Chapter 24 – remi
Twenty-Four
remi
“Shit.”
I jerk the wheel right and take the next turn hard, the cruiser staying right on my ass as we tear down the road.
“Out of all the fucking cars, you choose mine?”
“Pull over!” his voice booms through the speaker behind me.
For a moment, I actually consider it. I could stop, take whatever ticket he wants to throw at me, and probably spend the next few hours explaining why I was fleeing an illegal street race where half the crowd decided to beat the shit out of each other.
Or I could run.
My eyes flick to the rearview mirror again. It’s just one cruiser. I know these streets, and I know my car.
“Sorry, buddy.”
I drop a gear and floor it.
My car launches forward, shoving me deeper into the seat as the speedometer climbs.
The cruiser tries to keep up with me, his lights washing over the inside of my car every time he gains a little ground.
But I cut into the next lane, slip around a slower car, then move back over.
A horn blares behind me, followed by another command from the cruiser telling me to pull over.
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”
The road ahead opens up, and I give the GT-R more gas.
This isn’t the first time I’ve run from the cops after Furia, but usually everyone scatters and the police pick whichever unlucky asshole happens to be closest. We split up on different streets, wait for things to cool off, and laugh about it later.
Tonight, I’m the unlucky asshole.
The cruiser stays with me through the next light, but I gain ground as the road curves. I know what’s coming before I reach it, easing off just enough to take the turn without losing traction, then getting right back on the throttle.
His headlights fall farther behind.
“Come on,” I whisper, watching the mirror. “Come on.”
For a few seconds, all I see are distant flashes of red and blue, then another set of lights appears ahead.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
A second cruiser pulls out of a side street and swings across the road, trying to block both lanes. I don't have enough room to stop.
So I don't.
There’s a narrow opening between the cruiser and a row of parked cars, barely wide enough for me.
But barely is still enough. I grip the wheel with both hands and aim straight for it, shooting through the opening with inches to spare, close enough that the passenger mirror nearly clips the cruiser’s front bumper.
I hold my breath through the gap and don’t let it out until both mirrors clear.
“Holy shit!” I burst out laughing. “Still got it.”
My pulse is hammering now, and I fucking love it. The speed, the split-second decisions, knowing one wrong move could ruin everything. This is the kind of high I live for.
The second cruiser swings around behind me, and a moment later, the one I almost lost is back as well. Their lights fill my mirrors as I take another turn and push deeper into the city.
Two of them, I can handle.
I blow through the next intersection just as the light turns red, checking both directions before I cross. One of the cruisers follows, but the other gets trapped as traffic behind me starts moving.
“One down.”
My phone starts ringing on the passenger seat.
Valentina.
I hit the button on the steering wheel. “Hey.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m a little busy right now, Val.”
“What does that mean?”
A siren wails behind me as the remaining cruiser closes some of the distance. She goes silent.
“Remi.”
“I may have picked up a friend.”
“A friend with flashing lights?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Pull over!”
I laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Remi Isabel Cain.”
“Oh, don’t you start using my government name too.”
“Where are you?”
I glance at the street sign as I fly past it. “Heading east on Lehigh.”
“I’m coming.”
“No, you’re not. Go to my place like we planned.”
“Remi—”
“Val, I’m fine. I’ll lose him and meet you there.”
Another set of lights appears in the distance, wiping the smile from my face.
The cruiser comes straight toward me, then cuts across the intersection and pulls to a stop sideways.
My stomach tightens at how perfectly it positions itself.
They’re coordinating now, which means every turn I take is giving the next unit time to get ahead of me.
They know where I am. Not just the cop behind me, but all of them.
“Actually, I’m gonna call you back.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I think I pissed them off.”
“Remi, what the fuck does that—”
I end the call and grit my teeth. The cruiser behind me is gaining on me, and the one ahead has blocked the route I would normally take to get back to my condo.
“Okay,” I mutter. “You wanna play?”
