Sweet Carolina (13 page)

“Look, Dell… I think we need to talk.”

What was it with everyone these days wanting
to talk. First Caro, now Dickhead Warner.

“You think?” Dell pushed away from the
counter and headed to the family room where he dropped into his
favorite recliner. “You killed Caudell, and now you're trying to
kill me. What's to talk about?”

Warner perched on the edge of the sofa,
rolling the unopened soda can between his palms. “It was an
accident, Dell. I didn't mean to kill him. I only wanted to get
past him. I needed the track position points.”

“Well, that makes me feel better. My old man
is dead because you needed four points.” Dell stood. “I appreciate
you coming by to explain that to me, Warner.” Dell pointed toward
the front door. “I trust even an idiot like you can find your own
way out.”

“Sit down, Dell. I'm not through,” Warner
said.

Dell stared at him for a tense second before
deciding throwing Warner out would be too much trouble. He sat.
“Say what you came to say, then get out of my house.”

“I'm here to apologize. You can't seriously
believe I wanted to kill my own father.”

“Whoa!” Dell sat up. “What the hell are you
talking about?”

Warner went still, then he set the soda on
the coffee table with exaggerated care. Finally, he looked at Dell.
“Caudell was my father, too.”

Dell shot out of his seat as if Warner lit a
firecracker under him. “What the fuck? Are you out of your mind?” A
red haze clouded his vision.

Warner stood. “I thought you knew, Dell.
Honestly, I did or I wouldn't have come here.” He shifted on his
feet. “Look, can we sit down and talk about this?”

Dell paced to the doorway and back again
before he sat. Warner followed his lead and perched on the edge of
the sofa.

“I don't know what you think you're doing,
Warner, but it isn't going to work. I think I'd know if I had a
brother.” It had to be some kind of sick joke, though a little
voice deep inside warned him it might be true. He refused to
acknowledge the sinister thought.

“Well, welcome to my world, Dell. I didn't
know I had a brother either, or a father for that matter, until the
day Caudell died. I felt bad enough about the way it happened, then
Butch came up and clapped me on the back. He said something about
how Caudell would have seen the irony of the situation. I stood
there, staring at him. I think he realized I didn't know what he
was talking about. He told me Caudell was my father. I don't know
what I did afterwards. It's mostly a blur.”

“He lied,” Dell said, positive now this had
to be a hoax. He just couldn't figure out who had anything to gain
by it. Renfro? Warner? Maybe.

“I didn't believe him either. I never met my
dad. Didn't know who he was. All my mother ever told me was that he
was the love of her life, but they couldn't be together. I never
understood why. Kids don't ask about stuff like that, you know?
Anyway, the next day was Mother's Day. My mom was there for the
race. You know, everyone's mother is honored before the race.”

“I wouldn't know about that,” Dell said.

“No, I guess you wouldn't,” Warner said.
“Sorry.”

“I'm not asking for your pity,” Dell
said.

“And you won't get it,” he said before he
continued. “Anyway, it took a while for me to get to her.” He
paused. “I had to answer a lot of questions from the NASCAR
officials. And there was a shit-load of reporters. I still don't
know what I told them. I guess I said something, because they left
me alone after that. I finally tracked down Mom at her hotel. I
didn't even have to ask. She was a mess, crying, yelling. You don't
need to know all of it; just that she blamed me for killing the
only man she ever loved – and I guess that included me, because she
said she never wanted to see me again. I haven't seen her
since.”

Silence descended on the room. Dell forgot
all about his unfinished beer. Memories of all the times Caudell
compared him to Warner, and found Dell wanting. Even on the day he
died – apparently at the hands of his beloved, bastard son – he'd
scolded Dell for not being more like Warner. His gut churned as a
white-hot anger began to burn inside him. Snippets of conversation,
moments frozen in time and seared on his mind. They made sense in
light of Warner's declaration, and the flame of hate burned
brighter. Warner continued as if he hadn't just opened the gates of
hell and let all the demons run loose.

