Hook Up: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by M. L. Broome

  “Will you forgive me for missing the race?”

  “You’ll be here by Monday?” Glancing up, I see Greg hovering at the far end of the patio, a stern expression coloring his face. Guess someone else read the tabloids.

  “Promise.”

  “This is your one and only get out of jail free card. Call me later and be safe. Anyone bothers you, let me know and I’ll hire security.”

  “No one cares about me, Ryder.”

  That’s not entirely true, particularly not with my rabid fanbase, but there’s no sense in upsetting her. “I care about you. A whole hell of a lot.”

  “You better.” With a kiss into the phone, she ends the call and I mentally prepare for my discussion with Greg. Here’s hoping I don’t have to duck and cover. “Morning. Ready for the weekend?”

  “Probably more nervous than you are.”

  “You’ll do great.”

  Greg clears his throat, holding up a magazine. “You’re married?”

  With a sigh, I nod. “I am.”

  “Am I correct to assume your wife is my sister?”

  “You are.”

  “Is this some sort of public relations thing? I know Greer mentioned some sort of deal between the two of you, but I thought that was just your way of keeping her close.”

  “There is no deal, except that she’s my wife.”

  “Then why wasn’t anyone told? You know, like us little people, also known as her family?”

  Shit, this is taking a dangerous turn. “We eloped in Barbados. A quiet ceremony with just the two of us.”

  “Right, but Barbados ended weeks ago and I’m finding out from a rag mag.”

  “We planned on keeping it quiet until after the first race.”

  “Meaning you planned to keep it quiet?” He holds up his hand when I try to interject. “Let me say my peace. So, you eloped. Fine. You’re keeping it on the down low. Okay. But then, on the same rack of magazines that is crowing about your marriage to some mystery brunette, there’s this.”

  He tosses two magazines my way and I cringe, reading the captions about Mandi and my imminent reconciliation. “Dude, it’s tabloids. They’re all bullshit.”

  “Normally, I’d agree. But this woman who claims you two are back together was at your house last night. I saw you drinking wine on the patio.”

  Mayday, mayday. “I didn’t know you heard us.”

  “I live literally across the pool, Ryder. But that’s the wrong response. Your ex was here and your wife—my sister—isn’t. It’s your life but if you hurt Greer, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “I’ll never hurt her. You have my word. I absolutely adore Gigi.”

  “This looks bad, man. Dead this situation with Mandi because if Greer finds out there’s truth to these claims, she’ll run away faster than any F1.”

  Greg’s words stick with me until the second I slide behind the wheel for Friday’s practice. I need my head in the game, tabloid fodder or no. Luckily, he’s shelved any discussion of his sister, his only focus on the safety and speed of the vehicle carrying me around the circuit.

  Just like me, he has a one-track mind when it’s go time.

  My friend has also proven himself a valuable addition to the team. Hey, I don’t just choose my crew willy-nilly.

  I trust him with my life because that’s what he holds in his hands.

  Friday’s practice went smooth as glass, even though I noticed Greg didn’t give it twenty minutes before a beer was in his hand. When I pulled him aside, he downplayed it, promising me, much like his sister, that he doesn’t mix business with pleasure. Let’s hope that’s the truth.

  As soon as practice wraps, a hand claps around my shoulder. Glancing up, I catch Colton’s amused smirk. “So, is there truth to this rumor, or are the magazines spouting shit again?” I chuckle, and Colton’s grin widens. “Holy crap. You crossed to the dark side. Please tell me it isn’t Mandi.”

  “Her name is Greer, and I’ve been in love with her since I was ten. We reconnected at her brother’s wedding,” I add, motioning in Greg’s direction.

  “That old Vegas adage doesn’t hold true for you, does it?” Colton shoots me a light jab in the arm, toasting me with his water bottle. “Congratulations. Where is she?”

  “Still in New York. She’s a nurse practitioner and has to finish up with her patients.”

  “I get obligations. Does she have any idea about the world of crazy she just married into?”

