Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11)

by Shey Stahl

  Hudson squirmed in his arms, hating to be constrained. “No, no, no!” he screamed, his face red with anger and arching his body in an attempt to wiggle free.

  Smiling at them arguing, I appreciated my dad being here to watch over the kids with me. “When do you go out?”

  Dad glanced back at the pits behind us and adjusted his hat backward before Hudson took it from him. “About ten minutes. I should get down there in a minute.” The guys had already lined dad’s car up, but he wanted to catch Caden and Rager on the track.

  “Why are you really giving up full ownership?” I asked Dad, wondering if he’d directly answer the question. I asked Mom earlier today but she never gave an answer either. She’d simply smiled and said, “Ask your dad.”

  For a long time, he stared at the boys and Gray, and then his eyes lifted to the track.

  “Are you retiring from racing? Is that why?” When Dad walked away from NASCAR, it was after Grandpa Jimi died at Knoxville. What would make him walk away now?

  With a sigh, he leaned back and let go of Hudson. He stayed where he was, in between Dad’s legs, holding onto him as he watched Caden qualify. In the distance, I could see Kinsley down by the track, one hand on her stomach, the other nervously fidgeting with her braid on her shoulder.

  “I’m not retiring,” Dad finally said, his words muffled by the roar of Caden’s car sliding through turns three and four.

  “From Santa Rosa California in the Simplex Shocks and Springs PJ’s Auto Body and Carson Construction, Caden “The Kid” Carson!” Jerry announced.

  “Then what is it? Are you sick?”

  A sigh escaped his lips, followed quickly by a smirk when Gray picked up Knox so he could see over the wall in front of them. “What is all this worth if I can’t give it to my kids?” I didn’t say anything, unsure where he was going with it, and knowing he wasn’t finished. “This isn’t me saying enough is enough. That’s not why I race. The older you get, the closer you get to the end of your career and it’s about enjoying what you do. I love competition, but I’m no longer going to let it consume my life. I race for the people. The environment. This.” His shoulder bumped mine and for some reason, my eyes burned with tears. I knew exactly what he was referring to. This was a lifestyle. And though it wasn’t for everyone, once you were in, it was hard to separate yourself from it. “Everyone that’s here, these people chose to be here. They don’t do this because they’re being forced to. They do it because they want to. I’ve raised my family here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  When he put it like that, I understood what he was doing. Creating a legacy. A way for this to continue, even when he wasn’t around it daily.

  “Rolling onto the track now your reigning World of Outlaws champion, from Bartlett Tennessee the Solar Seals number ninety-nine of Rager Sweet.”

  You could hear the crowd roar to life at the announcement of Rager on the track. My heart thumped wildly in my chest when Rager’s black and yellow sprint car shot down the front stretch. With a throaty echo bouncing off the wall, his car slid into turns one and two, his right rear up against the cushion as a layer of dust hovered in the air.

  Kinsley made her way up into the stands, her cheeks bright red and sweat collecting at her temples. I reached up to help her sit down, my eyes trained on Rager and his smooth movements on the track. He even managed to avoid the dip in three that seemed to be shaving seconds off everyone’s lap times.

  “Where’d Caden end up?” Unscrewing the cap to her water bottle, Kinsley chugged it, and then sighed. “I couldn’t hear the announcement over my own breathing.”

  “Third quick,” I told her, typing out a Tweet for the JAR Racing page I couldn’t trust Hayden to update any longer. She got into a tweeting war with a fan over them calling Axel a lazy racer. We no longer allowed her to have any social media.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Dad asked Kinsley, staring at her. “Please tell me you’re not going into labor.”

  “Oh my God,” Kinsley gasped, scowling at Dad. “Why would you even suggest that?”

  “You look…” He paused, as if he knew he needed to choose his words carefully. “Tired.”

  Kinsley scowled, slamming her water bottle onto the bleacher next to her. “Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”

  By the way, Kinsley fit in perfectly with our team.

  “No.” Dad laughed when Hudson smacked the water bottle off the grandstands and to the ground twenty feet below us. “I didn’t say that. I said you look tired.”

