Page 37 of Furious (The Six Six Six Rule #2)

A Deal With The Devil

CHANCE

“ I don’t know what kind of stupid game Fox is playing,” I bite out. “But I just wish he just paid us on race night. Coming here every time feels like an unnecessary risk.”

Lev agrees with me. “Yeah, it’s like asking to get caught. This barber shop never has any clients and suddenly we’re here once a week. Maybe we should really get haircuts, so if anyone sees us, we don’t blow our cover.”

“You aren’t wrong. But are you going to let Fox near you with any kind of blade?” I snort, my hand on the door of Noel’s barbershop.

“No, you’re right. Noel would be the obvious choice as long as we caught him before lunch. But we’re always at practice in the morning. Thankfully, it’s hard to get caught when it’s rare to see any customers in here.”

But Lev is proven wrong when we enter the barbershop. Like last time we were here, there’s one single customer occupying one of the chairs.

I immediately think that he looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place him.

The answer comes when he addresses us before Calvin can say anything.

“Well, well. If these aren’t Star Cove’s golden boys. You’re killing it both on the ice and on the racetrack.”

If memory serves, the man who’s staring at me and Lev with an appraising look is Mason Morelli. His family owns several buildings in town, but he’s fairly new to Star Cove.

Word on the street is that he came here to escape some legal trouble in the East Coast. No one knows what exactly Mason is doing in town, as he hasn’t been seen working at any of his uncle’s businesses.

I’ve seen him in passing at some parties on the beach and a handful of times at the Country Club.

Lev and I exchange a look. We don’t need to say it out loud, but this is bad news. If the Morelli family is truly behind the illegal races Fox has been organizing, we might be in way more trouble than we anticipated.

My hunch is confirmed when Mason speaks again. “You two are making me a lot of money, you know? The interest in seeing one of the mayor’s sons racing motorcycles under his daddy’s nose is sky high. I have people betting online and more requests for tickets to the next races than I can handle.”

“Tickets?” Lev frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The smirk on Mason’s face widens. “Of course I’m charging an entry fee to the people who want to see the races in person. I’m taking a huge risk just by keeping those motorcycles in that old hangar. So the return has to be worth my while. Don’t you think?”

“Whatever.” I mutter. “We’re here to collect the prize money for winning last week’s race.” My eyes land on Fox, whose cocky smile is mirroring the one on Morelli’s face.

“Yeah, about that.” He chuckles. “My friend Mason here has a proposition for you. If I were you, I’d hear him out.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to beat the shit out of Zara’s ex. “I don’t see how anything you could propose could ever interest us.” I say to Morelli, ignoring Calvin on purpose.

Lev backs me up. “Yeah. We aren’t exactly racing because we want to. Or did Fox not tell you how he and his brother recruited us?”

“Yeah.” Mason chuckles. “I know you two took a little bit of convincing. But I have an offer you can’t refuse.”

Fuck.

I don’t like the shrewd look in his eyes. “I doubt it.”

“Your friend Fox here,” Morelli says, suddenly serious.

“Might have exaggerated his skills when he pitched me the idea of the races. The fact that you two beat him ended up costing me some of the profits I was counting on. If you two agreed to race for the house and be on my payroll, I would make it worth your while. At that point, it wouldn’t matter if you won or lost, you’d get paid, anyway.

And we could make sure that victories are spread evenly, to keep the odds interesting for our players.

What do you say? If you agree, I’ll double what you’re getting right now. ”

Why am I not surprised that he’s practically talking about fixing the races?

Lev responds before I can. “No. Racing for you is the last thing we want, Morelli. As it is, we don’t want to keep this up.

Chance and I are hoping to play professional hockey one day.

If we got caught, we could jeopardize our future.

We were actually hoping you could name a price to agree to destroy the videos Dave is holding over our heads to force us to race. ”

He laughs in our faces. I guess we were fools to hope that it was possible to make some kind of deal, either with Calvin or Mason.

“Why would I do that?” he asks when he finally calms down.

“First off, you’re the ones people want to see racing.

And besides, you’re our insurance policy.

You’re the mayor’s son. Your brother is a cop, for fuck’s sake.

If we get caught, I’m sure the sheriff will be way more lenient with your asses on the line. ”

It’s my turn to laugh. “If that’s what you think, you haven’t been in town long enough to know my dad and the sheriff. If we got caught, they would make an example out of us.”

