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Chapter1
The Barrel of Her Gun
Massimo
Street racing was a highly lucrative endeavor. Unfortunately, it was also illegal. I shifted gears, focusing on the finish line about a quarter of a mile away. The crowd cheered from the sidelines, and for a moment, their energy filled me with a sense of purpose. Of course, the rush and the feeling of being alive, never lingered long—not since Mom had died a couple of years ago.
I gripped the steering wheel of Mikey's Toyota Supra, a little race car that hugged the asphalt just right. When I took on the last turn, the familiar psychedelic dance of the police lights flooded the inside of the vehicle.
"Motherfucker," I blurted out over the loud techno beat of the speakers.
With a quick glance at my opponent one lane over, I shook my head once and drifted off the road. We weren't done. We just needed to shake the cops first. Those were the rules. As per our contingency plan, I took the second right, which landed me on a quiet residential avenue lined with two-story, Craftsman style homes.
A woman on a rooftop waved a checkered flag in my direction. I figured she was part of the crew so I pulled into her private driveway. The cacophony of revving engines, sirens blaring in the distance, and a goddamn helicopter giving chase matched the thumping of my racing heart while I waited for her to come down.
Where the hell was I? Two nights ago, I’d been piss drunk on my brother's yacht in Ibiza. I had a vague recollection of agreeing to do a drag race for my friend Mikey. After what seemed like a few hours, we were landing in Atlanta. Had that been this morning? The days kept blending one into the other. I swore the same techno tune playing now had also been jamming on the boat and on the jet ride here.
I killed the ignition and stepped out of the car to greet my guardian angel. When I stepped into the light, her green eyes went big in surprise. A pretty pink rushed to her cheeks as she ogled me from head to toe. She bit her bottom lip, shooting a glance at the hood of the racer.
I grinned at the ground, and then flashed her what I had been told was one of my panty-melting smiles. My stomach dropped, though, when instead of finding those gorgeous eyes again, I came face-to-face with the barrel of her gun.
"Who the hell are you?" Her voice was smooth and sexy. "Where's my brother?"
"I'm sorry, who?" I raised my hands in surrender. One, because it was the universal sign for, "I don't want any trouble," but also, because she looked like she really wanted to shoot me. "Hi, I'm Massimo Alfera." I offered her my hand.
She knitted her brows and tightened her grip on her weapon. "Where is Zack?"
"Zack?" I racked my brain for the name, but nothing came to mind. In truth, it was hard to think with her standing there looking like some blonde goddess, pointing a nine-millimeter at me. Who would’ve thought that could be such a turn-on? "I don't know Zack."
"Then what the fuck are you doing with his car?"
Fucking Mikey.
"Maybe it just looks like his Supra." I had seen other Toyotas similar to this one at the starting line.
"Cut the bullshit. I built that car."
"Really? Wow. That's a real nice ride."
"My brother?"
"Long story there." I took in her scent and cool energy. "Unfortunately, I don't have time to tell it to you right now. I have a race to win." I gave her a charming smirk.
She puffed out an indignant breath that told me exactly how she felt about my flirting tactics. "I don't think so."
When she shuffled toward me, her foot kicked a beer can. The sudden noise startled her and pulled her attention away from me. I jumped on the opportunity—grabbed her wrist and disarmed her. Of course she immediately came at me swinging. As entertaining as all this banter was, I had to head over to Freedom Parkway and finish. Whatever Mikey had going on with Zack, the alleged owner of the vehicle, I had a reputation to maintain.
In a fluid motion I had done a million times before, I leaned slightly sideways to avoid her fist, stepped right, caught her arm, and swung her around, so she landed hard against my chest. And fuck me if her body didn't feel good.
"I would love to stay and continue this conversation, but like I said, I gotta go." I bent down and threw her over my shoulder.
"Are you insane?" She wiggled her body, uttering a string of profanities.
I strode inside her house, through a long and wide hallway that led to her living room on the opposite end. She clawed at me, until I unceremoniously dropped her on her sofa.
"Now be a good girl and stay."
If looks could kill, I would've dropped dead on the spot from the furious glare she shot my way. I put both arms up to show her I meant her no harm. Her fierce gaze never left mine as I sauntered back toward the front entrance. Outside, I left her gun on the front porch, smiling like an idiot. My heart pumped hard with a kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in years. Shit. I didn't even get her name.
