Page 142 of Forbidden Game

I do my due diligence and thank the crowd before standing off to the side to chat with the announcers about the run.

A cheer has my head swiveling back up to the screen, and I see Creep’s time finalized. My eyes drift down to sandy-haired Australian, who gives me a droll look before he stands up and lazily makes his way over to me.

“I kind of hate you right now.”

“Why?” I tilt my head with a smirk. “Because you know if I’d competed in the whole championship, I would’ve left you in the dust?”

“Yeah.”

I blink, his honesty catching me off guard.

“You better show up next year.” He pokes me in the chest.

“Just tell me you’re obsessed with me, Creep.”

“In your fucking dreams, English.” He begins to walk past me but throws his head back briefly. “Enjoy the victory while you can; I’ll be reclaiming my crown soon enough.”

I smile, triumph settling warmly in my chest as I move to take a few photos for the waiting paparazzi and answer their questions. I finish up by crouching down and shaking the hands of some fans in the front row, smiling for the numerous selfies.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and exit backstage to find the nearest toilet because I’m about to piss straight energy drink at this point.

When I exit the loo, my eyes snag on my grandfather. He stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, watching me intently. I gulp, giving him a tense wave as he nods at me.

I take one step toward him, watching him straighten, before I quickly pivot.

With breakneck speed, I take off, weaving through the smattering of people huddled backstage.

Yeah. Nah.

Don’t really want to deal with that right now.

My entire body jerks as someone yanks on my backpack. I let out a grunt as my shoulder is almost torn from its socket.

I whip my head around, ready to bite the person’s head off, but the fire dies when I look at the wiry man peering down at me.

“Mister Covington, really?” Frank admonishes.

“Worth a shot.” I grin at him, but inside I’m glaring daggers.

The man is a snake with a freakishly strong grip. He wouldn’t be my grandfather’s right hand if he didn’t anticipate my moves, though.

“I’m not sure what your plan was. You do remember we drove here.” Frank continues to keep ahold of my backpack as he leads me back through the crowds.

“There’s this really great invention called a rideshare app. Ever heard of it?”

Frank sighs and says nothing more as he returns me to my grandfather. I feel like a five-year-old who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

I open my mouth to speak, but my grandfather holds up a hand.

“Good job.”

“Thank you,” I stammer. I say nothing else, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I thought we could chat in the car back to the hospital. I figured that’s where you would want to go.” He angles his head to the side and starts walking off.

My body doesn’t move for a few seconds, catching up to the unexpected turn of events. I jog to catch up to my grandfather, narrowing my eyes at him, trying to decipher what he was playing at.

We go through the back exit, and Frank opens the door to the rental limo for us. I slip onto the fresh, black leather, my hands tight around my backpack in silence. Traffic is thick on the Strip, and I stare out at the moving lights while I wait for grandfather to make the first move.

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