Beck chose to fuck me, all the while knowing he would have to betray me.
We all made choices. And now we had to live with them.
Serena jumped to her feet then, her torn up boyfriend jeans swishing around her slim hips. “Enough maudlin talk, let’s get you sexy for this drive tonight.”
She rushed back to the front door, picking up the overnight bag she’d dropped there. I pulled myself off the couch slowly, but there was a tingling sensation in my limbs that I only got when I knew I was going to race soon.
I needed this. I really fucking needed it.
Twenty minutes later I was dressed like old-Riley. Skinny black jeans, and black ankle boots. A deep red tank top that hugged all of my curves and was tucked into the jeans. Black leather jacket over the top and my hair tamed into a long mass of frizzless curls. Serena had makeup with her as well, and I lined my eyes dark and my lips were red to match my shirt.
“Fuck, Riles.” Dante waggled his eyebrows appreciatively. “Lucky Beck isn’t out on Riley Duty today, because he would be on you so fast your head would spin.”
My fingers twitched at his words, and I worked very hard not to let the pain I felt show on my face. “I’ll probably shoot him the next time he touches me. You said the first kill is the hardest, might be worth testing that theory.”
Dante just smirked like he knew I was full of shit. I talked a big game, but shooting someone you cared about was very different to shooting an asshole that had attempted to kidnap you. And it had still almost broken me. Fuck Sebastian Roman Beckett. Fuck him to Hell.
3
Dante had a few new cars, and I took my time looking them all over. He said I could choose the car and while none of them were my baby, my butterfly, they also weren’t to be sneered at. The first I ran my hand gently across was a Porsche GT2, emerald green, and while I’d never driven one, I knew how stupidly fast it was. Next was an Audi R8, but it was the same yellow as Jasper’s Lambo, and I immediately dismissed it. Too many bad memories there, including the race I’d won for him.
The third car was old school. Mustang ’69 Fastback, it was cherry red, and I felt like that was a good omen for me tonight. I was rocking red all around.
“Thinking about going old school tonight, Riley girl?” Serena asked, her eyes running appreciatively across the Mustang.
I could never imagine any of the Delta heirs driving a car that wasn’t built this year.
“Yep,” I decided. “This is the one I’ll drive in Widowmaker.”
Dante grinned, and something told me that’s the one he’d been hoping I’d pick all along.
“Ahh, I wish I could go with you,” Serena said, her green eyes lit up with old memories. “But got to get home and cook my loves dinner.”
I hugged her this time, and she chuckled in my ear. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I appreciate you coming to my rescue.”
My ribs protested as she squeezed me back. “Girl, you’re family. You can come to me anytime you need something.”
I was too choked up to say anything, but I hoped she knew how grateful I was to hear those words.
Serena left then, and I slid into the driver’s side of the ’stang, flexing both hands on the wheel. I’d taken my black exoskeleton cast off a few days ago, and while my wrist felt a little weaker than usual, there was no pain. I was relieved to have full range of movement back.
“Ready to fuck shit up?” Dante asked, looking more alive than he had for days. His injuries were basically healed now, except for the ribs, and he apparently could handle that with no worries because I never even saw him flinch when he walked or breathed.
Dante hit the button to open his private underground garage, and I started the car, letting the rumble soothe me. For the first time since I’d been ambushed and forced to murder, tension in my chest eased, and I dropped my head back with both hands firmly on the wheel.
“There’s nothing better than this,” I moaned.
Dante pissed himself laughing, which I ignored to continue my Zen moment.
Before I even opened my eyes, I’d shifted her into gear, and slammed my foot on the accelerator. Dante’s laughter turned into a whoop, the crazy bastard, because anyone else would have shit themselves. The Mustang didn’t corner quite as smoothly as the last few cars I’d driven, which I’d have to keep in mind for a couple of the turns during the race, but she more than made up for that in pure power.
Sliding into the street, laughter burst from me as adrenalin and joy simultaneously filled me. “Fuck yes!” I shouted, swinging her around a corner, and slamming through the gears as I raced along the mostly deserted street. Dante lived in a quiet area, but we’d be downtown soon because I had to cross through the center of Jersey to get to Widowmaker.
We didn’t talk much, cranking the music instead and letting the beats of Dre fill the silence.
That was until we were about a mile from the rendezvous point with Rabbit. Dante had been looking over his shoulder again, the third time in as many minutes, before his eyes locked on his side mirror.
“What?” I said, exasperated. I was dodging traffic at high speed and couldn’t take my eyes off the road to see what had his attention.
“We have company,” he said simply.
Taking a risk, I shot a glance in the rearview and a familiar Bugatti came into sight. Muthafucker!
Beck was one car behind me, and I’d missed him somehow.
“He was out of sight until just then,” Dante said, knowing I was pissed. “I actually saw Jasper first.”
The yellow Lamborghini was hard to miss, even though I had apparently done that as well. My focus had been in front of me, and I’d missed that there were four somewhat familiar cars following at varying distances behind me.
“Those fuckers picked the wrong chick to mess with,” I said with heavy saltiness. “Hold on to your panties, Dante, we’re going to lose us some Delta heirs.”
Dante grumbled something about “not wearing fucking panties” but he took my warning seriously. His fingers threaded through the oh-shit handle, and he gave me a tight nod to show he was ready.
The corners of my lips pulled up in what was surely an evil grin, and with a quick glance in my mirrors and blind spots, I made my move.
“Fuck me,” Dante exclaimed as he gripped the handle with white knuckles and pressed himself tighter into the seat to stop from being thrown around as I gunned the engine and whipped the steering wheel to the side.
The Mustang handled like a dream, jumping eagerly to my commands as I ducked and weaved between the traffic at close to three times the legal speed limits. My left wrist panged a little as I aggressively steered one handed while my right was busy shifting gears, but it was a good sort of pain. It reminded me of everything that had brought me to this point, starting with my parents’ deaths.
“Whoa, Riles,” Dante gasped as I narrowly missed a pickup truck when I shot through a red light without flinching.
I flicked a quick look at him, but was reassured to see a broad grin on his face. “Shit, Dante,” I grumbled, focusing on my break neck driving. “Thought you were questioning my driving for a second there.”
Dante made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, but I didn’t dare take my attention from the road before me. It was like a maze, and my mind could see a clear path between the obstacles. I’d always been good at labyrinth puzzles, I could just see the pattern instantly, and this was no different.