Pissed, hungover and looking for a way to work out my own irritation, I hightail it out of there. I can’t go home, and I damn sure as hell am not going to Scarlet’s. I think of the one place I can go to find peace and find myself.
During the day, Scar is an empty pit and I take my aggression out of the dirt, sailing around the corners, letting the thrill from the ride wash over me. The jump brings me back to life. The adrenaline wakes me up. Revenge is the peace I need to keep going.
It took a couple of years after Scarlet fucked my life before I got back on a bike again. In a way, I felt like I deserved it, to lose my sponsorship. Being involved in a drug bust once was excusable, but it was still bad publicity, even though I was helping law enforcement. A second time, especially when the evidence was so heavily pinned against me, I didn’t stand a chance. Sam and Dean stopped associating with me after being threatened by AfterHours. I don’t blame them for saving their careers, but I can’t lie and say it didn’t suck. Elias kept up with me when he could, and we still text every now and then, but things were never the same. I ignored my instincts that something was wrong, and kept pushing the girl I loved to want to stay with me, completely ignoring the signs that she was trying to leave. I always convinced her not to go. I let that part of me die until Jay forced me to this track and made me ride.
After a few hours of riding solo, I stop and take my phone from my pocket. “Yo,” I say down the line, “Spread the word, I’m opening Scar tonight. First come, first serve.” I need a distraction tonight, and fortunately, I know just how to get it.
Scarlet
Man child. The mantra I keep repeating over and over in my head the entire time I walk my way farther into the desert, looking for Trent. Of course he ran to his track and called a party for tonight when we’re supposed to be working and setting everything up for the final showdown. I’m getting anxious for this to be over. Despite what Trent thinks, I don’t enjoy the crown I was forced to wear. I want my life back. I want to be safe every day when I wake up. I’ve been living for five years, wondering when I might be caught. For the most part, Jay is good on his end, however minor hiccups like the incident at La Flor can always sneak through. I was able to fix it, but there can always be a next time.
I keep feeling like Trent is waiting for me to slip up. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything the other night, but he surprised me by shoving his body against mine and his tongue down my throat. I hate that he makes me feel alive and wanted. It’s been driving me nuts for days that he was able to walk away after saying those words, giving me the smallest indication of his true feelings. Trent can say he hates me, but he’s forgetting how much I know him. How alike we are under the surface. God knows I’ve never stopped loving him.
Tonight I’m determined to shake him up and remind him who he’s dealing with. I’m not the scared girl I once was. I want to trust him, to work with him and to give him exactly what he wants: an end. I know I will never bring back his scholarship or repair what I broke, but I’m hoping he gets closure. This time I am giving myself completely to Trent, even when I know the fallout is not going to be good for me. I caught wind that he opened for business, brooding over what happened between him and Jay at the precinct. I quickly dressed in my own racing pants and threw on a black crop top, before leaving the house set on forcing his hand. One way or another, he needs to listen to me.
Panic At The Disco’s “Say Amen” is on blast while the crowd grows thicker and thicker. For a split second, I wonder if I will actually be able to find the guy I’m looking for. When I put out my own feelers, I was given two names and told both of them would be at Scar tonight. Jay had been right earlier today. Our next move has to stay on this side of the border. While I don’t doubt my own abilities, I know having a professional driver on hand will come in handy. I need Julio to believe he is safe when he leaves Vegas, so that his takedown by the border is so much more enjoyable.
My eyes skate across a canary yellow, with blue racing stripes, Nissan Skyline R34 that I was told to look for. I make my way to it, pretending to be checking it out when a young guy steps out of the driver side. I glance over him and realize he can’t be older than eighteen. How he has the credibility my guy raved about, I have no clue. My brow arches as I get closer. “This yours?”
The corner of his lips lift, and a cocky sheen dances in his eyes. “Are you Scarlet?”
I nod my head and he inclines his as a show of respect. He may be young, but he’s not stupid. “Did Cougar tell you my terms?”
He nods. “The race is set and caller knows you’ll be riding.”
I eye his ripped jeans, the white Henley stretched across his chest, and the red bandana tie across his forehead, keeping his unruly black, curly hair out of his face. His eyes are a crazy shade of gold that offsets his ebony skin tone.
“How long do we have?” I ask, looking around his vehicle while he stands off to the side watching.
“Our race is next,” he informs me with a lift of his shoulders. The ease in which he says it, without a worry or question, reinforces that he is a good pick.
I lean with him, watching the crowd as they pass by. Many of the guys stop to admire the vehicle while many girls stop to admire the driver. I smirk, because he’s so oblivious, not once has he looked away from Scar. A loud commotion takes place over by the finish line and the crowd goes crazy.
“We’re up,” he leans over and tells me. I walk over to the passenger side and slide in, instantly sinking down in the seat. The inside is lit up in neon blue lights, and J. Cole’s “Work Out” beats gently from the speakers.
“I know I told Cougar I didn’t need your specifics, but what’s your name?”
He laughs lightly, white teeth flashing, while maneuvering the car through the crowd to the finish line. “Dax,” he answers.
“Nice to meet you, Dax,” I reply, while looking out the window, trying to find The Point from where I’m at, hoping to see the lone figure at the top, looking down over his territory.
We slide up the line and the caller comes over to talk to Dax. I feel the man’s eyes slide to me, before he’s talking into a radio and walking away. He takes two steps before backtracking to our vehicle. “Ah excuse me, miss, what did you say your name was?”
I smile back, deadly, keeping my gaze bored looking. “I didn’t. You can tell your boss though that it’s Scarlet.”
The man’s face pales and he walks away faster this time, talking into the radio, his arm flying in all sorts of directions. Dax laughs next to me, but he keeps his eyes on the track, waiting for the flag to drop
“You ever raced before?”
“I’ve been around the block,” I inform him, pulling my buckle into place and tightening it.
“I race best when you don’t talk and when I can crank my music, you okay with that?” he asks and I nod my head. “Cool.”
Dax cranks his music to the max, my ears almost cringe from the high pitch, and he zones out. I watch in fascination as his fingers flex on the shifter while the other grips the steering wheel. I feel like I’m being watched, and the skin on my arms rises with goosebumps. A secret smile tugs my lips, knowing Trent has eyes on me. My adrenaline spikes when the engine purrs and my seat vibrates from the base.