Wounded (An Aspen Series Novella) (Prequel to Relentless) (5 page)

“Son of a bitch.”  Who the hell did she think she
was copying his name and driving in his derby?  If she wanted out of his life
so fucking bad, why did she keep popping up in it?

He twisted his head and found that she hadn’t
made it far before another car had barreled into her side.

He had two choices.  He could run from her or run
her down.  And he sure as hell wasn’t running.

He maneuvered his car away from the Caprice and
avoided another hit by the green station wagon.  On the overhead speakers, he
could hear the announcer talking smack about who would take out who…the
Smashmaster or the Crashmaster.  The townsfolk would eat it up, especially if
they knew about his past relationship with Kimber.  In his estimation, that
would be about everybody in his small town.

Whatever.  Ex-fiancée or not, he wasn’t about to
be beaten by a woman.

His engine growled as he made a beeline straight
for her tail end.

His back bumper slammed into hers with a jolt. 
He cranked his head to find her looking back at him.

A smile crept across his lips.

Instead of frowning, she raised a challenging
brow, a satisfied grin on her face.  The hell.  She was enjoying this.  And
definitely holding her own.  The woman who’d always been a little hesitant
before had turned into something of a firecracker.  Shit.

She’d turned into a sexier, more powerful version
of the woman he’d left, and damn if that didn’t turn him on.  He looked away
before she could read his expression.

He shifted into drive and tried to pull away from
her.  She did the same, but neither of them moved.  His bumper had tangled with
hers, tying them together.

He pressed harder on the accelerator, his tires
spinning in the soft dirt, generating a fair amount of dust.  He was going
nowhere.

From across the way, he spied the black Caprice
barreling toward his engine.

“Damn it.”  He was a sitting duck if he couldn’t
disengage from Kimber’s car.  He floored it, but it was to no avail.  The
Caprice hit him, crushing the passenger side of his front end, killing his
engine.

Jerry glared at the driver, finally taking the
time to get a good look at him.  Hell if it wasn’t Eric, the asshole who’d
stolen Kimber from him while he’d been away serving their country.

He wanted blood.  He cranked his engine a few
times, but it refused to start.  The jolt had broken him and Kimber apart.  She
sped away, but he was still an easy target.

Eric pulled far enough away from Jerry to get
another running start in his direction.  As the Caprice began backing toward
him again, Jerry gave the starter one more try, and this time it engaged.  He
floored it, barely escaping another attack.

As luck would have it, the owner of the green
station wagon seemed to want another shot at Eric as well.  He hit the front
end of the Caprice with a jarring blow.  Jerry took the opportunity and threw
his transmission into reverse.  He watched over his shoulder as he headed
toward the two cars, aiming for Eric’s Caprice.  The station wagon moved out of
the way at the perfect moment, allowing Jerry to show the power of the
Smashmaster.

Smoke coursed from the crushed engine, and Jerry
smiled as he heard Eric repeatedly try to crank his engine.  One man down.  One
woman to beat.

Jerry smiled, happy that he’d annihilated the
enemy this go round.

He glanced across the arena, surprised to find
there were only three cars still moving.  Kimber, him and a white New Yorker
that was dragging a back bumper.  The green station wagon sat nearby, its engine
refusing to turn over.

He watched as Kimber headed across the arena,
making it look like she was running from the white car.  She stopped on top of
a dirt hill, and he could see the fans in the bleachers cheering for her.  It
was as though she was declaring herself the king of the hill.

Crazy, arrogant thing to do.

Pride or something similar welled up inside him. 
He’d taught her that move.

Then she backed off the hill, heading toward the
white New Yorker with all the speed she could muster.  The white car started to
move out of her way until it sputtered.  Sounds of an engine trying to turn over
mixed with the loud, muffler-less rumbles of Kimber’s car.

The rear end of her Grand Prix collided with the
New Yorker’s hood, making a tent out of the metal, and leaving the car a
smoking pile of worthless parts.

 “Looks like the Smash and Crash are all we have
left today, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the
crowd.  “Who will take home the trophy?”

