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“Hank, as in the no-good lawyer ex-friend of our father who took advantage of him?”
“Yes, that Hank.” Rory sounded tired. “He didn’t want to call you, so he called me and told me Dad had left another will and I had to go see this guy Otto in Munich. I told him I needed to talk to you, but Hank insisted I go right away. Dalton, it’s bad. Really bad.”
Bad? After today, what could be worse? Greer slowed her pace in the open hallway. They hadn’t heard her coming. She could announce herself or continue to remain quiet and possibly hear more. Her moral compass was telling her to make herself known, but something in Rory’s tone and Dalton’s rigid posture made her stay quiet. Something major was going on, and it might have to do with the incident. Or, at least, that was the excuse she was going to use if anyone asked. She was wimping out. That was the truth. She didn’t want Dalton to turn and spy her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t part of this situation. He was livid with her, and she didn’t want to give him any opportunity to yell at her.
“What’s bad? The fact you didn’t bother to call and tell me what was going on?” Dalton demanded.
“No. Okay, I’m sorry about that, but Hank had me freaked out, and it turns out he was right.” Rory ran a hand over his face.
Dalton crossed his arms over his chest. “Right about what?”
“Dad. He made another will and left it with a lawyer in Munich. Otto Dietrich
“Another will? What are you talking about?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Hank said Dad wanted to change his will, which was fine, and Hank would help him, but Dad said he knew Hank wouldn’t like what he was going to do, so he was going to go to someone else. Hank just thought Dad was being stupid. You know how he got sometimes. Hank didn’t hear anything more about it, so he assumed Dad had gotten over it, and that was that. Except that this guy Otto reached out to him earlier this week with the new will.”
Dalton suddenly whirled around and stared at Greer, thunder written across his face.
“Er, sorry but my room is down there.” She pointed to a spot just beyond where Dalton and his brother were standing.
She willed the color to stay out of her cheeks as she met his fierce gaze. His eyes were the color of steel, and his mouth was set in a straight line. A shiver passed over her skin. She just knew she wanted out of there, and fast.
“Greer,” Dalton said in a tight voice. “Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.” He turned and gestured to the door behind his brother and pulled out his key. Rory shot her a look of surprise and then mimicked a phone to his ear with his fingers.
She offered him a tiny nod and walked past before letting herself into her room. As soon as the door clicked closed, she leaned against it, taking deep breaths. Ironic that Dalton was in the room next to her. What were the chances?
She’d love to be a fly on the wall in the room next door. What was in the new will? How would that change Hughes Racing? Not that it was any of her business, but it was interesting for sure. Connor had died at least six months ago. She’d thought about reaching out to Dalton and Rory when she’d heard but decided against it. A new will at this point? That could definitely change things. She was tempted to put her ear against the shared wall to see what she could hear. Totally unprofessional, she scolded herself as she walked over to the sliding glass doors and gazed out.
Two minutes back in the racing world, and she was already getting sucked in. That was the problem with racing. It was an addiction. Every driver knew it; every team member lived it. There was nothing like the adrenaline high of hurtling down the track at obscene speeds while chasing a win. Just being here was opening up old wounds.
She squared her shoulders. She could deal with it. With everything. At least that was what she would keep telling herself, but like any kind of addiction, there was no halfway with racing. It just didn’t exist. You were either in altogether or not at all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“What?” the voice demanded.
He licked his lips. “It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?”
“I tried to run Dalton off the road so he would be out of commission, but it didn’t work.” His stomach rolled. He hated this. Hated that he’d gotten himself into this situation. Not that it was his fault. It wasn’t. He had nothing to do with Moore’s death. All he’d done was sabotage the car. He had no idea Moore was going to die.
“Let me get this straight. I told you to take care of Dalton and you decided trying to run him off the road was the best solution? He’s a fucking professional race car driver. What part of that did you miss?”
“I thought?—”
“That’s where you made your mistake. Don’t think. Do something else. Find a way to shut up Dalton Hughes. Dennis’s death has to be seen as an accident. No more mistakes.”
He opened his mouth to protest but his words were cut off by the dial tone. Rage overwhelmed him, making him want to hurl the phone across the room. How had he gotten here? All he’d done was rack up a significant gambling debt. When he’d been offered a chance to wipe the slate clean, he hadn’t hesitated. Dennis Moore’s death wasn’t his business. None of the rest of it was. How the hell was he supposed to fix this? He should run. Running was a good option. He could hide. But where? And what would he live on?
He cursed long and loud and maybe even stomped his foot like a toddler. Then he glanced around making sure no one was around to witness his juvenile behavior. Damn hotel had more nooks and crannies. Damn hard to make sure he was alone. The question remained; How the hell was he going to get Dalton Hughes to shut the hell up?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dalton couldn’t fathom what his brother was telling him. It just didn’t compute. A new will? What the hell was going on? And then there was Greer. What the hell was she doing here? He rubbed his face with his hands. He couldn’t deal with any more shit. But, damn, if she didn’t look good. Really good. He’d immediately felt a tug at his heart when he saw her at the bar, the same tug he’d always felt when they were together.
Damned inconvenient to be sure. He didn’t have time for this. What the hell was going on that his life had turned to shit? Were the stars misaligned? Did he insult some minor, vengeful god? Maybe he needed to sacrifice a lamb or something. It was like he was cursed.