I turn down the next street instead. The road narrows almost immediately, with parked cars lining both sides and leaving barely enough room for two vehicles to pass.
But I know this stretch. Three blocks ahead, it’ll spit me out onto an industrial road that runs parallel to the river.
If I can make it there, I can lose them.
The cruiser follows me in.
“Bad choice.”
I accelerate, and the GT-R devours the narrow street while the Explorer struggles to keep up through the turns. I take the next corner and finally gain enough distance that his lights disappear behind the buildings.
My grin returns…until I reach the industrial road, where a third cruiser is already waiting for me.
“Oh, fuck you.”
It pulls away from the curb before I can reach him, blocking most of the road and leaving me nowhere to go but the narrow strip of pavement along his passenger side.
“You guys really need to stop doing that.”
Yanking the wheel, I squeeze past him, so close I hear metal scrape behind me.
Not mine.
At least I fucking hope not.
The road ahead opens, and I push harder, putting as much distance between us as I can. I know I won’t outrun their radios, but if I can get far enough ahead, I can change direction before the next unit knows where to look.
A voice booms behind me. “Pull over the vehicle!”
“Still no.”
I take the next turn, and I immediately regret it.
Traffic.
“Fuck. Me.”
Brake lights stretch ahead for nearly two blocks, and the sirens behind me are growing louder.
I scan the street for anything I can use and spot a delivery truck pulling away from the curb half a block ahead. There’s just enough room to squeeze through beside it.
Cutting across the lane, I make it around the truck before the gap closes again. The cruiser behind me isn’t as lucky. He gets trapped between the truck and a line of cars as horns erupt around him.
“That’s embarrassing,” I say with a laugh.
I take another turn and finally get a clear stretch of road…for about five fucking seconds.
Red and blue lights appear at the next intersection, followed by another cruiser coming up fast from behind.
“How many of you fuckers are working tonight?”
The one ahead slows in the middle of the intersection, forcing me to choose between left and right.
I go left.
He moves left.
I cut right.
He jerks back the other way, but he commits too late.
“Too slow.”
I shoot past his front bumper and hear another order through the speaker.
“Stop the car and pull over!”
The command hits a nerve. I’ve never been particularly good at doing what I’m told.
Two nights ago, another cop sat on my couch, eating my pizza as I trauma dumped. He held Papá’s ring in his hand and looked at me without a trace of judgment.
Now I’m running from men who wear the same badge, and I almost laugh at the fucking irony.
Still want to be my friend, Braga?
I bite the inside of my cheek and try to push the thought away before I can decide which answer bothers me more, but it stays with me until another cruiser appears in my rearview mirror, forcing my attention back to the road.
I know I need to get off the city streets. There are too many intersections and too many places for them to cut me off. The highway entrance is coming up on my right. If I can reach it before they close it, I’ll finally have room for the GT-R to do what she was built to do.
I check the mirror, judge the distance to the cruiser behind me, then take the ramp.
His lights follow.
“Come on, baby,” I mutter, pressing the accelerator harder. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The ramp curves ahead, and I take it fast, holding my car tight to the inside before the highway opens in front of me.
Finally.
I press the gas pedal to the floor. The GT-R surges forward, and the cruiser behind me starts to lose ground. His lights shrink in my mirror as I move through lighter traffic, taking every opening I can without forcing anyone else off the road.
“There you go, baby.”
The speedometer keeps climbing, and for the first time since this started, I finally have room to breathe. No intersections for them to block or parked cars squeezing me into narrow streets, just the open road and a cop behind me who picked the wrong fucking car to chase.
As his sirens grow more distant, I can’t help wondering what Thiago would think if he could see me right now. I doubt it would be anything good.
That thought brings me right back to the reality I’ve been trying to avoid.
Thiago and I come from two completely different worlds.
He’ll never truly accept all of me. Not my family or the violence woven into every corner of my life, and definitely not the things I’ve done or the things I’ll still do if I have to.
Maybe the cruelest part is that I let myself believe we could actually be friends.
