Page 74 of Wrecked
“Are you okay?”
After releasing another heavy breath, he says, “You're too good. I'm a fuck-up, and you're too good.”
This time, it's my turn to sigh. “It's two-thirty in the morning. Where are you?” It's only now that I register all of the other sounds in the background. People are yelling and laughing, and there's some sort of music playing. He must have gone to the race like he said he would. As the uneasiness tries to turn my stomach into knots, I ask again, “Cam, where are you?”
“Shit went down tonight.” There are some scuffling sounds like he's adjusting his position. “The other driver wasn't happy about losing. All hell broke out.”
“What? Are you okay?” I'm on my feet in no time, turning on the light to find some clothes as I think the worst. Was he arrested? Is he safe?
“I need you . . . I need you to come and get me.”
I close my eyes for a second. Despite everything that has happened, and even though I know it's probably messed up, those words about being needed tug at my heart.
“Where are you?” I softly repeat my earlier question.
He mumbles off some address which tells me he's not in jail, thankfully. I think I know where it is, but I tell him to text it to me anyway.
We hang up, I get dressed, and then I'm out the door.
I know I've made it to the right place when I see a group of guys standing around, blocking the road that leads to an industrial area that's probably abandoned at this time of night. One of the guys walks over to my window when I pull up, and he leans down to talk to me.
“What can I do for ya, sweet-cheeks?”
“I'm here for Cam,” I tell him, hoping he knows who I'm talking about, although I'm sure he most likely does.
“What do you want with him?” he asks skeptically.
Sitting back, I try to appear more relaxed. “I'm here to pick him up.”
I said it loud enough for all of them to hear, so when he glances back at the group, one of the familiar-looking guys gives him a curt head nod.
“All right,” he says to me. “But only the racers and certain people are allowed to drive in, so you'll have to park out here.”
I want to argue with him that I'd just be driving in and out and don't plan on staying, plus I don't really want to go walking around on my own. But it would probably take longer to navigate a car through the crowd, so instead, I just nod.
When he straightens up and taps on my roof, I go park across the street and get out.
Despite the fact there are people scattered over several streets, the crowd is not nearly as large as it was the other time I came. I guess all of the races would probably be over by now. Plus, if there had been a fight, I'm sure it would have scared some people off.
I try to ignore the crawling sensations skittering across my skin from the suggestive leering in my direction and the catcalls that reach my ears as I walk through the area trying to find Cam.
A familiar pair of hazel eyes watch me as I walk past, her head slowly moving with every step I take, reminding me of a snake hidden in the shadows waiting to strike its victim. I ignore her and the guy she's with, who's pawing at her skin. I'm just grateful she's attached herself to someone other than Cam.
Unfortunately, after a few more steps, she calls out to me. “It's Jasmine, right?”
Sucking in a breath, I turn around and paste on a smile. “That's right.”
“You looking for Cam?” Her eyes do a slow stroll down my body and back up again.
“Yep,” I answer, popping the p. “Have you seen him?” I'd rather be relying on anyone else to give me information about Cam, even the guy she's standing with, who now has his eyes attached to my legs. But since I've already been roped into a conversation with her, I wait for her reply.
Brandy stares at me, her eyes calculating something beneath the surface, and just when I think she won't even answer me, she jerks her chin to the right. “Last I saw, he was over there.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and turn around to leave. But she's not done yet.
“You don't belong here, you know.” I stop mid-step but don't turn around. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing the frown forming between my brows. “Cam needs distractions. That's what this is to him. He's one of us, and you're not.” His angry words from earlier come to mind, and as much as I don't want to hear any truth in what she said, the combination of both their words sends a trickle of uncertainty through me. “And once he gets done with sampling the plain and boring life with you, he'll come racing back to m– us.”
My eyes close as questions begin traveling through my thoughts. Is that what he's already doing? Making his way back to them? Toher?
