Page 44 of Furious (The Six Six Six Rule #2)

But despite their secretive behavior as of late, I know my brother and my best friend too well to think that they would do drugs.

I also know that they would never take advantage of a woman who’s intoxicated.

Whatever stupid shit they’re mixed up in, I know there’s a line they would never cross.

So the fight club scenario is the most likely one.

I almost think I’m right when I see the lights around a clearing in the woods. There’s a legit crowd gathered around. People are drinking and dancing to the music that’s blaring from a boombox attached to speakers somewhere.

The crowd is my best bet to keep a low profile, but I need to know what the fuck is happening, so I walk around the clearing, weaving through the bodies toward the old building Chance and Lev walked into.

Could that building be where they fight? No, it doesn’t make sense. Everyone is gathered out here, but I don’t see any makeshift ring or any space suitable for a fight.

A lot of people are congregating toward a spot not too far from the old building.

There are portable LED lights and rather than a circle painted on the ground or something that would designate a fighting spot, there’s a straight white line painted on the old tarmac. It looks like a starting line for a race.

I look at the old building with renewed interest. Could there be cars in there?

Is that what Chance and Lev are doing in secret?

Illegal street racing? It all makes sense now.

Morelli must be involved in the organization of it.

I would be surprised if there weren’t any bets being placed on the race.

My hunch is confirmed when I see a line to talk to the fraternity president by the starting line. He writes something in a small black notebook and then takes a wad of cash from each person.

Chance and Lev are stupider than I thought if they’re getting mixed up in this kind of shit. Neither of them is hurting for money and if Morelli is involved, I hope there aren’t other illegal dealings going on here. Like drugs or prostitution, or something like that.

I join the line so I can listen to what’s being said. If I want to take a peek at what’s in that notebook, I can pretend I want to place a bet too.

It’s almost my turn when I spot Calvin Fox in a racing suit with a girl dangling from his arm. He’s walking toward the Gamma president. He could recognize me, so I take a step back.

Fuck. I hadn’t recognized the girl at first, because she changed her hair color from blonde to brunette. But the girl with Fox is Angela, one of Heather’s best friends. What is the deputy mayor’s daughter doing with that lowlife?

Getting closer is risky, because Angela could recognize me too. But I have to know what’s going on.

“Hey, do you want to go before me?” I offer the girl right behind me. If I can put one extra person between us, I can probably get close enough to hear their conversation. It’s not like they can whisper with the loud music and the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you.” the girl smiles. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I just need to check my phone first.”

Fox slaps the Gamma president on the back. “We’re ready to start in five, brother. Any sign of our guy?”

The Gamma president shakes his head. “Not yet. Maybe he’s not going to show.”

“It would serve Hunter and Reilly right, if he didn’t. If they can’t bring Smith to Morelli, they’re going to have to keep racing.”

The thought hits me when Fox cackles, squeezing Angela’s ass. I can’t believe I didn’t realize what’s going on sooner. If Fox is involved, I’m pretty sure it’s not cars they’re racing.

What I stumbled upon here is an illegal motorcycle race.

A race organized with the involvement of the Morelli family in spite of the fact that even owning a motorcycle is illegal in Star Cove.

I don’t know how Chance and Lev got mixed up in this, but it ends tonight.

If Dad caught them on a motorcycle, I don’t even want to think about the possible consequences.

Those two idiots would beg me to put them in jail to protect them from the mayor’s wrath.

I turn on my heels with the intention of stepping into that dilapidated hangar-style building where I’m sure the motorcycles are. Chance and Lev aren’t going to race tonight. If it was the last thing I do.

“I want to place a bet on behalf of JJ Smith.”

I haven’t heard that name for years, but I freeze in my spot, turning back to look at the girl I let take my place in line a few moments ago.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before, but if she knows the guy who was the target of the bike that hit my brother, I’m going to stay close to her.

Smith didn’t do anything wrong, but the police—and my family—have been looking for him for all this time in the hopes that he could shed some light on what happened in Bridgeport.

Maybe he had some enemies and he could give us a better idea of who could have killed Atlas.

“How much?” the Gamma president asks.

“One hundred thousand dollars that he wins the race.”

I’m not the only one who is shocked at the huge sum.

