Boost by Vi Summers
Chapter 3
-Raf-
“INNOCENT BYSTANDER KILLED AFTER STREET RACE HIT AND RUN.”
Shit! I clicked off the TV and tossed the remote on the couch. That was all I needed; my face plastered over the damn morning news, videoed leaving the scene of a crime, and the media implying I had been the one to take the man’s life.
Disturbance rolled within me again. The ghosts of my past began to rise, bringing with them the memories I wish I could erase. Not just for my sake, but my mamá’s and my sister’s, too.
Barely five minutes passed before I received the first phone call from one of my clients. He’d seen the morning news and now he wanted answers. Clients like him I couldn’t afford to lose—not when the commission meant I didn’t have to work a normal nine-to-five.
An hour later, I was pulling out of my driveway, on my way to meet with another client. I’d spent years building a reputable name and business of sourcing dream cars of all descriptions. I knew at some point in time both sides of my world would eventually collide, but I didn’t want it to happen like this.
Barely making it a half a block down the street, the driver’s door of a red Ferrari F12 swung open, and a guy stepped out. He pulled his baseball cap lower, remotely locked his car, then stood in the middle of the road. Not wanting to witness another man run down, I slowed and wildly gestured at him to move his ass.
Intending to drive around him, I rolled down the passenger window and leaned over. “Get the fuck off the road, asshole.”
The guy bent at the waist and flashed me a grin through the open window. Recognition fell into place.
“The fuck?” I slammed on the brakes at the same time he tugged the door open and threw himself into my passenger seat.
“Colton?” I exclaimed, and did a double-take.
“Drive,” he demanded. No Hello. No Hey brother, how’s it going? Just Drive.
Hissing a curse, I planted a foot and accelerated down the street while my head reeled. “What the hell, man?”
I hadn’t seen Colt in years, and now he was in my car, chilling in the passenger seat as if we were still tight as fucking thieves.
“So… how’zit?” I asked, and stole another glance his way.
He adjusted his cap on his brow and chuckled. “I was about to ask you the same.”
I barked a laugh. “Heard the news, did you?”
A snigger came from the right—one that was deeper than when we were kids, but familiar all the same. “You do it?”
“The fuck you think, man? I’ve done some shady-ass shit over the years, but that?” I shook my head. “Na-ah. I saw him run down, Colton. I tried to save him.”
He reached for the overhead handle as I hooked a tight right through an intersection.
“No need to explain to me, Raf. I know how the media twist and warp things without giving a fuck about how it comes across to the outside world.”
I snorted. “Well, you do have a knack of attracting attention. Only difference here is that I’m trying to not draw attention to myself.”
Colton’s snigger filled my car. “Don’t bullshit me, Raffie. You still thrive on the attention and atmosphere each race night brings. I can see it on your damn face. Once a racer, always a racer. It’s in our blood.”
“You and I lead very different lives now, Colt.” I laughed bitterly.
I wasn’t resentful of him hitting the big time; I was bitter that I had to keep my love of racing contained within the underground. Finding rare cars for my clients was a thrill in itself, but nothing compared to the one I got when behind the wheel.
As if proving the point, I weaved in and out of traffic at pace, then circled the block to head back in the direction we came from.
“There’s more at stake now, Colton,” I added, after a few drawn-out minutes.
“Always is,” he murmured, looking out of the passenger window.
“So, you think I did it?” I asked, referring to the hit and run last night. Not that it actually mattered, but still, I had to ask.
Colton glanced across and flashed me another lop-sided smirk. His green eyes danced with serious undertones. “Does it really matter what I think?”
“Fuck no, and yet, here I am askin’.”
I caught his shrug in my peripheral vision. “You’ve never given me a reason to mistrust you, so yeah, for what it’s worth, I believe you.”
The background music of the radio filled the extended silence as I mindlessly wove through the streets. All brainpower concentrated on trying to work out why, after a decade and a half, Colton Donavan was riding shot-gun in my black Nissan GT-R.
“So, since I’m suddenly playing chauffeur, where are we heading?”
Colton chuckled and waved a hand. “Just wherever. This won’t take long.”
My eyes narrowed on the road. “What won’t take long?”