  “Likely not, but now she’s trapped. Hell, my lawyer almost had a coronary when he discovered we didn’t sign a prenup.”

  “Damn, you are in love.” Colton gestures to where Greg stands with a few other crew members. “What crew did you steal him from?”

  “None, but he’s been around cars since birth. I came up racing with him. He was better than me, to be honest, but his family situation ended his chances of a career. He’s been an excellent addition so far.”

  A frown creases Colton’s brow. “I’ve no doubt, but this is the big league. Maybe he should function as a backup for a few races. Get his feet wet.”

  “He’s good to go.” Normally I don’t question Colton’s authority, but I know my friend.

  He was born ready.

  After finishing first in Saturday’s timed trials, I’m on top of the world.

  Now if only my wife would get her sexy ass down here.

  Grabbing my phone, I dial her number. Christ, I miss her.

  “Hi, handsome.”

  “I’m leaving you a ticket, just in case. I know you’re busy and have obligations, but I need my cheerleader.”

  Greer stays silent a few beats, and I wonder if I’m pushing too hard. Let’s admit it—I’m used to getting what I want. “You know, if a woman was trying to surprise you, you would kill it every time. Focus on the race, Mr. Gray. Even if I’m not there in person, I’ll be there in spirit. I appreciate the ticket, though. Just in case.”

  “Be forewarned after you get back here, I’m supergluing you to my side.”

  I love her husky chuckle. The only thing better? That chuckle followed by her naked body straddling me. That’s the thing with incredible sex. Once you experience it, it becomes the most potent addiction in the world.

  It becomes all you can think about.

  She’s all I can think about.

  Even my racing career dims next to her light. Greer has usurped racing in my heart, taking center stage and becoming the center of my world. The weirdest part is how fine I am with that concept.

  Feeling for the small box in my pocket, a smile crosses my face. I had to pay a mint, but the jewelers worked overtime to get Gigi’s ring finished by this weekend. It’s a six-carat stunner, as flawless as the woman herself.

  Time to slide this beauty on my beauty’s hand, locking her down for life.

  Unfortunately, my beautiful woman isn’t here, and time is growing short for her to arrive before the race. As is custom for races held in Charlotte, the entire team shacks up for the weekend at a luxury hotel only a mile from the track. Such a hardship, I realize, but there is a method to our madness.

  I may only live an hour from the track, but Charlotte is renowned for her snarling traffic jams. Not something you want to encounter when time is at a premium. Staying here allows us to hash out any last-minute issues and also be only moments from the track, should the need arise.

  It’s a win-win.

  Colton, Rylee, and I enjoy an early dinner discussing the next day’s race. She’s been a part of the racing world for years now by her husband’s side, but I see the relief in her face that he’s no longer sliding behind the wheel.

  I know there are days when Colton misses the feeling of flying. Hell, racing is as much in his blood as mine.

  Having a kid changed his mind. To hear him tell it, he knew he wanted to be there to watch him grow up. So, his priorities and position changed.

  This is the best of both worlds for him. He gets to live amongst the sport he worships while go
ing home safe every night to his family.

  I’m not there yet. I still crave that adrenaline rush, although I admit that being with Greer is its own form of speed. For the first time, I understand Colton’s position.

  After dinner, we stroll toward the elevator. Time to turn in and get some rest for tomorrow. I have a race to win.

  Rylee, although disappointed Greer wasn’t here, is thrilled to learn I’m no longer a single man. Stepping into the elevator with Colton, she sends me a megawatt smile. “I can’t wait to meet your wife. She must have superpowers to tame Ryder Gray.”

  With a chuckle, I watch the doors close. To be fair, Rylee isn’t far off. Greer is my superwoman.

  “She’s not the only one who wants to know about your new wife.”

  Spinning on my heel, I release a noisy exhalation. “Mandi. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for answers.” Her pale blue eyes fill with tears, a few escaping down her cheeks. “I think after everything, you at least owe me that. I asked you if it was serious, and you denied it.”

