Chapter 11 – Remi
Eleven
Remi
The bike is already waiting for me out front, engine idling low and steady.
Papá glances over his shoulder as I step out, and that’s all it takes for me to know he suspects something is off. But he doesn’t ask. He just nods once and swings onto his own bike.
I grab my helmet, slide it on, and throw a leg over mine. The familiar weight beneath me feels like second nature, and when my fingers curl around the grips, my body finally starts to relax for the first time all night.
“Ready?” he calls over the rumble.
“Always.”
He taps his helmet in a silent ask to sync our comms, then rolls the throttle without waiting for a response and takes off. I follow behind him, letting the miles from the shop put some space between me and everything I’ve been thinking about.
Cool air filters through my jacket as we weave through the city, the lights blurring as the buildings spread out and traffic thins. The farther we go, the easier it becomes to focus on the road ahead instead of everything I left back there.
For a while, we ride in silence, just the two of us like old times.
When I was younger, most of those rides were on the back of Gloria, the old bike he kept long after he had newer, better ones sitting in his garage. I asked him once who Gloria was because, even as a kid, I knew my father well enough to know he wouldn’t give something a name without a reason.
He went quiet for so long I thought he hadn’t heard me, then told me she was someone he never wanted to forget. I accepted the answer and never thought to ask him about her again.
I don’t really know when we stopped riding together. Maybe it was after everything that happened with Ryuji and Val. I do know it was me who made excuse after excuse until he stopped asking, not out of anger or frustration, but because he’s always known when to give me space.
His bike slows slightly, falling back until he’s riding just off to my side.
“Car trouble?” he calls over.
I let out a short laugh. “You could say that.”
“Misfire?”
“Yeah.”
“Coils?”
“I swapped them.”
“Plugs?”
“Checked.”
A beat passes between us, and I can almost hear the words sitting on his tongue before he finally says them.
“Then maybe it’s not the car.”
My fingers tighten on the throttle. “It’s the car. It’s always the car.”
He doesn’t argue, but watches me for a long moment, then eases ahead again.
There isn’t much he doesn’t know about me, and we’ve never been the kind of family that keeps things from one another. I’m not trying to start now. I just don’t see the point in telling him I let someone get close without knowing something as basic as what he did for a living.
After everything that happened, we all know better than to forget there are still people out there who could come for us. Thiago turned out to be a cop, but he could have been someone far worse, and I let him get close enough that Zara was standing only a few feet away from him.
“You’re riding tense,” he calls back after a while.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I hate that he can tell, but I force my shoulders to loosen and my breathing to even out. We ride like that for a few more miles until he hangs back again, pacing me.
“You gonna talk to me, princesa, or how long are we gonna play this game?”
I hesitate, keeping my eyes on the road as the yellow lines blur beneath me. “Met someone,” I finally say.
He keeps riding, waiting for me to continue, but when I don’t, he presses.
“Yeah? And?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. Not even close. But I let him in, and he turned out to be something I wasn’t expecting.”
Another stretch of road passes beneath us before he speaks again. “Turned out to be what, exactly?”
There’s enough warning in his voice to make me smile despite everything.
“He lied about what he does. Tried to hide the fact that he’s a cop.”
“Oh.”
A hollow chuckle crackles through my speaker.
“Yeah. A cop is the last thing I need in my life. The last thing any of us needs is someone poking around, digging into things that will only end badly for them.”
“But it’s not what you wanted?”
“No one wants to be lied to, Papi. But if you’re asking if I’m torn up or missing him, I’m not. I barely know the guy. I just…” I exhale. “I wanted to know him.”
Maybe that’s the part bothering me, that I wanted to see where something went instead of finding a reason to walk away from it.
“So forget him,” he says so nonchalantly, like it’s that easy.
I wish it were.
I have this annoying habit of hyperfocusing on the shit I mess up, replaying every mistake until I’ve picked it apart from every possible angle. And Thiago has already taken up more space in my head tonight than he deserves.
Grinning behind my helmet, I accelerate, letting the speed drown out everything else.
Fuck Thiago and fuck his badge.
“Try to keep up, old man,” I tease, pushing my bike a little harder.
