Page 3 of Drive To Survive

“Mr. Kane, please step back. We need to sedate him.”

I shook my head. Winced. Fisted the covers. “No sedation.”

I took a deep breath, slowing my heart rate, like I had a hundred times on the track, my body disciplined to comply with my every demand.

I was in control. Me. Not this hospital. Not my body.

Me.

I controlled everything.

I saw the needle, the point butted up against the cannula in my arm.

“No,” I proclaimed as darkness descended.

The sound of a bird making a racket right outside my window dragged me back to consciousness. I blinked, winced, blinked again.

Turning my head, I found Tate slumped in a chair, Jared in the one next to him. Their eyes were closed, chests steadily rising and falling.

“Hey.”

This time my voice came out stronger, more like me. Tate’s eyes sprang open. He punched Jared’s arm, and the pair of them got to their feet and drew closer.

“How you feeling?” Jared asked, looming over me, dark bruises shadowing his eyes.

“Is it true?” I bit out.

“Is what true?” Tate asked.

“Don’t screw with me, Flynn. Is. It. Fucking. True?”

“Calm the fuck down.” Jared touched my arm, and I felt it.

Well, at least I wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down.

I twisted my head, wincing at the sharp pain cutting through my temple. I locked my gaze on Jared. “Give it to me straight. No bullshit. Am I done?”

A rivulet of sweat trickled down my neck as I waited for his answer. He traded a glance with Tate, then refocused on me, his dark brown eyes unblinking.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re done.”

NICO

18 Months Later…

“Sweet Jesus. Look at this goddamn mess.”

I rolled over in bed, groaning as some bastard took a hammer to my head. An empty glass thumped to the floor. I grunted against the memories crowding my mind.

A party. Girls. Lots and lots of girls. Booze. A fire pit in the backyard. Naked women swimming in my pool despite the freezing winter temperatures. Sex. A threesome—no, foursome. A band playing, a local up-and-coming rock band with a grungy sound reminiscent of Nirvana in their heyday. I bet this band made it, too. The lead singer had women dripping off him all night.

“Nico!”

Frowning, I opened my eyes a crack and squinted. Met with the twin disapproving glares of Tate and Jared, I closed them again.

“You know where the exit is,” I muttered. “No party poopers allowed.”

A girlish giggle next to me was followed by a screeching of “Oh my God! You’re Tate Flynn! And Jared Kane, too!”

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