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Arms wrapped around him and pulled him back to the truck. The next thing he knew he was pushed into the passenger seat and driven through the entrance, the chain link fence closing them in.
Carson slammed the breaks near the entrance to the restaurant and Neil immediately jumped out of the truck. He was in some major need of calm and there was only one place that never failed to give him a sense of peace.
He slipped the key into the front door and barged inside but Carson was right on his heels as he stormed right to the kitchen.
He walked into the immaculate space to the island and placed his palms face down on the steel and hung his head.
“Are you all right?” Carson’s soft voice carried over his shoulder.
He inhaled deeply and regulated his breathing. Damn those reporters. He’d tried his hardest to keep the media attention away from him and focus it on the site. He wanted the business to thrive because of the hard work and the food, not the gossip associated with the owner.
Once he’d calmed down a bit, he turned his focus to the woman who stood quietly behind him. He’d seen the stricken look on her face when the reporter has asked about someone getting killed.
He needed answers. And he wasn’t going to let her skirt around the issue. Not anymore.
“It’s time for you to trust me.”
Her mouth opened, as if she was going to speak, but she snapped it shut again.
“Carson, tell me.”
“I used to race.” Her voice was barely audible.
“That I already know.” He waited. She grew visibly more uncomfortable with every passing second.
“What you don’t know is that I might have been the one who found that spot to race at. It’s why I recognized the red clay.”
That wasn’t so bad. So she found a spot. That probably made her very popular with the group.
“And when Diaz took over running things, he…” She paused and squeezed her body a little tighter. “He might have taken over from me.”
He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you get it? I was Diaz. I ran things. I’m the one who started things up when I was seventeen years old. And I killed someone.”
“How could you kill someone? I don’t believe that.”
Carson might be a hot-head but she wasn’t a murderer. Of that he knew right down to his soul.
“I didn’t kill him, but I was responsible for his death. It was on my watch.”
So he wasn’t the only one with skeletons in their closet. And he had to admit he never expected such hulking skeletons to rattle inside Carson’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It isn’t something you open conversation with.” She stepped back and held out her hand. “Hello, I’m an irresponsible street hooligan that helped orchestrate the death of my friend. Please, hire me.”
He made his way around the island toward her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close.
“You said you didn’t want your personal life to overshadow this project. If people knew we were involved…if people knew…I’d never be taken seriously.” Her tears fell in thick streams and torturous guilt shone in her eyes. He heart squeezed at her pain.
“Carson?”
She buried her head against his chest, unwilling to look him in the face. “You think you’re such a bad person? You think you’re not a role model? Look at me.” She pulled away and flung her arms out to her sides. “I am a woman who will never be more than a street racer who can’t carry on the family name. My father will never let me forget it.”
“Didn’t you just tell me that I’m not my past?” He pulled her close again and stroked her hair. We’re the same. Both of us trying to outrun our past.”
She raised her head and looked into his eyes.
