by Eden Connor
“I’m getting in that goddamn car, no matter what.” I blinked away the memory of the blue emergency room curtain. My collar bone ached for the first time in weeks. “I can race and be done before any doctor would look at me, even if I left right now.”
Marley held my gaze, then whipped the small pouch on her hip open. “Prescription-strength pain reliever, comin’ right up. You got any allergies? This is stuff you can take and drive.” She pulled out an amber bottle.
Irrational as it was, in that moment, I fell for Marley, because she reacted like a driver and treated me like one, too.
“Losing,” I gasped, as the next wave of cramps gripped me. “I’m allergic to losing. Got a pad?” Marley hurled the pills across the table.
“I do.” Caroline snagged the prescription bottle in mid-air, then burrowed in her purse. I staggered to the bathroom and peeled my jeans off. The entire crotch was saturated.
I wiped, gaping at the bright blood that coated the tissue, as well as my hand. I’d never seen blood so red. Carmine? Crimson?
Am I dying? As I stared at the tissue with a racing heart, something slid out of me and plopped into the water. I peered between my thighs. Black knots sank to the bottom of the bowl, unfurling cranberry-colored swirls in their wake.
Pain nearly cut me in half—or fear. For the first time since Kingsley Deese had punched me in the nose back in second grade, because I wouldn’t let him look under my dress, I wanted my mother.
And I didn’t trust her to honor my wishes.
“I’ll get paper towels.” Caroline sprang off the sofa and rushed to the kitchen counter, seizing the entire roll.
While she dampened several sheets in the sink, I leaned my head against the wall, gripped by panic. A sharp jab of pain painted my upper lip and the back of my neck with sweat. I focused on Marley, who’d taken a seat on the end of the coffee table. “Please, when he gets here, don’t tell Caine.”
Marley dragged her tongue across her lower lip. “When he tries to punch me after he finds out that I knew and didn’t tell him, Caroline, you save me, okay? I don’t think I can count on Colt.”
Wide-eyed, but silent, Caroline handed me the dripping towels. Marley dropped her eyes while I wiped my stained fingers, turning the rag several times to find a clean spot. Caroline readied another bunch of towels. The situation between my thighs was past any help from toilet paper.
“Can you stand?” Marley’s dark eye makeup emphasized her pallor. Tough chick couldn’t stand the sight of blood?
“Yes,” I gasped, unable to think for the way my heart slammed against my ribs. “Caroline, grab me something to wash those pills down with.”
“We’re gonna have to get Lee to change the schedule.” Marley collapsed onto the end of the coffee table and shoved her hands underneath her hips. “If we can push back your dial-in runs to the half hour immediately before the race, those pills will have time to start working.”
“Kolby pitched a hissy fit to go first, so we swapped. How can he show his ass if I want to change the schedule?” Another thought killed the hope her remark had spawned. “No. I have to get in the car. Caine’s gonna be out there any minute now, Marley. He’ll go nuts, wondering why anything got delayed.”
“Fuck me. Men are a pain in the ass.” Checking the large chronograph on her wrist, Marley announced, “Eighteen minutes. I hope that shit has time to kick in. It’s real good, once it gets goin’.”
Caroline scanned the label with troubled eyes. “I don’t feel good about this. You need to see a doctor right away.”
“After Jackie got me pregnant, Jesse took me for an abortion. I was due to race the next day, so he found a place that’d do the procedure without anesthesia. That’s where I got the first prescription of that stuff. It’s non-narcotic. Think... Midol, on steroids.”
Marley’s chest expanded and fell. Marley’s chalky face matched her colorless tone. Horror curled at the edges of my mind. It was inconceivable that Caroline had been the Hancock daughter with the better life.
“I hate him for that.” She met my horrified gaze. “See, my racin’s all about him.” She drove her fist down on the table. “But, as God is my witness, I’m gonna find a way to make my winnin’ about me.”
