It was decided that I would keep her happy, in the hopes that she would give me information on her crew, but so far nothing. With what Stevie heard, and what I have been told by my old street racing friends, a big deal will go down tonight.
The 749 crew are out in force. We spot them dealing and there is nothing we can do about it— there are way too many people here tonight.
No one wants a blood bath, and we know that her crew fucking carry guns and knives. Shit, we have witnessed them fucking people up.
“The car ready?” Racer asks.
“Yeah, Pres.”
“She is purring like a bitch in heat,” Savage tacks on, and I chuckle.
“Such a way with words, Savage,” Val chides.
“Much like you then,” he smarts off, looking bored.
Val huffs, looking around the space where we stand. There are over two hundred cars here tonight, and close to three hundred people. Bets are being taken, food and drinks are flowing from the vendors, that are here like us, illegally. But, who gives a fuck, right?
A hot dog is a hot dog.
On more than one occasion I have seen Val focus on one area of people, her head giving the slightest of nods and her hand moving in a certain way. She is fucking signaling people here with the drugs. What she doesn’t know is that Forge and Flame and one of the prospects are slipping between people, handling it.
Racer is also on guard like the rest of us— we need to take this crew down before more people get hurt. He’s in communication with Sheriff Palmer as well, to help catch these pricks.
“You have raced this track before?” Savages asks.
“Raced it. Logan is unbeaten on thistrack,” Val air quotes when she says the word ‘track.’
Savage gives her a deadpan look, before turning his gaze to the people surrounding us. Val looks over her shoulder like she is looking for someone; she is also puffing out her chest, and glaring at any women who come too close.
She is acting like my girlfriend, and it makes my skin itch.
Racer discretely looks to where she is looking, his face showing no emotion, and giving nothing away. He is fucking calculated, and that is what makes him a good president. I inch away from Val, but she follows, moving with me.
Savage smirks at me, knowing that this is pissing me off. He is fucking loving the hell I am in right now. It was him who I talked to about Stevie; it felt right being able to talk to him about my shit.
“Hey, Logan, glad you could be here, man.” Alex comes up to us, Carlos with him but I don’t see Oscar.
We fist-bump and do the one-arm hug thing.
“Hey. Big turn out, man,” I say, smiling.
“Yeah, biggest fucking ever.”
“It might have something to do with the fact you texted every fucker, letting people know that our boy here was back to race,” Carlos adds.
“They really want to see our brother race that much, huh?” Target asks.
“Yeah, man.” Alex looks at him.
“Few people could beat Logan Vaughan. Even in the best souped-up cars,” Carlos chimes in.
“No shit.”
“It is why all the ladies wanted him, but ya know…” Alex nods to Val, who is sneering at my friend.
They never liked her, but she was with me, so they put up with her.
“Yeah, but he’s mine,” Val snaps, her teeth baring at my friends.