“So look, Dell. I admit I've been out to get
you – not kill you. You're my brother, and probably the only family
I've got. For a long time, I resented you. You had everything I
didn't. You had our dad all to yourself, and I never had him at
all. I went through a period where I hated you for getting all the
money he left.”

Dell jerked his gaze from the stubborn spot
on the carpet to Warner. His brother held up a staying hand. “I'm
over it now. It was petty, I know, but it's taken me a while to
assimilate all this. I don't care about the money. I just want to
understand why Caudell never made me a part of his life.”

Dell chuckled. Oh, if Warner only knew how
Caudell had felt about him. But he'd be damned if he was going to
share the information with him. That was a private pain, and if
Warner suffered for it, so much the better.

Chapter Ten

“Are you through?” Dell asked through gritted
teeth.

“Almost. I'll admit to jealousy and to trying
to make your life miserable, placing blame where it didn't belong,
but I'm not trying to kill you.” Warner stood and took a few steps
toward the door before he stopped and turned to Dell. “I'm not
expecting us to become a family, and I'm not going to tell anyone
else about this, us, I mean. I figure if Butch knows, other people
know. I'm tired of the all the fighting on the track – in the cars
and out. From now on, if I go after you on the track, it's about
track position and nothing else.”

Dell sat corpse still, absorbing everything
Warner said long after his bastard brother was gone. As bizarre as
it was, it cleared up a lot of things Dell never understood growing
up. His mother went away when he was five years old, leaving Dell
with his father. One day she was there, and the next she was gone.
He remembered crying buckets for months after she left, but the
only explanation Caudell ever gave him for her defection was when
Dell was about ten. Dell said something about how he wished he had
a mother, and Caudell's response still stunned him. His father
looked him in the eye and said, “She didn't understand men. We have
needs.”

Yeah, needs. Caudell always had someone to
take care of his
needs
. His father's indiscriminate affairs
disgusted Dell. Caudell never tried to hide the track bunnies he
brought back to their motor home, but none of them ever stayed more
than one night, or a few hours. No doubt, Warner's mother had been
one of them.

Dell shook his head. It was a wonder there
weren't a dozen more bastard siblings out there. Who knew? If there
was one, there could be more.

But did he believe Warner? He mulled it over
and came to the conclusion that yes, he did. Did his revelation
change anything? It remained to be seen. Just because they shared
the old man's blood didn't mean Dell was going to cut Warner any
slack during a race. Dell raced to win, no matter who was on the
track. If Warner wanted to back off from his vengeance against
Dell, that was his prerogative. But it didn't mean Dell had to do
the same. He didn’t give a good goddamned about familial blood,
especially if it stood between a checkered flag and him.

* * * *

Caro stood at the back of the crowd gathered
outside the Charlotte Speedway, watching Dell sign autographs for
his fans. He looked both hot and
hot
in his fire suit. Caro
fanned herself with the folder in her hand. The hot wind she
stirred up did nothing to cool her sun-baked skin or the warmth
melting her from the inside out. Damn. Why did the sight of Dell do
these things to her? He infuriated her at every turn
–professionally and personally. And there wasn't a thing she could
do about either one.

She might need him professionally, but on a
personal level, he was the last thing she needed, and everything
she wanted. It was a sad truth she'd come to accept. Popular
psychology said recognizing a problem was the first step to
overcoming it, so she'd taken the first step, admitting to herself
how badly she wanted Dell Wayne. So far, admitting her weakness
hadn't done a thing toward making it go away. If anything, the
dreams that woke her at night became worse since her
self-revelation.

And the worst of it was, she knew how his
hands felt on her skin, how his lips felt on hers. It was knowledge
she wished she didn't have because you couldn't unlearn something
like that. It was as if his hands imprinted themselves on her skin,
and like a tattoo, the imprint was etched in permanent ink. Caro
chuckled to herself, imagining tattoos covering her body,
announcing every few inches, “Dell was here.”

Dell smiled at a teenage fan, and Caro
shifted her gaze to the show car behind him rather than see his
eyes sparkle at the girl. She'd seen enough women of all ages
simper when he turned his megawatt smile on them to last her a
lifetime.

