Chapter 23 – remi
Twenty-Three
remi
The unmistakable growl of a Supra echoes behind me, and I smile the second Valentina’s little green monster appears in my rearview mirror.
After a quick shower at home, I called her and asked her to meet me at Furia, just like old times.
The hours I have left with her are slipping away too quickly, and when I think about her leaving again, the heaviness in my chest becomes a little harder to bear.
Since she moved, we’ve called whenever we could, but the best chisme, inside jokes, and random bullshit we usually share just don’t feel the same with thousands of miles between us. I’ve tried to act like I don’t miss her as much as I do, but lately, it doesn’t take much to get to me.
“Don’t you fucking cry,” I mutter, wiping quickly beneath my eyes. “That’s the last thing you need right now.”
I take a couple of deep breaths until I get myself under control. Valentina pulls up beside me, and I lower my window as she matches my speed.
“You fixed her!” she shouts over the wind.
“Did you ever doubt me?”
“Never.” She flips me off and guns it down the road.
I laugh as her Supra shoots ahead, slipping through gaps in traffic that have the drivers around her laying on their horns. But I know Valentina, and she sees every opening before she takes it, knowing exactly what her car can handle.
Unfortunately for the rest of Philadelphia, I’m worse.
I drop a gear and bury the throttle, my GT-R surging forward as I chase after her.
“Oh, you’re asking for it.”
Her taillights flare red before she takes the next corner at a speed that would make most people piss themselves. I follow, grinning as my tires grip the turn.
God, I missed this and missed her.
I punch in her contact, and laughter immediately crackles through my speakers.
“Still trying to keep up, Remi?”
“Talk less, drive more.”
She flips me off out the window again, and I do the mature thing and blow past her on the straightaway.
“Remi!” she shouts, laughing harder now. “You bitch!”
“A bitch and the winner. What more can I ask for?”
For a few perfect minutes, it’s just us again. No family drama or people trying to kill us, and especially no drop-dead gorgeous cop built like a fucking tank taking up entirely too much space in my head.
I can’t even get through a drive without thinking about him.
“Why the hell are you here?”
“Hey, you called me, remember?” Valentina says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I rub at my temple. “No, not you. Ignore me.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but I know that silence.
I have a feeling she knows something’s off, and that it has nothing to do with the shootout at Lachlan’s I told her about earlier.
“We can go back to your place,” she offers. “Order dinner and binge some shitty movies.”
My condo is the last place I want to be.
I’ve had two days to get rid of every trace of Thiago, but I swear I can still smell his cologne every time I walk into the living room.
Lighting candles and spraying some disgusting fruity shit I found under the kitchen sink only made the place smell like him, mixed with a tropical nightmare.
That’s the exact opposite of what I need.
“No, I’m good. I want this. I need the distraction, Val.”
“Killing egos on the track is just as good as any therapy session.”
“I love you, pendeja.”
She laughs as we pull into Furia side by side, the parking lot already buzzing with music, revving engines, and people packed around cars beneath neon lights.
“I’m still going to smoke you, though.”
Before I can fire back, I spot Rafe and stop cold.
That asshole has been dodging me since that night. He hasn’t answered a single call or text, and he hasn’t even bothered to pick up his car, which is still sitting in my garage riddled with bullet holes and busted glass.
Valentina’s smile disappears the second she sees me heading across the lot toward him. Her footsteps follow close behind.
“Remi, what’s going on?”
I hear the familiar sound of her Glock racking behind me and can’t help but smile.
My girl.
Rafe has his back to us, completely oblivious that I’m coming for him. Some tall chick with a black bob notices us first and taps him on the shoulder, but she’s too late.
“Rafe!” I snap. “What the fuck?”
He whips around so fast he nearly trips over himself as he backs away, stopping only when his spine slams into the driver’s side door of his car. His hands shoot up, and his face twists into the worst attempt at innocence I’ve ever seen.
“Remi? W-What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I jab a finger into his chest. “I’ve had your piece-of-shit car in my garage for weeks, and you can’t even answer your fucking phone?”
“Hey, put some respect on her name,” he protests. “Ruby isn’t a piece of shit. And I was gonna call you back, I swear—”
“I was nearly run off the road, chased, and shot at while driving your car. One nobody knew I’d be taking except for you and Sam.”
Rafe’s expression falters for a second. “Remi...” He swallows hard. “You’re not seriously implying I set you up, are you?” His hands spread helplessly. “Would I really come back here if that were true?”
“I don’t know what you’d do, and honestly, I don’t care.” I step fully into his space, nearly eye-level with him. “Explain yourself.”
A crowd starts forming around us. People stare as phones lift to record and whispers already spread through the lot, but I couldn’t care less.
Rafe owes me answers, and whether he walks away from this depends on how much I like them.
Before he can get a word out, a heavy hand clamps down on my shoulder.
I whip toward the touch, my eyes lifting to the woman with the black bob glaring at me like she wants a problem.
