Blood & Honey (Race Games 1)

Chapter Nine

Danica was back at home. The RV she lived in wasn’t great. Every couple of months, something else went wrong in it, whether it started to leak, or the plumped went out, or the window unit A/C went out without warning. It was a piece of shit, honestly, but she lived in it in the hopes she could give more money to the orphanage. The land she sat it on was owned by her, passed down from her father. It was fully paid off, only the taxes taking a piece of her income every year. She only had to pay minimal water and electric bills and her phone and internet bill. Otherwise, she left barely a footprint in the world. It wasn’t much, but it was still home.

Standing in the tiny, cramped bathroom, Danica stared into the mirror, studying her facial features, the emotion in her eyes.

Most who enter the races don’t come out alive.

The words echoed in her brain, repeating over and over again. The Race Games weren’t just dangerous. They were deadly, and yet, she was considering racing in them despite not having raced in years, not since her father died on the track. Could she enter a race where there was a high chance of dying?

But the stakes were what had her considering it at all. If she agreed to race, the orphanage would survive another day. The kids would be safe for now. There wouldn’t be any need to scramble through a long adoption process only to be told she wouldn’t be approved to adopt a child. There would be no worry. If the ledger were wiped clean, Leo and the others could make sure it stayed that way. They would be safe. They wouldn’t be lost. If she won. . . the rewards were high. But from the sounds of things, the race would be in no way easy. Could she even win a race against supernatural creatures, or delusional people; whichever proved truer? She wasn’t sure she completely believed yet, but she’d long since been a firm believer that there was other life in the universe. It made sense that there be things on Earth that were different, too.

But the thought of racing again. . .

Danica glanced down at the card Arden had given her. It was on expensive cardstock, thick, black. It screamed of money, just as everything else about the two men did. There was a phone number embossed in red ink across the face of the card and nothing else. It was mysterious, sensual. Arden and Phi apparently did nothing without style it seemed. But vampires? Were they full of shit or had she found herself in a whole world of trouble?

But the kids. . .

What would if matter if she hung out with a few crazy people for a few weeks if the kids were taken care of? She didn’t want to die, but the kids were more important. There could be precautions taken into account. Good parts would help against certain deaths, and Phi had plenty of money to take everything into consideration. Despite Arden dressing impeccably and clearly having money, Danica had already figured out it was Phi who held the most sway. She was curious where it came from, but in the end, it wasn’t important. There was only really one thing she needed to worry about.

If she took the job, the kids would be safe. There really wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

Glancing at the photos she’d screwed up on the wall, Danica ran her fingers along the frames, smiling at the pictures of her dad and her at the racetrack, in the shop, beneath the hood of a car. There was only one photo of her mother holding her as a baby, the only one they had together before her mother had passed away. Danica couldn’t even remember her, but her dad used to tell her how much she looked like her mother. Still, her eyes lingered on the photo of her standing next to a junior dragster. Her dad had his arm thrown around her shoulders as she held up a trophy, her first win. They were both smiling wide, her dad proud. He’d taken her out for cake after that to celebrate. She missed those celebrations, missed him, and though he never answered her, she felt in her soul that she was about to do the right thing. Her dad would approve despite the danger.

Rust or dust, baby girl. There’s no other option.

“Dust it is,” she answered out loud and smiled. She’d stopped racing because it hadn’t felt right after watching her father die on the track that day. It had felt empty since then, and racing should never feel empty. Not when you were going over two hundred miles per hour.

Carefully picking up the out-of-date cellphone and dialing the number, she waited while it rang once, twice, before Phi picked up on the other end.

“Danica,” he said, a clear smile in his voice. “I’m pleased to hear from you.”