He snorts. “No shit. Your dad needs locking up. He—Hey, what are you doing?”
I stick my tongue out, concentrating on getting the right angle. “I need proof. The guys at the office will get a kick out of this.”
“Holy shit, are you hurt?” Imogen asks, skidding to a stop next to me, her eyes wide.
Clayton stares blankly at me. “No. My pride, however, is crushed between the bumper and the bush. But thank you for being the only person to care.”
“How did you text me if you’re tied to the wheel, and why isn’t anyone helping?” I ask, scanning the area. I don’t even hear the sound of an engine close by.
“Well,” he drawls, a bite to his tone. “After your father ran me off the road for the tenth time, I tried calling for help. The bloke on road with us pulled up to help. That’s his kart. Your dad came back and snatched him so he couldn’t help. I tried calling and texting you to sort him out, but he doubled back and tried to pinch that too.”
I bend down to help with the knots, wondering how he kept still long enough for my dad to do this. There’s more than one knot.
His phone poking out of his overalls catches my eye. “He didn’t get your phone though. It’s there.”
“I panicked and blurted out about my dad. I’m next of kin, and if something happens, it’s me they’ll call.”
My shoulders drop with a light sigh. “I didn’t think of that. He would have taken it had you not said. He was just playing around though,” I lie, finally getting the knots undone.
I stand up, stepping back as he pulls himself out, flexing his fingers. “I need to get him back for this.”
“Of course you do. Most people react the same,” Imogen tells him, chuckling.
“Maybe that’s not the best idea,” I explain slowly, grimacing.
“She’s so right,” Imogen states. “Everyone gets drawn into the Carter shenanigans. It’s like a calling. However, it never ends well for anyone other than a Carter. Many men have tried, my friend.”
“You aren’t helping,” I mutter, yet I can’t help but nod in agreement as I point to her. “What she said.”
He holds Imogen’s gaze for a second, taking in her words, before turning to me, giving me a pointed gaze. “You told me that to get him to ease up or respect me, I need to play him at his own game. I’m going to do that. Two can play this game.”
“You don’t like games,” I remind him.
“This one I do. And I’m going to fucking crush it. I’m not going to be your boss, the guy who needs to run a successful business, or a son who doesn’t want to let his dying father down. Right now, I’m Clayton Cross, and I’m going to forget about all my responsibilities and be me. I’ll get payback.” He storms off, heading towards the dirt track.
“So… basically, you’re going to pull the stick out of your arse?”
“You’ll see. I’ll show him,” he yells back, glancing over his shoulder. His feet slip out from under him and he lands in the dirt.
Laughter spills out of me as I step over to him, bending down to pat his back. “Yes, you’ll definitely show him.”
He rolls over to his side, staring blankly up at me. “Hayden?”
“Uh huh,” I mumble as I reach for my phone in my pocket.
A squeal escapes me when he grabs my wrist, pulling me down next to him. Dirt cakes my mouth, and I gag, spitting out the dry, foul-tasting texture.
He did not just do that.
“You wanker!” I breathe out, my temples thumping. I reach in front of me, digging my fingers into the dirt, and grip a clump of slush.
I’m about to show him what payback looks like when the sound of footsteps splashing through puddles reaches us.
We tilt our heads up to the top of the bank, where a lad in his early twenties comes to a halt. He bends at the waist, his face red as he gasps for breath.
“T-thank God you’re okay. He took me by surprise, mate. He’s lost the plot, I swear. And he has my keys.”
Clayton crawls forward before pushing himself up. I follow, trying hard to get as much dirt off my face as possible, but it feels like I’m making it worse.
“I can’t get my kart out. Something has lodged its way around the wheel. I was trying to tell you before he took you.”
“I’ll call it in. You guys are our only group today, so Stevens will come pull it out for you,” he explains, as another kart pulls up behind ours.
Clayton grabs his helmet off his seat before following me up the bank to meet Jaxon.