“Back up,” she snaps.
I don’t move an inch.
“Do you like that hand?” I ask calmly. “Because if you do, I suggest you remove it.”
She smirks, clearly convinced her size is supposed to intimidate me. “Or what?”
I give her one chance, and she wastes it.
My fist connects with her jaw before she can react, jerking her head sideways as she staggers into Rafe’s car so hard it rocks on its suspension. She spits blood onto the pavement and grabs the dented door for balance, staring at me as if she genuinely can’t believe I hit her.
“Bitch!” she shouts, cupping her busted lip. “Rafe, you going to let her do that to me?”
I turn to him and tilt my head. “Are you?”
“Look, Remi, we’re friends—”
“Negative.”
“I’ve just been out of town—”
“Lie better.” Moving closer, my hand rests on my blade.
Rafe starts sliding along the side of his car, putting distance between us while keeping the hood at his back.
“I’m telling the truth,” he blurts. “I didn’t know they’d try anything that night. I swear.”
A chill runs through me.
“Who are they?” I demand. “My father was in that car.”
The woman with the bob spits blood onto the pavement as she pushes herself upright. “You’re a pussy, Rafe,” she snarls. “Letting this bitch press you like this.”
Valentina steps between us. She always has my back, but I don’t want her in the middle of this. Throwing punches in parking lots was me four years ago. V is somebody’s wife now, and all I can picture is Maksim finding out I dragged her into another mess.
He’d kill me.
Then another man comes to mind. What would Thiago think if he saw me right now? The fact that I even care pisses me off. I barely have time to process that realization when one of Rafe’s idiot friends lunges at me, swinging wildly in an attempt to sucker-punch me. I step out of the way on instinct.
Guess it doesn’t count as fighting if I’m defending myself.
She comes at me again, reaching for my hair, but that’s the wrong move.
I drive a right hook into her face, then follow it with a left that knocks her off balance.
I hit her twice more, fast enough that she doesn’t realize what happened until blood sprays from her mouth and she stumbles backward into the crowd.
My knuckles throb, but I ignore it and turn back toward Rafe, only to find Valentina on the ground, with the woman from earlier trapped in a filthy armbar. The bitch screams as Val cranks her wrist farther than it’s supposed to bend.
That moment of distraction is all Rafe needs.
He slams into me, knocking me onto my ass, then drives a brutal punch into the side of my abdomen while I’m still trying to recover.
Pain rips through my side. “Motherfucker—”
Around us, Furia has descended into absolute chaos. People are throwing punches between parked cars, someone gets tossed across a hood, and I can hear Valentina cursing at somebody behind me.
“You hit me?” I rasp before driving my knuckles straight into Rafe’s windpipe. He chokes, folding forward as both hands fly to his throat, fighting to draw a breath.
I’ll never delude myself into thinking I’m stronger than the average man. That kind of arrogance gets people killed. I don’t need to overpower someone when I know where to hit and how much damage I’m willing to do to walk away.
I never imagined Rafe would be someone I might have to hurt this badly. We used to laugh and race together. Sometimes we’d end up eating greasy food at three in the morning, talking shit until someone finally decided to go home.
But whatever he knows about the attack, he kept it from me. He ignored every call afterward and left me wondering whether my father and I were almost killed because of him.
Rafe was never my friend.
I draw my blade and start toward him as he’s still hunched against his car, clutching his throat and struggling to breathe. Then the most aggravating fucking sound imaginable reaches the lot.
Sirens.
People make a mad dash for their cars. I lock eyes with Rafe for a moment, and words aren’t necessary.
He knows exactly where we stand now. Muttering something under his breath, he forces himself upright and climbs into his car.
I turn around just in time to see Valentina land another punch that leaves the bob-haired woman crumpled and unconscious on the pavement.
“Val, we gotta go before we get pinched,” I call out, moving toward her.
She straightens and spits. “Did I just get blood in my mouth? I got blood in my mouth.”
Her front teeth are streaked red, and I can’t decide whether to laugh or throw up.
“No...maybe just a little.”
“Bitch ripped out one of my earrings,” she grumbles, spitting again as we hurry toward our cars.
“My place!” I shout, then climb into the GT-R and slam the door.
Valentina nods through her windshield, and seconds later, Poison Ivy shoots toward the exit with me right behind her.
We force our way onto the crowded street as everyone pours out of Furia at once. Cars shove into whatever openings they can find, tires squeal on the pavement, and horns blare from drivers unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle of it.
Valentina stays a few cars ahead of me, her Supra’s green easy to spot among the other vehicles until a Mustang cuts across two lanes, forcing me to brake while Valentina slips through an opening ahead.
“Asshole.”
I swing around him and search for her again, but she’s disappeared into the mess of cars racing in every direction.
“Fuck.”
I reach for my phone to call her when red and blue lights fill my rearview mirror.
One cruiser.
And he’s directly behind me.