  “When’s your due date?” I asked, rubbing her back.

  “Tuesday.” She grunted, trying to find a comfortable position. But let’s face it, when you were nine months pregnant, there was no such thing as getting comfortable.

  My eyes widened and she frowned, blinking rapidly. “Tomorrow?”

  “Last week,” she added, her words barely heard over the roar of Rager’s sprint car.

  If I could have taken a picture of my dad’s face, I would have. It deserved to be on a poster with the words “What the fuck?” underneath it and inside the haulers.

  “I thought you still had a month to go?”

  “Nope. This little girl just wants to keep on cooking apparently.” Kinsley fanned herself with Dad’s hat she took from him.

  “Why is everyone stealing my hats lately?” Dad motioned to the score board. “Your boy just broke the track record.”

  “What?” Fuck, I hadn’t been paying attention to his qualifying run. I looked up to see the score board flashing 12.331. My heart skipped a beat. Dad held the record here at a 12.653 for the last five years. Until now.

  “Fucker,” Dad grumbled as he stood up, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely disappointed by it.

  And then just as quickly, Jerry’s voice coming through the speakers above us in the pit bleachers. “Quick tiiiiime, at a twelve point thirty-three one. 12.331 for Rager Sweet your quick qualifier by bouncing the right rear off the wall!”

  Oh, thank God! He needed a win so bad. I’d never been so happy to hear those words come from Jerry and I bet Rager would be too. I couldn’t wait to get down to his pit to congratulate him. There were still ten more cars to qualify, but something told me he’d hold onto this.

  Dad stole his hat back from Kinsley and put it on his head backward. “Keep that baby inside tonight.”

  “It’s not like I plan on having her at a track,” she told him, holding Hudson on her hip as we made our way from the pit bleachers.

  I handed the kids off to Rosa and Lily, who took them back to the motor home for dinner. I went with Kinsley to the pits, watching her waddle. “Are you sure you’re okay? No labor pains?”

  Her eyes moved from Caden in the distance to mine. “What do labor pains feel like?”

  “Cramps.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” that was all she said. Qualifying finished up by the time we made it to the pits. Distracted by the raucous in the pit area, engines running, tools clanging around and my husband’s laughter when they announced he’d held onto quick time for the night, I’d forgot about Kinsley’s overdue baby wanting to join the pre-race activities.

  Rager smiled as Dad congratulated him. “Fuck, man, I had that goddamn gas pedal shoved through the fucking floor panel.”

  Dad shook his head, smiling. “I did, too, and still couldn’t knock you off that top spot.”

  Rager’s attention moved to mine, his smile igniting mine. “Good job. You’re in the second heat with Caden and Axel.”

  Nodding, he stepped toward me, his arms finding their way around my waist. “Where are the kids? I promised Knox and Pace they could help spray down the car before the heat.”

  “With Rosa.” He frowned. “And Lily,” I added, and he relaxed. “They’re eating some dinner.”

  Gray finally emerged from the hauler for the first time today when she spotted Caden. “Can I spray the cars down?”

  Lane handed her the Sure Shot, kneeling next to Rage
r’s right rear tire checking air pressure. “Knock yourself out.” He turned and stared at Jensen. “What was the stagger?”

  Jensen mumbled something to him, but I couldn’t hear him over the clanking of tools and Casten’s car idling beside us.

  Rager laughed when he noticed Casten. “Is he eating a cheeseburger?”

  I peered over at him. “Looks that way.”

  “No way I could do that. I’d have the worst stomach ache.”

  It was true. Most of the guys didn’t eat before the main events. They ate dinner afterwards to avoid cramps and stomach aches. Casten didn’t give a fuck. He ate when he ate. Which is also why he frequently got sick after races.

  Kinsley moved to Caden’s pit next to Dad’s. I motioned to her with a flick of my wrist. “Did you know she was due last week?”

  “Kinsley?” Rager craned his neck to the side and eyed her. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tightening his hold around my waist, he buried his head in my neck. “Do you remember when you went into labor with Knox?”

