Chapter 49 – remi
Forty-Nine
remi
“What the hell, Matteo?”
It’s the third time I’ve called and the third time he’s sent me to voicemail.
I told him to meet me at the track. Sure, he doesn’t race, but he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend at the moment, which is as sad as it is tragic.
My thoughts drift to Thiago. The man I’m falling for is a cop, and I’m on my way to Furia to put a bullet between Rafe’s eyes. If Thiago knew what I was planning, he’d either have to arrest me or look the other way, and I refuse to put him in that position.
There it is. The problem I’ve been avoiding because I don’t have a solution for it yet. What we have feels too good to give up before I have to, so for now, I’m choosing not to think about what happens when our two worlds inevitably collide.
My phone lights up before I can dwell on it any longer, but it isn’t Matteo returning my calls.
It’s my mom.
This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking, and I hate it. The timing couldn’t be worse, but there’s no way I’m ignoring her.
“Shit.”
I hit accept just before the last ring and wait for her to speak.
“Remi,” she says softly.
“I’m sorry.” The words spill out. “I meant to call. I should have called.”
“Me too,” she says. “But I didn’t want to upset you again. I wanted to give you space.”
“Thank you,” I say as I ease off the accelerator.
Silence stretches between us until I hear a faint sniffle on her end.
“Mamá, please don’t cry.”
Her tears are the last thing I need right now, because if she cries, I’ll cry, and showing up to get revenge as a blubbering mess would kind of defeat the purpose.
“I’m not crying, mi amor. I’m just happy to hear your voice and to know you’re okay.”
“Of course I am.”
“You know I love you, Remi. Sometimes I let being your mother get in the way of trusting that you know what’s best for yourself. You’re my heart, and the thought of anyone hurting you scares me.”
I sigh. “Mamá…”
“But that doesn’t mean I get to make your choices for you.” Her voice softens. “If you really like this man, I trust your judgment. I trust you know what you’re doing.”
I want to reassure her and tell her that I’m in complete control, but the truth is that I’m doing life raw at the moment, flying by the seat of my ass and hoping I don’t crash.
“I like him,” I admit. “I really do. It’s scary as hell, Mami, but I want to see where this goes.” I hesitate, searching for a courage I never imagined I’d need. “And I want you to meet him. Really meet him.”
“I’d love to.”
The tension I’ve been carrying since our argument finally eases, and I almost forget where I’m headed until the sign for my exit comes into view.
“Can I bring him by for dinner sometime?”
“Your dad mentioned that. He said he stopped by today.”
Of course he did. I expect nothing less from a man as whipped as my father.
“I also spoke to Matteo.”
Any relief I was feeling is gone.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says, with her mom voice turned all the way up.
Fucking Matteo is a rat bastard.
“Mamá, let me explain.”
“You’re not alone in this world, Remi. There is nothing you could say or do that would ever make me stop having your back.”
Seconds before bright headlights fill my rearview mirror, the growl of an engine sounds behind me. I’d recognize that purr anywhere. A Hellcat woman through and through, Mamá has owned more than a few over the years, but her latest baby is impossible to mistake.
“If you thought I’d let you do this alone, you must not know who I am.”
There she is. Amalia, la mercenaria.
They weren’t exactly bedtime stories, but the ones about her life in Villa Dorada, where she led an all-women mercenary team, were always my favorite.
I can’t help smiling.
“Matteo is a traitor,” I say, unable to keep the humor from creeping into my voice.
“No. Matteo cares about you.” She pauses. “And I threatened his life.”
“That sounds more believable.”
“When Santino called me about his cleanup crew going to your garage, I had to use every ounce of patience and understanding I possessed not to come find you and stop you.”
“And you didn’t.”
“No,” she says. “Because I know you need this.” She goes quiet for a moment.
“And maybe I need it too. That man fucked with my daughter, and that’s something I’ll never let slide.
” Pulling up beside me, she rolls down her passenger-side window.
I do the same. “This is all you, Remi, but I’ll be there when you need me. ”
I give her a wide smile before she falls back, then follows me off the ramp.
“Run me through your plan. Is he expecting you?”
The mother who called to make sure I was okay is gone, and in her place is the woman from all those stories, already plotting and calculating alongside me.
“I placed an anonymous bet. Pinks and fifty grand. If he’s the greedy bastard I know he is, he’ll show up.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I have sources, and it’s basically a guarantee.”