Or worse, something more.
I glance at the mirror again, and the cruiser is even farther behind.
“Should have stayed home.”
Another mile passes, and eventually his lights disappear completely. I wait, expecting them to show up again.
Nothing.
A laugh breaks out of me as some of the tension finally leaves my shoulders.
“Good fucking luck explaining that one.”
I ease off the accelerator. Getting away is one thing, but getting myself killed because I’m too busy celebrating is another.
My phone lights up with Valentina’s name, but I leave it alone for now.
I’ll call her once I’m off the highway and sure no one is still following me.
The next exit is less than a mile ahead.
I’m already planning which back roads to take home when something starts bothering me.
The cruiser gave up too easily.
My jaw sets as I replay the last mile. The sudden lack of sirens feels more suspicious than reassuring.
He stayed on me through half the city, followed me onto the highway, then suddenly stopped trying the second I had nowhere else to go.
“Oh, shit.”
I look ahead.
At first, all I see are distant flashes reflected off the signs above the highway. Then I get closer, and that’s when I see red and blue lights stretching across every lane.
Several cruisers are parked nose-to-tail ahead of me, blocking the entire road as officers move into position behind their doors. Across the pavement in front of them, something catches in my headlights.
Spike strips.
“You sneaky motherfuckers.”
My eyes dart toward the shoulder, searching for a way around, but another cruiser is already sitting there.
They didn’t lose me. They sent me straight here.
I check the mirror and see red and blue reappear behind me, blocking the highway in the other direction. There’s nowhere left to go.
With a groan, I start bringing the GT-R down to a lower speed.
For one stupid second, Thiago crosses my mind again. He keeps asking if we’re friends. Now I’m about to be dragged out of my car by his coworkers after leading them on a high-speed chase through half the fucking city.
I let out a hollow laugh. Yeah, Braga, this should go over great.
My phone starts ringing again as I slow down, and when Valentina’s name flashes across the screen, I answer through the speakers.
“Did you make it to my place?” I ask.
“Yeah, but I don’t see you. Are you on the way?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
I bring the car to a stop several feet before the spike strips and stare through the windshield at the line of cruisers blocking the highway.
“Apparently, Philadelphia PD really wanted to spend some time with me tonight.”
“Remi.” The concern in her voice wipes the smile from my face.
“I’m fine, Val.”
“What happened? Did they catch you?”
I glance in the rearview mirror as two more cruisers pull in behind me, boxing me in completely.
“You could say that.”
“Baby, tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”
The doors ahead start to open. Officers step out with their weapons drawn, using the cruisers for cover as more lights flash inside my car.
My pulse picks up again when the first gun points my way. I may have treated this like a joke, but I’m not stupid enough to forget that armed cops are a very different problem than one in my rearview.
“Yeah, I don’t think they’re going to let you drive up and get me.”
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing that bad.”
“Remi Isabel Cain, what did you do?”
A voice blasts through the speaker outside. “Driver, turn off the vehicle and place both hands where we can see them!”
I stare down at the steering wheel for a moment. Getting arrested isn’t exactly new territory for me, but this is definitely the most dramatic anyone has ever been about it. I shut off the engine.
“Val?”
“I’m here.”
“You still love me, right?”
“Oh my God.”
“Driver, open the door and slowly step out of the vehicle!”
I do as they say and climb out with my hands raised while at least a dozen officers watch me like I might pull a grenade out of my ass.
“Remi, talk to me,” Valentina demands through the speakers.
“Face away from us!”
I turn around.
“Walk backward toward the sound of my voice!”
“You know,” I say to Val as I walk, “remember when you suggested shitty movies and dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I’m starting to think we should have done that.”
“Oh, Remi.”
An officer grabs my wrists and pulls them behind my back. The cuffs close around them, and I look over my shoulder at my car sitting perfectly intact.
At least I managed that much.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I say, loud enough for the car to pick me up, “but I’m gonna need you to bail me out.”