Chapter 19

War - Phix

The sound of my phone vibrating on my nightstand beside the bed wakes me. Forcing my eyes open, I find Bexley sound asleep beside me. Her back curled into the crook of my arm, and her thick raven hair fanned out across my pillows. My phone vibrates again. Groaning, I reach for it. Draygon's name is lit up across the glowing screen, and I swipe to answer before lowering the phone to my ear.

"What?" I ask. My voice cracked and husky.

"Yo, Baby Shaw," Draygon replies. "Why do you sound like death reincarnated? Were you asleep or some shit?"

"Yeah, actually, I was. It's what─" Pulling the phone from my ear, I check the time, finding it's barely eleven pm. Fuck. When did I become an old person?

Draygon's laughter echoes through the phone. "Alright, I see how it is. That girl got a tight leash on, yeah, huh? Good, you need it."

"Shut up. What the fuck did you call me for?"

"I wanted to see if you were up for a little race. On the strip."

The strip. For years, bikers have been meeting up along Morris Bridge Road, on certain days throughout the month to race. It's hugely frowned upon by the league and, of course, our coach. Though we don't usually take part, that doesn't stop the team and I from hanging out to watch the races. You see, out there, there are no rules. There's no control, and everyone is fair game, meaning everyone is going to play dirty.

It's rarely worth the risk.

"Are you stupid? You know that shit isn't allowed. We're already down two team members compared to everyone else. You really think I wanna risk getting suspended for the rest of the season?"

"Christian is racing."

My body tenses with the sound of his name. Quickly, I sit upright in the bed, my eyes finding their way back to Bex. Even in sleep, she's fucking beautiful. Scanning every inch of her exposed body with my eyes, I find myself still struggling to believe she's actually mine.

Finally fucking me.

There isn't a single sign of the marks he left on her body. Not a single bruise. Now, she's thriving. Healing, and in the process, healing some part of myself and my brother. Even if he's not as willing to admit it, I know she thinks he blames her for Cruz's death and Reign's accident. It's eating her up inside, especially with how he suddenly turned on her. But it has nothing to do with her.

Talon has never handled emotional pain well. He shuts down and blocks out everyone who wants to help him. I've seen him do it a hundred times, but he'll come back around when he's ready. Bex just needs to be patient with him and let him grieve in his own way. Tonight was a small step in the right direction—one I didn't see coming.

"Baby Shaw, you there?" Draygon's voice shouts through the phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here," I reply.

"So? Are you coming or what?" he asks loudly. I can hear crowds of people in the background, music blaring, and bikes revving. My head is telling me not to go. To stay here, in bed with Bex. But my heart hurts for the friend I lost. It hurts for Bexley, and in some fucked up way, I feel like I need to go. I need to beat him, even if it is an unofficial race. Christian needs to be put down, both on and off the track. Beating him at the strip would be the perfect little slap in the face until I can beat him on the track this season.

I could beat him for Cruz, Reign, and Bex.

"I'll be there in ten," I add before ending the call. I press a soft kiss to Bexley's head, allowing myself a minute to inhale her sweet scent before carefully sliding out of the bed. Heading to my walk-in closet, I pull on a pair of jeans and a white tee, slide on my race boots, and quietly open the bedroom door. Taking one last look over my shoulder, I look at the beauty sound asleep in my bed. I softly close the door and head downstairs. Grabbing my jacket and keys I head out, locking the door behind me.

The cool night wind coming in off the ocean assaults my nostrils with salty air as I head down the deck stairs to the driveway. Picking up Bexley's helmet, I place it on Talon's S1000 bike seat before climbing on my own bike and starting up the engine.

Tonight, Christian gets to find out what happens when you fuck with my family. It's a lesson he'll never forget. He's already taken one too many people from me, and I will fucking die before he touches a single hair on Bexley's head again.

Morris Bridge Road.

This is the hangout spot for all the underground street races and stunt performances. It's a long straight away with a slight curve in the back roads of Tampa. Not a very popular spot, even for locals. It's why it's the perfect place for this shit.

I pull down the street, slowly swerving through crowds, searching for Draygon. The sides of the road are full of dense crowds of people, all watching and placing bets on the races. Some riders are ripping it up and down the straight, doing stunts and tricks while crowds cheer them on.

Flipping my visor up, I stand on my bike, getting a better view of the people up ahead. Finding Draygon, I slowly make my way over, greeting people with a bump of my knuckles as I pass them.

Pulling up next to Draygon's red S1000, I find him chatting up with the guys hosting the races. He's the one who takes the bets and ensures everything goes smoothly. Draygon's onyx-black hair is slicked back, and he's wearing a white muscle shirt that shows off all the ink across his arms and chest. A thick silver chain dangles around his neck. A perfect match to the silver Rolex around his wrist. Draygon has money. A lot of it, and he loves to show it off. Always has. He's a fan of the finer things in life, and if he can flaunt it to get a head in life, he sure as fuck will.

A few girls are crowded around his bike, which is not surprising. Draygon has always been a fan of having multiple girls at once, and I can't say I blame him. I've had my fair share of fun nights, but now, the only girl I want in my bed is still there, sound asleep, and I can't wait to get back to her.

