Turn & Burn (13 page)

“Fuck.”

I thought I’d spoken aloud, until I realized the word had come from Colt.

Caine drilled a finger into his brother’s sternum. “I told you this day was comin’, motherfucker.”

“P
hillip, can you please find somewhere to dump that trash can?” Harry asked. Phillip peered from beneath dark bangs, scanning the huge garage. Harry swiped his shirtsleeve across his forehead and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. “I don’t give a damn if you empty it in the back of someone’s truck. People are just sitting their cans wherever because the trashcan’s full. It’s making me nuts.” Harry scowled at the cups and cans littering the garage floor.

His black knit shirt was plastered to his chest, much like Ernie’s, but I squelched any sympathy. I had to go drag racing tomorrow with Colt and Caine, and it was all Harry’s damn fault. If he passed out from heat stroke, I wouldn’t dump the leaky ice bucket over his head.

“Sure.” The young attorney grabbed the edge of the big plastic drum. More cans rolled off their precarious perch on the top.

“There’s probably a Dumpster out back,” I suggested, pointing out the walk through door at the far end of the garage.

Phillip paused to whisper in my ear. “If looks could kill, I’d have been worried about Barnes for a minute.” He let out a low whistle. Ruddy cheeks, the twinkle in his eye—along with the beer on his breath—told me he’d had a couple of drinks. “I think the man has it bad for you. You know, some guys can’t resist a challenge. Our schedule’s open if y’all wanna double date.”

“I challenge him to keep his dick if he comes near me again tonight.” I took a look around to be sure, but thank God, the ugly ruffled shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath before I broke the bad news, I smiled at Harry. “I, uh, need my long-suffering, kind-hearted boss to find someone to work my shift Christmas night.” Harry started shaking his head. “I gotta stay till the day after. But, good news. I think the Tiptons are staying with us for the next few days.” I didn’t flinch from Harry’s scowl. “That means y’all can hit one of the gay bars in Charlotte tonight.”

“Not one damn soul is gonna pick up their phone when I try to cover your shift and you know it. From the look on your face when I walked in, I thought you were going to make a break for the door. What changed?”

I looked around to be sure no one was in earshot. “Dear God, you won’t believe what Dale just did. He bet the Barracuda that I can beat that jackass Barnes in a drag race. That’s why I have to stay. The race is the day after Christmas. If I win, I get that shiny black Audi parked by the front door—and Dale gets Kolby’s four million dollar bonus check.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around the table. “But, if you lose, you get even with your stepbrothers, big time. And either way, you still get a new car, right?”

My heart stopped. The organ froze inside my chest. The pain shut off my ability to respond, but my mind raced.

Caine and Colt had something at stake in this race. Maybe Dale wasn’t selling the ‘Cuda. For all I knew, he was selling it to Caine for a dollar.

If I lost deliberately, no one would suspect a thing. After all, I hadn’t raced in four years—assuming what I’d done in those ten seconds prior to having group sex on the hood of the car could actually be called racing. I slapped a hand to my chest. The tight muscle relented, letting me gasp a deep breath. Could I do something that evil?

Trying my best and getting beat was one thing. “That’d be like....”

“Kind of like Shoeless Joe Jackson,” Harry whispered. “His always swore he took the bribe money, but that was all. His stats were good in that series. I’m not saying blow the engine or whatever. Just don’t give it a hundred percent.”

Baseball was Harry’s thing, not mine, but even I knew the 1919 Chicago White Sox—or the Black Sox, as that particular team was still referred to nearly a hundred years later—had conspired to throw a World Series.

“There’s eight million dollars riding on this bet for my stepfather, between selling the Barracuda and me winning Kolby’s bonus money.” I perched on the edge of the table before my knees gave out.
Eight. Million. Dollars.
Now that my temper had calmed, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dale had been the one who found Doris’s private giggle juice. Did the man need an intervention? Should I search his truck for a crack pipe? He’d always been hard to read and utterly impossible to predict, but damn. I knew less about drag racing than Harry knew about pussy. Could a bigger motor make an eight million dollar difference? My stomach made a slow roll.

“It’s not your eight million. Unless they offered you a cut of the prize money?”

When I shook my head, Harry lifted his shoulders, then returned to twisting the liquor bottles so all the labels faced the same way. “So, either way, all you get is a car.”

I blinked. Despite how I felt about Dale, Harry had a point. This bet had little to do with me. I was just the tool. They’d used me—again. The glow in my chest, ignited by the things Dale had said, began to cool. I’d been suckered yet again, into thinking my stepbrothers were actually backing me up.

But, eight million dollars was more money than I expected to see in my entire life. To let the asshole win, on purpose?

“That’s... despicable.”

He tucked his chin and met my eyes with a steady, unflinching gaze. “I know something even more despicable. For fuck’s sake, Shelby, what’s your self-esteem worth?”

A
hard fist pounded, rattling the bedroom door in its frame. I jerked upright, gasping for breath. “Robert?”

“Saved you some hot water. We’re burnin’ daylight, so move your ass.”

Caine.

“Fuck you. I want to sleep.” I collapsed onto the pillow. The single window in the back bedroom didn’t let in much light, but at least the walls were plain white. Caine had moved into his old room again. I supposed that made sense, since he and Colt had bought the place. Studying the popcorn ceiling, I tried to figure out how the hell I’d gotten so far off course.

Yesterday, I’d wanted nothing more than to hurt Colt and Caine—until I’d met the arrogant prick who wanted to push Dale out of a job. Now, I wanted to beat Kolby Barnes just as badly as I wanted to make Colt and Caine pay in blood, so I rubbed sleep from my eyes and sat up.

