Page 23

Danger

Fuck everyone.

I can’t breathe.

Who the fuck is this guy? And what’s his obsession with me?

I’m tired of even thinking about this book.

I rush from the press conference platform, making sure to put on a show for the reporters straggling behind in the parking lot just outside.

I spot Luther’s car, which is packed and ready for Monterey and I to head to Road America in Wisconsin and I rush toward it. I just want to get out of here.

I press the keyfob, sliding into the front driver’s seat, wondering if I should just take off without Monterey.

I start the car, slamming my fists at the wheel. “Fuck,” I call out. “Fuck. Fuck.” And then I slam my head against the wheel.

There’s a small tap tap tap on the window of the passenger seat. I glance over and I unlock the door. Monterey slides in and I peel the fuck out of the parking lot before she’s even fully shut the passenger door.

I think it’s a full ten minutes before I finally slow the car down, easing onto the interstate. “I’m sorry.”

“Danger, you have to level with me. What is going on?”

“That asshole just thinks he can get a rise out of me. That’s all.” I place a reassuring hand on her lap.

“Don’t like reading?” she asks me.

I laugh, happy I decided to wait on her. Ok, I know. She came to me, but still...I wouldn’t have really left her. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t appear happy with my answer, but I don’t know how to open up to this woman who’s way too good for me.

She wouldn’t know what to do with the tragedy that is my past. She wouldn’t be able to sift through the many demons lurking deep within. Hell, even I can’t.

I take her hand, bringing it to my lips. “You know what I really want?”

“What’s that?”

“Pizza. A good ol’ deep dish pizza from Chicago. We’ll be passing right through there in time for dinner.”

“I am totally down for that.” She smiles, resting her head against the soft leather of her seat. “I just have a little work to do on my phone, and I have to call Lilah to check on Mandarin.”

“Go ahead, pretend I’m not even here.”

* * *

I love Chicago. I really do. It’s one of those places I could see calling home one day. I could. And the main reason I love Chicago is because of the deep-dish pizza. They have the best.

Hands down.

Don’t believe anyone who ever says New York pizza is better. It’s completely not true. Who doesn’t like a pizza that’s baked in a deep-dish pan, layered with cheese, meats, vegetables, and sauce. The crust even gets a little fried due to the oil in the pan. It’s enough to make anyone’s mouth water with hunger.

I pull into Giordano’s right before dinner, and we’re lucky enough to beat the nighttime crowd. I pull my ball cap low over my eyes. I don’t mind being recognized. Actually, the fame that comes from Indy racing is one of the biggest highlights of it all. But, right now, I don’t want anyone to see me except Monterey. “We don’t need to be in Plymouth until tomorrow. Why don’t we stay here and see the sights?”

Monterey smiles. And it’s a smile I swear she reserves only for me, it’s mine, ‘cause I’ve never seen her use it on anyone else. “I love that idea.”

We park ourselves into a back booth, and order a deep dish pie. My mouth’s already watering, wanting to devour the whole thing once it comes.

Something happened when that reporter asked me about that book. The whole ride I decided to push it away. To push it all away and focus on the road. Focus on Monterey on the phone with a saddened Lilah. I consumed my thoughts of last night in the hotel room with Monterey. The way she tasted. The way she felt against me.

And the anger I felt from the reporter rolled away. I feel positive for the first time today. It’s Monterey, I swear it is. She just makes me feel better.

She’s like a damn lucky charm, or mood enhancer. And I like it.

I just want to chill with her, and not think about the race. Not think about the rest of this season. And definitely not think about my life before I met this beautiful creature.

We chow through our pizza, and when we’re stuffed and can’t possibly eat anymore, we decide to take a walk downtown.

It’s a beautiful evening. The sky looks like someone painted it with all the colors of the rainbow, but not in that rainbow color.

I grab Monterey’s hand. And it’s so surreal to me. We’re acting like a real couple here. It’s like the real deal.

Where’s a paparazzi when you need one? Because this picture-perfect day in downtown Chicago would have any reader believing we’re a real couple. Hell, I’m beginning to believe it.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask her when we stop at a small little park.

She sits on a bench, and I sit next to her. “Sure.”

“What do you think of that book?”

She stares at me for a moment, probably trying to decipher which book I mean. But, it’s the only book I’ve seen her reading since we left LA.

“You mean The Killer?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

She smiles. “Are you asking me if I like to read?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m for real, do you like the book.” I run a hand through my hair. “I just never pictured you for a thriller crime reader.”

She smiles wide. “Well, it’s odd, but yes. I like it so far. It’s gotten so much notoriety that Lilah said I had to check it out. She read it first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. I don’t know if I could ever read something like that.”

“There is a lot of crime, but like the author of this book...he committed a crime so bad that he was able to find forgiveness and come to peace with the tragedy.”

I hang my head low, resting my elbows on my knees. “Peace, huh?” Would I ever find peace?

“Yes, this man has completely turned his life around. Found Jesus, and all of that. He’ll never be released from prison, but he says prison is only temporary and he’ll live on forever.”

Would I ever be able to turn my life around?

A chill runs through my body. “And you believe that’s possible? For a man to find forgiveness and be able to repent for his sins?”

Monterey grabs both my hands, scooting closer to me. “I do believe it. I believe anyone can change.”

“Even if those crimes are worse than the crimes committed by the devil himself?”