by Roz Lee
“I know, Dell. I know.”
He searched her eyes for any trace of fear and saw only a hunger and desperation equal to his own.
“Mine,” he said. Then his lips were on hers. A moment later, she was under him, opening for him. He took her, fast and hard. She wrapped her legs around his hips and matched him thrust for thrust. His lips and hands explored, as did hers.
There was nothing gentle about the way they took from each other, but they gave in equal measure, and when Caro came, she took Dell with her into a world where there was no wrong, no censorship, no condemnation, only right. She led him through the darkness and showed him the light. He looked in her eyes and saw the thing he feared most in life, her love. He'd never be worthy of it, but buried inside her, his cock bathed in it, he was certain it was the only thing he'd ever need. He'd spent too many years trying to earn the love of a man who could never give it when he was alive, and sure wasn't going to give it from the grave.
None of it mattered now. Only Carolina mattered, and he'd do anything to earn the love he saw in her eyes.
“Carolina. My sweet, Carolina,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. Her arms encircled his shoulders as he poured himself inside her one wretched spasm at a time.
Caro held Dell in her arms as his cock jerked inside her. His hips pumped, grinding against her in the same jerky rhythm. She should be shocked at the way they'd come together, like two animals in heat. The only thing missing were the teeth and claws, and she couldn't be too sure about those.
Spent, Dell collapsed on top of her, instantly rolling to the side and dragging her with him.
“Jesus, Caro. I'm sorry.”
Beneath her palm, Dell's heart thumped a wild beat. “Don't be. I'm not.”
One roughened hand stroked the small of her back. “I should have taken more care. I wasn't thinking of your pleasure, only mine. I'm sorry.”
“Stop it, Dell,” she said. “I'm fine. Well, mostly fine.” She inched her hand across his chest to trace the flat disk around his nipple. He hissed and tightened his hold on her. “Not that it wasn't satisfying, it was. But it was awfully…quick.”
“Are you saying I crossed the finish line too fast?”
She continued to tease his nipple as she spoke. “No, what I'm saying is it was a short race. Maybe next time, instead of a drag race, we could try a Le Mans.”
“Some of those races go on for twenty-four hours,” Dell pointed out.
Caro raised up on an elbow and smiled. “I know.”
* * * *
He couldn't exactly call it a habit, but he and Warner spent their last few days off together, mostly drinking beer and watching old movies at Dell's house. Warner said his apartment was too small for two people, though why he hadn’t bought himself a house was beyond Dell's comprehension. As long as he kept showing up with cold beer, Dell didn't care.
“I hope you didn't bring the same shit you did last week,” Dell said as Warner headed to the kitchen with the requisite brown bag.
“You didn't have to drink it.”
Dell held out his hand. “Just give me one, and shut up.”
Warner handed Dell a bottle and took one for himself before they headed to the recliners in the living room. “Talladega's coming up,” he said.
“So it is,” Dell said, popping the top on his brew and taking a long pull. “What about it?”
“If you need a drafting partner, I might be interested.”
Dell studied his half-brother. “What would Renfro think?”
“I don't give a shit what he thinks. He's been talking a lot of trash around the shop the last few weeks, and I don't like it.”
“What kind of trash?”
“Stuff. He's coming down real hard on Caro Hawkins and you, too. You'd think he'd be mindful of who he's talking about, since he knows about our relationship, but he doesn't know we talk, so I guess he thinks it's all right to talk shit about you in front of me.”
“So, you want to get back at him by drafting with me?”
“Maybe. It would serve him right if I pushed you across the finish line in first place.”
Dell grinned. “Yeah, that would be poetic, but what makes you think it wouldn't be you crossing first with me biting your ass?”
“Because I don't want to win? Renfro is being a real asshole. If I win, so does Renfro Racing, and right now, I'm not in a frame of mind where that seems right. I'd much rather see Hawkins Racing get the trophy.”
“No offense, but I would too. Okay. But I have to tell Caro before the race. I don't want her blowing a gasket if you suddenly start kissing my ass around the track.”
“Drafting, Dell. Don't flatter yourself. I won't be kissing your ass, on the track or off. I'll leave that for the pretty lady you're seeing.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caro couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd felt this good. For the last three weeks, she and Dell had stolen as many minutes to be together as possible without drawing attention to their intimate relationship. They had yet to work in a Le Mans, but every encounter wasn't a drag race either. Her body hummed with satisfaction, and love for Dell.
So far, he'd lived up to the promise he made when they struck their financial agreement. He no longer drove every race as if he had a death wish. The brilliant race strategist was back, but he'd yet to win a race.
Caro was beginning to think Hawkins Racing was jinxed. There'd been the issue with the loose lug nut that cost Dell a win, and might have resulted in a serious wreck. Thankfully, no one was injured in the spinout. Even the car survived. She still cringed when she thought about the findings from the post-race inspection. The offending lug nut looked as if someone had filed down the threads on the inside. It was unclear if the damage occurred on the track or if the lug was damaged when it was put on during Dell's final pit stop. Caro questioned the tire carrier – the guy who glued the lugs to the wheels before each race, and he swore he checked each lug before it went on the wheel.
