“But deep down, we all know he wanted back in the game,” Banks said. “Was even making moves to return.”
“You’re talking about racing.”
Enigma nodded. “Yeah, but the accident stopped him.”
“I know. It was all over the news.”
Gunner shook his head. “Not that accident, C.C.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sighing, Banks spoke up, “We were on our way home from delivering Hell’s Breath up and down the east coast when we happened upon a big accident on the interstate. Someone cut Trip off trying to avoid the accident, and Trip flew over the car. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. By the time Hawk and I got to him, we knew it was bad. Trip was life-flighted straight to Rosewood Memorial Hospital. None of us expected him to live. He died several times before the docs could stabilize him.”
“He was in a coma for close to ten months before he woke up,” Scribe stated, then sighed. “He cheated death, C.C., and it’s given him a new lease on life. Only he’s being cautious. Which isn’t like Trip. He’s a lot like you. Stubborn, fearless, lives for the adrenaline rush. Instead, he’s being careful and not taking any chances.”
“What do you want me to do about that?”
Scribe leaned forward, his voice low, charged with a mixture of frustration and hope. “We need you to remind him who he is, C.C. Show him that the fire hasn’t gone out, that he’s still the same Trip who lived for the rush, who thrived in chaos.”
“You wantmeto claim him!”
Cameron grinned. “Now she’s gettin’ it!”
Chapter Sixteen
Trip
“It’s only a little scratch,” Gator groaned, storming into The Bourbon Bar with me hot on his heels.
“Little scratch my ass!” I shouted. “I’ve got teeth marks all around my arm. If I get rabies, I’m beating your ass!”
“Can’t get rabies from an alligator,” Worm muttered, walking past me as he plopped down into a chair. “There is, however, a whole slew of other diseases like—”
“Worm!” Gator growled, silencing the know-it-all brother.
“Poor little fella.” Thore walked by, holding and petting the varmint that tried to take my arm off as if it were a small puppy. “Did that mean man scare you? I’ll protect you, Norbert.”
“Boss!” Donut cried. “Thore named him!”
“NO!” Gator spun around, pointing his finger in Thore’s face. “You are not keeping it!”
“But, boss,” Thore whined. “He’s just a little fella. The bigger boys will pick on him.”
“It’s damn near the size of a boogie board!” I shouted.
“Exactly,” Thore quipped. “He’s a baby!”
Growling, Gator said nothing as he glared at the big guy.
Thore’s shoulders dropped. “Fine. I’ll call the game warden and have her pick him up. But I ain’t gonna be happy about it!” the man shouted, storming off.
“Now ya did it.” Romeo chuckled, slapping me on the back as he walked over to the bar. “Thore ain’t never gonna forgive you, Trip.”
“I don’t know why he went in after it anyway,” Tank said. “Aren’t they territorial?”
“Yes.” Worm nodded. “And even if Thore was to return the critter to his habitat, the gator would find another because Trip ruined his eco-system.”
“I didn’t ruin shit!” I shouted, pointing my finger at the two fuckers who dragged me out of my bed to go fucking fishing. “You two told me to stick my hand in the crevice. So it’s all your fault.”