"Hey, Sayshen," one of the girls say as she pushes off Draygon's bike to greet me. She struts toward me with intent, and I know immediately exactly what she is looking for by how she sways her hips and bites down on her lip. I've probably given it to her before, and if I didn't have my perfect girl in my bed at home waiting for me, I might do it again.

"Not interested," I snap. She stops, and I watch as her expression changes with the rejection. Giving her my back, I turn toward Draygon. "Yo, we doing this shit or what?" I shout, drawing Draygon's attention. He smirks, handing the guy a couple hundred dollar bills before sending him off and approaching me.

"Took you long enough. Does your brother know I called you?" he asks, narrowing his dark brown eyes at me.

"Do you think I'd be here if he did? Stop with the stupid questions. Where is he?" I snap, my tone sounding colder than I intended, but I know Draygon can handle it. He's probably expecting it.

"Over there, listen though. He will be gunning for you as badly as you're for him. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Are you fucking with me? You literally woke my ass up to come here, and now you wanna play good guy?" I laugh.

"Listen. I know you're fucking pissed, okay. We all are. But it's different with you. It's not just about Cruz and Reign for you, it's about your girl. That's why I fucking called you. If anyone is going to take Cordova out, I think it should be you, and I know you want it to be you. I'm just making sure you know what you're getting yourself into." he explains. "This ain't the track. Theres no fucking rules, Baby Shaw, and we both know he's not going to go down without a fight. So I'm asking, are you ready?"

"How much did you place on my head?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"Too fucking much. So you better not let me down fucker," he laughs.

The fog horn blares, signaling the racers to line up at the start.

"I got this," I reply, doing my best to reassure him. "Here, hold my piece," I add, pulling my gun from my waistband and handing it to him. He tucks it in the back of his jeans, and nods. I don't flaunt it, but I never leave home with out my gun. Tampa isn't the safest of places, especially when you're meeting up at an illegal race in the back roads where just about anything can happen. I'm not the only one here who's packing either, even Draygon has his own piece tucked into his jeans right next to mine.

Flicking my visor closed and revving the engine I follow the line through the crowd of people right to the starting line and pull up right beside Christian. Stopping with my front tire on the line, I turn my sights next to me, where Christian is already staring me down.

His eyes are smiling with amusement as if he's so sure of himself about this race—about beating me. He flips his visor closed before returning his attention on the empty road in front of him.

A tall brunette in short denim shorts and a low-cut crop top heads out onto the road with a red bandana in her hand. Her long, straight hair blows around in the wind as she turns to face us. Besides Christian and me, there are two other racers: a girl I've seen around riding a bright pink GSXR 750 and a guy I don't recognize revving up his little Honda Cbr like it stands a chance against the bigger bikes.

Draygon makes his way to the front of the crowd, nodding his head at me before the brunette waves the flag, signaling the start of the race.

All four of us take off down the straight.

At first, the pink GSXR takes the lead, leaving the rest of us behind her. I hold the same pace as Christian, not wanting to give it all I have too early.

He looks over at me, and I meet his glare before we both twist the throttle. Each second seems to last forever as the crowds of people around us blur together. My head fills with thoughts of Cruz—the empty hole in my chest that his death has left behind. I think of Reign. Left to finish out the remainder of the season from the pits with a shattered leg.

Christian speeds up, taking the lead by a few feet in front of me and tries to cut me off. I'm forced to back off to avoid him hitting me. Dirty fucking move, but I knew it was coming. I expected him to use the ‘no rules' bullshit to his advantage. After all, it's what I plan to do too. Call it revenge, or retaliation, I don't give a fuck. All I know is by the time this race ends, Christian will be laying on the pavement and I'll be stuffing my pockets with some extra cash.

Twisting the throttle, my bike picks up speed. I sway, left and right, before deciding to make the move and pass him on the left side. When we're parallel to each other, the sound of my phone ringing blasts through my Bluetooth headset in my helmet. For a split second, I glance down at my phone mounted on the front of my bike to find Bexley's name.

And then I realize, I fucked up.

All it takes is one split second. One fucking moment where eyes stray from the road in front of me, from Christian, to fuck everything up.

Christian's tire hits my front tire with his, causing me to lose control. The front brakes lock up, and the bike slides out from under me. I follow it, sliding across the pavement. My helmet goes flying the first time it smacks off the ground. The second time sends a shooting pain across my skull, causing me to cry out.

Fuck.

I wrap my hands around my head in a last-chance effort to try and protect myself from further injury. My body rolls around, smacking off the hard ground along the way. It isn't until my body finds its way to a grassy ditch on the side of the strip that I finally stop. The first thing I notice as I lower my arms is that I can't feel anything. My body is completely numb, and no matter how hard I try to force my eyes open. I can't.

My thoughts fill with Bexley.

I can picture the gold flecks in her hazel eyes and the way she smiles when I kiss her forehead. Suddenly, a sharp pain radiates through my head, and slowly, the images begin to fade.

Then everything goes black.