“Funny.”
Valentina laughs and steals her cousin’s drink, taking a long sip before handing it back and moving toward the end of the front row. Her fingers glide over the hood of a green Supra.
“I wasn’t trying to keep a secret from you,” she admits. “It’s just…this is mine. Not my parents’. Not the family’s. Butours.” She glances past me at Remi, then back. “And maybe I wanted to show you in my own way. On my terms. When I knew you and I were something…just as special.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
I don’t know what it is about this woman. What she’s done to me. She makes me feel things I’ve never felt. Makes me want to bemore—dangerously more. Not better. Not softer.
Just morehers.
Whatever that means, and whatever it costs.
“This one’s yours?” I ask, motioning to the car that’s grabbed her attention. Chrome letters spell outPoison Ivyacross the side, purple accents catching the light. A pair of stamped lips sits beside it, with a grinning skull and crossbones nestled in the center.
“That’s my baby,” she whispers with pride.
“You have quite the collection here. Andthisis your favorite?”
She walks her fingers along the hood. “You don’t need a supercar to win a street race, Maxy. Raw power means nothing without control. And custom control is everything. You just need a machine that listens when you talk to it. And one that surprises every poor bastard who thinks he’s got you figured out.”
She tips her chin toward Remi, still leaning on her Demon. “That’s where she comes in. Remi can take just about anything and turn it into a goddamn monster. Give her a wrench, a shitbox, and a few hours, and you’ll have a car that eats pavement.”
I glance over at Remi, who raises her can in a silent salute, smug as all hell.
Val steps in close again. “This one’s got my name on it. But she runsand winsbecause of her.”
Again, the pieces fall into place. Kai loved working and tuning his bike, while a little Remi hovered nearby, wide-eyed, greasy fingers twitching with curiosity. The memory of her smashing his exhaust with a hammer, in her attempts at being just like him, makes a small laugh rise from my throat.
“So, this is what you wanted to share with me?” I rest against the hood of her car and pull her between my legs, arms around her waist. Always needing to touch her. “Are you racing tonight?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
A deep sigh blows past her lips, and I don’t like the way her pretty smile sours with worry. “Kolibri,” I say, drawing her eyes back to me. “Tell me who I need to bury.”
She leans into my chest and smiles up at me. “Dominic Balterra.”
Sounds like a prick. A soon-to-be dead prick.
“He’s a cocky, misogynistic asshole. And we’ve been on his shit list because he doesn’t take losing to girls very well.”
I reach for my Glock. “Just point me in the right direction.”
Valentina’s hand falls on my weapon. “He absolutely deserves to get his ass handed to him, but the best revenge is humiliation.”
Not my MO. A problem needs to be dealt with the moment it arises. No second chances. But she has this strange power over me, and I decide I’ll appease her. For now.
“So what was so urgent you had to cut yourself out of a cast and ride here without me? He challenged you?”
“Not exactly.” She glances toward Remi across the garage. “He’s been calling me out for weeks. Put his car and cash on the line—and threw my name out there. So I caved. Figured it’d shut him up.”
“You let that asshole get to you? You couldn’t wait another week or two?”
She rolls her eyes and slips out of my hold. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been benched for weeks…missing races, forfeiting left and right. I’ve built something here, Maksim. I can’t just let it fall apart. Respect matters. If I backed out again, I’d lose that.”
I drag a hand down my jaw. I don’t agree, but I can feel how much this means to her.