She kept the lug in her desk drawer as a reminder something as small as a lug could end a successful run.
But the lug episode was only the first of a series of bizarre incidents that occurred over the last three races. None of them were serious, but every one of them cost Dell valuable track position. Caro gave credit where it was due. Dell kept a calm head through it all. She wished she could say the same for herself. Frustration gnawed at her. The car was running like nothing else on the track. Dell was out-driving every other driver on the track, but they still hadn't brought home a single trophy.
Caro left the garage at Talladega, heading to her motor coach for a much-needed nap before qualifying. She wouldn't trade her stolen nights with Dell for anything, but she found, on occasion, she needed to make up for the lost sleep. This was one of those times. Between spending time with Dell and making adjustments on the car for the longer Superspeedway at Talladega, she'd had little time to herself.
She wound her way through the maze of giant motor homes, her attention focused on the changes they'd made this morning. Not only did they have to adjust for the longer track, but the Alabama weather wasn't helping either. The track temperature during practice runs earlier in the week were below normal, but for qualifying, the weatherman predicted record high temperatures. Everything they'd done needed to be rethought and recalculated, the adjustments made. And, to top it off, it was possible the weather would change yet again before the race began tomorrow.
Caro was lost in her thoughts so she didn't notice the man leaning against the motor coach parked next to hers until it was too late. She jumped when he spoke.
“Hello, Carolina.”
“Oh, Butch! You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He pushed away from the coach and joined Caro at the door to her motor home. “I wanted to have a word with you.”
She couldn't think of a single person she wanted to talk to less than she did Butch Renfro. Opening the door, she stepped inside and Butch followed, closing the door b
ehind him. Fatigue weighed on her shoulders and her patience. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the small kitchen counter. “What do you want?” she asked.
“How much longer are you going to keep this up, Carolina? You're dragging this out longer than is necessary, and your stubbornness is only going to make it harder on your employees when you finally do go under. No one else is going to take them on this late in the season.”
“I don't need you to tell me that, Butch. Things are turning around for Hawkins Racing. My employees aren't going to be looking for new jobs in the middle of the season, or when the season is over.” At least she prayed it was true. If Hawkins Racing went under, she'd be looking for a job with another team herself, and paying Dell's investment back for the rest of her life.
“You're stubborn and delusional. It seems your screw-up of a driver finally got his shit together, but he still hasn't won a race. Your team is incompetent, from the engineers all the way down to the lowliest member of the pit crew.”
Caro bristled at the blatant insult to her team. “You don't know anything about my team, and they aren't responsible for the things that happened. Lug nuts fail. The split O-ring on the hydraulic jack was a fluke, and it's certainly not their fault the supplier screwed up and didn't deliver fresh gas cans to our pit on time. Shit happens, Butch. We've just experienced more than our share lately.”
“Yeah, and from what I hear, you're having more than your share of that shit driver of yours too.” Caro froze. She watched in mute horror as Butch closed the distance between them. Her skin crawled at the way he looked at her, as if he… no, it was too disgusting to think. Before she could dodge him, he pressed himself up against her. The fingers of one hand dug into her hip, the other clasped the back of her head, anchoring her against him. His erection pressed into her stomach. She opened her mouth to scream, but he silenced her with a kiss that made her stomach lurch. Bile rose in her throat and she fought back with everything she had. She pushed, she kicked, she tried to bite him. He fisted his hand in her hair and held her tighter.
When he finally came up for air, Caro turned and vomited in the sink. Behind her, Butch Renfro laughed. “My money is as good as Dell Wayne's, little girl. When he gets tired of paying to get inside your fire suit, come see me. I might take his place, but you'll have to offer me more than he's getting. I want it all, Caro, and if I have to fuck you to get it, I will.” He moved to the door, stopping before he opened it and threw his parting words at her with a leering smile. “I still know how to show a woman a good time, especially one with such low standards.”
Caro made it to the door, threw the lock, and wobbled back to the sofa. She curled up in a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees to stop the shaking. She'd never been so disgusted in her life. Butch Renfro was old enough to be her father! And he knew about her and Dell. It was impossible for him, or anyone else to know. She and Dell never said more than was necessary to each other around the garage, or at the track. As far as the racing world was concerned, their relationship was a professional one. Renfro couldn't know. He had to be guessing, but that didn't make what he'd done any less sickening.
She sat for the longest time, wondering what, if anything she could do about Renfro's assault, ultimately deciding there wasn't a thing she could do. Even if she did go to the track officials, who would believe her? There were no witnesses, and if she accused Renfro of sexually assaulting her he'd no doubt drag out proof of her illicit relationship with her driver. He'd turn it all back on her. Who'd believe a slut like her? Any woman who'd whore herself out to fund her race team wouldn't stop at sleeping with one sugar daddy. Renfro would have them all believing she'd come to him, and propositioned him instead of the other way around.
