No warmth.
Without her, you can also consider me homeless. Because these walls mean nothing—she’s my home.
“There’s a race tomorrow night,” Kai breathes out.
I look at him with a smile. “Good, let’s go hunt for rats.”
“Roman, I know you want to get her back…” Kai begins, but stops abruptly, noticing the glare on my face. I don’t care how many I sent to hell as long as I find her. I will gladly sit in prison… No, I lie.
Ten years without her was enough for me.
I’d prefer death over not having her.
Violence is the only language I use to communicate, and it’s effective. However, Alec is a resourceful cockroach. One that will require more than bug spray to kill—he needs to be squashed and his hive of mindless rich burned to the ground. He might think Fright Night will even the playing fields, which will deter me from coming. Yet, he’s the only dead man walking.
I don’t say another word as I walk back towards my room.
“Man, I don’t like this shit, Kai. Esta loco.” Chino says using his index finger as he circles it around his ear.
Kai sighs. “It’s the only way.”
At least he can acknowledge I have the balls to do what needs to be done—unlike him.
Chapter Nine
Kai
2Days Until Fright Night….
I’ve never seen what the inside of a man looks like—not until Roman showed me. Never did I think that I would watch a man’s head be kicked in as he kissed the curb. But I have also never been around a man like Roman, and I use the word man loosely.
That man is a monster… one I’m determined to keep away from Tokyo. Being around him only confirmed my suspicions that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. He’s playing nice right now because I have all the street information while he’s blind. Roman might be violent, but he’s not street smart, and that’s where I come in. For now, our relationship is symbiotic. However, he can’t see past his rage, and I can’t say I blame him.
But the way he handles things will definitely have cops knocking on his door sooner than later. Not tonight, though. He’s lucky this race is sponsored by the same pricks that throw the Wicked Raves. There won’t be any reports made, and nocops will be led to him—at least not right now. And he’s taking complete advantage of it, with his limp and all.
“Man, he’s sick,” Chino mutters beside me as he lights up a joint.
“He’s doing what I can’t.”
Chino inhales the smoke. “He’s fucking insane.”
The sound of Roman’s boot connecting with bone and flesh echoes through the deserted street. Making my stomach turn with each wet thud. The sounds of drifting and spinning tires catch my attention; it’s too close to let this continue. This place is surrounded by those rich assholes. I let out a deep sigh before walking towards Roman, who’s already standing motionless over the fucking poor soul who made the mistake of crossing his path.
I look down briefly, and with my boot, I turn him over, so he lies on his back. The teeth still in his mouth cling to his gums by a thread while the others are scattered along the edge of the sidewalk that Roman forced him to bite into.
“We gotta go.”
Roman chuckles softly. “Sure,” he replies before he stalks towards the black Mustang sitting on the sidewalk with the driver’s door open and key still in the ignition. He isn’t much of a talker, but his message is clear. He’s ready.
So, fuck it. So am I.
Before Roman can cut me off, I turn to him. “Did he at least tell you anything?” Roman’s mouth widened into a devilish smirk. “He gave me more than words; we have a pass.”
“A pass?”
He nods. We already have the invitations, but a VIP pass means we get to be everywhere and go undetected, at least for a bit longer. “It’s what those rich assholes use to get into VIP—neon fucking mask, some gloves, and an orange ticket. All in his trunk.”
“How many?”
