Page 60 of Full Throttle

“He thinks he won,” Dontell continued, throwing his arm out, gesturing to his beautiful home. “He thinks he is going to take us all down soon and that all of this; everything that me, Jer, Lee, and fucking Cain have worked for, will be his.” He lowered his hand, pointing it to his chest. “The second I saw you on the ground, Lee and Cain trying to pull you from the car, something snapped inside of me. Kavi. Hurt. You.”

Nodding, I tried to cut in. “I know that, but I’m okay—”

“He killed Tiggy,” he cut me off harshly. “Tiggy wasn’t an Oasis driver, but fuck, how he wanted to be. Kavi cornered the woman I love and shot Tiggy in the fucking head, right in front of her.”

Knives gathered in my throat. “I know. I know,” I whispered, pain blooming in my chest. I didn’t know Tiggy. The night I’d gotten into town was the night of his funeral. Judging by the amount of people mourning him, he seemed like a wonderful guy.

“You were invited here. You accepted the invitation. We were supposed to have your fucking back,” he said, his voice getting dangerously low as a shadow loomed over his head. “You trusted us to protect you and we failed you.”

“Dontell—”

He stepped forward then, forcing me back into the corner of the kitchen. “No, you will not stay at a fucking hotel. No, you are not a fucking burden. You are fucking family. Do you get me?”

I nodded quickly, his words seeping into my soul as my bottom lip began to quiver. “Yes,” I breathed.

Blinking, his features softened. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean—”

I waved my hand. “No, you didn’t. You’re just on edge—everyone is. I get it.”

He stepped back, nodding, and I took the opportunity to say what I needed to say. “I don’t want to cause any problems between you guys and Cain. Our history is complicated, but we shouldn’t let it interfere with the problems at hand.”

Dontell stared at me as if I had two heads.

Some days, it felt like I did. “I want to help,” I stated. “I want to make sure that Kavi is found and the Bratva gets put back in their place. I don’t know much about how all that shit works,” I said, a small laugh coming from me. At the sound, Dontell’s lips twitched. “But I’m here. Whatever you need. I’m not some baby who needs to be coddled. My ankle is healing and the sooner I get back behind the wheel of my baby, the better.”

“I don’t think—”

I held up my hand then, all laughter dying. “I’m not some damsel. You said I was Oasis, so let me help you guys. Yeah, I nearly died, but so what?” His eyes flashed as his features hardened. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. “What I mean by that is: I survived. I’m okay. I’m ready to fight. Whatever it takes.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, he nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

I held out my hand for him to shake, feeling the best I had in days, like for the first time in my life, I was doing something for me. Protection and defending Oasis was for me—not Cain.

For once, it wasn’t about Cain.

My bruised soul sighed with relief for the first time in ages.

“Yeah, just tighten that bolt there,” Dontell instructed me from behind, my head buried in the engine of his Camero.

Once I was done with the bolt, I rose up. “She’s fucking stunning,” I told him, referring to the classic car as I turned to face him. “You ever take her out?”

My friend gave me a sad smile. “Nah, not in a long time. When I do, it's usually in the summers.”

The tone of his voice caused a pain in my chest as I studied him for just a moment. We’d been out in garage for the last three hours, and he was teaching me more about engines than I could ever know.

I didn’t have anyone to teach me about racing—at least, not at first.

After that night at The Pit with Cain, I went and did my own research on street racing and worked to transform my old car into something I could race with. It took months. Over the years, of course I’d picked up more tips and tricks from the racers I’d encountered. In Denver, I’d learned the majority of my car and engine knowledge.

My eyes flicked to the powerful engine and back to Dontell. “She scare the shit out of you or something?” I teased, referring to Fast n Furious. The side of his mouth lifted slightly in a poor excuse for a smile, then I watched as it fell back down, his brow furrowing. His eyes landed on the engine, flashing with memories.

“This was my dad’s,” he began, his voice soft. “It was just him and me since I was a boy. After my mother left us, when he wasn’t at work or doing stuff for the Crew, he was in the garage teaching me about this engine.” His eyes met mine. “It was a safe space for us, you know? If I had a bad day at school, he’d order a pizza and take me in here. If it was storming outside and I couldn’t go play with Jer and Kay, I was in here with him. He taught me how to drive in this car, he taught me how to be a man in this garage.”

I nodded, my throat suddenly feeling thick.

He turned to face the Camero, putting his hands in his pockets as he stared down at the engine. “I don’t know if you’ve learned about Amara’s dad, but he was a police officer and a good friend of Sullie, Dom, and my dad. When Amara was thirteen, her dad was killed in a drive-by shooting in Soulard.”

“Oh my gosh,” I breathed, my hand coming to my chest.

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