Page 205 of Vicious Temptation

I tell myself I’m being paranoid, but my thoughts immediately turn to Elena. She’s been on my ass since I left the charity banquet early, and I know her patience is wearing thin. But she wants information from me. Going after Remi before I have it would jeopardize everything she sent me here to do.

Elena wouldn’t take that risk. At least, I have to believe she wouldn’t.

I call Remi again, but it goes straight to voicemail. The next two calls do the same. Then I text her and wait. When several minutes pass without a reply, I jump to my feet and start pacing the apartment.

“Remi, where are you?”

I argue with myself for another few minutes before sending one last text. When that goes unanswered too, I’m done waiting. I pull up Matteo’s number. I saved it from Remi’s contacts, never expecting to use it, but short of losing my mind and calling her parents, he’s the only person I can think of who might know where she is. “Fuck it.”

Hitting call, I send up a prayer that Matteo answers.

Four painfully long rings pass before a man’s voice finally comes over the line.

“Thiago,” he says, somehow already knowing it’s me.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call you like this, but I’m trying to get ahold of Remi. We were supposed to meet tonight, and she’s over an hour late. She isn’t answering her phone, and⁠—”

“Look…” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his hesitation is enough to put me immediately on edge.

At this point, I know something’s wrong.

“Remi went to the track tonight to settle a score with some asshole. I’m only telling you this because I know you care about her. And I⁠—”

“What’s the location?”

Silence follows.

From what I know, Furia isn’t tied to one spot. They move around to stay ahead of the cops, which means I can’t find her without an address.

“Thiago…”

“The location, Matteo.”

He finally gives it to me, and I end the call without another word, then run out the door.

The streets are more congested than usual on a goddamn Tuesday night. I lean on the horn and weave through traffic, sliding the truck between cars while suppressing the urge to bulldoze my way to the off-ramp.

What the fuck are you doing, Remi?

I know she’s more than capable of handling herself, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach that she went after someone alone. I jerk into the right lane and narrowly miss an SUV. A chorus of horns follows me, but I don’t spare them a second thought as I keep moving, desperate for open road and a glimpse of my girl.

“Please be okay, fera.”

As I leave the city behind, traffic thins until there are barely any other cars on the road. Buildings give way to long stretches of darkness, and with every mile, everything around me grows still.

Then a familiar sound cuts through it.

Gunfire.

Every bit of training I have kicks in at once.

I slam my foot on the accelerator, and the truck surges forward as the speedometer climbs past one hundred in seconds.

My phone sits within reach. I know I should call this in. I should get backup and do the smart thing. But calling it in means cops, questions, and an investigation that could put Remi in handcuffs. For the first time in my career, I knowingly turn away from everything the badge demands of me.

Leaving the phone where it is, I give the truck another burst of speed, and the scene comes into view a few seconds later.

An R35 is parked in the middle of the road. A Hellcat sits nearby, and two women take cover behind it as they trade gunfire with a rusted box truck parked across the shoulder.