Marley’s eyes burned with the same betrayal I’d seen in the convenience store bathroom. “I’d rather have had my mama with me, but she stayed home. Gettin’ drunk and cryin’ about what the neighbors would think if they found out she’d raised such a little slut. I memorized the sheet that doc gave me, symptoms to worry about, on the plane ride to the racetrack. Can’t trust a man with that kind of thing. Spike in fever above a hundred, hemorrhaging, swelling of the abdomen, vomiting.”
I pleaded with Caroline. “Now that the panic’s past, this is just a period on steroids. I think passing clots is part of the gig.”
Marley shoved off the table. “Yeah, it is. My second cousin on the Taggert side called me this afternoon. He’s workin’ the rescue squad bus tonight. They’ll have thicker pads on the ambulance. I’ll get some, and have him call the hospital so there’ll be a gynecologist standing by. We’ll shove her in the ambulance right after the race. I’ll be sure a couple reporters hear me say you have the stomach flu. Then, I’ll deny it when they ask me point blank. They’ll believe rumors faster’n any truth.”
“Her health’s more important than any race!” Tears gleamed in Caroline’s eyes. “This is nuts!”
Marley finally looked back when she reached the door. “Caroline, she can race, or she can lay on a gurney while that doc finishes screwing his wife and shows up at the hospital. Time works out about the same until she gets treatment. It’s her choice.”
Caroline whirled to face me. “Please, don’t do this. He ain’t never paid off on a bet. It’s just a damn car you can’t never drive.”
“It’s not about the car.” I tossed the stained towels in the trash can and held out my hand. “Give me the pills. Marley, get those heavy-duty pads. If I bail now, even if we told the gospel truth, those reporters out there would be sympathetic for a week. Maybe. Or, they’d think that Dale cheated the first time, and I backed out tonight because we couldn’t figure out a way to cheat this time without his help.”
Sweat stung my armpits and trickled down my sternum. “And throughout my tenure as Chief Operations Officer, they’d go around me to ask their questions of Dale instead. Nothing I ever say would penetrate. If I give in to something that happens every month, your genius will go unappreciated at the very moment all eyes are on us. And Marley will go on to win her first Cup series under the Ridenhour flag.”
While one life slid out of me, I envisioned a new life for the three of us. Racing had brought us together, but something more powerful bound us. The nebulous idea floating in the back of my mind all week came into sharp focus—along with Ernie’s voice.
But only you got the car and two million fans who already listen to what you got to say.
With the attention accorded any NASCAR team, we could do something to stop the bleeding. Not just ours. I’d keep the ‘Cuda. Mortgage the fuck out of it, use the money for Hannah-Built. But I’d use the iconic car for something more. I’d fucking sell day trips in the goddamn thing if it meant we could start a program to save young girls from suffering the way Caroline and Marley had suffered.
I tried to explain the visions dancing in my head.
“Meanwhile, the mean girls will keep throwing stones. Not just at us, but at little Shelby, and every other girl who’s different. Racin’ saved us all three. If we put our heads together, we can use Hannah-Built to save others like us. We’ll find a way to make people think twice before they throw that next stone. Doesn’t every damn NASCAR team sponsor a charity?”
I grabbed Caroline’s icy hand. “I don’t how right this minute, but I know I don’t wanna be talking to myself when we figure it out. It’s an hour, Caroline. I can do any damn thing for an hour.”
Marley opened the door and stepped outside, slamming
it behind her. “Don’t let anyone else in there. She’s throwing her guts up. Of all the damn times to get the fuckin’ flu.”
Caroline swiped the back of her hand across one eye, then wrenched the top off the prescription bottle. Turning away, she scooped the bottle I’d dropped off the floor. I continued my cleanup while she poured most of the water down the sink, then dumped the contents of two capsules into the remaining inch of water.
When I wrapped my hand around the bottle, she brought hers down on top. “I love you, so much. I’m so sorry about how I acted when we realized you might be pregnant.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The tunnel didn’t offer a breath of air. Sweat collected between my shoulder blades. The Nomex suit stuck to my arm pits. But none of those discomforts held a candle to the bulk between my thighs. The sanitary pad was the size of a damn pillow. I was positive every fan in the stadium could see that bulge through the racing leathers.
