Sweet Carolina (16 page)

The reporters got their sound bites and moved
on to someone else. Dell focused on the final laps. This is where
the gloves came off. The four winners of the previous segments
would duel it out for the prize money. This was pure racing. No
rules. Just drive, and do it better than the other three. Dell
fired the engine on cue and took his place in the second row,
behind the pace car. Two laps around, the pace car would drop out,
and the green flag would fly.

“Go get 'em!” His spotter's unnecessary words
echoed Dell's thoughts as he throttled up and easily moved into
third. The first and second place cars widened the gap, but Dell
was on a mission to win. He closed the gap, but the drivers were
running two-wide to prevent him from making a move. Dell counted
down the laps in his head as he kept pace with the neck-and-neck
leaders. Both cars belonged to the same owner, a man known for the
nasty tactics he encouraged his drivers to employ on the track.

Dell cursed as they cut off his next bid for
the lead. He backed off and settled in behind the pair for another
lap. They came into turn four and Dell eased up on the bumper of
the low car.

“Careful,” Russell cautioned. “Those two
aren't gonna to give you an inch.”

“Fuck them,” Dell said and tapped his grill
against the lead car's bumper again. This was fucked up bullshit.
It was obvious he had the faster car. They teamed up to shut him
out, but he wasn’t going to let them get away with it.

“Don't do anything stupid, Dell.” Caro's
voice came through his headset.

“Winning isn't stupid,” he said as he gave
the lead car another nudge, forcing both cars toward the wall,
creating a gap on the inside. Dell cut left, slipping down the
track on the front stretch into turn one. His combatants closed the
gap, cutting him off once again.

Dell could taste the win. Could see the
checkered flag come down as he crossed the finish line in the lead.
No one was going to snatch it from him and get away with it.

Two laps to go.

He made one more bid for the lead and they
cut him off again.

“So that's the way you want to play it,” he
muttered to himself. They weren't going to give him track position,
so he'd take what was his, and be damned the consequences. If he
wasn't going to win, they weren't either.

Dell drove under the white flag. One more
lap. They thought they had it won, but Dell wasn't ready to concede
the race. They rode high in turn one and Dell punched the nose of
his car alongside them on the inside.

“Three wide,” his spotter said.

No shit.

They realized their mistake and in turn two,
they crowded him onto the apron. Dell crowded right back, grinding
against the closest car – forcing him and his partner in the
conspiracy to go high.

“Three wide!” his spotter yelled in his
ear.

The cars bumped and rubbed through the
backstretch into turn three. They forced Dell back to the apron in
the turn, hitting him with a solid bump intended to take him out of
the race. Dell countered with a quick jerk of the wheel, sending
them all careening toward the wall.

“Dell!” Caro's voice.

“Fuck,” he said as the outside car hit the
wall first. Like boxcars on a runaway train, the second car
followed the first in a shower of sparks and grinding metal. Dell
glimpsed clear track ahead, then a cloud of smoke obscured his
vision.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The impact rattled his teeth, then he was
spinning inside the cloud. Crumpling metal and screeching tires
added to the surreal tableau. He caught glimpses of bright colors
interspersed with showers of sparks as he spun. Another jolt
knocked the breath from his lungs. His body slammed against the
restraint and back against the seat. He was weightless. Then the
world tumbled in a kaleidoscope of colors, some bright, some dark
and all accompanied by the devil's orchestra.

In the back of his mind, he understood what
was happening, but he was helpless to stop it. He was nothing more
than an ant in a tin can being kicked down the street by a
giant.

He heard voices, but couldn't make out what
they were saying. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his
ears. His head pounded and his shoulders ached where the restraints
bit into them. Too tight, he thought, wondering how it got that
way. It wasn't too tight when he started the race.

Dell opened his eyes. His world was upside
down. He shook his head again and still his world was upside down.
He swatted at the hand trying to unhook his restraint. No.
Can't
take it off.

“Easy man. We'll get you out. Just take it
easy.”

