Page 32 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

Trip

“I agree, Rusty.” The other commentator nodded.

“C.C. DuBois may be a new driver, but she isn’t new to the circuit, and with Calvin ‘Trip’ Hall as her crew chief, I am sure she will give everyone a run for their money.

And can we just take a minute to talk about the owner?

The Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club out of Rosewood, Virginia. ”

“That’s right, Michael,” the lead commentator agreed.

“A first for NASCAR, as Callum ‘King’ Montclair, the president of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club, took over after Ansel Edwards’ untimely death, overhauling the entire outfit.

So don’t be surprised if you see a few motorcycles around pit row, folks, but do yourself a favor and don’t touch them as they belong to the brothers of the Sons of Hell. ”

“OMG!” Sarah shouted, clapping her hands as she jumped around. “They are talking about us!”

Shaking her head, Bailey walked over and huffed. “They’ve been talking about us for weeks now, Sarah. It’s nothing new.”

“Well yeah,” the beautiful wife of Gunner scoffed. “But this time we are on live TV!”

“Babe,” Gunner chuckled as he hugged his wife, gently rubbing her small but protruding belly. “Let’s go find a place to sit. You can wave to the camera from the stands.”

“Does my hair look alright? What about my makeup?”

Rolling his eyes, Gunner led his wife away and muttered, “You’re beautiful, baby. The camera is gonna love you.”

Hiding my smile, I walked over to where C.C.

was standing as she looked out toward the track.

Dressed and ready to ride, I noticed she stood stiffly as she fiddled with her fingers, her nerves getting the better of her.

Shaking my head, I wrapped my arms around her, leaned forward, and whispered, “If you tell anyone this, I will spank your ass, but the night before my first race, I got so stinking drunk, I was puking my guts out the morning of the race. My dad chalked it up to nerves, but the truth was, I was nervous. I didn’t want to let anyone down, especially him.

I was the son of Bill Hall, the three-time Daytona Champion, and all eyes were on me.

That was a lot of responsibility for a rookie driver. ”

“What if I don’t win?”

“What if you do?”

C.C. smiled weakly, her nerves still apparent but slightly diminished by my words. “Thanks, that actually helps a lot,” she replied, taking a deep breath and straightening her posture. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” I assured her. “You’ve got this. Just remember to keep your focus and stay calm. You’ve trained hard for this moment.”

With a determined look in her eyes, C.C. nodded. “Right. Let’s do this.”

As she walked toward the car, I felt a surge of pride. This was more than just a race; it was a statement. The Sons of Hell were here to make their mark, and C.C. was leading the charge.

The roar of the engines filled the air as the racers lined up, each one a testament to the dedication and resilience that had brought them to this point. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation, the crowd’s excitement palpable.

“Good luck, C.C.,” I whispered, though I knew she couldn’t hear me over the noise. It didn’t matter. She knew I was rooting for her. We all were.

The loud screams of the crowd did nothing to drown out the engines as they sped past the stands.

Twenty-five cars all vying for that checkered flag.

As the race unfolded, my woman was a force to be reckoned with as she held her own among the seasoned drivers.

She kept her cool, navigating the track with precision and strategy.

The crowd roared its approval as she deftly avoided a pile-up on the hundred and twenty-first lap, showcasing her quick reflexes.

“You’re doing good, baby,” I said into my microphone, knowing she could hear my voice.

“I’m still behind!”

“Plenty of time, babe. Stay the course and wait for an opening.”

“That near miss showed her skill and reaction time. She’s got the makings of a true champion, just like her crew chief, Trip Hall. It’s in her blood,” Rusty remarked with a grin.

Michael agreed, “Indeed, and let’s not forget the support she has from the Sons of Hell. Their presence here today is a show of force and a statement of their belief in C.C. That kind of backing can be a powerful motivator.”

As the race progressed, C.C. continued to impress. Her every maneuver a testament to her skill and determination. The crowd roared its approval as she deftly overtook veteran drivers who had been in the circuit for years, moving up into another position.

“This rookie is something else, Michael! She’s got the heart of a lion and the skills to back it up!” Rusty exclaimed.