Except for a buzzing in my ears and the nasty taste coating my tongue, I felt no ill effects from the medicine.
Nor any good effects.
The minute I stepped out of the tunnel, the crowd jumped to their feet. Shrill whistles and thunderous applause drowned out the blaring music.
The bright red rescue squad vehicle halted me in my tracks. My stomach cramped. For a long second, I thought about climbing into the back.
Marley slapped a hand to my shoulder. “You okay?”
One day, someone was going to ask me that question and get more than they bargained for in response. I drew my spine straight and moved my eyes to the Audi.
“Fine.” One foot in front of the other.
“And here she is, folks. Sheeeelllbyy Hannaaaah!”
The feedback nearly split my eardrums. I lifted my hand, but picked up my pace, eager to reach the damn car so I could sit down. Kolby perched near the Porsche, leaning against the concrete barrier. He crossed his arms and pinned his fingers under his pits, staring holes through me as I moved past.
Niles stalked the space between the cars, glaring at his watch. A handful of news vans lined the barriers along the infield. Reporters were lined up in front of the vans like crows on a wire. I stared at the ground so their camera flashes didn’t blind me.
Marco opened the Audi’s door. Shooing away several reporters, Caroline and Marley jumped on the rear deck of the Viper, which was parked in pit box beside the Audi. They rose to their feet. Caroline’s shrill whistle split the air.
Some in the crowd called Marley’s name. She waved while I slid behind the wheel, then tucked her arm around Caroline’s shoulder. Someone had readjusted my seat during inspection. I felt for the button, only to realize the goddamn thing didn’t work.
“Replace the damn fuse,” I snapped at Marco. “How’d you move the damn seat?”
The swarthy man shook his head. “Didn’t move it.” With a smirk, he added, “If you need a pillow or something to see over the wheel, it wasn’t here when I got in.”
Like you’re tall? Why don’t you kiss my motherfucking ass?
Reaching inside, Marco pressed a button on the steering column. The wheel dropped into its accustomed place.
Oh. I sucked down a deep breath and wished I could make my helmet jump into my hand with my mind. I winced at the gush of warm fluid when I leaned into the floor board to pick up the Fiberglass shell.
As soon as I straightened, every muscle in my abdomen locked, drawing me double. Resting my head on the wheel, I panted. Pain dug sharp claws into my lower back.
“You okay?” Niles yelled, stalking to my open door. “What’s this about you having the flu?”
Ignoring the German, I waited for the grip to relent. Maybe I needed to time these? I began a silent count.
“Shut the door.”
Five, six, seven. I plopped the helmet over my hair and worked to fasten the buckle. Niles gave the door a heave. The reduction in noise was almost worth the spike in temperature. The windshield fogged while I panted.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.
Fourteen seconds was enough to get to the finish line and back. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Ow. Holy fucking Mother of God, how did people have actual babies? Trying to birth a lima bean made me want to roll over and die.
Caroline knocked on the glass and waved Dale’s phone. “He called.”
I slung the door open and grabbed the device. She pointed to the rear view mirror. “Turn on the camera. Dale wants footage up on your site by morning.”
“Thanks. Shut that, please?” I was terrified if I moved too much, I’d bleed right through the fireproof suit. Wouldn’t that look nice splashed all over social media? I didn’t have time to plan my mother’s funeral when she died of shame.
I fumbled to connect the phone. Okay, now I have to get my shit together.
Caine left the console operational, thank God. I paired the phone with the wireless and made the call, hooking up the safety harness while the phone rang.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey, Dale. Let’s do this.”
If he noted my lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t mention it. “Colt done jumped out ahead of you in the prize money. Better shut his ass up ‘fore his mouth gets to rollin’.”
Caroline tapped on the window again. You Tube. Camera, she mouthed, pointing to the rear-view mirror.
This was going to work, Caroline being my spotter as we staggered, wide-eyed and holding hands, into the rough-and-tumble world that was NASCAR. Impulsively, I pressed my lips to the glass. The crowd could make of that what they wanted.