Jaxon takes in the kart as he pulls his helmet off, running a hand over his tousled hair, making it messier.
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop to help. Maddox was up my arse.”
“Up your arse, huh? Did you enjoy it?” I tease, my lips twitching.
His hands briefly clench. “Remind me why I’ve not killed you yet.”
I hold up my finger. “One, because I’d bury you before you even touched me, and two, Lily loves me,” I smart.
“We have a bigger problem to deal with right now,” Clayton interrupts, stepping past me. “I’m going to get him back. You in, Jaxon?”
“Hey, that’s ours,” I yell when he jumps into the driver’s seat of our kart. I race after him, sliding into the passenger side.
He passes me my helmet and I hold Imogen’s out to her, grimacing when I’m reminded of our predicament. “Go jump in Jaxon’s.”
She rolls her eyes, snatching the helmet. “They always have all the fun.”
She’s not wrong.
When the engines roar to life, her eyes widen slightly before she jogs off, getting into the kart behind us.
“Wait! You can’t leave me here,” the guy working yells, his face ashen.
My back slams against the seat as he peels off, the wind and rain whipping around us.
I tilt my head to the side, watching his powerful frame maneuverer the kart with ease and practice. Each corner we take, his body moves with the kart. From years of seeing my uncle Malik race, I know a born rider when I see one. At some point, Clayton knew how to ride and excelled at it. It’s information I’m going to store for later.
Five minutes later, I’m slapping Clayton’s hand away. Each time we’ve hit a bump in the road, he’s placed his arm across my chest, pushing me back into my seat.
A clearing comes up ahead. It’s the widest part of the track we’ve been on. Maddox and my dad are struggling to push a kart out of a mud puddle, which is the better condition of the two karts. The other one with a black frame is on its side, half stuck a bush of shrubs.
Thinking Clayton will slow down when we reach them, I’m surprised when he doesn’t and instead presses his foot flat to the floor. I grin, pulling my phone out of my pocket and praising myself for getting a waterproof case.
I hit record as Dad lifts his head, smiling, but when his gaze lands on the mad man next to me, his smile drops. He stiffens, planting his feet apart, right up until the realisation hits him that Clayton isn’t stopping. He flinches, turning to the side at the waist to avoid us.
It’s too late. Clayton spins the wheel the second we reach them and breaks, causing dirt and puddles to splash into the air, hitting Dad head to toe. I glance behind us, still holding my camera out, as Dad stands there, unmoving for a moment, before all hell breaks loose. His body begins to shake as he yells out at us, punching the air and kicking at the ground.
Laughter spills out of me when Maddox, still bent at the knee behind the kart, turns his head—just in time for Jaxon to make the same manoeuvre, hitting them both again. This time, Dad slips, falling on his arse.
The last thing I see is Jaxon spinning off, following the track instead of coming back on himself like Clayton has.
We come to a stop off track, into a secluded area hidden by bushes. He slides up his visor, grinning like a mad fool, his cheeks flushed.
“Did you see his face?” he yells, squeezing my hand.
I lift my visor up, my smile causing my jaw to a
che. “I caught it all on camera,” I explain, waving my phone at him. “Let’s do it again and then make this track our bitch.”
“I didn’t get all of that, but I think we should do it again. To be certain we hit him.”
I give him a thumbs up, tilting my head back and laughing uproariously.
Clayton pulls out of our hiding spot before lining the car up and revving the engine.
His foot slams down on the accelerator, causing us to jerk back. When the guys come into view, I struggle to breathe at the sight before us. They remind me of the time we took them ice-skating and they struggled to hold each other up.
Dad glances up at the sound of the engine, his jaw dropping. He pushes Maddox in front, as a shield. However, Clayton guns past them, causing mud to spray like a wave all over them.
Looking around the back of my seat, I get to witness Maddox lose his footing, landing flat on his face, Dad toppling over him.
