‘You still fight like shit,’ I repeat in a strangled rasp.
His booming laugh fills the room. His fingers relax from around my collar and he gives my head a playful smack.
‘You both done?’ Tyler chimes in, gripping Renny’s elbow and bringing him to stand. They shake hands then Renny pulls him in, pressing their foreheads together.
‘I fucking missed your faces,’ Renny says, though he pauses when his eyes land on me. A faint trace of a smile still there, he reaches for a cleanish shop cloth and throws it at me. ‘Clean your shit before you get blood all over the floor. Tatts looks sick, though. You look like the fucking Grim Reaper with all that ink.’
Red streaks appear on the cloth as I wipe my face. When I look back at Renny, he’s twirling his dark moustache. ‘I can’t return the compliment,’ I say. ‘Bet that’s a real pussy deterrent you’ve got on your face.’
‘Nah. The ladies love this shit.’ He pauses, grinning widely. ‘Just ask Little G.’
My face drops and I go to deck him. He holds out his hands in defence, throwing his head back in laughter.
‘Fuck, I’m kidding. Still a soft spot, huh? Let me guess …’ He twirls again before snapping his fingers. ‘She’s why you’re back?’
‘Just keeping an eye on her.’ I widen my stance and fold my arms across my chest.
A small hiss leaves his lips, and he rubs his forehead. ‘Still, huh? When’s the fucked-up foreplay gonna end?’
‘What happened at the race last night?’
‘I’m hurt, y’know.’ He places a hand over his heart. ‘No, “Hey Renny, how are you? Missed you. I haven’t laughed since I skipped town?”’
‘Do you still get the texts?’ Tyler asks, ignoring his theatrics.
Any trace of humour vanishes from Renny’s features. ‘As always.’
‘So, what happened at the race last night?’ I press.
‘I’d say she lost about eight grand. That’s what I had to put down. She clipped the first pillar in that car park, so her car’s got some damage too.’
He points to the Mustang perched in the panel-beating booth.
‘She not in today?’ I ask.
‘She is.’ Renny nods. ‘She’s taking Chuck for a walk. She’s pretty shaken up by the whole thing.’
‘Did she ask why you were there?’
‘What do you think, puta? Of course she did. I told her I went to see what people are running under their hoods outside The Tropics.’ He pauses, a frown crossing his face and he rubs his chin. ‘Then she mentioned something about competition? Thought I was sussing out the owner of Midnight Spares.’
‘What’s that?’ Tyler perks up.
‘Some garage over in Empire City. A chop shop, but she had this look on her face …’ He shakes his head. ‘I think she has more to say about it.’
A growl vibrates through my chest and I twist the cloth into a coil so tight, my knuckles bleach. ‘Who the fuck is this guy and why did he involve her?’
‘I’m still trying to work that one out,’ Renny says, moving to the mini fridge on the side wall. He takes out three bottles of water, tossing one each to Tyler and me. I place mine, along with the cloth, on the workbench beside me.
My eyes are fused to him when Renny continues. ‘You guys heard the rumours about a racer cleaning up along this side of the coast? He never stays in one place for long, and the name he uses changes every time. I’ve been tailing him for a year now, waiting to get an in. Last night was it.’
I nod. It must be the race that Alexander was alluding to when talking to those girls back at Luxe. I’ve learned more about it since then. It’s always a small underground meet, nothing like The Tropics. He’s right about the name changing, but the character description also changes. It could be a different lackey every time.
Tyler turns to Renny, suspicion etched into his face. ‘You think it’shim?’
‘I dunno. There was a blond guy, the organiser, I didn’t get a look at his face because he sent his friend with a limp to collect the cash,’ Renny replies, unscrewing the cap and taking a chug of his water.
‘Alexander,’ I state. ‘We’ve been tailing him, too.’
