I swipe my phone on, wondering if I should call her. Wondering if I should just shoot her a text to see what she’s up to.
I have over fifty text messages from everyone I know. I click open the first one, reading the message there.
It’s from Luther Grander. “Danger, call us. We need to handle this.”
I read another and then another and they all say the same things. I click open my social media and there it is, plastered at the top.
“Race Car legend, Earl Wheeler, speaks from his jail cell about his book being a New York Times bestseller,” the headline reads.
I skim the article, picking up a few sentences here and there as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
“...Earl’s son, race car driver, Danger Hudson is expected to race next week in LA. We haven’t gotten any word yet how Danger feels about his father’s book, but we’re hopeful we’ll be able to get an exposé. We know Monterey Grander, Danger’s fiancee, loves the book and has been seen on tour reading the story of how Earl Wheeler left racing after an injury and worked at a college where he killed a few students over the course of a few years…”
I swipe off my phone, shoving it into my back pocket. Only one person could have printed this story. That asshole Ricky Moore.
I’m pissed.
Red blurs my vision as I make my way back to the hotel. I’m so mad I can’t even think straight, and I hate the fact that everyone now knows my past. That they now know where and what I come from.
From an evil so horrible, so terrifyingly wicked that it suffocates me at all times.
I spot the hotel a block away, and immediately my gaze lands on the overzealous crowd of media and fans waiting for me outside.
The back of the hotel is empty, and I decide to dip in through the back entrance before any of the media has spotted me. I go through the kitchen, and I hurry my steps so I can make it up to my room without being seen.
The thing I like about the back areas of hotels, is that nobody bothers you. No one asks you why you’re there. Most everyone back here knows me, and yet, they let me pass without any words or annoyance of trying to get my autograph.
I make it to a service elevator and punch at the button. Once inside, I breathe a simple sigh of relief that I haven’t been spotted so far. But, it still doesn’t soothe the ache that burns deep inside me. The fire that started the moment Ricky Moore first spoke to me. It’s like once the fire started it choked up all the oxygen surrounding me, making it harder and harder to breathe.
I haven’t seen my father since the day he murdered my mother.
I haven’t seen my father since the day he tried to murder me.
Since the day they carted him off to jail.
Yet, I think about him almost every second of every day.
Chapter 35
Monterey
“Has he called yet?” my father asks me as I pace the tiny living space of my tiny hotel room.
I glance at my phone for the millionth time since this morning. The millionth time since the story broke about Danger and his father. “No, not yet.” My stomach churns in the hopes Danger will call to talk to me.
After last night I’m not holding my breath waiting for his call, but there’s something that’s keeping me tethered to my phone, hoping and praying he calls.
“You didn’t know?” my father asks me once again, even though I’ve told him over and over again I never knew about any of this.
I shake my head, unable to verbally get the no out for fear of crying. That’s been one of the hardest feats of the day, trying to keep my composure. Because I know once I see Danger I’ll lose it all.
The tears will break free from the dam I’m erecting every minute we’re apart.
There’s a knock at the door, and my father heads in that direction. I hold my breath, knowing full well who’s on the other side this early in the morning.
Danger barges into the room once my father lets him in.
“Danger, what are you doing here?”
“I’m quitting the team.”
My father wheels over closer to where Danger stands, and I can’t keep my eyes off his disheveled appearance. He looks like he hasn’t slept. His hair is all over the place, like he’s literally tugged each strand over and over. “Why don’t you sit down and we can figure this out.”
“Sit down?” Danger laughs, anger radiating from his body. “There’s nothing to figure out, Luther. I’m done.”
He doesn’t spare me a single glance. Is he quitting on me too?
I find my voice. “You can’t just give up.”