Renny doesn’t race. Not even at The Tropics anymore. He stopped going after that night.There’s something bigger going on here.
I can’t think about it right now. I smack the steering wheel, cursing with desperation to catch up. I don’t give up. I keep pushing. But my position doesn’t improve on the third corner. Or the fourth.
I’m stuck in the slipstream of the racers ahead. My insides churn and I want to scream into the sky until my lungs bleed.
There’s no high here, just a low fucking low. It’s heavy in my bones as the tail-lights get dimmer and the corners to drift get sharper. When I make it to the roof and see the three cars waiting for me, it hits.
Our first loss.
Chapter 14
Ryker
PRESENT
I’m doing what I can to focus, but everything about Booker Bay makes unwanted memories resurface.
I’m also still trying to work out if the silver mask being left at the clinic was a message for me, or for Gianna. The latter is the nightmare scenario.
I love her fire, but that same fucking fire makes keeping her safe so damn hard. But I need to try. It’s why I’m here now, at the Fernando Garage.
Tyler’s been keeping tabs on Alexander, and we followed him to an old car park last night. Colour me surprised when Gianna lived up to her nickname and was there too, for a race. I kept my distance, only close enough to make out her movements.
I was going to jump in when I saw her hand over a wad of cash to the blond fucker. Then punish her into next Sunday for thinking she could drift American Muscle. Tyler tailed Silvia, but he didn’t keep enough distance and spooked them. He was in hot pursuit for a while, but eventually the Silvia’s tail-lights faded away. But when I followed the Evo I was surprised when an old friend stepped out from behind the wheel.
And now that Evo is hoisted in one of the bays of the Fernando Garage. The place still looks and smells like it did four years ago – like fucking heaven.
I’ve missed it, but it also feels like a knife is twisting at my insides from just being here.
‘How do you think he’s gonna take it?’ Tyler asks, spinning his cap backward.
‘Take what?’
‘You being back. Us being here.’ He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a snack bag. ‘We don’t even know if Renny still gets the texts or is looking forhim.’
‘I dunno,’ I admit. ‘But we know Renny doesn’t race, so why else would he have been there last night? He has to have a lead. Whatever happens, just let it ride out.’
With Tyler on my left, we walk deeper into the garage. Paint mixes with the sting of turpentine and grease, flooding my senses. The metal clangs of tools resound across the space as two mechanics work deep in the engine bay of a Ford T-Bird.
‘Who fixed the brakes on the Rexy?’ one of the workers calls out.
‘Me,’ a familiar voice calls from underneath a Fiat Vignale at the back of the open space. ‘Puta idiota warped all four rotors.’
I let out a slow breath, moving my neck to the side until a sharp crack rings in my ears. I shoot Tyler a look. He nods.
I nudge the soles of Renny’s black Timberland boots.
‘Sounds like someone’s rotor pads are running lean,’ I say.
Renny’s movements cease. A pause hangs in the air before he rolls out on a creeper. It takes a moment before I see the decision of his next movement cross his face, and I’m slow to react.
He kicks my legs out from underneath me, knocking me on my ass on the oil-stained cement. His weight immediately follows as he straddles me, landing a fist across my cheekbone.
My eyes water. I blink the liquid away and aim for his stomach. Direct hit. But he counters with a blow to my jaw. The metallic taste of blood seeps into my mouth from the inside of my cheek. We tumble, fighting for the upper hand, knocking over a tool chest and whatever was on top of it.
His legs wrap around my body, and he twists me over. I breathe hard, dragging in air through my nose.
‘You fight like shit.’ I spit the words, but the venom is alkaline and he knows it. A crimson smile warps his face in a bright gleam, levity dancing around in his black glare.
