Drive By Daniel Pink Novels & Stories

The sales person gave me the bill and I paid the we walked out of the mall. "Oh! A cousin?" "Nope." "I might be coming over tomorrow." "Wait, are you jealous? You wanna see your 'competition'." I joked as I stood beside my car. Daniel rolled his eyes and replied, "I'm not jealous. I can't be." I chuckled and got into my car then told him bye. I drove to my house with a lot of thoughts. When I reached, I noticed it was quiet. Something unusual when everyone was home. Cue the eye roll.

“No. We’re both coming.” We. That word still did strange things to me sometimes. Not dramatic things. Just small internal shifts I tried not to examine too closely. Twenty minutes later we were in the car. Daniel drove while reading through files Marcus had sent over to his tablet at red lights, which felt illegal somehow even though I was pretty sure men like Daniel technically considered traffic laws optional. I watched his face while he read. That was enough to tell me whatever Marcus found wasn’t good. Not scandalously bad. Personal bad. His expression flattened slightly in that specific way it did when something disappointed him deeply instead of merely irritating him.

The gravel beneath her scraped against her palms as she punched the ground in frustration. Inside the car, Daniel sat stiffly, his jaw clenched. His dark eyes narrowed as he stared out at the woman blocking his path. “What the hell is this nonsense?” he muttered, irritation lacing his tone. The driver, an older man with a calm demeanor, glanced at Daniel nervously. “I’ll check, sir.” “Hurry up,” Daniel snapped, loosening his tie in frustration. “I don’t have all night.” The driver stepped out, his polished shoes clicking against the asphalt as he approached Irene cautiously.

Daniel had not texted. Not to ask if she got home. Not to say he was safe. Not even to say goodbye again. Nothing. And she understood. Daniel had finally done the one thing he had never done before. He had let her go. --- Across the city, Daniel drove with no destination. Windows down. Music off. Thoughts loud. He had imagined pain before. Prepared for it. Practiced bravery in the mirror like it was a speech he might one day have to give. But no one told him it would feel like this.

he said in his deep voice. Surprised, I looked out the window and saw his car parked outside. When I reached the car, the driver opened the door for me. To my shock, Daniel was sitting in the passenger seat. He never came to pick me up himself, always sending the driver. I wondered what had changed. “Ma’am.” The driver waited for me to get in. I nodded and climbed into the car. Daniel was engrossed in his phone, not even glancing up. Wanting to appear equally busy, I took out my phone and started scrolling.

Anxiety and panic rising inside of me. How ironic that now I’m the one who wants to talk. When did that flip? “I’ve nothing else to say,” he says coldly, he turns and heads off toward his car, now parked on the runway about twenty feet away, I note Daniel sliding dutifully out of the driver’s door with a confused look on his face. He obviously had orders to drive Jake’s pride and joy here and is wondering what the hell is eating his ass. Daniel looks him over, noting the tense scowl, the rigid posture, and the way he completely blanks my existence without a backward glance. Daniel looks at me hesitantly and I glimpse, for a moment, an almost worried expression. My stomach lurches.

He walked with the faint stiffness of someone whose body remembered every position it had been bent into for the last forty-eight hours. I stayed motionless. He didn’t see me. He crossed toward the black Range Rover parked in the executive bay, Daniel’s personal vehicle, the one with the custom plate ending in 447. The one Daniel never let anyone else drive. Not assistants. Not drivers. Not even me, back when that would have meant something. Edwin unlocked it with the fob. The lights flashed once, brief, proprietary. He slid behind the wheel. The engine purred to life, low, expensive, unmistakable.

Hayden exclaimed. "Mate, we could die of starvation if he eats up all our food," Daniel argued. "Think sensibly, Daniel. Stop acting recklessly and regret it later," Hayden muttered. "I think Hayden's right, Daniel. Even though you—" Hayden looked at me sharply, as if not letting me finish my sentence. I had no idea why Hayden cut me off. Did nobody here know that Daniel was a Black Panther shifter, except for me and Hayden? GROWLS! GROWLS!

I couldn't even hear Lisa's loud voice calling after me till I got outside, rushed into my car, and started my engine but stopped when I suddenly saw Daniel standing in front of my car as if to stop me from going. My driver had brought my car to Open Medical Hospital earlier after Daniel took me out because I knew I would go out and Daniel wouldn't be there all day to take me out. “Come out,” Daniel's voice rang out angrily. I didn't bother to argue with him or say anything that since I knew he wouldn't listen to me. My hands were trembling as I opened the door and came down, my face pale, and I couldn't say anything. “Do you want to get yourself killed? Is that why you want to drive the car

THE NIGHT I BROKE The drive to the venue felt unreal. My hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that at some point I couldn’t feel my fingertips. This was Daniel’s job, driving, directing, leading. He always drove us there, always cracked jokes to ease my anxiety before these events, his hand usually resting on my thigh, his cologne filling up the car, his voice teasing me about us arriving fashionably late.Tonight… it was just me.