Michael nodded, his eyes never leaving the track. “That’s right, Rusty. And let’s not forget the strategy called by her crew chief, Trip Hall. He’s got her on a perfect pit stop schedule, and their communication is seamless.”

The race was nearing its climax, and soon we all realized she was in the lead pack. The tension in the air was palpable as the drivers pushed their machines to the limit. But my woman’s focus never wavered, her eyes solely fixed on the track ahead.

“You’re doing great. You’re in the perfect position, babe. Just a few more laps. Stay sharp!” I encouraged through the microphone as the white flag waved, signaling the final lap.

The crowd rose to their feet, their cheers reaching a fever pitch.

She was still two cars behind, and every muscle in my body tensed with concentration.

I knew if she didn’t find a way through, she would take third.

But the outcome was still uncertain, and anything could happen.

As the race reached its climax, the tension escalated.

I watched as C.C. tried to maneuver around the two lead cars, while the dueling veteran drivers vied for the coveted first place.

The crowd was on their feet, their voices blending with the roar of the engines.

In the pits, I watched intently, my eyes never leaving the track. I knew this was her moment to shine, and I trusted her skills implicitly.

King stood beside me, exuding confidence. “She’s got this. Girl is damn good.”

“She’s the best,” I agreed, then I saw an opening.

Grabbing the microphone attached to my headset, I shouted, “NOW, C.C.! There is your opening!”

I watched from Pit Row as C.C. floored the accelerator, and my heart pounded with excitement.

The crowd roared as C.C. made her move. The veteran drivers, sensing a challenge, tried to hold their ground, but C.C.

was relentless. She weaved her way through and inched closer to the front.

My brothers and I watched from the pits, exchanging proud glances, as their belief in C.C.

never wavered. When the final turn approached, the tension heightened, and C.C.

pushed the car to the limit, refusing to yield.

The crowd was now on their feet, their cheers mixing with the thunder of the engines.

It was a battle of wills, a test of skill and nerve, and my woman’s focus never wavered as she kept her eyes on the finish line. I knew this was her moment, her chance to make her mark in NASCAR history.

“FLOOR IT, BABY!” I shouted, running out of the pits to watch her make history.

As the crowd roared, C.C. pushed the car to the limit, refusing to yield. The veteran drivers tried to push her back, but my woman was relentless. I watched with pride as my woman showed exceptional skill and determination.

King stood beside me and gripped my shoulder as he shouted, “She’s gonna do it!”

When she rounded the final turn, the car responded and surged forward with a power that surprised even me as she shot ahead and took the lead with just a few hundred yards to the finish line.

The crowd went wild, their cheers reaching a deafening pitch.

I felt a surge of adrenaline as I watched her cross the finish line. My brothers all cheered and shouted, congratulating one another and me.

She had done it!

The checkered flag waved, signaling her victory.

My woman had won her first NASCAR race, making history as the rookie driver for the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club and sealing her fate in NASCAR history.

The stands erupted in a chorus of cheers and applause, celebrating the historic victory.

“What a finish! C.C. DuBois takes the win at the Daytona International Speedway! A truly remarkable achievement and a testament to her talent and the support of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club!” Michael exclaimed.

Rusty nodded vigorously, his voice hoarse from the excitement. “That’s right, Michael! We’re witnessing the birth of a new NASCAR star! C.C. DuBois and the Sons of Hell have made their mark on this sport, and I can’t wait to see what they achieve next!”

As the crowd’s cheers continued, I waited as C.C. brought the car to a stop in the victory lane, and when she climbed out of the vehicle, her face beamed with joy and excitement. The Sons of Hell brothers rushed to her side, congratulating her on her incredible achievement.

King gave her a hearty embrace, his voice filled with admiration. “You showed ‘em what you’re made of, C.C. We knew you had it in you, and now the entire world knows it too.”

Walking over to her, my eyes shone with pride as I pulled her toward me for a hug. “You did it, baby. I am so proud of you.”

“I won, Trip!”

“Yeah, babe.” I grinned from ear to ear. “You sure did.”