“We’re sneaking out tonight, Lil,” I say after checking to make sure we’re still alone.
“Ooooh, we haven’t done that in forever.” Lil’s eyes sparkle as she claps her hands together.
“I know. And last time we did it, we got caught and grounded for a month. Which is why we came up with the whole theaterthing. But there’s no way that’s going to work with Luca here. He’s always up our asses.”
Lil snorts, “It’s not your ass he wants to be up… well, actually probably there, too… eventually.”
“Jesus Christ, Lil!” My eyes go painfully wide.
“It’s true! Don’t pretend you don’t know it, and definitely don’t pretend you don’t want it, too.”
“That’s a lot of don’ts in one sentence.” I chew on my bottom lip, unable to stop a few scenarios from playing out in my head.
“See? You can’t deny it.”
“Oh, shut up. We have some planning to do.”
Chapter 36
They better be good stickers
Luca
Part of me really wants Ariana at my first fight here, but a bigger part of me thinks it’s a bad idea. And that’s the part Marco agrees with, so we head out with promises of a play-by-play retelling of the night and strawberry milkshakes when we get done.
I’m not nervous about the fight. Sure, I want to do well and make a name for myself here. And I want my people to be proud of me. But I’ve realized they’re going to be proud of me whether or not I win every fight.
It’s still sinking in. I have people. Amazing people who accept me for who I am, knowing that I’m not the kind of guy who is going to be a lawyer or a doctor, knowing that I’m the kind of guy who fights in illegal underground rings and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. And I accept them for who they are.
Yeah, I would like it if Ariana, and Lil, for that matter, ate better and drank like half the amount of caffeine they do, and I’ll probably never stop giving them shit about it, but I’m not about to try to really change who they fucking are.
Marco runs a freaking underground empire, has a torture/murder shed in his backyard, and deals in some super shady shit. But he has lines he won’t cross that I fully agree with and respect. He’s a king who puts his queen above all else. He’s not just a loving father, he’s a man who took in an abused child and raised her as his own.
Mia’s a fantastic mom and wife who sometimes likes to pretend her world is full of sunshine and unicorns instead of shady shit. And I don’t doubt for a second that she would do anything for the people she loves.
Lil is funny and annoying and is one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t seem to mind sharing her parents with her best friend, and she loves Ariana fiercely.
And Ariana… I know she has secrets, and that’s okay. I also know she’ll let me in on some of them when she’s ready. She’s clever, creative, and loyal. She’s brave but guarded, and she’s my favorite person in the whole fucking world. I would burn the world down for her if she asked me to, and I would hand her the matches and stand by her side if she wanted to do it herself.
So even if I lose the fight, I know I’ll go home to people who love me, and I’ve never had that before.
But I fucking win, and damn, it feels good. When all the fights are over, we leave the warehouse and Marco’s telling me about a couple of the other fights he watched while I was in the makeshift locker room when his phone rings. The screen lights up with Ford’s name.
“DeVille.”
“Yo boss, one of the guys just saw the fucking Maserati again.”
“Where?” Marco’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Headed out to the abandoned airstrip. Want someone to follow?”
“No, I’ve got it.” He hangs up and flips a bitch through the dirt median of the highway, then takes an exit that looks like it leads towhere horror movies take place. The moon is full, and there are no clouds, so he cuts the headlights before we get close. He parks and the sounds of a sports car fill the air as we step out of the SUV. Taking a couple of steps up the hill next to us, we can see the entire airstrip without being seen ourselves.
For about half an hour, we watch this fucking gorgeous car drive back and forth on the tarmac like a ballerina on stage or a figure skater on ice. Huge, slow, graceful spins. Small, tight, loud spins. Smooth as shit starts and shifts. A few times, I wonder if the driver is trying to make the damn thing do cartwheels. Then, without warning, it takes off for the far side and doesn’t turn back.
“Fuck. I can’t even be mad after watching that shit.” Marco shakes his head with a slight smile.
“They drive even better than Ariana, and that girl can fucking drive.”