  “No, I wouldn’t answer the question because I knew how you’d take it.” Honestly, I knew she’d be pissed, but I figured she would key my car, not break down in tears, demanding answers. “I’m sorry if you’re hurt because of this news.”

  “I’m hurt because of you,” she huffs, her body shaking. “I deserved better than that.”

  To be fair, I don’t think my ex deserves any explanation, aside from what I told her the other night. I moved on. She needs to do the same.

  But I’d be a bastard to leave her in the lobby, sobbing out my name.

  The least I can give her is an explanation. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I steer her toward the lobby restaurant, prepared to give her one.

  Chapter 10

  Greer

  For once, I’m ahead of schedule.

  Let me rephrase. I’m always on time. The airlines? Not so much.

  But the universal forces seems to align, ensuring I make it to Ryder’s side before the race. I know my husband is desperate for me to join him, even texting me the name of the hotel where he’ll spend the weekend.

  That was all I needed to solidify my decision to hop on a plane and surprise Ryder.

  I’m shocked the man didn’t see through my flimsy fib, but he’s also got his mind on a million different things. Not the least of which is our recent marriage, even if the world doesn’t yet know who snagged the king of racing.

  Glancing down at the band on my finger, I smile. I know who snagged Ryder Gray, and I’m sure as hell not giving him up.

  I’ll admit that doubt did rear its ugly head several times during our separation. Part of me worried he would change his mind, wanting to walk out of the whirlwind courtship as quickly as he walked in. It didn’t help to learn he wasn’t wearing his ring nor disclosing his newly minted marital status.

  Then there are the articles, not the ones about Ryder’s mystery wife, but ones about his supposed reconciliation with Mandi.

  Tabloids are the stuff of fairytales, right? But if they got the marriage rumor right, how far off are they about the ex-girlfriend one?

  These are the thoughts vying for position in my brain, yet another reason I had to get my ass to Charlotte. I know once I see Ryder and he wraps his arms around me, that all will be right with the world.

  Besides, I’m likely overreacting because I have zero experience in this celebrity arena. No one ever put anything about my life into print. Hell, it was never noteworthy enough for that nonsense. But Ryder? He drives down the street and the world clamors about, eager for a glimpse into his private life.

  My husband swore his daily life is normal, even if life during the circuit is anything but. At least he’s accident free and now, he has Greg on his crew. My brother would sooner die than let his friend down.

  With a sigh, I release any niggling doubts as I pop out of the cab in front of the luxurious Charlotte hotel. Talk about swanky. No wonder the team doesn’t mind spending a few nights here. It’s practically palatial.

  My phone buzzes in my purse. Another message from Mr. Givens. That makes the third one today, all equally cryptic but claiming that we need to sit down and talk as soon as possible. All I know is Mr. Givens works for Ryder in some capacity. Beyond that, it’s a mystery.

  Ryder also left me a message, telling me he has a plan for us. One I will want to know about immediately.

  Knowing my man’s romantic inclinations, it’s likely some post-race soiree, celebrating his win and our marriage.

  One thing I know for certain. After two weeks without him, I know being with Ryder is the right choice. The only choice. To hell with preconceived notions.

  My heart wins.

  I duck into the lobby bathroom to change into a sexy slip of a dress and apply fresh lipstick. I’m no fool. Ryder has his pick of women, but I’m going to drive home the point that he made the best choice, and a dress that hugs all my assets is just the ticket. Besides, the look on his face as his eyes travel the length of my body—I’m hot just envisioning it. It’s been two weeks since the best sex of my life, and I’m ready for another helping.

  Here’s hoping Ryder doesn’t have some weird belief about no sex before a race. I’ve heard stranger things before.

  Ryder left his suite number and the code word to get me past the front desk staff, but I’m coy when they inquire who I am, claiming to be an old friend. It’s true. We are old friends, along with being the hottest lovers on the planet. But these people don’t need to know that bit of information. Unfortunately, he isn’t answering the phone in his suite, so I flash the clerk a smile and head for the hotel lounge.

