Page 66 of Racing Dirty Trilogy Box Set

Nolan

The sounds of taxi horns blaring, and voices greet me as I stride up the concrete steps from the dark subway station.

The sun is bright and the fresh air is a blessing in disguise.

I look around at Times Square and the beauty still takes my breath away.

Billboards light up the city blocks for miles on end.

I approach a long plastic seating area and people move out of my way quickly.

Sitting down, I rest my head in my hands and listen to the noises around me.

This part of Times Square is shut down to cars and bicyclists.

It gives tourists an effortless way to enjoy the sights around them.

This is a beautiful city if you look past the evil lurking in the corners and dark alleyways.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen. Listen up!” A familiar voice shouts from behind me. “We have a show for you today and this one’s very special.”

I stand to see what's going on, keeping my baseball hat low on my head.

There's a crowd gathered around a group of guys and they're extending my way.

The guys are wearing grey sweatpants and have yellow bandanas tied around their heads or arms. Their dark skin is glistening with sweat and none of them are wearing shirts.

I swallow hard when their leader glances in my direction and locks his light brown eyes on me.

Oh shit, this isn't good. I break eye contact with him and walk toward the back of the crowd.

"Hey," he hollers in my direction. "Where are you going? Don't you want to stay for the show?" Knowing I shouldn't engage with him, I keep pushing my way through the crowd, until a strong hand grabs my shoulder, whipping me fast around.

Throwing his grip off me, I give him a lethal glare. "Don't fucking touch me,” I growl, fighting to keep my anger tamped down.

"We need to talk,” he states and crosses his solid arms over his chest. A King Cobra snake tattoo coils up his right arm and spreads out across his dark chest, the mouth open towards his heart, ready to strike the black heart tattoo.

"No, we don't,” I answer, low and deadly.

He looks me in the eye and slips a piece of paper in my hand. "Yes, we do," he insists. He turns back to the crowd and continues his speech like nothing happened. I tune him out and open the piece of paper in my shaking hand. It's an address. Underneath the address says you need me.

I need Ashton on this. I can't do this by myself anymore.

Things are getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

That guy is the leader of the Black Heart Crew.

They're bad motherfuckers and I've had a few run-ins with them back years ago.

They live up to their name, Black Heart.

They don't give a fuck who you are or what gang you’re affiliated with.

They'll kill you for looking at them wrong, then send pieces of your body to your loved ones.

I walk away from the crowd and down a dark alley. I tuck the paper in my front pocket and keep my head down. Pulling out my phone, I dial Ashton's number.

"It's about fucking time," Ashton growls on the other end.

"Hey, I need your help. You're right, I can't do this alone."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. One I don't want to get into on the phone. Can you meet me in my motel room?"

"I'm already here," Ashton quickly answers, taking me by surprise. "C'mon, you should know I can track anyone, anywhere."

"I'll be right there." I sigh, hanging up my phone.

I smile to myself as I make my way back down the subway station.

I can always count on him to be there. The train to take me to thirty-sixth Street is just pulling into the station and I walk into the car.

I find a seat in the back and kick my feet up on the bench in front of me.

A woman huffs in annoyance at my move, but I don't give a fuck right now.

Ashton is here and that means the rest of my team will be here soon and we'll figure this out together.

I wonder if Ashley is here too. Pulling my phone back out, I click on her name and send a quick message.

I can't talk down here, but I can send a text.

Me: I miss you.

Ashley: I miss you too, now quit being a stubborn asshole and tell me what's going on.

I smile to myself. She’s a firecracker that's for sure. God, do I miss her like crazy. My phone chimes again with another message.

Ashley: Sorry, I'm just worried about you. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. So, you better get used to letting me in.

Her message is cryptic. Does that mean she's here in the City or here in general? Fuck this woman keeps me on my toes. Instead of pondering her message, I slide my phone back into my pocket and watch the signs for my exit.

Thirty-sixth Street looms ahead as the train slows down, its brakes squealing as it comes to a fast stop.

I stand up and wait at the doors again. This time, instead of keeping my head down, trying to blend in, I keep it up high and make eye contact with everyone who looks in my direction.

Something must appear on my face because when I look at someone, they quickly look away.

I know I'm an intimidating guy, but that's just ridiculous.

The doors whoosh open in a hurry and I step out onto the platform. People make a wide berth for my massive frame as I pass them by. What the actual fuck is going on? I'm used to people moving away from me, but not like this.

Walking up the concrete steps into the city again, I can feel a tiny hand rest on my lower back. I immediately whip around and no one's there. Laughter floats in my ears and I close my eyes, trying to steady my erratic heartbeat. People pass by me as I stand on the steps, trying to gain control.

What the actual fuck? I'm finding myself saying this repeatedly since I've been here. Laughter floats around me again and I scan the crowd as I walk up the rest of the stairs.

"Sherwood, c'mon," a girl cries, catching my attention over the crowd.

I turn around and spot the same little boy with shaggy brown hair and the girl from the underground fighting ring.

She's yanking on his sweatshirt and he's staring at me again.

His whiskey-colored eyes are pleading with me to help him.

She's dragging him down the street by the arm, disappearing into the crowd.

My feet are moving at a rapid pace, trying to catch up with them, pushing my way past the mobs of people separating me from them.

"Move the fuck out of the way," I growl when a man steps in my path. I shove him hard and he loses his footing and hits the side of a brick building.

"Hey, asshole. Watch what you're doing." the man shouts.

I spin around, already on edge and fighting the demon inside, ready to punish his ass, when a warm, gentle hand grabs mine. I freeze from the contact and the voice I've been longing to hear floats in my head.

"Nolan, I'm here."