Page 9 of Trip

Banks leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Laurel’s got her hands full with some new shipment of vintage comics. I figured I’d let her have her moment of glory without me in the way before I invaded the place and took up residence.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So what, you decided to come here and stir up trouble instead?”

“Trouble’s already brewing, ain’t it?” Banks shrugged lazily, kicking his boots up on the table. “Figured I’d just sit back and watch it boil over.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “And what makes you think I won’t drag you into whatever mess is coming?”

Banks laughed, the sound surprisingly light in the otherwise heavy atmosphere. “Oh, I don’t doubt you will. But you might want to deal with King first. Sounds like he’s got his... hands full.”

I ignored the jab and turned toward the bar. Pouring myself a drink, I tried to shake off the tension gripping my shoulders. Banks watched me in silence, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something sharper, something more observant.

“You’re wound tight,” he finally said. “What’s got your head in a twist?”

I took a slow sip of the amber liquid, savoring the burn before meeting his gaze. “Ansel.”

Banks let out a low whistle. “That dickhead has always been good at raising hell. What’s he done now?”

“It’s not what he’s done,” I said, setting the glass down. “It’s what he’s asking me to do.”

“Let me guess,” Banks said. “He wants you to clean up his mess.”

Taking a swig of my beer, I touched my nose.

Banks shook his head and stood. “Gotta say, brother, I don’t trust the fucker. Hated him from the moment you mentioned him. Whatever he’s sellin’, my advice. Don’t buy.”

“Wasn’t going to, but I can’t let him destroy another driver’s career.”

“That driver ain’t your responsibility, Trip.”

“I know.”

“TRIP!” King roared as Bailey adjusted her shirt, walking out of King’s office and winking at me. Grabbing my beer, I headed for his office, only to find the man glaring at me as I walked in.

“Know you’ve been in a coma for ten months, but a closed door still means stay the fuck out!”

“Sorry about that.” I smirked, taking a seat.

“How did the date go?”

“He’s hiding something. I think his company might be in trouble.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Something he said about risks not paying off, crashing and burning, and his career on the line.”

“And the driver?”

“If I don’t agree, my bet is he will use his driver as a scapegoat like he used me. Ansel has no problem throwing an innocent under the bus as long as it protects his bottom line.”

“So what are you going to do?” King asked.

Looking at my president, I shrugged. “Looks like I’m going to New Orleans.”

“Well, you’re not going alone. Talked with everyone after you left. This is too big for one brother. My gut’s telling me shit’s about to get real, fast. Already called Gator. He’s expecting us.”

“So, Christmas in the Big Easy?”

King shook his head. “No. Christmas in the mountains, New Year in New Orleans.”

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