Sweet Carolina(33)

He tossed his helmet into the car and looked around. Dick Warner's car was a mangled mess, but the son-of-a-bitch was still inside, trying to restart it.

“Not today,” Dell vowed as he crossed the track to Warner's car. Cars sped by under the yellow caution flag, even as Dell threw caution to the wind. As he walked, he pulled off his gloves and let them fall to the pavement. He wanted to experience the feel of Warner's skin beneath his fingers as he choked the life out of him. After nearly four hundred laps of putting up with Warner's shit, Dell was through. Through pretending Warner was a good driver. Through pretending the bastard hadn't meant to shove Caudell Senior into the wall. Through pretending it didn't matter. And he was damn well through letting Warner try to do him the same favor.

Dell fisted his fingers in the safety net covering the driver's window, and yanked. The netting fell free and Warner turned toward him. His helmet covered most of his face so Dell only saw Warner's eyes. Eyes filled with disbelief and a white-hot rage that mirrored Dell's.

“Get out, Warner. We're going to settle this right here and now,” Dell said through gritted teeth.

Warner gave up trying to restart his car. He drew his gloves off, then his helmet. “If that's the way you want it, C.J.”

Dell's vision clouded with a red haze. He stepped back far enough for Warner to get one leg out. He grabbed Warner by the collar and dragged him the rest of the way.

“Don't you ever call me that,” Dell said. Then he planted his fist in Richard Warner's face.

Warner responded with a punch of his own. Dell dodged it, connected a left jab to Warner's mid-section and another right to his jaw. Warner stumbled backwards, but before Dell came at him again, he lunged forward.

Dell absorbed the blow to his chin and retaliated with another series of punches that connected with satisfactory auditory stimuli.

“What the fuck?” Warner yelled over the roar of engines buzzing past.

“You fucking killed Caudell, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you kill me too,” Dell answered between jabs to Warner's abs and jaw.

“It was an accident, you asshole,” Warner countered.

“Accident my ass,” Dell said as he landed another punch.

“What's it to you, bro? You got everything the old man had,” Warner said as he buried his right fist in Dell's stomach. Dell doubled over, gasping for breath. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards. Another set of hands wrapped around his other arm and before he found his footing, he was in the back of an ambulance.

“Let me go,” he growled as he lunged for the door.

“You aren't going anywhere but to the track medical center,” the medic said. He knocked on the roof, and the ambulance lurched into motion.

Dell refused treatment. All his injuries were from Dick Warner's knuckles, and those would be gone soon enough. As he made his way to his motor home, Warner's final words echoed in his mind. What did he mean by them? Of course Dell got everything. He was an only child. Why wouldn't he? Did Warner think that was reason enough for Dell to want his father dead?

Hell, he couldn't care less about the money. He'd already given a huge chunk of it away, and he'd give the rest away as soon as he figured out the best way to do it. If he suddenly started living like a pauper, people would notice and wonder. He'd have to let them think he blew the money or tell them the truth. And the truth was none of their business.

* * * *

Too Tough to Tame. That's what they said about Darlington. The same could be said about Dell Wayne, though “Too Wild to Tame” might be more accurate. Her little talk with Dell accomplished nothing.

He was still alive, but she had another wrecked car. Another Did Not Finish to post, and on top of that – a fine to pay. Dell's fistfight with Richard Warner, in the middle of the track – while cars dodged the wreckage – resulted in a fine for Hawkins Racing and a personal fine for Dell.

Caro tried to think positive thoughts. Having refused a ride through the tunnel to her motor home, she welcomed the painful jolt of each hard step on the concrete walkway. It gave her something to think about, something to be angry at besides Dell. She needed to get out of there, as far away from him as possible or she might be facing criminal charges along with another fine. In her present state of mind, Dell and Warner's altercation might look like a brawl on a kindergarten playground compared to what she wanted to do to Dell Wayne.

What the hell had he been thinking? NASCAR drivers don't fight each other. And they especially don't fight in the friggin' middle of a race! Stupid. And juvenile. And even more stupid. Stupider than stupid.

How he got off with a fine and no suspension was beyond comprehension. If she came up with the money to pay her share of the fine, Dell would race next week – provided she managed to put a car together. Caro snorted. The last thing she thought she would be doing was mentally calculating the price of scrap metal, hoping it would amount to enough to keep the doors open another week.