Dell turned toward the man speaking. His head
spun with the effort to make sense of the helmeted head poking
upside down through his window. Dell reached for his own helmet and
fumbled with the fastener. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist.

“Leave it on, Dell. We'll have you out in a
minute. Let us do the work.”

Dell mumbled something in response, then his
world went black.

Chapter Twelve

Time slowed to a crawl and Caro watched in
horror as the scene played out before her. She'd seen plenty of
crashes, but none as violent as this one. And Dell was right in the
middle of it. Her stomach lurched and her lungs ceased as the mass
of twisted, grinding metal encased in smoke, sparks, and the
occasional flame careened around turn four and came to an eerily
silent stop on the grass buffer between the track and pit road.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted.
“Dell,” she shouted into the microphone. “Dell!”

Russell put a hand on her arm, momentarily
drawing her attention away from the horrific scene on the track.
“Give him a minute, Caro. He'll be okay, you'll see.”

No, she didn't see. Emergency crews were on
the scene almost before the mass of metal came to a complete stop,
but it did nothing to ease her anxiety. A cloud of smoke obscured
her vision. A lone figure emerged in a clear spot, only to be
swallowed up again by the smoke. Caro's heart skipped a beat. She
realized the man swaggering out of the acrid mist wasn't Dell and
her heart stopped completely.

“Where is he?” she asked. “Why isn't he out
of the car?” She thumbed the communication button again. “Dell!
Answer me, goddamn you!”

“Caro, calm down. Give the boy some
time.”

“Time?” She stood and yanked her headset off,
throwing it across the war wagon. It hit the other side of the desk
and recoiled as it came to the end of its tether. “He's had plenty
of time,” she said. “How freakin' long does it take to get out of a
car?”

Too long, her analytical brain told her. It
was taking too long. Something was wrong. He couldn't get out. She
had to help him. “I'm going down there.”

“Caro, wait,” Russell called after her, but
she was down the ladder, heading for the break in the wall.

“You can't go out there, ma'am.” The burly
guard wearing a yellow windbreaker with the word, “Security,”
emblazoned on it, stopped her before she got her leg over the
wall.

“That's my driver out there,” she said by way
of explanation.

“I don't care who it is, you aren't going
past this point. Let the emergency folks do their job.”

Caro scanned the wreckage. The undercarriage
of one car stuck up, one tire spinning, the other three nothing
more than ragged strips of torn rubber. A man wearing the telltale,
red fire suit of a track medic lay on the ground on the driver's
side, his body half in, half out of the driver's window. Caro
swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Dell. Dell was inside that car. She pointed a
shaky finger in the direction of the crumpled wreckage. “That's my
car. I own it. Dell drives for me.”

The security guy looked in the direction she
pointed. “I understand, ma'am, but I still can't let you onto the
track.”

“Please,” she begged.

He sighed and she swung her leg over the
barrier again only to sail back over it in the next instant.
Wrapped in strong, yellow-clad arms, she wasn't going anywhere.

“Look, lady, if you promise not to make a run
for it again, I'll take you over to where the ambulance will come
through. You can wait there. I'll try to find out what I can for
you. Okay?”

Caro looked over her shoulder and nodded.
“Okay. Let's go.” She wiggled and he released her. Then, grabbing
her bicep in a vise-like grip, he force-marched her to a gap in the
wall.

“Wait here,” he said, looking her in the eye
until he gained her agreement. She watched helplessly as he headed
toward the wreckage.

She'd never prayed so hard in her life as she
did during the minutes she waited for the guard to return with
news. If Dell were dead…

No. He couldn't be, because she was going to
kill him. She held onto her anger, refusing to believe she wouldn't
have the chance to unleash it on Dell. He had to be alive. She
wouldn't accept anything else.

Minutes ticked by and her world narrowed to
what she could see of the car. The medic on the scene obscured her
view. He was still half inside the car. That was good, wasn't it?
If Dell were dead, there wouldn't be any reason to still be there.
He'd move on to someone he could help. No use wasting time on a
dead man.

