Page 89 of When Sinners Hate

“You wouldn’t know shit about Scouts,” Shaw mocks.

“Let’s fucking race!” Dante’s impatience is growing, but it gets us all moving, and my heart fills with some warmth I’m not used to. A sentiment grows for the people around me – a family I’ve never had the privilege of knowing before. It’s like the party, only this time, I’m a part of it rather than the one on the outside.

I head towards Knox, anxious as to how he’ll react to me driving his new car again after pushing him out of the race.

“Win, and we’re even, Lexi. Deal?”

I nod to him and climb in. “Deal.”

“Try and tell me how to drive, and I’ll have no hesitation in wrecking your car.” I don’t really mean it, I could never wreck this baby, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I pull my hair back and tie it in a quick low-pony and start the engine. The urge to beat Abel itches beneath my skin, and my stomach churns as we drive out to the start line, one after another.

All the Cortezes line up, but instead of Dante starting this time, he points to the lights hanging above the track. They’re red, and I keep my eyes trained on them. In a flash, they flick to green, and we all jump off the line. The thundering roar of engines fills the air, and the smell of burning rubber infiltrates the car, but it’s an amazing buzz.

The green of Dante’s Mustang creeps ahead, and he beats Abel to the first bank. I tuck in behind him, staving off Shaw and Mariana for the inside track. We hit the straight, and I pull around to see if I can outpower Abel, but I know what that car has, and Abel keeps me shut out.

“Come on, Lexi.” I cut my glare to Knox and then snap my concentration back to the two cars in front of me. Abel’s hustling Dante, and they’re pretty well-matched. Mariana and Shaw are busy behind me, so I just need to find an opening or cause a disruption.

As we move around for the second lap, I’m still shut out, but I creep close to the Challenger.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Lexi.”

“I know what I’m doing.” But before I have a chance to nudge the car, Abel’s popped out and around, pulling alongside Dante and squeezing his car down to the inner edge of the track, forcing the lead.

He slips past, and I follow, drawing up next to Dante. But he steers wide, defending the line, forcing me to back off.

“Fucker,” I murmur as I change gear and try again. He won’t be able to catch Abel, and as we eat up the second lap, I’m doubtful if I can beat him either. We bank, and I tuck in as close as I can to Dante. On the exit, I push the Camaro harder than ever and align the car against the Mustang. Any flinch or move from either of us, and we’ll be touching, but I don’t care. I tip the steering wheel, and Dante moves, adjusting, and I find the space to pull past him.

“Fucking hell, woman, he did not like that move!” Knox cheers from the passenger seat.

“Shut up!”

One bend and the home straight are all that’s left, and Abel’s in front, home and clear. We tilt on the bend, and I position the Camaro to take the outside line on the straight. It’s just not enough track to take him, but just as we’re about to cross, I see his car slow, or something, because we end up crossing the line together.

It’s not a win, and a part of me is pissed he thought he needed to concede to me or give me the race. Maybe we’ll haveto settle that a little later tonight, but I don’t let it sour a brilliant race.

Eventually, we all pull in. Doors slam closed, and the low-lying buzz of engines still running hangs in the air as cheers and congratulations start.

Dante’s in my face immediately. “You are one sneaky bitch on the track, Lexi. Nice driving." I nod in thanks, feeling a little smug, as the twins snap and bicker. "I know where I'm coming if I ever need a driver."

I walk over to my husband, who’s perched on the hood of his car. “You did that on purpose.” I lean against the car.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. But I appreciate the gesture.” I reach for his hand, and he opens it, allowing me to thread our fingers together.

“We’re heading to Ranger’s Bar to finish this properly,” Dante calls to us, his face looking pretty savage considering the outcome of the race.

I catch the nod from Abel towards Dante, and the rest of the siblings seem keen to keep the celebrations going.

“Are we going to join them?”

“In a minute.” He stands and walks towards the driver’s side. “I think you deserve this,” he continues, as he slaps the roof of the car.

“The Challenger?”

“We did make a bet.”

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