“Ease off, Remi girl. We’re about to hit some traffic.” He slips into his dad voice, but I hear the amusement in his tone as his engine climbs.
Up ahead, headlights cluster near a stretch of highway I know too well. I didn’t set out to come here tonight, but seeing them makes me wonder if some part of me knew exactly where I was going.
Furia looks a lot different from the days Val and I used to run it, but the energy hasn’t changed. I can already feel that familiar rush building as I remember the first night we rolled up with ten grand in our pockets and fire in our eyes.
“Tonight?” Papá asks. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“It’s as good a night as any.” I glance over at him. “Be my co-pilot?”
He wasn’t thrilled when he found out what Valentina and I were up to on weekends.
I’d had my driver’s license for barely a month before my first race.
But as always, he knew it was something I needed and loved, and with every win, it became a little easier for him to accept.
Mamá took longer to come around, but for someone who was spilling blood for money at my age, I suppose she didn’t have much room to argue.
I slow as we approach, recognizing the lineup, along with one car in particular. The matte red Demon 170 is a pretty little thing, almost as pretty as my baby.
It belongs to an old acquaintance, Rafe. I haven’t seen him in over a year, but I’d never forget his face or the scar slashing across both corners of his mouth. He’s told five different stories about how he got it, and I’m sure the truth is buried somewhere beneath the bullshit.
I roll up behind him and cut the engine, taking in what he’s working with. The wide drag radials tell me the car is built to launch hard and run straight.
“Remi Cain, is that you?” he asks with a sly grin. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the hair.”
I flip a strand over my shoulder out of instinct, remembering the platinum streak that used to be my signature look. I’ve been all black for about three years now, but maybe it’s time to bring her back.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” I say.
He folds his arms, a smile breaking through like he’s in on something I’m not. “Yeah, well…I’ve been a little tied up. Got locked up in another county for a bit. Some shit charge that took longer than it should have to clear.”
“That so?”
He shrugs. “You know how it goes.”
I nod once, then tip my chin toward the Demon. “You racing that tonight?”
“Was planning on it.”
I look over the car again, already making the call. “Let me take it. We’ll split the win.”
Rafe takes a second longer than I expect to answer, but then he pushes off the car, digs into his pocket, and tosses me the keys.
“Anything for you, reina.”
Papá comes up behind me, and whatever confidence Rafe had a second ago slips when he notices him, and he takes a step back. I glance over my shoulder to find Papá watching him. My father has never meddled in my life, but bullshit has never gotten past him easily either.
I turn back to Rafe with a smug grin. Maybe it isn’t normal to be proud of your parents for the violent things they’ve done, but in their world, survival never came clean.
“See you at the finish line, Rafe. And thanks again.”
Once I add my name to the roster, we climb inside the beautiful machine. I take a second to get a feel for the wheel, the pedals, and the controls around me.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Your mother is going to kill me,” Papá says as he clicks his seatbelt into place.
“So don’t tell her.”
His gaze slides my way, and he tuts under his breath. “Right. You think I got a death wish?”
A laugh slips out of me as I turn my attention back to the road. I roll my shoulders and ease the Demon forward into position, lining up with the others. My eyes sweep over the stretch ahead, mapping every curve and break in the asphalt.
A girl in a light green skirt and see-through halter steps out in front with one arm raised. For a traitorous moment, my mind goes straight back to Thiago, to his mouth on mine and the badge I never saw coming.
I push him from my thoughts and focus on the race.
“Drive like I taught you, baby girl. And don’t hold back.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. The woman’s arm drops, and I launch.
The Demon shoots forward, tires gripping hard as the force presses me back into the seat. I shift smoothly as the other cars surge around me, their engines screaming in competition as we tear down the straightaway.
She’s built for this, and I can feel it in the way she responds to me. Clean power, brutal acceleration, and no hesitation as the numbers climb and the distance between me and the others stretches.
The first curve comes up fast, and I ease off just enough to guide her through it. Her weight fights me, heavier than my GT-R, but I know how to handle it. I know this car. She may not be mine, but I know her bones.
“Come on,” I mutter between clenched teeth as I push through the turn and come out clean, already setting up for the next stretch.
Papá says nothing, but I can feel him watching every move.