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

by Eden Connor

  Marley refused to meet my eyes or take my hand. “Chris Collins and Jackie were best friends in high school. He ain’t said nothin’ yet, but every time he grins at me in the driver’s meetings, I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell the other guys to call me Loosie.”

  Fucking Rowdy. That must be why she lets him push her around on the track. “If he was going to tell anyone, he’d have done it by now. Chris can be a dick, but deep down, I think he’s got a decent streak nobody’s killed yet.”

  “Colt would jack him up ninety ways to Sunday,” Caroline assured her. “And everybody knows, when Colt raises a fist, Caine’s got his back.” She drove her elbow into my side, then screwed the top onto the mascara. While she raked the makeup into her purse, she added, “Not to mention, Rowdy’s sweet on Shelby. Once he figures out you’re her friend, he’ll forget he ever knew Jackie.”

  “Yeah, I heard that interview he gave ESPN about helping you prepare for the last drag race. He told that reporter that Barnes has no chance, even if he is gonna drive Kasey’s new Porsche 911.”

  I grabbed her hand. Marley stood fast. I took another step, but she refused to budge. Giving her a bright smile, I ordered, “Head up. Shoulders back. Stick your nose in the air and ignore the fuck out of him. You got this.”

  Despite the dark armor Caroline had applied, uncertainty flickered in Marley’s eyes, then shame flared. Confused as fuck, I wondered, what kind of game is this girl playing? If she’s like Mom, just hasn’t milked this yet for all the sympathy she thinks it’s worth—

  Caroline gasped. I followed her downcast gaze.

  The ghastly fluorescent light leeched the color from Marley’s tan. Hundreds of thin scars, from her wrist to her elbow, blazed white. Some were smooth, straight lines, just surface cuts, but raised scars snaked from mid-forearm to her wrists.

  I knew to my bones, Marley cut her hair so she didn’t cut her body. I jerked my gaze to her face. Snatching her hand from mine, she yanked her sleeves down, set her lips, and strode through the door.

  Outrage streaked through me like wildfire. I snatched the tongs off the counter.

  Colt leaned a shoulder against the wall at the end of the small corridor. He straightened. “We was about to call SWAT.” He held out his hand. “C’mon, Marley. Hand to God, next chance I get, that motherfucker will bleed.”

  The tender concern in Colt’s eyes made my heart skip a beat. He knows what that guy did to her. And he cares.

  “He’s not worth bustin’ your knuckles on.” Marley ignored Colt’s outstretched hand.

  I understood her need to hold herself apart. I understood the hurt that flared in Colt’s eyes, too. God, it felt like I understood too damn much.

  Caine and Jonny loitered near the front door, along with a guy I recognized—the dirty blond from Niles Jaeger’s pit crew. Lowe... somebody. Marley hesitated near the counter. I realized, like a blow, that she’d run to the bathroom rather than head out the door because she had something she needed to say to the jerk.

  In the end, we all gotta save ourselves.

  I held my breath while she stared across the counter, but she dropped her head and rushed out the door.

  I blinked to rid myself of the red haze dancing at the edges of my vision, but the humming fluorescent lights whispered every slight, every insult, every laughing taunt.

  Welfare case.

  Redneck.

  Slut.

  Bitch.

  Cunt.

  Second-hand Susie.

  You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.

  Caine pushed the door open, tipping his head toward the parking lot. Marley rushed past and fell over the hood of the Mustang, palms spread and shoulders heaving. Colt shoved past his brother, loping to Marley’s side.

  I knew, if I asked Marley to let me call the police, she’d beg me to let her assault go unreported.

  No. Not one more. I can’t be an accomplice all my fucking life. I am what I am. And that’s good enough.

  Slamming my palm on the counter, I swung my leg up and scrambled to my knees. Lunging forward, I wrapped my fist in Jackie Rinehart’s shirt. Now I was sure. This was the same guy who’d been working last week, when I’d run Dale’s credit card by mistake.

  It wasn’t his fault that Dale didn’t love my mom. He had nothing to do with Caroline’s assault. But all that anger helped me hold fast when he tried to jerk my hands free. I pulled, then shoved with all my might.

  He staggered from the unexpected change of direction. Cigarettes poured off the rack at his back. I snapped the tongs together in front of his nose, then grabbed his oily beak, squeezing as hard as I could.

  Marley’s tormentor barked with pain.

  Caine’s voice penetrated the thudding in my ears. “Goddammit, not now! Get down from there, Shelby.”

  I cranked my arm to the right, twisting Jackie’s nose. “I should shove these down your goddamn throat and rip your testicles past your tonsils, pencil dick. Would you even miss ‘em? Did you realize, when you said those horrible things about Marley to make you feel better about your sorry-ass life, you were really telling the whole world that you just don’t measure up?”

  God bless her ass, Caroline burst into giggles. The pain of being ridiculed was exactly what the cretin needed to feel.

  I twisted my wrist as far as it would go. Tendons in my arm screamed with pain, but Marley’s eyes had screamed much louder. “Fuck. With. Her. I double goddamn dare you to fuck with her just once more. I will make it my mission in life to see that you never ride on anything again but your rims.”

  Someone cleared their throat. A hand gripped my elbow.

  “Get down from there,” a man ordered.

  “Ah, fuck. Here we go,” Caine muttered.

