Page 14 of Violent Skies

“That’s them,” I say, instinctively looking at Riggs. “How did you do that?” I turn back to Murphy as Riggs remains cold.

“Don’t ask him that,” Rafe groans as Murphy runs into a long winded sentence about code and how flimsy most security systems’ firewalls are.

“I can’t pull facial recognition without some serious power. It’ll take time, and I’ll have to take a trip downtown,” he groans. “But do you remember the license plate? You had to have seen it a dozen times.” Murphy says.

“BJK6390.” There’s no hesitation. I only needed to see it once. Photographic memory. Back when we were teenagers Koa and Riggs would have me remember license plates, I never knew why back then but everything about my life is starting to make a lot more sense now.

“That’s my girl,” Riggs huffs under his breath, and I stare at him until he feels awkward enough to rise from the table and take my plate to the kitchen. I reach into my purse and pull out a foil-wrapped piece of gum to chew on.

“It’s not registered to anyone on this list, but that’s expected. They showed up to rough you up, they wouldn’t want to be caught…” Murphy trails off and starts typing again. “Hah, idiots.”

Birdie leans over and looks at the laptop with a giggle. “Wow.”

“They paid for parking,” he says, “at East Valley.” He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. It’s the hospital I work at.

“They would go to the closest hospital. It makes sense,” Rafe scoffs. “What did you do to him that made them swerve off their plans?”

“She fucking stabbed one of them,” Birdie laughs.

“You what?” Riggs drops the plates in the sink and they crash together loudly.

“Blood everywhere. She must have nicked an artery or something.” Birdie lifts her bowl to her lips, watching Riggs over my shoulder. I turn to see him completely tensed and gripping the countertop as he stares out the window.

“I got him in the shoulder,” I tell him quietly. “He only bled because he pulled it out.”

Riggs looks back at me, his jaw tight. I know if we were alone he’d have something to say about it but he swallows the concern, the regret. I watch his throat bob as he does.

“Also, I’m pretty sure they’re still following me,” I add and they all stare at me in disbelief.

“Tighten it.” I point with the wrench in my greasy hands and lean against the bumper with my back as Murphy utilizes his stupidly long limbs to get the bolt I showed him. Cress wanders around in a line, pacing back and forth, chewing wildly on her fourth piece of gum while Rafe and Riggs write down everything she can remember about the sedan at the hospital.

“You think we can pull this off?” I whisper to Murphy, and he turns his head to look up at me. The dark swirls of his hair shake from the movement and his horned glasses slide down on his nose. He uses the back of his wrist to fix them and chews on the inside of his lip. “Not very convincing, Murph.”

“You asked.” He shrugs and swallows. “Logically… no. The numbers aren’t on our side, they both know it, you know it. Racing will help, but we have no idea what these guys want. Not really. Sure we get them half a million, by some miracle, but who’s to say that’s the end of it.”

“Everything is a trap.” I confirm what he’s thinking and he nods. “So we be extra smart. You’re good at that.” I nudge him.

“Just be safe tonight, alright?” He pauses what he’s doing on the Skyline and stares at me for a little longer.

“Did you load the extra tank?” I ask, instead of promising anything.

“Yeah, but we need to change your tires before tomorrow. You’re such a fucking girl.” He scowls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I pinch his arm.

“Means you run them bald, drifting behind Riggs’s back, and you aren’t slick.” Murphy smirks knowingly and I just shake my head.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I hiss at him, and he pretends to zip it.

“Is it ready?” Riggs asks, wandering toward us. His hulking frame eclipses mine as I turn to look at the insides.

“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s going to be fast. But we need it to be.”

“Good. I’ll race,” Riggs says, and Murphy shoots up so fast he slams his head against the hood of the Skyline with a loud thump.

“What?” He massages his fingers into his scalp.

“No.” I argue immediately, barely able to wrap my head around what he just said.