Jerry sat on one side of the ring while Kimber
faced him on the other.

Time for a showdown.

The rumble of her engine filled the air as she
backed toward him.  No fear there.  For some reason, he found that kind of
sexy.

Not meaning Kimber.

Just overall in a woman.

He positioned his car so his rear end faced hers.

She wanted it?  He’d give it to her.

He crushed his accelerator to the floor, the
sound of his engine roaring in response.  His car bumped as he cruised over
some small dirt hills, aiming directly for her.

He wondered if she’d chicken out at the last
second and swerve, not wanting to take a direct hit.  He wouldn’t, though.  He
would see this through to the end.  He growled as he prepared for impact.

They met with a roaring crunch of stressed
metal.  The force would have sent his head through the windshield if the car
still had one.

He sat for a second, clearing the ringing from
his head, then looked back over his shoulder.  She grinned as she pulled away,
taking his rear bumper with her.

Smoke rose into the air, giving the crowd a
visual of the damage his car had sustained.  “Shit.”  He turned the key, but
knew he wouldn’t get a response.

“Looks like the Crashmaster has taken down the
Smashmaster,” the announcer said and a wild round of clapping and yells came
from the stands.

Wasn’t that the truth, he thought.  And it wasn’t
the first time.

Kimber’s car let out a loud roar of victory as
she revved the engine.

With the race over, the drivers began climbing out
of their mangled vehicles, in order to complete the customary handshakes.  He
could refuse and walk away, but his self-respect wouldn’t allow it.

Kimber swallowed around her dry, dust-covered
throat as Jerry walk toward her.  Her heart stumbled.  Damn.  He looked good in
his worn jeans and tight blue t-shirt.  Every few steps, she caught sight of a
tiny limp, but otherwise, there was no outward appearance of his injury.  He
sauntered the same way he always did, looking like he was hunting prey, making
her wish he’d hunt her.

She slipped the helmet from her head just as he
reached her, her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders.

He studied her for a moment with his sexy,
bedroom eyes, and she wished she’d could throw herself into his arms and
welcome him home.

“Nice driving.”  He held out a hand for her to
shake.

She took it, allowing him to wrap his warm
fingers around hers for the briefest second.  “Thanks.”

“Better than when I left.”

“Only in some ways.”  Her head, her heart, the
rest of her had missed him like crazy.  He’d never know how sorry she was that
she’d let him down.  “Jerry, I—”

“Congratulations, Kimber,” Eric interrupted.  “You
get better every time.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the sexual innuendo. 
And of course, it was in front of Jerry.

The two men exchanged dark glances before Jerry
met her gaze again.  The traces of civility and a touch of warmth were gone. 
Eric had crushed the tiniest bit of a chance that Jerry had given her. 

“Gotta go,” he said before he turned and walked
away.

“What the hell was that?” she said when Jerry was
out of hearing range.

“What?  I was just congratulating you.”  Eric
shrugged, trying to look innocent, but they both knew he hated that she was
still in love with Jerry.  He’d weaseled his way into her life during a very
dark and lonely time and had taken advantage of her weakness, convincing her
the life of a soldier’s wife would be misery.  She’d since set him straight.

“Just…stay away from me.”

He lifted his hands into the air.  “What did I
do?”

She didn’t bother with a response as she walked
away.

*        *        *

Heated blood pulsed through Jerry’s veins as he
stomped toward Milo and Luke.  The two of them leaned against the fence that
surrounded the ring.  They’d had the perfect spot to view the entire travesty.

He never should have gone over to congratulate
Kimber.  It might have been the courteous thing to do, but she’s the one who
muddied the waters first.  It had been a less than tactical move to make,
leaving his heart exposed like he had.  The moment she’d locked her sexy green
eyes on his, she’d had him.

Until Eric had shown up.  He should probably
thank the jackass for reminding him of Kimber’s viper heart.  Instead, he
wanted to beat the shit out of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she would be out there?”  He
focused his question and a killer glare on his supposed buddies.

