Page 50 of Rush

“I kind of sent him a video of his current date hooking up with one of the guys on his team,” she admits, wincing. “I didn’t make it, though! His teammate did and I thought if Carter knew about it, maybe he’d want to share it with the girl so she doesn’t get embarrassed. He got mad at me instead for ruining his date.”

Again, I want to hit Carter upside the head. “Isla, I know you feel protective of the asshole but don’t let him treat you like shit. Please.”

Her lips form a little smile, but I recognize the look in her eyes. No matter what I say she’s determined to follow through. I open my mouth to say more right as my phone vibrates in my hand.

KANE: Your ass better be to our home in the next thirty minutes, Pretty Girl. The airport isn’t that far.

I feel the blood drain from my face even when my heart flutters anytime he calls his apartment our home. Then I recall his tone and I get angry. How dare he tell me what to do after what I found out tonight. I might be able to reconcile this huge secret he’s been keeping, but I refuse to put up with his demanding attitude tonight.

“Bring me to my place first.”

Isla gives me a reassuring smile and drives us away from the airport and back toward campus. It's nearing midnight when we get there. The lot is dark as are many of the windows in my building. Isla pulls around to the front door and pops her trunk, so I can get my bag. Now that we’re back, the adrenaline has left my body and I realize how bone tired I am. I let myself into the building and get in the elevator to my floor. The silence in the elevator is loud; the ding when it arrives on my floor makes me jump. The hallway is quiet, so quiet that I can hear the buzz of the fluorescent lighting. Placing my finger on the reader to my door, the light turns green and the lock pops open. My hand flicks the light on and I plop my bag on the floor. I make it two steps into the living room when I feel it. The live wire of electricity that always seems to be present when Jameson is nearby. Shivers run over my skin and my knees feel momentarily weak.

“Can’t outrun me forever, baby. I will always find you.”

His voice raises the hair on the back of my neck. My head snaps toward the living room where Jameson is sitting on my couch. I straighten my back when he stands, striding over to me in three large steps. I take a step back, and his eyes flash with determination and also a hint of fear.

“I asked you to come home so we could talk.”

My arms cross over my chest. “No, you demanded I come to your home to talk about something I should have already been aware of.”

His eyes close, and when they open again, there's a flicker of vulnerability that I’ve only seen in him a handful of times. It's there one second and the next it's gone, and his face hardens, his jaw clenching while his brown eyes turn molten amber.

“I was going to tell you, Sam,” he clips, his eyes narrowing on me. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“And when would that have been? When you’re in a hospital because you wrecked your car? Or when you’re lying in a ditch because some gangster didn’t get their money from your race?” The fury and panic that I had been feeling all day finally bubbles up inside me and tears pour down my cheeks. “When exactly did you think was going to be the right time to tell me that the man I’m in love with is religiously racing in underground street races where he could die. You could die, Jameson and what would Dyl–”

He’s on me in the next second, one arm banding around my waist and the other around my neck, slamming my body into his and covering my mouth with his own. The kiss he gives me is brutal. It's a fight of dominance between his tongue and mine. There is so much heat and longing that I can feel my body aching for him.

Jameson pulls back, his hands cradling my face. “Are you telling me you went off on some hairbrained expedition today and put yourself in danger because you’re worried about me, Pretty Girl?”

“No. I went to see for myself what my boyfriend was keeping from me so my mind could believe what my eyes had seen. Then I figured out the dangerous part along the way,” I argue, trying to put space between his chest and mine.

He lays his forehead against mine, his eyes closing. “I have been racing. I’m good at it. Romeo pays me well to compete a few times a year and with it I’ve been able to pay some bills and help get our garage up and running.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood all of that.” I push him away, and he looks wounded. “I supported you in high school. I may not agree with it or like you putting yourself in danger but I would have listened.”

“I didn’t want to give you a reason to stay away from me. Or to think I was dangerous to be around Dylan. I make a lot of money doing those races, Sammy. I also didn’t want you to be complicit in them should anything go wrong,” he rushes to explain, and for the first time since I walked in the door, the energy seems to run out of him.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Jameson. No matter what is ever happening with us, I would never keep Dylan from you,” I stress to him, my anger flaring once more. I thought we had made progress in this area. I thought we were building trust. “Did you talk to someone on the board of directors for the Las Vegas PWHL about me?”

His face turns to the side and I watch as his throat bobs. His jaw muscles flex under the tanned skin. “How did you know?”

I shrug, refusing to throw Isla or her cousin’s business under the bus. “Our director came to see me today. He said his friend in Vegas wanted him to ask me when I plan to enter the draft. You’re the only one I knew who was in Vegas, who cares about my dream to play in the PWHL.”

“Did you talk to them about it?” he asks, hesitation in every word, his question also exposing what he did.

My arms wrap around my waist and I glare at him, shaking my head. “I didn’t plan to enter for another year and only if I meet the requirements. Vegas would not be my first choice of where I would want to be drafted, so I don’t want to give them false hope to look out for my name.”

“I didn’t know that,” he says, his head falling forward.

“Maybe you should ask,” I throw back at him, which has his head snapping back up.

Jameson charges me, his shoulder hitting my waist as I’m lifted over his shoulder, and then he’s striding down my hallway toward my bedroom.

“What the hell, Kane! Put me down!” I flail in his hold and am rewarded with a swift smack to my ass cheek.

I growl against his back and hear his deep manly laugh in response. “You can’t cart me off just because I’m pissed at you.”