I can’t be sure of it, but it’s exactly the kind of thing I think Dad would do.

There’s a beat of silence in the barbershop.

Then Mason calls my bluff. “I fucking doubt it, Hunter. There’s no amount of money that would make me consider letting you off the hook. Unless…”

I don’t know why I have the feeling I’m about to walk into a trap. “Unless what?”

Mason looks at me and Lev as if he was assessing a pig for the prize hog competition at the county fair. “Unless you can bring me JJ Smith.”

Another look passes between me and Lev. Then it’s confirmed that the black Ducati that crossed the finish line first two weeks ago and was about to win last week, belongs to the same guy who was involved in the accident that cost my brother his life in Bridgeport.

I had the feeling it might have been the same guy, but I wasn’t entirely sure until now. The Ducati Panigale is a fairly rare bike, but not unique. So in theory, it could have been a different guy, but I felt it in my gut that it wasn’t.

“Bring you JJ Smith?” Lev asks. “The guy signed up for the race, right? Why didn’t you talk to him then?”

“Because until I saw him race, I had no idea that he was the best driver on that track. I don’t know if you realized it, but he slowed down on purpose.

If he hadn’t, he would have won the race like he did the first time, when you lost control of your bike, Hunter.

And when I went looking for him last time, he had disappeared and so had his girlfriend.

I spoke to Dave, and he told me that Smith didn’t appear on the starting line until it was time to go.

He didn’t even sign up. He got his girl to do that for him and pay the fee.

So it’s quite obvious that the guy wants to remain anonymous.

If you can get him to come to talk to me and to race for me, I’ll let you go. ”

Lev doesn’t sound convinced and I don’t blame him. “Why don’t you go after him?”

“Have you seen how fast that Ducati can go? I’m not a rider, so I’d have no chance of catching up with him. I’d get Cal to do it, but my Nonna on a Vespa would be able to beat him.”

Fox takes offense. “Hey. I’m standing right here.”

“And you’re fucking slow, man.” Mason glares at him. “This whole racing thing was your idea, and you and your brother helped me secure Hunter and Reilly’s presence on the track. But that’s the only reason why you’re still involved in it. As a racer, you’re mediocre at best.”

I can’t say that I disagree with him. If Morelli and his family didn’t have a dangerous reputation, I would probably like him.

“We can get you a conversation with Smith,” I say. “But Smith vanishes after every race. I doubt he’s going to be interested in your offer. You can’t expect us to convince him to do anything.”

Morelli considers my words. “Fine. All you have to do is bring him to me.”

“Yeah?” I’m surprised he caved so easily. “You guarantee me that you won’t go back on your word if he says no?”

The corners of his lips curl into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m sure I’m going to find a way to get Smith to agree to race for me.”

I’m about to ask him how does he think he’s going to do that, since we know nothing about this Smith guy, but the words die in my mouth. The dangerous glint in Mason’s eyes tells me that it’s probably best if I don’t know.

“So we have a deal?” Lev asks. “We bring you Smith, and whether he races for you or not, you’re going to let us walk away without sharing that video of us racing with the mayor?”

“Sure.” He offers his hand for us to shake.

Lev is even more diffident than I am.

“We’ll need you to destroy that video too once we make sure you get to talk to Smith.”

Mason laughs. “That video will protect my ass in case you decide to go tattle about the races to the mayor once you’re no longer involved.

You two are lucky you made me a lot of money so far and that I like you.

But don’t mistake my kindness for stupidity.

Try to fuck me over in any way, and you’re going to find out how my family deals with rats.

I promise you don’t want to do that. Now, do we have a fucking deal? ”

His hand is still extended in front of him and the second I shake it, an ominous feeling weighs heavily on me.

Lev and I walk out of the barbershop in silence.

We don’t talk until we’re back inside the relative safety of my truck.

“You ok?” he asks as I grip the steering wheel with white-knuckle force.

“Not really.” I bite out. “So the Ducati is definitely the same bike that showed up in Bridgeport. This Smith guy was there when Atlas died.”

He clasps my shoulder and I turn to meet his gaze. Atlas might not have been Lev’s brother by blood, but Lev has always been one of us. Blinded by our own grief, we’ve failed to acknowledge that he lost someone important too on that racetrack.

“The police didn’t think Smith had anything to do with what happened to Atlas.” He reminds me.