Page 23 of Rear View
I tapped the doorframe, flying high when I aimed for the hall, until I spotted the preppy blond guy who was heading in. He gave me a once-over before he foundRyah. My girl’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, and my chest tightened all-fuckin’-over again when he bent down and encased her in a hug.
Well, shit.
Chapter Five
Ryah
It’d been three days since Xavier and the hospital. Since my faceless stalker had texted as I sat, surrounded by everyone in my hospital bed, trying to control the rising panic his voicemail had induced while his words tracked in my head on repeat.
Unknown: Where are you, Ryah Jane? Where arrrrre you?
He knew. He always knew. Knew where I was, when I was there and when I wasn’t. I’d been away for one day. One. Damn. Day. And he’d noticed. Just needed to remind me. Needed to keep me in my place; keep me scared. If I could just figure out who he was…
My heart pounded in my ears as I stared at my email to Officer Maynard, my finger trembling where it hovered over the send button. I’d typed the message hours ago. Had attached the voice file, but like my call just days before, I didn’t know why I’d bother. I was so sick of being dismissed. Sick of living that way. Sick of feeling alone.
The time since my accident had been spent in bed orexactly where I was, curled up on the couch in Z’s and my living room while I stared at our thirty-two-inch, hand-me-down TV watching rom-coms on repeat. Anything to feel better…or distract me.
Sunlight streamed through the window to my left, spotlighting the disaster zone before me. My breakfast dishes littered the chipped oak coffee table, my housecoat and socks were piled on the parquet floor. I’d barely moved, seeing as the bruises along my ribs felt as crappy as they looked, but I had improved. At least it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore. Or talk. Or exist.
My gaze flicked to my laptop again, to the tape over the camera there because I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Just click send, Ryah. Just. Click. Send.
“Just click send,” Zoya scolded from the kitchen where she was making a sandwich under the obnoxiously bright fluorescent light. “Stand tall, girl.”
Stand tall. I held my breath, then tapped the button. The whoosh sound when it vanished into the internet ether filled my laptop’s speakers. My shoulders sagged.
An email landed in my inbox, and I jolted. When I saw Professor Barlowe’s name, I closed the page. He’d been filled in on my situation already and I did not have the emotional bandwidth for him, so he was gonna need to wait.
Zoya dropped down beside me, breadcrumbs sloughing onto her hoodie while the couch squeaked under her. The thing had seen better days. It was clean, but the spring poking my hip did nothing for my comfort. I shifted to the left, giving her a clear view of my screen.
Her eyes went wide. “What’s this?”
I bit my lip and laughed.“Owwwww,”I howled, holding my ribs as a sharp pain shot through them.
Zoya’s face twisted. “That looked like it hurt.”
I mock scowled. “Because it did.”
She fluttered her lashes. “I think there might be a rally car driver out there who’d be willing to put you back together.”
My face heated.
She tipped her head toward my laptop, where browser after browser about rally racing stood open. It wasn’t like NASCAR or Formula One. They all drove at speeds I couldn’t even fathom, but rally had obstacles. Cars careened through tracks and forests, and cities. Over snow, sand and gravel. It was fast and wild and…oh myGod.
Reaching over, she clicked play on a video.
The camera panned, following Xavier’s car as it flew along a gravel road, hit a small incline, then went airborne for at least sixty feet. The engine blared a high-pitched cracking rumble, a dust cloud kicking high behind him when he landed. The angle cut to inside the car, jumping between his face and the vehicle’s body.
Alec flipped a page on the pad he held. “Two long left, three hundred, into four right sharp.”
“What’s that mean?” Zoya asked.
I lifted a shoulder, because I had not one clue.
Xavier’s arctic eyes were focused and fixed straight ahead. And those eyes, sweet lord, they did things to me. His two feet worked the pedals while his right hand snapped the shifter forward when he cut the wheel, taking them through a turn. Rocks and dirt flew as they drifted through the corner. When they hit the straightaway, his speed climbed fast. 180 KPH. 185. 190.
God, it was sexy on another level, but I still couldn’t help it when my stomach twisted.