I walk her through the rest of my plan. The lot has too many witnesses, but I know the route to the bridge well enough to pinpoint exactly where the cameras and crowds disappear. All I have to do is get Rafe out there, isolate him, and kill him.
It’s simple enough.
Then I’ll be home in time to fall into Thiago’s arms or to ride his face. Either option is valid, and either sounds like the perfect way to end a chaotic day.
By the time we reach Furia, the energy is electric. The crowd looks twice as big as it normally does on a night like this, and my phone hasn’t stopped vibrating for the past twenty minutes. Everyone’s talking about the anonymous bid.
I had to leave my GT-R at home because the moment I pulled into the lot, everyone would know exactly who I was. Tonight, I brought out the big guns with a matte-black, stripped-out R35 I’ve been saving for a rainy day.
It turns out, attempted murder qualifies.
My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out, expecting another string of texts. Instead, Thiago’s name appears on the screen.
Thiago: Hey, beautiful. We still on for tonight? Pizza? I’ll grab your favorite.
I stare at the message longer than I should.
Beautiful.
I’ve been called that my entire life, and it’s never meant much to me. Coming from him, the word does all kinds of dangerous shit to my insides, and I don’t even have anything witty to fire back.
Remi, you are so fucked.
Me: I’ll be there, Braga.
Just as I send it, another message pops up in the circuit group chat.
DBN: Black R35 at the line. Gotta be him.
TY345: Fifty grand and pinks? Whoever posted that either has a death wish or knows something we don’t.
I pull my hat lower over my eyes and ease toward the starting line, savoring the attention as heads turn toward me. People point, whisper, and crane their necks to get a better look through the tinted windows. Cameras come out and phones rise as curiosity spreads through the crowd.
Exactly what I wanted.
My mom’s Hellcat sits near the edge of the lot. She’s still behind the wheel and will likely follow close behind once the race starts.
The last thing I wanted was to drag her into this, but knowing she’s here doesn’t make me feel any less capable of handling it myself. If anything, I’m proud.
A red Dodge Charger pulls up beside me. The windows are down, the bass is pounding, and Rafe lounges in the driver’s seat, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and a smug grin on his face.
He took the bait, exactly as I knew he would. Too stupid to piece together what happened to his missing errand boy, but I can’t fault him too much for that. He has no idea who I am or what I’m capable of.
A man with a bullhorn steps into the middle of the street.
I check my phone one last time and see that Thiago still hasn’t replied. It’s probably better this way. I need my head in the game, and that man, all six foot six inches of him, is a massive distraction.
Around us, the crowd gradually falls silent.
I plant one hand on the wheel and rest the other on the shifter as adrenaline floods my veins. Any second now, Rafe is going to learn he fucked with the wrong girl.
The man raises the bullhorn.
“Fifty grand and pinks!” he shouts. “You know the rules. First to the bridge and back wins. No cops, no bullshit, and no excuses.”
The crowd erupts.
Rafe revs beside me, grinning like he’s already spent my money. I fucking love it. It’ll make what comes next that much sweeter.
The horn sounds, and I launch hard, my back slamming against the seat. Tires scream, the engine roars, and Furia disappears behind me in a blur.
“You got this,” I tell myself.
Rafe stays at my rear through the first stretch, his Charger snarling with every shift. I let him think he’s keeping up. I let him believe this is a race, even though I’ve known from the beginning exactly where it ends.
The bridge comes into view, and I ease off the accelerator just enough to let him pull alongside me. He glances over, and even though he can’t see me through the blacked-out windows, I smile.
Just before we reach the stretch I picked out earlier, I fall back to let him pass.
There are no cameras here, and the crowds from Furia are far enough behind us that no one will see what happens next.
Rafe shouts something I can’t make out as he takes the lead.
Another pair of headlights appears in my rearview mirror, far enough back to give me room but close enough to reach me if I need her.
Mamá is exactly where I knew she’d be.
Lining up my bumper with Rafe’s rear, I brace myself, then make my move. The impact rattles through my car’s frame.
I swear I hear him yell, but I can’t be sure over the screech of tires and the violent crunch of metal. His Charger spins as dirt and gravel erupt around it. The front tires catch the embankment, and he overcorrects to regain control, lifting the car off the ground and rolling it onto its side.
It flips once, then again, tumbling across the road before crashing upside down across both lanes. I slow and watch the wreckage slide to a stop exactly where I wanted him.