Maybe I could figure out how to fuck over all three. It didn’t matter what lies my stepbrothers would tell me now, they’d just be covering their asses. I’d almost forgotten that after Caine’s little speech, but a two-minute conversation wasn’t going to wipe clean a slate that was four years old.

Nice try, Caine.

The hot water ran out about the time I worked the shampoo into a lather, but the icy rinse jolted me awake. After I dried my hair, I donned some tights and a loose T-shirt and followed the low hum of conversation to the kitchen.

“There you are.” Mom beamed from behind the stove and waved a spatula. “Coffee’s hot. Do you want pancakes or eggs?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare. Not one shirt between them.

“Um... coffee.” I staggered past Caine, Colt, and Jonny, lined up at the bar. It was just way too early for all that sexy. “What’s different?” I stared at the island, but couldn’t put my finger on what had changed. Last night, we’d come in through the basement. This was my first trip to the kitchen.

“Tore down the cabinets.” Caine jabbed a thumb skyward.

“Ah.” I turned to grab a cup, and blinked in stupefaction at the spot where another cabinet used to be.

“There, dear.” Mom indicated the far side of the kitchen.

I blinked. “Wow, great idea.” On the side of the kitchen opposite the breakfast room, the wall that once separated the kitchen from the dining room was gone. Cabinets lined the space that was now part of the kitchen and the flooring was new. “It’s gorgeous.”

I found a cup and fixed my coffee, noting that the bar had been moved about four feet toward the front side of the house, alleviating the bottleneck between the breakfast nook and bar. For that matter, all the countertops had been replaced with granite.

“Where’s Dale?”

“He recruited some help pulling the engine out of the twenty-two car. Seems he’s not the only member of the pit crew who wants to see Kolby go down. A couple of his guys met him over at the shop.” Caine twisted on his stool to smile over his shoulder. “We already pulled the engine and transmission out of the ‘Cuda, Sleeping Beauty.”

I scowled. “So, why am I awake?”

Colt, seated at the end closest to me, spun his barstool—also new—to face me. “Uh, you’re getting behind the wheel of the Mustang, princess.”

“Dale made me promise not to pout, stomp my feet, or generally show my ass because I haven’t seen my daughter in months. And now, all of you plan to spend Christmas in a damn race car.” Mom tossed the spatula and frying pan into the sink. Inhaling dramatically, she came toward me. “I’m glad to have your friends here. I just wish the beds for the new house had arrived in time for us to stay there.” She bent to kiss my cheek. “And Shelby?”

I looked up to meet her eyes. The tense look that heralded bad news made the single sip of coffee I’d taken roll around in my stomach like a marble. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t forget, the appointment’s at one. A family portrait over the mantle is all I want for Christmas.” Colt and I groaned simultaneously. “Not listening.” She narrowed her eyes at Colt. “After that, you can all come home and go back to work. It’ll take an hour, at most, but your tits and testicles depend on y’all all showing up.”

Jonny hooked an arm over the back of his stool to grin at Mom. “Damn, a whole house full of hot, feisty redheads.” His gaze slid to my face. “Who needs Christmas when you can unwrap one of those?”

I sipped my coffee. His hot and cold game was unnerving.

“Don’t slam the door when y’all start running in and out, either. Looks like Ernie and Francine plan to sleep in.” Mom headed for the hallway.

Caine cleared away the dishes. I chugged two more cups of coffee while I glared at Colt’s broad back. He was at it again. Last night, he’d monopolized Jonny, basically to annoy me, I was sure. Dale hadn’t helped matters. Jonny seemed so excited to hang with someone with Dale’s years of experience in the sport that I might as well have been invisible. I finally gave up trying to get his attention and let Mom and Francine drag me off to the living room. After two hours of Mom giving me dirty looks every time Francine mentioned something she and I had done together, I’d pled exhaustion and gone to bed.

A dish hit the tabletop, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Bacon sandwich.” Caine smiled and raked my hair off my shoulder. “You don’t wanna be inhaling gas fumes on an empty stomach.” He glanced at the other two. “I’ll be in the garage.”

“Drink up and eat,” Colt ordered, while I threw out a hand to stop the door from slamming behind Caine. “Caroline’s meeting you and Jonny at the old drag site at eight, to give you someone to run against.”

“The abandoned housing development?” My heart seized when he nodded. “The bank hasn’t sold that property by now?”

He shook his head. “Nah, that place is screwed for a housing development. Someone put a go cart track on one side of it. They run every Thursday through Sunday night. And the new downtown airstrip has a flight pattern that goes right overhead. It’ll go light industrial soon, but there’s some monkey wrench about zoning, I think.”

“I thought we were using the fairgrounds.” I had to squeeze the words past the knot in my throat.

Colt shoved his stool underneath the bar. “Lee Haney said he didn’t wanna be disturbin’ the peace till after Christmas, if we had other options.”

“Colt! What if someone calls the sheriff’s department?” I didn’t care if my shrill tone was what drove Jonny to walk outside. At least he didn’t let the damn door slam.

Colt smirked. “Your buddy got re-elected, so you’re all good there.”

I jumped out of the chair and swung for his face. He grabbed my wrist, and before I knew it, I was face down on the table. He leaned over me, using his chin to nudge my hair aside so he could mutter in my ear.

“I will give you what you need to make us even, Shelby. After the race. Not before. But you tell me this, little sister. If you could turn back the clock to that night, would you let Caroline’s car get confiscated? Or would you do what you did all over again?”