His voice lost the humorous edge. “I have a business proposal.”
My sharp outburst of laughter sounded forced. “What the fuck kind of business proposal could you have for me? You and I are in different leagues now, brother.”
Looking each way at an intersection, I took the corner fast and got a little drift on, just like old times.
Colton let out an amused chuckle. “You’ve still got it, Raffie.”
“Damn right, I still got it. Have you seen my track record?” I asked, surprised as hell when he drawled, “As a matter of fact, I have. Impressive.”
I rolled to a stop at a red light and cast a cocky look sideways at him.
Colton scoffed. “I see your ego is still intact.”
I casually slung a wrist over the steering wheel while waiting for the green and smirked. “Pot calling the kettle black, man. You’ve got enough ego for the both of us.”
He simply grinned and didn’t bother denying it—we both knew I spoke the truth.
“We started in the same league and look at us now; I’m the best in mine, and you’re the best in yours,” he stated.
Well-earned pride rose in my chest, yet I locked down the grin. Compliments from Colton were rarely handed-out back in the day, and as much as I savored it, I refused to let it show.
Toggling my feet and getting the perfect balance between clutch and accelerator, the power of my GT-R’s engine demanded to unleash while we waited for the light to change. I would be off the mark within a split-second of the green light, and I was primed and waiting.
An older Skyline with three young guys in pulled up beside us, windows down, music blaring, and yahooing at the top of their lungs. I didn’t miss Colton pull his cap lower while sinking further into the seat.
My head snapped to the carload of guys as soon as the driver revved the engine. I burst out laughing at his amateur show of skills. Revving my engine in response, I checked the light while the youths whooped and goaded me into a race.
“You gonna do it, Ortiz, or pussy out?” Colton drawled with a smirk.
“Don’t test me, Donavan,” I growled, trying to ignore the heckling from the car beside us.
The traffic on either side of the intersection slowed.
Colt sniggered. “You’ve got approximately three seconds to decide, Raf.”
Turning a smirk on guys next door, I pressed a little harder on the accelerator and felt my car instantly react. I looked back at the light the millisecond it turned green and stomped on the gas, surging through the intersection with a well-timed gear change that put us two lengths in front of the carload of wannabes.
Colton cracked a laugh. “Oh, come on, you could at least toy with them a little.”
Sufficiently provoked, I slowed just enough to allow them to think they had a chance, then cut sharply into their lane, accelerating perfectly to avoid getting rear-ended.
It took a few blocks for the adrenaline to subside from my veins, and when my ‘day driving’ had returned to acceptable speeds, I wove through suburbia while cutting the crap with Colt.
“Look, man, as much as I’m loving this blind date, how about you get to the point?”
He took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his dark hair. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and you’re the perfect person to bring on board to make it happen.”
“Which is?” I pressed.
“A foundation to hand-pick the cream of the street racing youths, and give them the opportunity to break into the pro circuit.”
“Like you?” I deadpanned.
His green eyes locked with mine when I looked his way, and he nodded. “Like the opportunity I was gifted, yes.”
I cut him off. “There’s no bad blood between us, brother. I just don’t understand why now? All these years later?”
Silence trickled over us, and I waited for his reply.
“I guess seeing the kids where Rylee works and having kids of my own has changed my perspective.”
Smirking, I pulled down my street. “You’ve softened, bro.”
Colton barked another laugh. “In a lot of ways I have, but not where it matters.”
I cruised to a stop behind his parked F12.
“Not too close to Sex,” he said, leaning forward in his seat.
“I’m fucking miles away. And Sex?”
Colton flashed a shit-eating grin before tugging his cap back on. He swung the passenger door open and climbed out. “I’ll be in touch with my business proposal.”
“You haven’t told me the details yet!”
He softly clicked the door closed and smirked. “See ya ‘round, Raffie.”
“The fuck, Colton? You gotta give me more details, man!”
Laughing and waving me off, he then got behind the wheel of his F12 without further explanation.
“Son of a bitch,” I yelled, and slapped the steering wheel.
Making a show of my irritation, I boosted past him without giving him an inch to pull out in front of me.
Sure, he owned the track, but the streets were my domain.