“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.
“How is he?” Butch Renfro pushed the door partially open and stood with half his body in, the other half hidden by the door, as if he might need to dart behind it as a shield at any moment.
“Alive,” she said. “I'm surprised you care.”
He had the grace to look chagrined. “I'm sorry about what happened. Warner said he couldn't avoid hitting him. You know how it is, one minute you're fine, the next…”
“Yeah, I know. Who won, anyway?”
“Petersen. Can you believe it? He went from nineteenth to first in a matter of seconds. The kid did okay, avoided every crash of the night, and came out the winner.”
Caro nodded her head. Sammy Petersen drove for one of the smaller garages with few sponsors. They could use the money. “Lucky.”
“Yeah.” He looked at his feet, glancing toward the still figure in the bed, then to Caro. “Can I see you outside for a minute?”
The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Butch Renfro, but the time had come to consider his offer. Why else would he be here? Hawkins Racing was as good as dead on the side of the road – it was only natural Renfro would drive by to see what parts he could strip before she was able to find a tow truck. If there were such a thing. She'd been too worried about Dell to run the numbers in her head, but his stunt today may have spun the last lug nut off.
She glanced at Dell to make sure he was still sleeping before she joined Renfro in the hall. “Make it quick, I need to get back in there in case he wakes up.”
“I'm not going to beat around the bush, Carolina. You and I both know Hawkins Racing is on its last lap. In fact, today's crash may have done you in for good. Your daddy was a good friend. I'd hate to see the doors close on his legacy, so I'm offering to buy you out.”
It was exactly what Caro expected, but she wasn't ready to give in yet. “I'll think about it,” she said, and turned to go back to Dell. Renfro's next words stopped her. She didn't bother to look at him as he delivered his coup de grace.
“Hawkins won't survive this, Carolina. Before I came over, I heard talk that NASCAR is going to hand down a big fine for Dell's part in this, and rumor has it they're going to park you for at least a couple of races.”