We lose sight of them as we take the corner, and as I face forward, the wheels spin at the same time the steering wheel locks.
Clayton’s head jerks briefly towards me, panic flashing in his eyes. His fingers grip the wheel, fighting to turn it as he pushes down on the brake.
He notices the bank the second after I do. It’s steeper than the one we just left, and instead of a shrub, we are heading right for a tree.
I can hear him yelling over the noise, yet can’t understand his words as I lean over to help, grabbing the wheel and yanking as hard as I can. It’s no use, we’re going to roll down that bank and hit the tree. There’s nothing we can do to stop it.
We’re seconds from the bank when Clayton gives up on the wheel and startles me by swinging himself around, his body partially covering mine.
I press myself into his shoulder as he grips me, shielding my head. A scream escapes as we begin to pick up speed, my stomach rolling as the kart spins in its descent down the hill.
I grip the metal cage with one hand, the other clutching Clayton, holding on for dear life. My knuckles ache, along with body.
My heart thumps against my rib cage, as well as rings in my ears, when we shoot forward before being yanked bank in our seats as the kart comes to a sudden stop.
Clayton slowly pries himself off me as I dazedly blink, scanning my surroundings.
We had hit the tree from the rear end. The bank looks a lot steeper from this angle than it did approaching it.
I recoil when Clayton reaches for my helmet, unclipping it and sliding it off my head.
“Are you okay?” he rushes out, guilt ridden as he tilts my head side to side, checking for injuries.
I swat him away gently. “I’m fine, but what the hell happened?” I ask, unclipping my harness.
Reading my mind, he gets out, coming around to my side and helping me out.
“It was my fault. I was driving like a dickhead. The steering wheel locked and the engine cut out. I’m so fucking sorry, Hayden.”
“Don’t be. I don’t think that’s because of your driving,” I tell him honestly, watching the engine steam as the rain hits it.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Clayton stumble forward. I brace myself as he grabs me, pulling me into his arms and squeezing. Relief pours out of his hold, yet his body remains tense, on edge. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”
He pulls back, yet keeps close, anguish shining back at me.
I reach up, wiping back a strand of hair sticking out next to his temple, before meeting his gaze. My mouth dries as I suck in a breath.
“You protected me.”
He runs a hand over his forehead. “Why do you seem surprised?”
My lips twitch. “Because you’ve been planning my death since day one.”
He steps forward, his expression void of anything as he cups my cheek. I briefly close my eyes, not wanting this moment to end.
“Your death isn’t what I’ve been planning to do to you since day one, Hayden,” he admits, his voice hoarse as he leans in further.
“Don’t kiss me unless you mean it. This place looks great for hiding your body.”
He tilts his chin down, frowning. “I meant it the first time.”
“I sense a but…”
“But, I’m your boss.”
I step back, giving a sharp nod as I swallow the lump in my throat, even though a part of me wants to knee him in the balls. “I get it. You don’t want to be seen with the ‘help’, so to speak.”
He rears back, his body locking. “Not at all. I’m worried others will make it difficult for you at work if they think I’m favouring you because we’re together.” His lips twist. “Do you really think so little of me?”
He swings around, heading back up the hill before I have a chance to answer. I blink back my confusion as his words finally settle in, my heart racing.
“Wait!”
“No. I am done with today, with it all, Hayden.”
Running up behind him, I grab onto his overalls, pulling him back. I gasp when he loses his footing, taking me with him as we fall to the ground.
We roll apart and he leans up on his hands, glaring down at me as I lie on my back, in the mud, on the hill. “What was that for?”
I lean up on my elbows. “If you had stopped, I wouldn’t have had to take drastic measures.”
“God, you’re infuriating.”
“It’s not nice to talk about God like that,” I reflect, the comeback flowing easily.
“You aren’t even religious,” he reminds me.
“We’re going off track,” I snap. “Do I look like someone who cares what people think of her?”
His eyebrows draw together. “No.”