The whole thing made her sick to her stomach. She called Russell and told him the heat was too much for her, and she'd watch qualifying from her motor home instead of the war wagon. He didn't question her, and Caro showered until the hot water tank ran out, then curled up on the bed to think.
Renfro's words kept coming back to her. She didn't believe for a second he wanted her. He wanted Hawkins Racing. But why? Why not expand his own shop? Money wasn’t an issue. It didn't make any sense. No one else was beating down her door, or sexually assaulting her, to coerce her into selling.
When Dell called her after qualifying, she congratulated him on his fourth place starting slot and declined his offer to meet her in the hauler later for a quickie.
“We agreed to keep our relationship away from the track,” she said. No way would she tell Dell about Renfro's visit, or that all their discretion had been for naught. Renfro had found out. And if they broke their own rule and hooked up at the track, others would figure it out too.
“I know, Caro. I have something I want to tell you. It's part personal, and part business. Can't we meet somewhere?”
“Not tonight, Dell, if you don't mind. This heat is getting to me today. I just want to lay in the air conditioning and rest. Besides, I need to go over the EFI settings again. This new electronic fuel injection system takes more time than a carburetor, if you can believe that.”
Dell chuckled. “Thrown over for a fuel injection system. I never thought I'd hear a woman use that excuse for staying away from me.”
“It's not an excuse,” she lied. “I really do need to make sure we have the optimal settings for the race.”
“You never rest, do you, Caro? Okay, what I have to say can wait. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dell. Have fun tonight at the Nationwide Series race.” She'd originally planned to sit in the stands with her team and watch the lower division race, but she wasn't ready to see Dell, or anybody, after what had happened with Renfro. She needed more time to think, and to erase the memory of his touch from her lips and her skin. When she was with Dell again, she didn't want any part of the episode to come between them.
That evening, she dissected every word Renfro said. Had she sold herself to Dell for funding? No. She didn't feel she had, and she was certain Dell didn't either. Renfro dropped the poisoned idea in her head just to mess with her. She couldn't let it get to her. She loved Dell, and though he hadn't said the words, she was certain he loved her too. Their relationship had nothing to do with the money.
She was more prepared to see Dell the following day, having convinced herself Renfro's words were meant to mess with her head, with no basis in truth. She noticed Dell first, standing to one side, talking to a reporter. She returned his subtle wave.
Caro went through her usual pre-race routine, checking to see everything was in order, paying closer attention to the little things, like hydraulic jacks and lug nuts.
She checked, and rechecked everything. Caro stood by as they rolled the car out for the final inspection, confident the car was in perfect order. Hawkins Racing needed to win at Talladega. The monster 2.66-mile Superspeedway was the perfect setting to show off the new Hawkins Racing engine Caro worked so hard on for the last few years in anticipation of the time when NASCAR would scrap the old carburetor system for the more fuel-efficient electronic fuel injectors.
She was looking over the latest computer readout from the Engine Control Unit when Dell approached. He wasn't alone.
“Carolina,” he said. “Do you remember Dickey Warner?”
The man beside Dell extended his hand. Caro placed her hand in his for a short, but polite handshake. She turned her gaze to Dell, silently questioning why he'd bring Butch Renfro's best driver to her garage – before the biggest race yet for their team.
Dell addressed Richard. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked.
Warner ambled outside and pretended an interest in the flagpole visible on top of the press box. “Why did you bring him here?” she asked, aware of the accusation in her voice.
“Whoa, Caro. I don't know what you're thinking, but I assure you, it's wrong. Just let me tell you, then you can ask all the questions you want.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “Tell me.”
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Dell ran one hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. Well, he should be nervous, bringing Warner around. He glanced at Warner standing just outside hearing range, signing autographs for a few hot-pass fans. He turned to her. “He's my brother.”
“What?” she screeched.
“It's true,” Dell said.
Caro grabbed him by the sleeve of his fire suit and dragged him deeper into the shop. “What the hell are you saying?”
“I'm saying, Richard Warner is my brother. Half-brother, at least. He's a bastard.”
“Of course he's a bastard, Dell. He's the one who pushed your dad into the wall, and he's tried to kill you a time or two I recall as well.”
“Yeah, well… he says it was an accident. That he didn't know Caudell was his dad until after the crash. Renfro told him.”
“And he believed him?”
“Not at first, but his mother confirmed it.”
Caro looked around Dell to see the man outside. Now that she thought about it, he did look a little like Caudell, Senior. Not so much like Dell, but Dell took after his mother, or so Caro believed. She'd never met the woman. “So, why did you bring him here? Today?”
“He says he's sorry about what happened to Caudell, and after the way Renfro blurted out the daddy news, Dickey says there's no love lost between the two of them. Anyway, he's offered to draft with me today.”
“Are you fuckin' out of your mind?” Caro hissed the words through clenched teeth. “No. No. And, no.”
“Caro – “
“I said, no, Dell. You can win without a drafting partner. Besides, with the new rear bumpers, it's not as easy as it once was. One mistake from Dickhead, and you'll be nose into the wall. Have you forgotten Daytona? That was less than two months ago.”
