Page 22 of Violent Skies

“Fine.”

I turn to the Mustang but Riggs shakes his head. “We’re using the R35,” he says and points to Rafe’s car. It’s new. I’ve never seen it before. Similar to Birdie’s Skyline but sleek and looks more modern with its black and lime green design. “It’s faster.”

“Don’t tell Birdie you said that. She’ll make you watch YouTube videos on the comparisons until you vomit,” Rafe chuckles, hesitating to hand over his keys. “Be nice to my babygirl.”

It takes me a second to realize that he’s referring to his car and I shake my head gently in disbelief.

“I’m going to crank on it and fuck both clutches,” Riggs jokes, offering him a smirk that feels so light hearted in comparison to everything going on. Rafe looks terrified, clapping the keys into his palm with a concerned expression. “Get in the car, Cress.” Riggs pops open the door for me and I slide between him and the frame to get into the passenger seat.

He smells like the garage, motor oil, gas and with the faintest entanglement of spice from the cologne he’s wearing. The bruises from his fight peek out from under the shirt he’s wearing, loose and hacked around the arms to make it a tank.

The door slams the second I’m situated and he stops to say something to Murphy before turning to Rafe. Murphy comes around the side and sticks his head through the window to pop the glove box.

“Just in case.” He points to the firearm inside and gives me a look. “Shotgun means protection. He’s an ass but he’s our ass.”

“I hear you,” I say, laying my hand on top of his to reassure him. “Your glasses are smudged.” I scrunch my nose up at him and he goes cross eyed in an attempt to spot the dirt.

“Back up, Murphy,” Riggs barks as he settles in the driver's seat.

The engine revs to life, and he takes a few steps back to stand with Rafe as the car slowly pulls up to the starting point. The crowd forms around the four cars, the atmosphere more electric than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

Riggs looks at the cars down the line and over to me. “Put that on.” He nods to the harness style seatbelt hanging at my sides.

I clip it tight and before I can argue he reaches over and tugs on it roughly to make sure it’s secure. His hand brushes against mine and I try to ignore how warm it makes my skin.

“Here,” he says and I look at his hand. The foil wrapping shines up at me.

“Thank you.” I take it from him and leave the paper in the cup holder as I slip the gum between my teeth and look out the opposite window to hide my expression. I hate when he does that. He’s always been too good at it. Always a mile ahead of my thoughts.

“You ready?” he asks as Rafe wanders out to the middle of the track to give them the go ahead.

“No,” I answer honestly.

My answer doesn’t matter. The second the race starts, Riggs is gone. None of the hesitation that they expected from him can be found. It’s clear that he’s running on adrenaline but he’s locked into the pavement ahead of him and ignores the cars surging behind and beside him.

The obnoxious orange car rushes forward to our right and Riggs clocks the action with a quick glance before pushing the engine a little harder. We hit the corner at a dangerous speed but he controls the car like it’s a part of him and the second we’ve straightened out he’s regaining speed and putting space between us and the other drivers.

“It’s been a long time since we did this,” he says over the sound of the motor.

“Focus,” I warn him, but the speed is making him bold and I watch as the old Riggs starts to appear.

“Oh, come on, Cress.” His voice is dark with adrenaline. “It’s just us here. No one else to hear you.” Those blue eyes flicker to me and catch the street lights, filling with sparks. “I know you want to yell at me, tell me what you really think.”

“Pay attention to the road,” I warn him.

“You never told him?” he asks and I curl my hand around the harness for stability as he forces the car faster. The gap between him and the other drivers grows with every second but he doesn’t need the speed, he’s out racing them at every turn. He’s trying to prove a point.

“Why would I?” I snap, knowing that this conversation shouldn’t be happening.

“Right. You had to protect the perfect little life you had.” Riggs groans, his body shifting with the car as he throws us into another impossibly sharp corner. My stomach and I are starting to understand why they call this the Death Loop.

“I loved Koa. What more do you want?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I want you to be honest.” The sound of the engine grows as his speed fluctuates.

“Our life was perfect because Koa made sure it was!” I snap.

“You let him put you on that pedestal, Cress.” He never takes his eyes off the road or the mirror, rotating his attention from the road ahead of him to the road behind him. “What happened to the girl that wanted to feel alive? Did you find her on hospital rotations and cooking him meals that he was always late to?”