Danger (The Driven World)

Veronica Chastain, Supermodel, “Danger was tons of fun! I loved our time together!”

Chief Roger Dean, Chief of Police in Los Angeles, “Danger Hudson walks a very thin line between what’s legal and illegal. I’ve seen him scooped up many times for illegal racing as well as partying and drugs just in the past year that he’s popped up onto the scene.”

So, again, who is Danger Hudson? Do you know? Have any wild guesses? Drop them into the comments below.

May 2020

Honeybear32: I think he might be the old pornstar Richie Walens who left the industry two years ago.

BlackWidowGamer: He’s a loser. Too bad he’ll never amount to much.

*DancingPrincess*: I love Danger and I don’t care who he is. I want to have his babies!!!

Loserville227: He’s obviously a deranged only child seeking attention in the form of dangerous acts. Did you see him in that video? Link below, he’s got a death wish.

Attachment: DangerHudsonJumpingoutofwindowinLA

KellyBelly: Maybe he just hasn’t found the right woman yet!!!

Ugh. I’ll give Thad Jeffries a ball and chain around his neck.

And Danger Hudson, double ugh.

I shut off the computer, unable to read even one more article about the man who America has deemed ‘The Playboy of Racing.’ KellyBelly thinks Danger hasn’t met the right woman yet, ha. He’s met plenty of women.

Every woman who looks at him sees their innermost fantasies come to life. It isn’t his fault he was born to look like pure sex. And I don’t mean the good-boy-nice type of sex either. No, I mean the you’re-sore-the-next-day-and-have-a-lifetime-of-naughty-memories kind of sex. He looks like he’d be rough with you one minute and then super gentle the next.

He’s a walking, talking advertisement for the right type of dirty sex you’ve always dreamed about having but were too afraid to even think about asking for.

My phone rings on the granite countertop of my kitchen, breaking me from my thoughts about our team’s newest driver. Grander Racing was started by my father many years ago when I was just a little girl. Luther Grander was a driver with a promising future that took a curve too quickly and ended up in a wheelchair. Now he runs the Grander Racing Team.

And soon, he’s set to retire and I plan on stepping up to take his place. If I can prove to him I’m serious about the job. Also, I didn’t have the greatest press when Thad Jeffries and I broke up. More like the jerk cheated on me, and I was left trying to clean up the media aftermath.

I scramble off my shabby-chic oversized sofa, padding into the kitchen to grab my cell off the counter. “Hello.”

“Monterey, hope you’re not busy,” my father says. “Need a favor.” He knows I’ll do whatever he asks. He should know by now I’m serious about proving myself and taking over his company.

Well, our company.

“Anything,” I say, hoping it’s something simple and not something that involves leaving my comfy ranch-style home in the Hills of LA.

“It’s Danger, he’s been arrested.” He takes a deep breath. “Again.”

Of course he has. “What is it this time? Drugs? Alcohol? Oh wait” —I tap my chin— “let me guess, street racing?”

“Yeah that,” my father says, going into a lengthy explanation of which precinct he’s in and to bring him to my father’s house once I’ve grabbed him.

Every time we’re in LA for a race, Danger gets picked up for illegal street racing. I don’t know where he finds these people. No one knows anything about where he came from. It’s weird, and I remember telling my father we should tread carefully before signing him to our team’s roster this year.

But my father brushed me off, saying we needed Danger to win. And so far this season, Danger’s held an impressive lead.

I hang up the phone once I’ve got all the details, and head off to get ready to pick this man up. I make my way downtown in record time, and once Danger walks through the doors, my breath is knocked out of my chest.

It really is a shame that he looks absolutely sinful. And I swear every time I’m near him my heart does something funny. But then I remember why I’m here and what Danger is costing our company by his blatant disregard for keeping himself from being arrested.

“Get in.” I motion to the passenger side door of my white convertible Mercedes. I need to get him to my father’s house, so Dad can lay into him for what is once again ‘reckless behavior.’

He stares at me for a moment, and I’m not sure if he’s expecting me to open his door, or what. And then he offers me that megawatt smile that everyone loves most about him. All pearly white teeth sparkle in the low light of the street lamp, and I roll my eyes.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He slides into the car like he owns it.