“You didn’t want to talk about her,” Luke tossed
back at him.

“The hell.”  This wasn’t funny anymore.

“You didn’t,” Milo responded.  “You said you were
done, said you didn’t care.”

He shook his head, not understanding at all where
they were coming from.  “You guys are supposed to have my back.  If I would
have known she’d be here, I would have stayed home.”

“You said you didn’t care,” Milo reminded him.

That was all it took to set him off.  “What the
hell do you want me to say?  That her email was like a grenade that blasted
shrapnel into my heart, tearing it to pieces?”  The look he gave them was
blacker than a moonless night out in the nearby hills.  “Fine.  She dumped me,
and it still hurts like hell.  Okay?”

The baring of his soul generated an awkward
silence between the group, and his friends looked away, obviously uncomfortable
with his frank admission.  He turned with disgust and started walking toward
the truck and trailer.

“Where are you going?” Luke asked.

“I’m going to load that piece of shit on the
trailer and get the hell out of here.”

“But you qualified for the final round,” Milo
said as he caught up with Jerry.  “You’re not going to let her scare you off,
are you?”

“I know my limits.  I saw the way Eric looked at
Kimber.  You might say it’s over between them, but that’s not what he thinks. 
I sure as hell am not going to put myself anywhere near the two of them.”

“You’re going to let him win, then?” Luke
taunted.

He knew what his buddies were trying to do, but
it wasn’t going to work.  “In case you don’t remember, she dropped me faster
than a steaming pile of shit.  He may or may not win her, but I’ve already
lost.”

“But you still want her,” Milo said.  “Maybe you
should fight for her.”

“I told you, I’m done.  I know when to cut my
losses.”

*        *        *

Jerry didn’t look in the direction of Kimber’s
car as Luke and Milo helped him load the beat up New Yorker on his trailer. 
Tyler joined them and convinced the others to stay for the rest of the derby. 
That was fine with him.  He’d had enough of everyone’s shit to last a
lifetime.  He needed to go home and lick his wounds, and figure out where he
wanted to go from there.

The family home was quiet when he parked his
trailer to the side of the garage.  Everyone would still be at the derby until
much later.

He left his truck and headed toward the creek
that ran alongside their property.  Crickets chirped as he walked, the warm
evening air like a sweet balm to his lungs.

Even in the darkness, he found the large, flat
rock at the edge of the creek where he’d spent many summers fishing.  He folded
himself down on it, listening to the inky water gurgle its way downstream. 
Pent up tension eased out of his lungs.

Damn.

When had his life become uncontrolled chaos?

It seemed everyone around him got to decide what
his days would be like.  The army had controlled his existence while he’d been
overseas.  Now that he was at home, he’d let his friends, Kimber, hell even
Eric control his mood.  He was damn sick of it.

Starting now,
he
owned his life.

As soon as he finished his last two months in the
army, he’d go back to work for Luke’s family on the oil rigs.  It was a tough
job, but it paid well, and he wasn’t afraid of hard work.  He’d see if old lady
Johnson’s farm was still for sale and get his own place.

To hell with Kimber.  She’d had her chance. 
Another woman would come along—the right woman this time—and he’d settle down
and make the family he’d always wanted.  At some point, Kimber would realize
what she’d lost, and he hoped to hell she regretted it every day of her life.

He filled his lungs with more of the sultry air
and closed his eyes.  The only person keeping him from getting what he wanted
was him.  And now that he’d figured that out, the world was back to good.

He hoped.

The next morning, Jerry was up early enough to
help his dad drive some of his horses into town for the livestock show and
auction that would be held later in the afternoon.  They went for breakfast at
Sparrow’s and hung out with a bunch of guys from town.  Jerry took a moment to enjoy
the excitement of a small town celebration.  Sure, they didn’t have the fancy
stuff people might find at bigger town fairs, but it gave the townsfolk a
chance to come together and celebrate their way of life along with their
country’s independence day.

After spending most of the last four years out of
the state or overseas, Jerry could appreciate that.