by James Tate
“There’s no denying that,” he murmured back, his cheek pressed against my hair as I huddled closer into his warm body. “But if I’ve learned anything about living in a darker world—you’ll never beat them, unless you become them. Is that really something you want to do? Damn your soul like that?”
I shuddered, my mind flashing back to the sound of the gunshot, the splatter of blood and gore, the heavy thump of the Huntley man’s lifeless form hitting the ground. My recurrent nightmares. “Haven’t I already?”
Dante let out a long sigh. “Not even close, Riles. Not even remotely close.”
We stayed like that for a long time, until I started to worry I was hurting him and shifted to stand up.
“Hey,” Dante murmured, catching my face between his palms and halting me. “You know I’ll always have your back, right? You’re not in this alone.”
The way he stared at me … it was intense, passionate, and a bit unnerving.
“I know,” I replied with a tiny smile. “I guess I should get back to my gilded cage before Eddy pays.”
Dante peered at me with that heavy gaze for another long moment before a switch flipped and a devilish grin slid over his face. “Not yet. Debitch said you needed to be at school tomorrow morning, which leaves tonight free.”
I raised my brows, pulling back gently so that his hands left my face. “What did you have in mind?”
“Rabbit just got a new Supra that needs to do a test run. I’m sure he wouldn’t object to you putting her through the paces at Widowmaker. Then when you’re done with that, you can drive one of my cars in the actual race.” His grin was sly, and excitement surged in me for the first time in way too long.
“That’s tonight?” I bit my lip, thinking it over. Widowmaker used to be my race. It was only run twice a year and had a crazy high crash rate. I’d held first place for the last five races and I hated the thought of someone else taking my crown … still, I would have to attempt it in an unfamiliar car and I was carrying a shit load of mental baggage.
“The supra is tricked out with NOS…” Dante coaxed, and I groaned.
“Fuck,” I sighed. “I can’t say no to that.” I scrambled up off the bathroom floor and held out my hand to help Dante up. He grunted as he held his ribs but gave me a tight smile to reassure me he was okay.
“I need something to wear,” I commented as I reached for my toothbrush. I’d been wearing Dante’s t-shirts and shorts for the past week and a half, seeing as I hadn’t left the apartment. But I needed something more kick ass for Widowmaker.
Dante chuckled, shifting past me to grab his phone where he’d left it on the couch. “I’ll call Serena. She’ll get you sorted.”
This time my smile was more genuine. If anyone could make me look badass—other than Eddy—it was Dante’s older sister.
* * *
“Holy shit, it’s been so long, Riles!” Serena was a hugger. Over the years I’d grown used to her full bear hugs, and a part of me felt a tiny bit better when she squeezed me tightly.
“I know, so much shit has happened; it feels like ten years since I last saw you.”
She led me across to the couch, and I marveled at the blue streaks in her black hair. Didn’t matter that she was nearing thirty, Serena looked hot and sexy, with a rocker edge.
Her story could have been very different though because it sure as shit started out terribly. In high school she’d been the popular, pretty chick. Until her school’s wide receiver knocked her up at eighteen and then bailed to leave her to raise their kid alone. Luckily her story had a happy ending when “diner guy,” as we’d used to call him, finally got the balls to ask out the pretty waitress that he’d lusted after from afar. Turned out that Rob Laidner, who was a few years older than Serena, was a police officer on the other side of Jersey. But he still made the trip every morning to eat breakfast in her section of the small family diner where she worked.
They’d gotten married five years ago, and Rob was raising Dante’s niece, Chloe, like she was his own.
I loved fairy tales. Pity mine was more of a nightmare.
“So, Dante’s been filling me in a little, but he said the details were yours to share,” Serena started when we were sitting. “So share.”
When she wore that fierce face, she looked so much like her brother, that it was almost scary. “I trusted the wrong people,” I said quietly. “They betrayed me, when they should have had my back. They hurt Dante.”