The weatherman promised a solid week of
record temperatures – exactly what they needed for the ten-day
racing extravaganza that ended with the six-hundred-mile race on
the following Sunday. Thankfully, it was close to home. Hawkins
Racing didn't need two weeks of travel expenses on top of
everything else. If Dell didn't finish well in either the All Star
Shoot-Out or the Sprint Cup, they'd be taking the show car off the
promo circuit for real. It was old as the hills, but with a minimum
rebuild, it could meet today's safety standards and comply with the
rule changes since it was taken out of commission.

Caro glanced at her watch, then at the crowd
still seeking Dell's autograph. She weighed her desire to get out
of the sun with the promise of souvenir sales if these women left
here happy and decided a few more minutes in the heat wouldn't kill
either of them. Dell glanced her way, his eyebrow raised in
question. She flashed him five fingers. A slight twitch of his lips
told her he wasn't happy about the time extension. But he didn't
know how strapped they were for cash. These last two weeks of May
at Charlotte had the potential to boost a team's bottom line if the
drivers played nice with the fans. Thus, Caro booked Dell at every
fan event possible. He was even sacking groceries at the tented
grocery store in the middle of the campground one evening this
week.

It was a grueling schedule of practice runs,
qualifying, racing and promotion that would take a toll on anyone,
even an athlete in top physical condition. It would also mean no
time for fooling around with track bunnies or…her. By the time Dell
was through every night this week, he wouldn't want to do anything
but sleep. She only hoped she would be as lucky.

Four-and-a-half minutes later, Caro skirted
the crowd and slipped in beside Dell. The women still wanting an
autograph or photo voiced their displeasure. Caro handed out flyers
detailing Dell's multiple appearances, assuring them they had ample
opportunities still to get what they wanted. Dell signed one more
hat before Caro shoved him in the direction of the track gate. He
didn't need much encouragement. Caro hustled to keep pace with him.
He slowed once he was in the hot-pass zone – away from all but the
most privileged fans.

Caro followed blindly. Between the heat and
her semi-run to the infield, she was past caring where they were
going. Dell held the motor coach door open for her, his hand on the
small of her back, and propelled her up the steps and inside. Cool
air slammed against her, taking her breath away. Dell's body
pressed against her backside, his hands came to rest on her hips.
Her internal temperature spiked and her head whirled. Dell caught
her as she began to fall.

“Sit down.” He half walked, half carried her
to the sofa, before he spun her around and used his hands to press
her hips into a sitting position. “Loosen your blouse. I'll get you
some water.”

Caro fumbled with the buttons of her silk
blouse. The fabric fell open down the front. Goosebumps rose on her
exposed flesh as the cool air hit her.

* * * *

Damn. He didn't want to care about Carolina,
but someone sure as hell needed to. It was obvious she wasn't
taking care of herself. Dell wet a towel and grabbed two water
bottles from the refrigerator. Since Warner's revelation, Dell
thought of little else. Memories and reality collided until the
pieces of the puzzle began to slip into place, and the picture they
formed was ugly – filled with anger and hate that gnawed away at
him.

He'd only found relief in his dreams, dreams
of Caro, beneath him, riding him, taking him away from reality,
taking him to paradise and beyond.

He stopped dead when he saw her.

She'd undone her blouse, revealing perfect
breasts encased in some sort of lace marvel that married
engineering with sin, and sent blood rushing to his cock with
enough speed to make him dizzy. Caro's head rested on the back of
the sofa, her eyes closed, her full lips parted. Images flashed
through his impaired brain, and he couldn't decide which he wanted
more – to shove his cock past those soft lips, or lick the sweat
from her body, one inch at a time.

He stood silent, watching her breathe, almost
afraid to breathe himself – afraid he'd wake and find it was a
dream – a fantasy. He wasn't the man for her. He knew it in his
soul, but it didn't keep his body from wanting her.

A wave of possessiveness stole over him. The
erotic tableau was for him only. The tantalizing band of exposed
skin was meant for his hands, his lips, and no other. Those lips
were meant for his cock, his kiss. And the rest of her, the hot
center taunting him in his dreams, that was his too, and he'd
murder anyone who believed otherwise.