Please. Please. Please
. The mantra
repeated in her head.
I love you, Dell. Don't you dare die on me
now.
She didn't question the strength of her feelings. She'd
known for some time now she was in love with Dell. There was
nothing comforting about the knowledge, so she'd ignored it, except
for yesterday when she'd let her stupid emotions get the best of
her.

Dell wasn't the kind of man a woman could
count on. He lived only for himself with little or no care for
others. And for whatever reason, he courted death every time he got
inside a race car. No, he wasn't the kind of man she should give
her heart to, but damn it, her heart wouldn't listen to reason.

Caro chewed her lower lip as the security
guard spoke with the medics. He turned, pointing in her direction.
Several sets of eyes looked her way, then the knot of men put their
heads together.

Please. Please. Please.

An eternity later, the guard returned. Her
whole body shook with dread. Caro folded her arms around her
mid-section and locked her knees so she wouldn't fall. “Well?” she
asked as he got within hearing range.

“He's alive. That's about all they know. They
said there wasn't much blood.”

“That's good, right?”

“Could be. Could be internal injuries. They
said he blacked out right after they showed up. Hasn't come to
yet.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

“Look, lady, he's probably going to be
alright. They said he most likely passed out from hanging upside
down – that's all. They're doing everything by the book. They'll
get him out, but they have to be careful not to make things
worse.”

Caro nodded in understanding, not trusting
her voice beyond single syllables. The guard put both his big hands
on her shoulders and turned her toward the wreckage. “See? They've
got him out already.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she prayed.
Please let him be okay
.

* * * *

More voices, hushed this time. Not like the
others he remembered – some shouting orders, another one – calm and
confident telling him to let them do the work. What work? Dell
forced one eyelid open a tiny crack. Bright lights. He was cold.
Still.

Dead?

He shifted his legs. Pain. Not awful, but
enough to tell him he wasn't dead. Dead people didn't feel, did
they?

“Dell.” Caro's voice. “Dell, you're okay.
You're going to be okay,” she said though there wasn't much
conviction in her words. She sounded a bit shaky to him. He wanted
to assure her, but he wasn't positive there were assurances to be
made.

He tried to smile, but he couldn't be sure if
his facial muscles followed orders or not. He tried to raise his
hand to get her attention, but like his face, he wasn't sure
anything moved. Someone squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. Caro.
He'd know her touch anywhere. He smiled again, not knowing if he
smiled for anyone besides himself.

“Dell,” she coaxed. “You're going to be fine.
Rest.” She held his hand in hers, patting the back with her other
hand. “Get better.”

Her breath brushed across his ear in a soft
caress. Were those her lips on his cheek? Maybe he imagined her
kiss. He didn't care. If it were a dream, it was a good one. “I
love you,” the dream whispered in his ear.

* * * *

“Wake up so I can kill you, you arrogant,
self-centered, suicidal idiot.”

She was going to kill him – as soon as he was
awake and able to understand what was happening to him.

Caro swiped the moisture from her cheeks with
trembling fingers. God damn him all to hell for making her love
him.

He lay so still, she caught herself leaning
up from her chair beside his hospital bed, checking to make sure he
was still breathing. Of course he was. They'd only sedated him to
keep him still while they assessed the damage. They said he was
belligerent when they brought him in, insisting he was fine.

In truth, he wasn't hurt all that bad. A few
bruised ribs from the where he slammed against the restraint
system, and his left arm was badly bruised, probably from being
caught between the door panel and the driver's seat. He was damned
lucky. Caro closed her eyes and sniffed back another bout of
tears.

Damn. This wasn't fair. She wasn't supposed
to fall for a driver, especially one hell-bent on destroying
himself and her company in the process.

A knock on the door jolted her to attention.
She dried her eyes again and sat up straighter. The door opened a
few inches and Caro's shoulders slumped. “What are you doing here?”
she asked.