Page 111 of Chaos Kills

“I’d have to think about it,” he says. “I just… I’m just doing what Levi wants us to do.”

“Who’s taking over the Titan seat?”

This time, he exhales heavily as if a weight is settling on his own chest. “Me.”

I give him a small smile. “I thought so. You’d be?—”

“Nah,” he cuts in, alluding he might not want it. “Don’t start complimenting me yet.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I tease lightly. “No need to give you a big head when you’re not sitting on it yet.”

“Yeah, well…” He looks over my head at the people behind us. “Let’s just say, I’m not a fan of the idea.”

I’m honestly not surprised.

Hot Rod would make a good leader, but he likes to support than to be supported.

“I’ll sit down with Levi when he gets back.”

Hot Rod bobs his head. “Sounds good.” He reaches for the hood, takes his wrench, and closes it. “You need to get up there. You’re racing that chick from the other night again.”

I smile. “Yeah?”

“Yep.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate any more than that as I pry Mae out of the car and remind her of slushies and the beach to get her out of the Nova.

Within thirty minutes, I’m up at the line again where Angelina Cooper, a groupie who hangs around, motions me and the other girl to the start line.

I’m so used to seeing Nessa there that this race almost feels foreign as hell, but it’s reality. I need to adjust, and even if Levi and I don’t leave South Shore, we’re still on the fucking rocks because of her attitude.

Angelina flashes her light to begin to race, and it starts and ends just as quickly. I mow down the new girl and circle back around, but the chick flashes her lights at me for me to stop.

Instantly thinking I have a massive leak somewhere, she skips out of her car and heads over. Pretty brown curls bounce as she approaches, and she beams at me like winning isn’t everything.

It is.

Newbie.

“Hey,” she beams, bending over a bit to see me inside my window. “Good race.”

“Yeah,” I drawl. “Good one.”

She reaches toward me, and at the end of her hand, she’s palming a cell phone. “This is for you.”

“Um…we don’t bet personal items, honey. Just cash.”

The girl chuckles at me and shakes her head. “No, the call.”

My brows pinch, but I’m still not touching shit. This screams red flags all day and night.

“No, thanks.” I’m about to remove my foot off the brake and hit the gas, but the girl talks again.

“Fine, I’ll put it on speaker.” With her thumb, she taps her screen and says, “She’s right here.”

“Buena niña, Holly,” replies a voice that sends shreds of panic slicing through my veins.

Matteo.

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