  A snort escaped me. “How can I forget.” Rager loved to think he broke my water by having sex up against his sprint car. I’d already been having labor pains and knew it was a possibility to go into labor. But I let him believe him and his super sperm were what did it.

  AS THE NIGHT progressed, Rager won his heat, which put him on the pole in the dash and starting third in the A-main event. I’d love to say I watched the main, but I didn’t get a chance.

  Remember that girl that swore she wouldn’t have the baby tonight? Well, guess who went into labor when Caden brought out the caution in the main after flipping down the backstretch?

  Yeah, Kinsley.

  “We should take her to the hospital,” Hayden noted, staring at Kinsley doubled over in pain and a puddle of water at her feet in front of the merchandise trailer.

  “I feel like her head is coming out.” Kinsley squeezed her legs together. “Guys, that’s bad, right?”

  Hayden, Lily, and I stared at each other before Lily took control of the situation. And Rosa appeared with my mom. “Let’s get her into Caden’s hauler,” Mom told us, helping Kinsley walk. “There’s more room there and Dave’s truck is parked out there. It’d be easier than trying to get the motor homes out.”

  She had a point, but one mentioned of Dave, and Kinsley wasn’t having it.

  “Fuuuuuck that.” She stopped walking, holding her stomach with one hand and waving her other around in the air. “That crazy bastard isn’t driving me and my baby anywhere.”

  Kinsley also had a point. No one in their right mind would get in a car with him, aside from Tommy, but I thought we all agreed Tommy wasn’t in his right mind. Ever.

  “No, he’s not driving,” Mom assured her.

  Hayden stayed back and locked up the merchandise trailers while Mom, Lily, Rosa, and I escorted Kinsley back to the pits. A thick cloud of dirt hovered in the air, wind whipping around in a swirling motion as the cars roared by turns three and four. Jerry’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers near us. “Bouncing the right rear off the cushion and dipping down low into turn four, Rager Sweet takes over the lead from Rowdy Riley in the nine. Two to go this time by.”

  Mom and me smiled at one another. Sure, Dad lost the lead, but we all knew how much Rager wanted a win this season.

  Rosa, who was walking beside me digging through her nanny pack as she called it, snorted. “Driving would be a bit hard for Dave tonight.”

  I glanced over at Rosa. “Why?”

  “He was arrested.”

  “Again?” Mom and Lily said in unison.

  Believe me when I said that none of us were surprised by that, and we didn’t bother to question why.

  “Ah, there it is.” Rosa found what she was looking for and held a juice box. “Here.” She handed Kinsley what looked to be orange juice in a carton.

  Kinsley stared at the juice in her hand. “Is it normal to feel like my stomach is going to rip apart?”

  “Yes” was another collective answer among the five of us.

  “We need to get her to the truck before the cars start rolling off the track,” I added, fearing we wouldn’t make it to a vehicle in time. I seriously thought about commandeering someone’s car in the parking lot, but I had no idea how to go about it. If Dave hadn’t been arrested, this would have been a task for him. Not me. Or maybe even Casten. He had stolen a car once before.

  We managed to get Kinsley into the pits and near Dave’s truck, but not in it. “Seriously,” she cried, clutching her stomach. “I think she’s coming out.”

  Mom flagged down the safety officials in the pits to help us. The only problem was the ambulance couldn’t leave the track until the race was over. Lily acted quickly and got Kinsley laying down while Rosa held her upper body. By the time we had Caden’s hauler closed up, Zac, Jensen, Tommy, and Lane had returned.

  “Sweet won,” Tommy told us, smiling as he peeked his head in the side door. “Why is the hauler—” We didn’t have to answer him once he noticed Kinsley spread eagle and screaming. “Where’s Caden?”

  “On the front stretch.” Zac looked over Tommy’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Oh, shit. Is she in labor?”

  “Arie?” Rosa whispered, tugging on my hand. I didn’t answer her at first. I was too busy trying to see where the damn ambulance was. When I didn’t look over at her, she slapped my cheek. “Arie?”

  I snapped my head her direction, nervously biting my nails. “What?”

  “Is alcohol bad for pregnant women?”