“Come again?” the Gamma president lifts his eyes from his notebook. “Did you say one hundred bucks or one thousand?”

“I said one hundred thousand.” The girl repeats.

Fox intervenes, taking a step away from Angela and toward the other girl. “Smith wants to bet a hundred grand that he wins the fucking race?”

The girl squares her shoulders, not intimidated by Fox. I already like her.

“Yes. Am I speaking loudly enough for you?”

“Is Smith stupid or what?” Fox bites out. “The odds are two to one. So if he wins, he’d get two hundred grand; but if he loses, he still has to pay the hundred grand. I don’t see any money in your hand.”

The girl crosses her arms over her chest, standing her ground. “He’s good for it, but he isn’t going to lose.”

Fox barks out a laugh, his head thrown back as if that was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. I had forgotten how fucking cocky he is.

“We’ll see about that. But I can’t let you place such a large bet without proof that you can pay the house if you lose.”

“JJ said he can offer his bike as collateral. So you know he’s good in case he doesn’t win.”

Cal doesn’t look convinced. “That piece of shit isn’t worth a hundred grand.”

“It’s worth twice that. That isn’t a stock Panigale, it’s been modified to race, it’s a one of a kind piece.”

“Says you.” Fox cackles. “I’m going to have to ask the boss about this one.”

We wait as Fox walks into the hangar.

He comes out followed by Mason Morelli and by Chance and Lev.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” Morelli asks, giving the girl a sleazy once over. “And you say your boyfriend has the money to cover twice that if he loses?”

The girl nods. “JJ is good. Like I already said, you can consider his Ducati a collateral.”

The corner of Morelli’s mouth tips up as he thinks about it.

“Fine. But I’m taking a considerable risk here.

So I’ll cut your boyfriend a deal. I’m willing to pay him double the odds if he wins.

Four hundred thousand bucks. But if he loses, I get him to race for the house for five weeks or until the house wins back the four hundred grand. What do you say?”

The girl hesitates, and I don’t blame her. “I don’t know. This is much more than I thought. I need to ask JJ. I’ll text him.”

My ears perk up when she says that. I don’t know what Smith looks like, but if he’s here, I want to make sure I get to talk to him.

A few seconds go by after the girl sends the texts.

“JJ is in.” She says when her screen lights up with a text.

Morelli’s smirk widens, and he voices the question that’s on the tip of my tongue, too.

“Where’s this boyfriend of yours, then? We’re about to start, and I don’t see him or his Ducati anywhere.

If he’s man enough to race for almost half a million bucks, he should have the balls to show his face. Am I right?”

Fox, the Gamma president, and some of the other frat guys rumble their agreement with what Morelli just said.

The girl, however, doesn’t look intimidated. “He’s going to show up when it’s time to race. This is how he gets in the zone. He needs to concentrate away from the crowd.”

“Right.” Morelli smirks, checking the girl’s ass as she walks away. “So she says. Whether Smith wins or loses,” he says, looking at Chance and Lev. “You two know what you have to do. Don’t let Smith get away after the race.”

Chance and Lev nod, tension written all over their faces.

What the fuck is going on and why are they doing Morelli’s dirty work?

As Angela announces that the race is about to start using a loudspeaker, the racers walk away, headed toward the hangar where the bikes must be hidden.

When I realized what was going on, my intention was to stop Chance and Lev from racing, but I have a change of heart.

While I hate the idea of them risking their lives in a race without any safety measures, I’ve been looking for JJ Smith for two years without success. It had been like chasing a ghost.

Smith is here, about to compete, and if I stop the race, he might disappear like he did in Bridgeport.

My best chance to talk to him is after the race. I’ll confront Chance and Lev then, too.

“The race begins in five minutes.” Morelli says.

“I want some people at the finish line ready to get Smith if he tries to run and Hunter and Reilly fail to keep up with him. Use the golf carts I brought. You won’t be able to catch him on that Ducati if he tries to ride away, but I want them parked to block the road before the intersection that goes toward the gas station.

If Smith wants to leave, he’s going to have to come back here or go that way. There’s no other way out of here.”

I make my decision in a split second. As Morelli walks away, I run after the men who climb into three electric golf carts.