Page 21 of Violent Skies

“Right,” he says, clearing his vision with his fingers and rubbing his nose roughly between his thumb and pointer. “Transparency. It’s the Death Loop today, and Ari, Gio and Lenon are racing which means you’re not.”

“Fuck you,” Birdie spits but it’s pretty clear that those names rattle her a bit.

“Gio’s driving that Dayton Scat Pack,” Murphy says, and her head whips around to find it in the crowd. Bright orange, obnoxious, and obviously a surprise.

“So what? I can outrace him even in that full stock piece of garbage,” she argues, brushing off the moment of doubt.

“Can you, while avoiding Lenon?” Riggs stands to his full height, towering over us and eying Birdie. There’s pieces I’m missing.

“Who’s Lenon?” I ask.

“A shit racer with a shittier build,” Birdie is quick.

“Full transparency, Bird.” Riggs mocks her.

“The summer before Koa died, Lenon interrupted one of our runs and almost got me killed because he’s a shit racer,” she repeats. “That was back then,” she goes toe to toe with him, “with distractions! This is me and the street.”

“You can’t deal with both of them at the same time.” Riggs puts his foot down on the matter. “I’m going to do it.”

“Are we going to have this argument every single race?” Birdie asks in a hushed snarl. Her dark hair is pulled up into a tight, slick ponytail and it shows off the frustrated tension in her jaw and throat. “I brought home twenty thousand dollars. I’m good enough.”

“It’s not about your skill, Bird.” Riggs stares at her with those intense blue eyes that used to win every single argument. “It’s about the variables. We have no idea who else is out there, waiting for us. The impound lot was a trap, what’s to say every race we run isn’t?”

“You can’t win.”

“Yes I can,” Riggs pushes.

“You’re hurt.”

That makes Riggs chuckle. “I can drive.”

“You’re trigger-shy,” she fights. “You have been since—”

“Say it.” Riggs steps forward. Birdie matches his aggressive behavior on flat feet, staring up at him like she’s towering over his height.

“Since you killed Koa.” Her tone is flat and harsh. “You barely drive now, and when you do it’s with a feather foot and your hand on the emergency brake,” Birdie snaps. “We need this money, not your fucking ill-placed need to protect us.”

“It’s my job, you’re my family.” He never raises his voice, and I’m not sure what’s worse, the lack of emotion or knowing exactly how they all feel about him. Rafe stares at the back of his head and Murphy seems to find interest in everything but the argument. “We don’t control anything out here on the road. We don’t know what they’ll do.”

“The call came from inside the house that night!” Birdie reminds him. “He was family too!”

“I’m racing Birdie,” he says again, clearly trying to brush off her accusations, true or not.

“Yeah, whatever.” Her bottom lip quivers, seconds away from a stream of angry tears but she plasters on that award winning smile and backs away from him into the crowd.

“Go get her, I need her riding shotgun,” Riggs says to Rafe without addressing the concern on his face.

“I’ll do it,” I say, startled by the sound of my own voice.

Murphy chokes on his own spit and brings his attention to me. “Are you sure?”

“Let Birdie cool down, take me.” I stare at Riggs and his jaw ticks. “Even if you get her to come back she’s not going to be helpful.”

“Cress has a point. Birdie will sabotage this race to prove a point,” Rafe says. “She’s done it before.”

I look at him confused.

“That’s a story for later.” Rafe laughs and the lines around his eyes crinkle. Always so soft and handsome. I nod, taking that answer and waiting for Riggs to break.