I practically spat those last words, my anger rising again. Every time I started to miss those bastards, I just had to picture my best friend, bloodied and beaten with a gun to his head.
Serena didn’t look surprised, and some might have thought her lack of concern about Dante was cold, but I knew that she had accepted his dangerous life long ago. I, on the other hand, continued to try and convince him it was time to get out of the Grims. I never wanted to deal with losing him.
“Dante doesn’t seem that upset by it,” Serena said, ruffling her hair up. “He said they were just doing their duty.”
I let out a low grumbling sound. “I don’t fucking get him. He hated them last month, but now he’s almost … understanding and accepting of their bullshit. How could getting beaten and almost killed have taken him from hate to whatever he’s feeling now?”
Serena shrugged, but it was Dante that answered. “Because I understand them better now,” he said as he stepped in from the balcony. He’d been out there taking a phone call. “Beck took no joy in hurting me, and I too have been forced to do things I disagree with out of obligation. Sometimes life is about duty, and from what I can tell, your boys have had to perform for Delta most of their lives.”
I crossed my arms stubbornly. “There is always a choice.”
Dante shook his head at me. “You can’t afford to be that naive any longer. You don’t have the luxury.”
I knew he was trying to remind me that I shot a guy because I didn’t have a choice. But the truth was, I did have a choice. I could have turned the gun on Catherine, or Beck, or any of Delta. I could have turned the gun on myself and damned Dante as well. But I’d made the choice to shoot the Huntley operative. The same way the Delta heirs had made a choice to not tell me about what I was facing and to take my best friend as collateral in a war he was not part of.
Beck chose to fuck me, all the while knowing he would have to betray me.
We all made choices. And now we had to live with them.
Serena jumped to her feet then, her torn up boyfriend jeans swishing around her slim hips. “Enough maudlin talk, let’s get you sexy for this drive tonight.”
She rushed back to the front door, picking up the overnight bag she’d dropped there. I pulled myself off the couch slowly, but there was a tingling sensation in my limbs that I only got when I knew I was going to race soon.
I needed this. I really fucking needed it.
Twenty minutes later I was dressed like old-Riley. Skinny black jeans, and black ankle boots. A deep red tank top that hugged all of my curves and was tucked into the jeans. Black leather jacket over the top and my hair tamed into a long mass of frizzless curls. Serena had makeup with her as well, and I lined my eyes dark and my lips were red to match my shirt.
“Fuck, Riles.” Dante waggled his eyebrows appreciatively. “Lucky Beck isn’t out on Riley Duty today, because he would be on you so fast your head would spin.”
My fingers twitched at his words, and I worked very hard not to let the pain I felt show on my face. “I’ll probably shoot him the next time he touches me. You said the first kill is the hardest, might be worth testing that theory.”
Dante just smirked like he knew I was full of shit. I talked a big game, but shooting someone you cared about was very different to shooting an asshole that had attempted to kidnap you. And it had still almost broken me. Fuck Sebastian Roman Beckett. Fuck him to Hell.
3
Dante had a few new cars, and I took my time looking them all over. He said I could choose t
he car and while none of them were my baby, my butterfly, they also weren’t to be sneered at. The first I ran my hand gently across was a Porsche GT2, emerald green, and while I’d never driven one, I knew how stupidly fast it was. Next was an Audi R8, but it was the same yellow as Jasper’s Lambo, and I immediately dismissed it. Too many bad memories there, including the race I’d won for him.
The third car was old school. Mustang ’69 Fastback, it was cherry red, and I felt like that was a good omen for me tonight. I was rocking red all around.
“Thinking about going old school tonight, Riley girl?” Serena asked, her eyes running appreciatively across the Mustang.
I could never imagine any of the Delta heirs driving a car that wasn’t built this year.
“Yep,” I decided. “This is the one I’ll drive in Widowmaker.”
Dante grinned, and something told me that’s the one he’d been hoping I’d pick all along.