“No,” I confirm with a nod. “So why would you think that I’d care what they thought at work? They don’t even have to know.”
His pupils dilate as he looms over me, shaking his head. “I’m still your boss, and if you hadn’t noticed, we argue now. I don’t want a relationship argument ruining our work atmosphere or vice versa.”
A chuckle slips free as disappointment sets in. “And I didn’t think you were scared to go after what you wanted. I don’t play these games.”
He grabs the back of my neck, lifting my head towards him, stopping when my lips are a breath away. Hot air mingles between us as my pulse races. “I’m not, and I’ll show you just how much I’m not.”
The touch of his lips has mine parting and my eyes closing, already anticipating how good it will be.
His tongue flicks my upper lip as the sound of an engine skidding to a stop above us breaks us apart.
I groan, falling onto my back and looking up the hill. “Fucking hell.”
The guy called Stevens, who gave us the keys to our kart, rips himself out of the harness, coming to stand at the top of the hill.
“Are you fucking out of your mind? I told you to take number nine, not six.”
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Clayton snaps.
“It does say nine,” I yell, getting up, not bothering to wipe the dirt away.
He points to the kart, his nostrils flaring. “It’s a fucking six.”
Taking a look, the number attached to the top, on a metal board, says nine, but the number sprayed on the side, says six.
I grimace, shrugging. “Sorry?”
“Sorry? Sorry! It’s under repair for engine troubles. You could have gotten yourself killed,” he yells, throwing his hands up. “Do none of you listen?”
“Oh no,” I mutter as the sound of Dad’s maniacal laughter entwines with the roar of an engine.
I open my mouth to warn Stevens but think better of it. He could use it as a learning experience. Instead, I pull Clayton away from the bank.
Everything happens quickly. Dad speeds towards Stevens, and the minute he notices, he reacts, jerking back. He loses his footing, clearly not taking in how close he is to the hill, and falls, his arms flailing as he tries to save himself from embarrassment.
I tilt my head up to Clayton. “It’s time
to leave.”
“Huh?”
“Just trust me,” I tell him. “Nothing good will come from this moment on. It’s better to get out while we can.”
“Alright,” he answers, grinning at me as he grips my hand. “Let’s rob his kart and get back to the entrance.”
Laughing, I nod. “You can buy me dinner for saving you.”
“Of course I will,” he mutters.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A cold breeze picks up my hair, blowing strands across my face. I’m glad now that I chose to have my hair wavy with a few plaits hidden throughout.
I can only be grateful it isn’t raining. I don’t want my thigh-high, suede boots getting ruined. Between my short, ripped, black skirt and the boots, I’m only revealing a small part of my thigh, so the cold isn’t touching me just yet.
I pull my jacket tighter across my body, covering my Guns n Roses T-shirt.
I’ve never felt so good with my choice of outfit. With a few bangles and a choker necklace, it feels complete.
The team Faith had hired were the best of the best. They had done wonders on us ladies. My make-up is flawless. After describing my outfit in detail to the make-up artist, she perfected my desired look, giving me smoky eye make-up, a shimmer to my cheeks and ruby red lips. I made sure to write down everything she used, though I don’t think I’ll get it to look as good as this. I’ll probably end up looking like a racoon.
There’s a bounce in my step as I meet up with the others waiting outside Mingles.
The guys are already waiting for us, and as the last two taxi’s pull in with the rest of the group, I’d say we’re the last to arrive.
The tension leaves my body when Clayton steps through the crowd. After deeming it safe, I had left him with the guys earlier so I could get back to the girls. It didn’t stop me worrying somewhat. It wasn’t that I doubted Clayton, especially after today, but I know my family. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, they can and will break you without using violence.
My lips pull up into a smile as I lift my hand, waving when he finally spots me. He stops in his tracks, nearly tripping over his feet, unable to peel his gaze away. He scans my body, starting low and building his way up, taking his time.
Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 4) Page 19
