might as well all ride back here, y’all. No sense in takin’ all the cars inside.” He slapped my door on his way past. “Someone’s gettin’ a hell of a rep. Fifty bucks a seat?” He vaulted into the bed of the truck.

When everyone had climbed in, Caine rolled through the tunnel.

This was the last place on earth I wanted to be.

Dale cheated.
The only damn thing in my life that had made me feel like a winner had all been a big, fat lie. I was nothing. Nobody.

Caine tried to take my hand, but I scooted as far left as I could without falling out the window. We’d been down this road before—the road where they played on my ignorance for their own amusement or profit. I wasn’t interested in a return trip. The only reason I’d come was because Caine took the keys to the truck. My choice was to return to the scene of the crime or walk home.

Where do I go from here?
I was fresh out of places to run.

“Damn. Lee’s been one busy motherfucker.” Colt jabbed a finger toward the closest bank of stands. “I think he’s pressure-washed the walls, too.”

“And that’s new bunting.” Marley pointed in a different direction. “What was up at Christmas was ragged as hell. I was afraid he was gonna shut down.” She drove her hands into her back pockets. “Man, this place was my salvation.”

Shut up! Shut up!

I got out of the truck just to get away from Caine. How could I have thought he loved me? They fucking played people better than they raced, and they were at the top of that damn game.

I’d known that, and rather than doing what I’d sworn I’d do—get the fuck out of this little town and never look back—here I was again, like a fool. I’d humiliated my mother, for them. Humiliated myself, for them.

The back side of the new sign was visible from this side of the stadium. It mirrored the front side. I read the sponsor’s message a second time.

Heroic Car Polish welcomes you to the historic Cabarrus Fairgrounds Raceway and Drag Strip. Where Legends are Born.

My gut clenched. What legends?
If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.
Barnes’ taunt from the press conference rang in my head.

“Hyperbole, much?” I kicked a piece of gravel.

“Girl, how do you
not
know who all has raced here?” Caroline had that goddamn pity in her eyes again. “Roberts.” She drilled a finger into my arm. “That’s Fireball to you, but I’m thinkin’ you might wanna check your family tree to see if y’all are related. Pearson. Allison. Earnhardt—all of ‘em, including his daughter. This,”—she swept a hand around the infield—“is hallowed ground. All the greats chewed up this grass after a win.”

Caine dropped his hands on my shoulders. “And Shelby Roberts-Hannah, a little fireball in her own right, turned in a thirteen-second run her first time at this track.”

“Thirteen seconds? Not bad.” Marley’s eyes telegraphed the fact that she lied. Even I knew thirteen seconds sucked. I’d known it that night, at eighteen. But, oh, no, with my pussy on fire, I’d thought I was fucking somebody when my lying, cheating stepbrothers deigned to let me drive their little hot rod.

“Yeah? How fast did you go the day you learned to shift?” Colt demanded. “Because she turned her thirteen about two hours after she learned to work a manual tranny.”

Caroline elbowed Jonny. “Pay attention. This is where Colt takes the credit for teachin’ her to shift.”

Colt gave his sister a long-suffering look. “If I taught you, and you taught Shelby, then, did I not also teach Shelby?”

“Goddamn, he does do it, don’t he?” Caine snorted. “I’m pretty damn sure that was me who taught Caroline to shift. Brandon just yelled at her and you couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say a damn word.”

Their banter only made me feel worse. More isolated. They’d never really let me in, had they? Just kept me in the dark and fed me bullshit.

But I kept opening my mouth for the spoon.

Caroline giggled. “Damn, girl, you don’t have to know your NASCAR history to read. Didn’t you see the other names on that wall Lee had you sign? Bobby Allison. Davey Allison. Richard Petty. Cotton Gowens. Dale Hannah. Chris Collins.”

It was Marley’s turn to stare. “Lee asked you to sign the wall?”

I shrugged. “He thought the engine swap was funny, that’s all.”
My signature’s only there because Dale cheated.
I wanted to scream at Marley, but bit the inside of my cheek. I’d die before I let them see how bad they’d hurt me. Again.

“You gonna ring a garage stall outta Haney, Caine? Or shall I?”

I hadn’t realized that Lowe had tagged along. The dirty blond leaned an arm against the tower ladder and scanned the sign I’d turned my back on. “Because it sure looks to me like Lee ripped off her sponsor. The least he can do is give her a stall.”

“Stop!” I threw up a hand. “Dale cheated to get me that win. Tell us how, Caine. Go on, confess to all the ghosts of heroes here, or did they ‘innovate’ too?”

The stranger burst out laughing. “When you’re Dale fucking Hannah, you don’t have to cheat.” He stalked closer. “I thought Caroline was the natural blonde in this bunch. Well, her and Colt.” He paused to flip Colt a friendly bird. “Are you just clueless about what he did? What
you
did that night?”

Caine’s harsh sigh stirred my hair. I wrenched free and spun to glare.

He spread his hands, palms up. “Okay, here’s the truth. Dad don’t know. I done it. I been buyin’ up Cuda parts ever since Dad won that damn car, because, if you drive it, somebody’s gonna fuckin’ hit it, right? So, I had a couple of spare grilles. I modified one. Those slats on the front end that let the air circulate around the radiator? I reconfigured ‘em, to close and open. So I could alter the air flow off the front end, to add drag. I controlled it remotely.”

He dangled his truck keys. I stared at the black fob. “I used it on every run you made here the day Chris Collins served as your goddamn inspiration.”

The note of jealousy in his voice made me look into his eyes, when I wanted to look anywhere but. “And on your first two dial-in runs the day of the race. Then, I turned it off and leaned back,”—he waggled his fingers, dragging them through the air like Barnes had at the press conference—“to watch the magic happen.” 

I could tell by their eyes, Colt and Jonny had known about—whatever the fuck Caine was admitting. Except, his words made no damn sense.

“Added drag?” I burst out. “Stop lying, Caine. The night you told me about the ‘Cuda for the first time, you said that you didn’t like a convertible because the extra weight—and the canvas top—only added drag, so what was the fucking point to owning a drop top?”

“Aw, I’m touched.” He swept me into an embrace, but let me go when I connected with his ankle. “Don’t make me spank you,” he warned, tapping the end of my nose. Before I could slap his hand away, he took a step backward. “I’d have sworn that night, you let every word go in one ear and out the other.”