I tear my gaze away from Remi and fix him with a look. “What’s your name again?”
His confidence falters the second my attention snaps back to him.
“R-Renji,” he stammers. “Renji Kuroda.”
“Listen, Renji,” I say, leaning in, “never rat out family that actually gives a damn. Even if you think they owe you.”
The boy shrugs. “I’m the reason he’s here, anyway. Told him what a pussy he’s been.”
I can’t help but laugh at his bluntness. “So, since you don’t seem to hold anything back, tell me. Is he a good guy? Because Remi isn’t the kind of girl you burn.”
It’s his turn to lean in, eyes flicking side to side like he’s about to share a secret. “We know who you are, Valentina Cain.” His voice carries that easy confidence of someone who’s seen more than he should. “My brother’s a good guy. Our family too—about as good as yours, all things considered.”
I’m not sure how to feel. Part of me is impressed by his nerve. The rest of me, though? Uneasy. But before I can respond, shouting breaks out near the track. Our heads snap around just as two men square off, and in the next heartbeat, one of them pulls a gun.
Bullets ping off the chain-link fence as the crowd screams and scatters.
Mira dives behind the bleachers while Renji and I bolt for the gate. I curse under my breath, fumbling with my crutches in the crush of bodies, but adrenaline and the need to reach Remi drive me forward.
A round slams into the metal just feet away. I hit the ground hard, pain ripping through every half-healed inch of me.
“Shit!”
I grit my teeth, shove myself up, and finally spot Remi, thrashing against Ryuji’s hold. He’s thrown himself over her, shielding her with his body.
“Get off me!” she yells, loud enough to rise over the chaos.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he grunts, taking a punch to the ribs for his trouble. And maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s a ghost of a grin on his face.
The gunfire dies as abruptly as it started. Three men tackle the shooter to the ground, and the track goes silent.
I exhale, drop my head into my hands, and let out a shaky laugh.
Time to go the fuck home.
Ten
MAKSIM
Aknock at the door has me pausing mid-chew. I glance at the wall clock, set my bowl on the counter, grab the HK from the entryway table, and head for the door without bothering with a shirt.
Sure, I could check the peephole and see who’s got the audacity to show up this late, but I’m in the mood for a little entertainment, and tonight, I decide to play Russian roulette with fate.
The door swings open, and I nearly drop the gun, half-afraid it’ll go off just to spite me.
Valentina stands in the hallway. Her hair is a mess, her jacket is ripped, and a fresh cut slices across her chin. Before I can process, she rushes me, crutches clattering as her arms wrap around my bare chest.
Over her shoulder, I catch sight of Remi down the hall, propping the elevator doors open. But there’s no time for questions. With a nod, she slips inside, and the doors slide closed behind her.
I grip Valentina by the shoulders and step back enough to look at her. “What are you doing here? And why do you look like hell?”
She scoffs like she’s insulted. “Thanks…for that. Great to see you too.”
I tug her inside and set the HK on the table. “You know what I mean, Val. You look like you were rolling in the goddamn dirt.” I tilt her face, studying the small gash. “What the fuck happened to you? To both of you?”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “Remi and I were at a race. The speedway across town. A fight broke out—people running, chaos, that sort of thing.”
Heat flares at the back of my neck. I can’t tell if I’m pissed that she was caught in the middle of a stampede when she just got out of the hospital not even a month ago or relieved she’s standing here at all.