  I jerked my head around to glare at whomever had the fucking nerve to touch me, meeting dark eyes, squeezed between the wide brim of a Mountie hat and fat jowls.

  “I said, drop them tongs and get down,” Mack Brown barked. “Or I will haul your ass in for assault.”

  I let the tongs fall. “He’s vermin.”

  “Ain’t no law against that.” Mack sighed, giving my arm another tug. “Not that I don’t wanna hold his mouth open while you use them tongs. Your heart’s in the right place.” He darted a glance at Caroline. “Always has been.”

  “That bitch is crazy!” Jackie cried, grabbing his nose. “Last time she was in here, she had blood all over her, sheriff.”

  “You wanna press charges, Rinehart?” Mack reached for his handcuffs.

  My heart found a new gear, but my haze of outrage cleared.

  “Charges? Against me? Oh, hell, no.” I smiled at the clerk. “Maybe we should have Mack check the surveillance video from, say, twenty minutes ago? Did you disconnect those bulbs in the hallway so you’d have a cozy spot to assault any woman who comes in alone?”

  Rinehart darted a glance at my brothers, but Mack Brown turned to study the dark corridor. Caine’s smile was all teeth now.

  I held my breath. Jackie’s Adam’s apple bounced several times before the clerk said, “No harm done.”

  “Oh, we both know that’s not true, son.” Mack’s jovial tone made me blink. “Just ‘cause none was done today, that don’t mean there was never no harm done.”

  He knew. Mack knew what this guy had done to Marley. I had a flash of an outraged Jesse Hancock, demanding Mack arrest the guy after Marley slit her wrists... but what grounds did the sheriff have for an arrest? Sticks and stones, as the saying went. Except, verbal stones left gaping wounds no one saw.

  Reaching into his breast pocket, Mack demanded, “That your Buick parked on the side of the buildin’, Jackie?”

  “Yeah.” The clerk didn’t take his eyes off me, like he thought I might be crazy enough to lunge again. Emboldened by Mack’s unexpected change in attitude, I made a small move, delighting in the fear that flashed across the jerk’s face.

  Mack slapped his ticke
t book onto the counter and flipped the cover open. “Then I need your John Hancock.” He tugged a pen from his front pants pocket. His fat hand flew across the page. “Illegal tint. Illegal muffler. Expired tag.”

  Jackie let go of his nose. A thin stream of blood tricked through the scruff on his upper lip.

  “How you gonna ticket me for a car that ain’t out on the road, sheriff? Ain’t you out of your jurisdiction?”

  Mack’s tone went from friendly to fierce. “Entire town’s my damn jurisdiction come Race Week, by joint proclamation of county and city councils. If’n you could vote, you might know that already, Mr. Rinehart, sir.”

  Caroline giggled again. “Felonies? Ain’t that a bitch?”

  The sheriff’s smile sent a shiver down my spine. “I reckon I can come back a few minutes before you get off shift. Bet there’s at least one light out on that piece of shit you drive. Maybe some more wacky bakky in the glove compartment? And what is it Shelby here thinks I need to see on the security tape?”

  Jackie’s cheeks took on a guilty flush. The clerk shook his head again. “Just gimme the damn ticket.”

  Mack tipped his head toward the door, but kept his eyes on Jackie, like he expected the clerk to make a break for the rear exit. “Go on. Step outside, but don’t go nowhere.”

  “Something’s wrong with Sherriff Brown,” Caroline said while we sauntered out of the store. “I think he’s got cancer. I swear I do. Comes by my place at least three times a month lately. Brings little Shelby a toy every time. Kid thinks that man’s Santa Claus.”

  I skipped off the curb and paused beside Colt, who held Marley’s trembling hands. “You okay to drive?”

  Some of the life had come back into the dark-ringed eyes. “You do that often? Jump someone three times your size?”

  Colt pressed her hands to his lips with a chuckle. “When they’re her size, she jumps ‘em three at a time.”

  “And whatever you do, don’t wreck her car.” The Lowe person threw his head back and laughed. “Goddamn, I been tellin’ Niles he’d better sign this team up. Even the front man—er, woman—can kick your ass, on or off the track.”

  He slapped Caine on the back. “Let’s go see if we can rig the Audi like Dale did the ‘Cuda.”

  The laughing words hit me like a kick to the chest. Guilt flared in Caine’s eyes, escalating the pain.

  “Before you go off, he didn’t cheat Barnes.” He swept a glance toward Lowe. “And it was me who done it.”

  I forced the question past the stone in my throat. “Who else was there to cheat?”

  Caine cocked a brow.

  Oh. They played me.

  Again.

  I jerked open the truck’s passenger door and fought to drag the box Francine had given me over the back of the seat. Slinging the folder Ernie shouldn’t have had into the driver’s seat, I blinked back tears. I couldn’t handle one more thing—call them what they are, lies—without exploding.

  I shoved the carton into Caine’s hands. “Give that to Marley. Francine sent her Ernie’s Brad Taggert memorabilia.” His injured expression sent my outrage into third gear. I snatched the box from his hands. “On second thought. I’ll do it my damn self.”

  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 15th. 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?”

  Chapter Forty

  Hannah vs. Barnes Reloaded! Midnight Grudge Match May 24th. Bring the family and pull for your favorite! One race to remember. O
ne 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.