“Ahh, I wish I could go with you,” Serena said, her green eyes lit up with old memories. “But got to get home and cook my loves dinner.”
I hugged her this time, and she chuckled in my ear. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I appreciate you coming to my rescue.”
My ribs protested as she squeezed me back. “Girl, you’re family. You can come to me anytime you need something.”
I was too choked up to say anything, but I hoped she knew how grateful I was to hear those words.
Serena left then, and I slid into the driver’s side of the ’stang, flexing both hands on the wheel. I’d taken my black exoskeleton cast off a few days ago, and while my wrist felt a little weaker than usual, there was no pain. I was relieved to have full range of movement back.
“Ready to fuck shit up?” Dante asked, looking more alive than he had for days. His injuries were basically healed now, except for the ribs, and he apparently could handle that with no worries because I never even saw him flinch when he walked or breathed.
Dante hit the button to open his private underground garage, and I started the car, letting the rumble soothe me. For the first time since I’d been ambushed and forced to murder, tension in my chest eased, and I dropped my head back with both hands firmly on the wheel.
“There’s nothing better than this,” I moaned.
Dante pissed himself laughing, which I ignored to continue my Zen moment.
Before I even opened my eyes, I’d shifted her into gear, and slammed my foot on the accelerator. Dante’s laughter turned into a whoop, the crazy bastard, because anyone else would have shit themselves. The Mustang didn’t corner quite as smoothly as the last few cars I’d driven, which I’d have to keep in mind for a couple of the turns during the race, but she more than made up for that in pure power.
Sliding into the street, laughter burst from me as adrenalin and joy simultaneously filled me. “Fuck yes!” I shouted, swinging her around a corner, and slamming through the gears as I raced along the mostly deserted street. Dante lived in a quiet area, but we’d be downtown soon because I had to cross through the center of Jersey to get to Widowmaker.
We didn’t talk much, cranking the music instead and letting the beats of Dre fill the silence.
That was until we were about a mile from the rendezvous point with Rabbit. Dante had been looking over his shoulder again, the third time in as many minutes, before his eyes locked on his side mirror.
“What?” I said, exasperated. I was dodging traffic at high speed and couldn’t take my eyes off the road to see what had his attention.
“We have company,” he said simply.
Taking a risk, I shot a glance in the rearview and a familiar Bugatti came into sight. Muthafucker!
Beck was one car behind me, and I’d missed him somehow.
“He was out of sight until just then,” Dante said, knowing I was pissed. “I actually saw Jasper first.”
The yellow Lamborghini was hard to miss, even though I had apparently done that as well. My focus had been in front of me, and I’d missed that there were four somewhat familiar cars following at varying distances behind me.
“Those fuckers picked the wrong chick to mess with,” I said with heavy saltiness. “Hold on to your panties, Dante, we’re going to lose us some Delta heirs.”
Dante grumbled something about “not wearing fucking panties” but he took my warning seriously. His fingers threaded through the oh-shit handle, and he gave me a tight nod to show he was ready.
The corners of my lips pulled up in what was surely an evil grin, and with a quick glance in my mirrors and blind spots, I made my move.
“Fuck me,” Dante exclaimed as he gripped the handle with white knuckles and pressed himself tighter into the seat to stop from being thrown around as I gunned the engine and whipped the steering wheel to the side.
The Mustang handled like a dream, jumping eagerly to my commands as I ducked and weaved between the traffic at close to three times the legal speed limits. My left wrist panged a little as I aggressively steered one handed while my right was busy shifting gears, but it was a good sort of pain. It reminded me of everything that had brought me to this point, starting with my parents’ deaths.
“Whoa, Riles,” Dante gasped as I narrowly missed a pickup truck when I shot through a red light without flinching.
I flicked a quick look at him, but was reassured to see a broad grin on his face. “Shit, Dante,” I grumbled, focusing on my break neck driving. “Thought you were questioning my driving for a second there.”