  A glass of wine will do wonders to soothe my nerves while I track down my husband. Dialing his cell phone, I hear his phone ringing from inside the bar.

  Isn’t that a bit of luck?

  Glancing to my left, my heart sinks.

  Looks like my luck ran out.

  So much for tabloids being bullshit.

  Not ten feet away sits Ryder, his hands grasping Mandi across the table. With trembling fingers, I dial his number again, desperate to witness his reaction. Maybe it’s that I don’t want to believe what I’m seeing, or perhaps it’s some leftover masochism from my youth, but I can’t leave without knowing.

  My heart shatters when he gives the phone a quick glance before silencing the call and returning to his conversation.

  This is what it feels like for someone to make a complete fool of you. It was gut-wrenching to watch my mother endure this treatment. To be on the receiving end is far, far worse.

  Breathing is increasingly difficult with each passing moment, but I jerk when the bartender inquires about my drink order. “Nothing, thank you,” I manage before dashing toward the front entrance, my suitcase wobbling precariously behind me.

  So much for surprising Ryder. I guess he figured since I wouldn’t be arriving until Monday that he was free to do as he pleased. With whomever he pleased.

  My phone rings and I answer it without looking. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Hammond, this is Mr. Givens. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Who are you?” I snap, in no mood to beat around the bush, especially where Ryder Gray is concerned.

  “Mr. Gray’s attorney.”

  I’ve heard enough. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later.” It’s all I can manage, the tears bouncing off my phone’s screen.

  Suddenly, it all makes sense. His lawyer, desperate to speak with me. Ryder refusing to acknowledge our nuptials or wear his ring. The articles detailing Mandi and Ryder’s reconciliation all culminating in what I just witnessed in the lobby restaurant.

  Ryder didn’t miss me. He needed me in Charlotte to discuss a quick annulment, softened by a cash payout, no doubt, if I go away quietly.

  This is the stuff of television reality shows, only this time, it is my reality.

  My terrible reality.

  Thankfully, the valet is able to
have a cab by the entrance within moments, and I hop into the back. My destination? The airport.

  Less than ten minutes later, my phone rings.

  Ryder.

  How quaint. He must have decided it’s bad form to ignore your wife, even if you only plan on keeping her on the docket for another few days.

  I silence his call, but he phones again. Likely Mr. Givens told him about my frantic state and he’s hoping to smooth over this mess.

  To think I thought he was different from all the other men. What a fool I am. He dangled the idea of true love in front of me and, like a fish with a shiny lure, I jumped at the chance.

  I knew better, but I did it anyway. This is absolutely the last time I believe anyone with a penis.

  By the fourth call, I realize he isn’t taking silence for an answer. “Hello, Ryder.” Funny how calm my voice sounds, considering the tempest brewing in my heart.

  “Hey, beautiful. Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”

  Liar, liar. I chew my lip, uncertain how to proceed. I want to scream at him, rail at his myriad of lies, and demand answers. Hear him admit the wicked truth and force him to explain why he would want to hurt me, of all the people in his life.

  But what’s the point? I got my answer, in no uncertain terms. I saw it with my own eyes. His additional fibs are just icing on the proverbial cake.

  So, as I’ve done since I turned eighteen and my father destroyed my family, I slip on my mask, presenting a strong front to the world. Besides, Ryder doesn’t deserve my tears. “How was qualifying?”

  “Finished first,” he boasts, and I picture his arrogant ass strutting around his suite like a peacock. Likely strutting around for Mandi’s benefit as well.

  I did not need that visual.

  “Of course you did. Ryder Gray never loses.”

  “I won with you. So, is my cheerleader going to be here tomorrow, rooting me on?”

  I almost inquire to which woman he is referring, but I bite my tongue. “Please be careful. I worry about your safety. I worry about you.” My words are the truth. Despite everything, he’s someone I’ve known the majority of my life. My brother’s best friend. A man who thinks a car moving over 200 mph around a track is the definition of excitement.