Scarlet
I knew there was going to be blowback after this set-up. Losing my father, I had prepared for. In the end, the man got what he deserved. A bullet is always destined for the ones who seek to control it. Raul Alverez may have been my father by blood, but he was also a greedy, manipulative bastard who thought he could avoid death and was above the law. With a few quick pulls of the trigger, he was dead and I was free. Well, as free as I can be under the deal I have with Jay McCall. A deal that is already tearing me apart on the inside.
Against my better judgment, I drive out of Vegas and head toward the desert to face my demon head on. The glow from across the top of the sand intensifies the closer to the track that I get. Following the crowd, I park as close as possible before stepping out of the car toward the noise. Jay told me where to find Trent, but I wasn’t ready to see him just yet. The nostalgia from the smell of fuel fumes permeates the air and threatens to take me back to a time where the sound of the engines roaring and the crowd cheering gave me a thrill. I can close my eyes and still see the many arenas and outdoor events I went to the year I followed Trent on the road. Back when he didn’t hate me and I hadn’t betrayed him.
My black Doc Martin’s kick up sand and gravel as I follow the trail that leads deeper into the chaos. People are crowded around cars, bikes, and jacked-up trucks. The haze of dirt, exhaust and marijuana is thick in the air, yet no one seems bothered by it. A DJ set up off to the side is blasting Blackbears’s “Hot Girl Bummer” as I make my way into the sea of people. Sticky bodies brush against my arms that are half-covered in my leather jacket, until I get to my destination. A chain-link fence lines the spectator area, holding the crowd back, something I’m surprised Trent has even invested in. The fence offers protection and these days he seems as if he could care less if a whole bike or car parts were to come barreling at the crowd. The first gust of wind that comes after the vehicles race by tosses my long dark hair around in a swirl. My eyes eat up their bumpers and tail lights as they drive past. Old flames of adrenaline spike in my blood stream, flaring to life, and bringing a ghost of a smile to my lips. I used to love this.
The vehicles race out of sight and around a point where they seem to disappear for a few seconds. My gaze lands there and lifts to the cliff above, where a lone figure leans against the boulders. The Point. Exactly where Jay said he would be. My chest clenches. I start toward that end of the track, right as the vehicles reach the finish line and most of the crowd erupts in cheers. I don’t stop to celebrate, just keep walking toward the man who holds my life in his hands. Jay’s warning from earlier is fresh in my mind and I know I need to find a way for Trent and I to coexist peacefully until my work is done.
I manage to find the worn path through the tall grass and keep my gaze on my destination, ignoring the way my throat grows thick. Everything is too much, and at the same time, I know we haven’t even scratched the surface of the mess between us. I keep my footsteps light the closer I get. Trent’s back goes rigid when I reach the top, and I know he’s aware it’s me. My eyes rake over the old and worn black and red racing jacket that’s stretched tightly across his broad shoulders and back, down to the destroyed denim that hugs his backside and muscular legs, before dropping to the black boots on his feet so similar to my own. My heart leaps in my chest painfully. He’s a dream to look at. A beautiful nightmare from my past that I need to confront to save my life.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters, turning to face me. A frown tugs his lips down, the cigarette between them glows against the darkness, and his eyes burn with disgust. “Did your master send you here to be a good little lap dog?”
My brow rises, spine straightening. “Don’t you mean his good little bitch?”
His head tilts to the side. “Your words.”
I shake my head. “You should know more than anyone I’m not the type of girl to be bossed around.”
“No, just good at wielding a knife to the back,” he bites back and I’m half-tempted to smirk out of habit.
My eyes glance back to the track, while I ignore the dig he got in. My mind shuffles through all the things I should say and the many ways I’m supposed to make sure he shows up to Jay’s briefing tomorrow, only I can’t get past the questions that’s been plaguing me since I saw him again.
I clap my hands together. “As much as I enjoy this melodrama, I think it’s clear to see you don’t exactly hate me as much as you wish you did.”
His brow rises. “As intriguing as that statement is, I don’t really care to keep sharing the same air. So…” He motions from me to the bottom of the hill, before turning back to the edge where the action is.
“Why did you name your track after me? Why is my name tattooed across your hand?”
Trent goes still and, for a second, I forget how to breathe. Once again, I can’t control myself when it comes to this man. All my carefully planned sentences flushed down the toilet because of the burning need to still mean something to him.
His shoulders shake and a laugh escapes into the night air, echoing around us. Trent’s head falls back, until the bill of his hat hits his shoulder blade. This time when he turns around, his blue eyes are icy and distant. I fight the urge to flinch from the impact. “Everyone down there is racing illegally, selling drugs, buying drugs, partying underage. A cesspool of criminals in one way or another. Scar, is just a name that embodies all of that.”
“Why the tattoo?” I ask again, my gaze moving from his face to the hand he has wrapped around a bottle of Jack.
“Each time I look down all I think about is wrapping my hands around the neck of the person responsible for my friend’s murder. How I’ll choke the life out of that person and enjoy watching the light leave their eyes as they struggle to breathe. Scar is the reminder I need. The end goal. You’re responsible. Your dad and that empire are responsible.” His head twists to the side and I watch while his throat constricts and his hand flexes on the bottle before he flings it into the distance.
I startle from the noise of the shattering glass in the quietness around us. My heart rate kicks up and my eyes blink furiously to stop the sting of tears. Trent hating me is not new. I’ve accepted it and in the past six years, I’ve done everything I can to move on and look for ways to make it right. Now the time is here and I’m scared. That is what I hate more than anything. I quit letting men have my fear when I was eighteen.
“Will you be there tomorrow or not?”
He scoffs. “You can tell your master I’ll be there. Anything to get this over with, so I can put you behind bars where you belong.”
“I’ll accept and take responsibility for what I’ve done.” I find the will to keep my voice strong. “I just hope you’re ready to hear the truth. Not everything is what you seem to believe.”
“If you think I trust anything that comes out of your mouth, Reyes, you got another thing coming. To me, you’ll always be the lying bitch who ruined my life and killed one of my best friends.”
I knew he’d say it. I’d spent months preparing myself to hear these words, and yet, they still feel like razor blades nicking across my skin, flaying my feelings wide open. There’s nothing else to say. I turn on my heel and head back down the path, keeping my head up and my back straight. Trent can’t hurt me; I’ve already blackened my soul enough for the both of us.