Dante made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, but I didn’t dare take my attention from the road before me. It was like a maze, and my mind could see a clear path between the obstacles. I’d always been good at labyrinth puzzles, I could just see the pattern instantly, and this was no different.
Slamming down through the gears, I hooked a sharp left turn, hugging the curb so tight that my wing mirror missed a post box by an inch. This new road was clearer than the main strip I’d been on, and I risked a glance in my mirrors.
I’d shaken a few of them, but that offensively bright Lambo, and Beck’s sexy fucking Bugatti were still holding their own.
“Fuck,” I cursed. Of course Jasper was keeping up. Hadn’t he told me that he always won that stupid rich kid race I’d run for him a few weeks ago? Even with his injuries, he was driving almost as good as me.
Almost.
I was better, though. He—and Beck—were just pushing me to try a bit harder.
“Brace yourself,” I murmured to Dante, my sharp gaze snagging onto my next move and my body reacting on instinct.
I jerked the steering wheel to the side—just slightly—and gritted my teeth as the Mustang mounted the curb and we sped toward the worksite on the side of the road. I knew the second Dante figured out what I was doing because he sucked in a sharp breath and sat up straighter in his seat.
“Riley...” He barely got the warning out before my wheels gripped the half completed ramp and shot us up like we were a toy car on a hot wheels track. A wordless shout tore from my best friend’s throat as we hit the top of the ramp and then...
Airborne.
It was only for a second, or less, but it was enough that when our wheels came down hard on the second level parking lot on the other side of the gap, my heart was pounding so hard it was practically jumping out of my shirt.
I wrestled control of my wheels again, fighting the steering wheel as we spun out, but in moments I was back in charge and shifting my gears smoothly to gun it out of there.
“Follow that, assholes,” I muttered, grinning wildly as I peered in my rearview mirror and spotted a distinctive black sports car sitting stationary at the top of the ramp.
Dante started laughing then. A slightly unhinged, hysterical kind of laughter. “Holy fucking shit, Riley. God, I’ve missed you, girl.”
I shot him a quick, manic grin as we peeled out of the parking garage and lost ourselves in the rabbit warren streets behind it. Beck and Jasper didn’t stand a fucking chance of followi
ng us now. Dante and I knew these streets like the backs of our hands, and now that they didn’t have us in their line of sight, they were screwed.
Confident that we’d lost them, I eased off the gas and merged back into the traffic of the main street leading us toward Widowmaker. That little exercise had been fun as shit, but it almost made us late. I could only thank the gods of muscle cars that we’d miraculously avoided police ... or did Beck and all his powerful connections have something to do with that?
“That was just a warm up,” I told Dante with a smirk. “I still need to thrash some wannabe drivers at the race.”
Dante grinned back at me, then whooped with excitement and turned the stereo up.
4
A cool breeze sent a shiver through me as I leaned against Dante’s Mustang and talked shit with Rabbit. I’d taken my jacket off to drive his Supra, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off I would need to hunt it out again.
“You okay?” Dante murmured, leaning in closer and peering down at me. The bruising on his face had lightened up to a yellowish green, and the shadows from the street lights hid the worst of it. Still, I’d heard him need to shrug off questions several times, blaming it on “business.”
“Yeah, just cold.” I gave him a smile, and he draped his arm over my shoulders, tugging me in close to the warmth of his body. “Thanks, heat bean.” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his waist and snuggling tighter.
Rabbit barked a laugh, and I frowned at him in confusion. “About damn time,” he snickered, giving us a slightly sexual leer. “You’ve got the patience of a damn saint, my friend.” He clapped Dante on the shoulder then swaggered away to chat with someone who had their head under the hood of his tricked out Supra. It had been a dream to drive, that was for sure, but I actually preferred the Mustang.
“What was that about?” I asked Dante, peering up at him from where I was tucked into his chest.
