Danger (The Driven World)

“I was defending it,” he whispers, not opening his eyes.

I pull away, not broaching the subject again. What a mess. Why does Danger feel the need to fight away his feelings? Was he really defending my honor?

I make it to the hotel, and lead Danger inside, needing to tend to his cuts and bruises.

“You got pretty banged up,” I tell him.

He sits on the bed, his head down. “I’ll be fine.”

“Let me get some ice.” I leave the room in a hurry, grabbing the bucket on my way out the door. I need some breathing room.

I need to get the image of Danger in his towel out of my mind. I know it’s a bad time to think about him in the towel after he’s been beaten up, but I can’t help it. It’s his vulnerability right now that is doing a number on my heart. Like a wounded bird in need of constant care.

When I get back into the room Danger’s kicked off his socks and shoes and removed his shirt. I suck in a breath, scanning my eyes over the tanned skin of his chest. The muscles ripple across his abdomen.

“Let me see your hand.” I grab one of the hand towels by the sink and put some ice in it and close it together. “Put this on your hand.”

He takes the homemade ice pack from me and places it over his bruised knuckles. He winces a little and I take inventory of his face.

No major damage, thank God. He has to go in front of more cameras tomorrow. We don’t need him looking like he got into a bar fight, even though that is precisely what happened.

I make another ice pack and place it on his left eye. “Keep it there. It’ll help the swelling.” I’m sure Danger has gotten into many fights in his lifetime, and he probably doesn’t need to know that ice will help the swelling go down. I’m sure he knows this already.

But I tell him anyway.

Just for something to say.

I run another hand towel under the water and head back to where he sits on the bed. “Let me get your lip cleaned up.”

He pushes me away. “I said I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

He laughs a little. But has a hard time of it with his cut lip. “I’ve never had anyone take care of me before. I said, I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being a baby.” I jab at his chin where blood has dried into the stubble. “It’ll take two seconds to get you cleaned up.”

He doesn’t say anything as I run the washcloth over his bottom lip and chin.

When all the blood is cleaned, I sit back. “Wow, you look almost human again.”

He doesn’t smile, or say anything. He only stares at me with his bewitching eyes.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be sure to find some aspirin for the morning. You’re going to need it.”

Danger grabs my hands, bringing them into his. “When that guy at the bar said those things about you, I just saw red.”

I blink. “What did he say?” I breathe out.

“He called you a few names.” Danger’s eyes meet mine. “I didn’t like it.”

“You can’t beat up everyone who says things you don’t agree with.”

“I know. But Monterey, I won’t have any man talking about my woman that way.”

I drop my eyes from his intense stare. “I’m not really your woman.”

He pushes a stray strand of my hair from my face. “Whether this is fake or not, the world still thinks you’re my woman. That man thought you were mine. And I won’t ever let anyone disrespect you like that.”

I smile, meeting his eyes once again. “Well, thank you.” I stand from the bed, returning the cloth to the sink. “Maybe next time you could tell him without fighting.”

Danger laughs. “Sure thing.”

Chapter 13

Danger

By the time we roll up into Indiana the next day, I’m more tired than when we woke up this morning. Monterey was right about needing aspirin.

Lucky for me, she drove the entire way, and we head right for the hotel the minute we hit town.

Even though there’s a line of fans hanging around outside the hotel lobby, I find it harder and harder to smile at them.

Monterey has no issues, and smiles, always the fucking beauty queen. She waves to the fans and reporters, and answers questions like a seasoned pro.

Word about the bar fight last night spread faster than wildfire in the brush. I keep my mouth shut, which I’m sure Luther and Monterey appreciate.

By the time we make it to our room, I crash.

And I crash hard.

Somewhere in the middle of the night I feel a hand on my chest and I try not to freak out.

I open one eye and then the other. “Mom,” I whisper, still unable to decipher reality from dream. “Mama, is that you?”