Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother #4) - Lisa Helen Gray Page 0,72
road.
When I still can’t hear what she’s saying, she points to the distance. Up ahead, a buggy kart is facing forward down a ditch, shrubs covering the front of the cage. There’s another buggy not far up, still on the path.
Shit!
We skid to a stop behind the buggy at the top of the bank. In seconds, I have my straps undone and my helmet ripped off, dropping it onto my seat as I get out.
I reach the top, coming to a stop and placing my hands on my head. “What the hell?”
A head pops up from the car. “Hayden? Hayden, is that you?” Clayton yells.
I exhale, dropping my arms to my sides as I take another step down the bank, slipping when my feet hit the mud slide.
“Shit,” I curse as I nearly topple over. I steady myself, walking around to the driver’s side, my jaw dropping at the sight of Clayton tied up to the steering wheel. He stops trying to loosen the knot with his teeth and lifts his head up.
I step back when he levels me with a furious glare, his lips tight.
I can feel his temper flaring, so when he opens his mouth to most likely yell at me, I step forward, holding my hands up in surrender.
“I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that you wanted to come. I warned you, more than once, so really, you only have yourself to blame for this predicament.”
“Most people would rush to help the person stranded and tied to a vehicle,” he points out, his tone coated in annoyance.
I shrug as an idea occurs to me, and I pull out my phone, absently answering him. “I’m not most people.”
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