  All of us girls stared at Rosa. “Are you serious?”

  “No.” She gasped, her eyes darting around the hauler and then to her nanny pack. “I was just joking. But it can’t be any worse than the drugs they give you to birth these little aliens.”

  I blinked rapidly. “Did that orange juice have alcohol in it?”

  “Did it?” she asked, acting as though she was perplexed as to why I would ask. If you knew Rosa, you would understand this was how most conversations went with her.

  “How am I supposed to know?” I waved at her nanny pack. “You’re the one that stocks that damn thing. Be honest, do you give my babies alcohol during the day? Is that why they’re always ready to take a nap at noon?”

  She sighed, as if she couldn’t believe I’d question her. “I don’t remember.”

  “Is she really having a baby right now?” Tommy asked, peeking his head inside further.

  “What the fuck do you think, Tommy?” Kinsley took a handful of mom’s hair and pulled. “Listen, I don’t want to have this baby here at a dirt track.” Her hand dropped immediately, her eyes wide. “There’s a lot of pressure.”

  “Go get Jameson,” Mom told Tommy when Kinsley said she needed to push.

  He did, probably because he wanted no part of this.

  Dad joined the party, unwillingly. “Rager won.” And then he stopped. “No fucking way” were his first words at the scene before him. “Go get someone else.” Dad turned right around and tried to leave the hauler.

  Tommy stopped him, blocking the only exit since we closed the hauler door. And then Kinsley emitted a scream that had us all thinking something was terribly wrong. Dad turned on his heel and rushed over to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s having a baby,” Mom snapped, trying to get Kinsley’s jean shorts off. “Help us. Where are those stupid officials? And Caden? Get Caden.”

  “I’ll go get Caden. That sounds like a perfect job for me.” Dad took a hold of my shirt and forced me to sit beside Kinsley. “You do this part.”

  Mom was quicker and yanked Dad back down next to her. “Oh no you don’t, team owner. Help me.”

  “Technically I’m partial owner now,” Dad felt the need to point out.

  By the way Mom was staring at him, that meant nothing to her.

  With the help of Tommy and Willie, we got Kinsley’s head supported by a Hans device and her legs propped up on rear tires, spread eagle a
nd half-naked.

  Dad turned his head. “I don’t want any part of this.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ, Jameson.” Mom had apparently had enough of his whining and smacked him on the shoulder. “Knock it off and hand me something to cover her up with.”

  “Like what?” He gasped. “A towel? I don’t see anything.”

  We all glanced around for something while Kinsley screamed bloody murder. And let me tell you, in a hauler with metal walls, it seemed to amplify every sound. If you were standing outside, for sure they thought we were killing her.

  Mom motioned to Dad’s driving suit. “Take that off. It works great.”

  He raised an eyebrow and unzipped the top half. “What? How would you know?”

  “Arie was born in Jimi’s hauler.” Mom continued to rub Kinsley’s shoulder, as did Lily. “He used it to cover me up.”

  I knew my dad hadn’t been there when I was born in the pits of Skagit Raceway. What I didn’t know was that my grandpa had helped deliver me. Warmth hit me, a smile soon afterward that he’d been a part of it.

  Without much warning, or pushing on her part, Kinsley had the baby and Dad basically caught her. “Holy shit,” he gasped, pale as a ghost as he stared down at the tiny newborn in his hands. “Is that normal? Do they usually come shooting out like that?”

  Rosa swept Kinsley’s hair from her forehead. “That’s impressive. Not many people can shoot a baby out of their coochie with that speed.”

  “Rosa!” Lily gasped, gathering the baby into Dad’s fire suit.

  “I’m never wearing that one again,” Dad noted, scooting back away from what looked to be the placenta coming out of Kinsley. “I don’t feel so well.”

  Admittedly, even I was a little bit nauseous over this one.

  In all the commotion, Caden and Rager had returned to the pits. Caden peeked his head inside. “What’s going on?” His eyes widened. “Holy shit. You had the baby?”

  “Thank fuck,” Dad groaned, wearing only his boxers and a T-shirt. “Get your ass over here.”