“Hang on, I need to start the camera.” Praying Dale couldn’t see how shaky my hands were, I spun the dial and engaged the device. When I peered through the windshield, Marco rolled his eyes. He said something to Niles, who laughed so hard, Kolby joined in.
I set the hand brake and shoved in the clutch. When I hit the gas, nothing happened.
Kolby almost fell down laughing.
Fuck me. I reached for the key and stomped the gas. The hard knot in my lower back uncoiled somewhat when the twin engines caught and the seat began to vibrate. White smoke obscured the view out of the rearview mirror while I did my burnout. I inhaled, filling my lungs with the sweet, bitter stench.
“Kolby and Niles’ little bromance is about to have a nasty breakup.”
Dale swiped a palm across his scruffy chin. “Oh? How so?”
“According to George England, Volkswagen got creative. Something about fooling around with emissions tests on diesel units. He said the government’s about to slap them with some big-ass fines. Dad, we’re going to have to find another engineering partner, or go it alone. George told me that they’ll have to shut their racing divisions down to appease their investors.”
Dale shrugged. “I was born a Mopar man. Everything since has been a disappointment. To tell you the truth, I weren’t too impressed with the dude. Life’s too short to work with assholes.”
For a man who’d been out of it for a week, he sure as shit seemed to know what I was talking about. Could even Dale Hannah go from zero to firing on all twelve cylinders in a matter of hours? While I thought that over, I turned to stare out my window at Barnes.
Now, go do the same for Kolby, because I wasn’t smart enough to get the damn job done.
Dale’s number one problem child seemed nervous, pacing with clenched fists and talking to himself. Such an odd guy. Pure talent, and yet, he hid a lack of confidence behind all that bravado. The Christmas party danced inside my head. His not-quite-right for the occasion tux. A race car driver by profession, but he’d ordered a car with granny shift?
Kolby’d been trying to flirt with me that night, just one more missed cue on his part. But Dale had played him, for the amusement of his crew and my brothers.
One more stone?
David Northern humiliated Kolby every chance he got, then expected Barnes to follow his lead as his car chief. I sketched Colt into Barnes’ shoes—then myself—with pretty much the same outcome. If nothi
ng was at stake as far as Audi was concerned, then all that was left was the driver’s pride, whether he knew that or not. But, did I have to lose to fix the problem? I couldn’t afford to lose.
My brain played on fast-forward.
I hadn’t seen a doctor within ten feet of Dale since Dr. Erikkson had brought him out of he medical coma on Wednesday. The information about rehab had been delivered outside of Dale’s earshot. But he’d known they wanted him to go to rehab.
Character is weighty matter. Can’t install it on a weak foundation. Without a doubt, Dale had been trying to teach Barnes a bit of character.
But everything had gone horribly wrong.
With a blinding flash of insight, I saw needed to happen. Dale, Colt, Caine—Hannah-Built—couldn’t move forward dragging baggage like Barnes. We sure as shit couldn’t do what I had in mind if this wreckage wasn’t way back in our rearview mirrors. Kolby would still be on the track—the one problem I’d set aside in the midst of all the rest.
Beating him would only make matters worse, but I’d die before I threw this race.
“What’cha thinkin’?”
I sucked down a deep breath, still holding the gas pedal down. “I’m thinking that you don’t make many missteps, but challenging Kolby at Christmas was the wrong thing to do. I’m thinking that taking his car was about your ego more than getting his attention. I’ve heard all the arguments in your favor, but at the end of the day, Dale, that dog just don’t hunt.” Even a blind squirrel finds the occasional nut. Mom had nailed this.
Dale gave me a smirk, then sobered. “Got a plan to pull your old man outta the shit?”
“I do, actually.”
When his eyes burned with pride, I knew why Dale had given me his power of attorney. Why he’d put the car into my name to begin with. With millions on the line, he wanted to see how I handled the long game. I turned the idea over in my mind again, but saw no flaw in my logic.
Dale Hannah, the three-birds-with-one-stone country boy who was always four moves ahead, had played us all, Caine and Colt included, for the best of reasons.
