It doesn't take me long to find the woman, mid thirties with bright red hair and dark skin. Her light brown eyes find me before I've even reached earshot, and she meets me halfway.

"We got a packed crowd tonight," she notifies me, which is unsurprising. We usually do, especially on weekends, but I know what she means. Tonight is going to be a lot. There's some event going on, I'm pretty sure this race is some kind of championship or something. I don't know, I don't pay attention. None of this shit is even legal, it's hard for me to take any sort of organization seriously.

"Prize is 10K for first place. Half it for second and third. Moss already paid me off twice that though so if you let him get first I'll split it with you."

I shrug, thinking about the dent in my car and the fact I don't have another race for a week. I'll take it. The ranks also don't mean shit to me anymore, I've done this five years now—since I was on my own at sixteen.

"Sure."

"Great. Go check with Belladonna, I think she has something for you, too."

Probably a lecture. I got in some trouble last race. Whatever, they can't afford to get rid of me. I bring even more people than Pierce, though he's a close second.

Always second. Hilarious.

It doesn't take me long to find Belladonna. She's already looking for me, and as soon as she spots me heading back to my car to park it in position, she makes a beeline. Great.

"I'm not kidding this time, Cren," she scolds as soon as she sees me, not even giving me a proper greeting. She barely even waits until she's close enough for me to hear her. That's pretty typical. "If you put another one of my racers in the hospital, you're out."

No I'm not, and we both know it.

"He was trying to run me off the track," I notify her, since he probably didn't. She just frowns.

I quirk an eyebrow, and the woman waves a hand, huffing and storming off, rain dripping down her face.

"Doesn't make it legal!" She snaps when she's halfway across the lot, needing all that time to come up with a response that isn't even good. She's so dramatic.

Honestly, the night goes by in a blur, not affected by the rain at all especially since it lets up eventually. I'm not in the best mood the whole time because I know what's coming after, and despite its necessity, I'm not exactly thrilled to be taking part in it.

Or to be dragging Winter along.

Moss comes in first and I come in third because I end up zoning out for like a full lap. I barely stay to meet any fans or anything, way too over the situation. I just want the night to be over, honestly, even if I should be happy. I'm 12,500- dollars richer now, after all.

By the time we leave the track, it's 10.

By the time we're arriving at the parking lot, Winter is interrogating me.

"What're you doing?" She asks, a frown on her face. I don't answer because she'll get it soon enough. She glances around the lot until she spots another running vehicle, and her expression dawns in understanding.

"Des..."

"It'll be quick," I reassure her finally, though the words come out more like a sigh than anything else. She purses her lips and glances at the car nervously as I step out of the vehicle, leaving it running with her safely inside, locking the doors. I hear her favorite song come on as I make my way over, and judging by the delighted noise she makes, that should keep her occupied.

I open the door of the mystery car and get in the passenger seat, not even looking at the man I'm selling to. It's a new client, and new clients always put me on edge, so I typically try to be more careful. Size them up, remember their face, whatever. Tonight I'm too tired for that shit, though. I just want to get this over with.

"It's a hundred," I tell him.

The man's gruff voice responds, "seventy-five."

And this is why I don't like new clients.

I reach into my jacket and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. I find a middle aged man with some scruff, glasses, and a lot of piercings. His eyes are narrowed on me already. I've barely even said anything to him.

"I said a hundred."

"Well in Burns—"

"This isn't Burns."

It's almost surprising, honestly. The amount of people who take issue with my prices at first. They know I carry good shit, though—or at least, they do once they finally crack and buy it. My reputation tends to precede me.

He studies me for a long moment.

Then, he pulls out a knife.

And that's why I've been dreading this all day. I need as much money as I can get, but holy fuck is it not worth it sometimes. Especially when I'm dealing with someone who has no idea who I am and decides to pull shit like this. I'm just not in the mood at all.

"You sure?"

I click the safety off my gun, which I've been pointing at him this entire time and hiding under my oversized coat. I lift it up so he can see it, though. Pointing it right at his head, square between the eyes.

He drops the knife.

"A hundred and an apology." I state blandly. God, I want to go home.

The man's eyes widen, no longer looking at my face and instead staring directly down the barrel of my weapon, my finger hovering over the trigger. He gulps, hastily pulling out a one hundred dollar bill, holding his breath.

His demeanor is strained when he hands it over, though his hand itself is shaking a bit. What, has he never had a gun pointed at him before or something? Maybe he shouldn't pull knives on people if retaliation is this jarring for him.

I take it easily, then give him a look of expectation. It takes a second for him to remember the rest of my demand.

"Uh, s-sorry."

I don't play any more games, completely over the situation. I toss him his pills and exit the vehicle, only putting my gun back in my baggy jeans once I'm closer to my corvette. As I draw near, I see Winter looking at the vehicle behind me nervously, through the cracked window.

Shit. She saw.

Well, this'll be fun.

Sure enough, as soon as I'm back in my driver's seat, she's turning to face me and whisper-yelling.

"What was that?!" She hisses, eyes wide in concern. She's never approved of the... other ways I bring in income, or the danger I tend to run into way too often. In my defense, I'm pretty good about keeping her away from it. Another reason I've been dreading this. She's not usually around when shit hits the fan. "Are you okay?"

I'm always okay. "Yep."

She squints at me.

I pull out of the lot.

The car ride is uncharacteristically silent for a little while, because Winter's always on edge when it goes sideways. I really try not to bring her around when I know the situation is genuinely dangerous and there's high risk involved.

It's by no means the first time she's seen something like this, but I do try to keep her away from it. That's not saying much, however, since danger and misfortune seem to have some sort of infatuation with me.

"Anyway, you had Mrs. Jefferson, right?" She asks out of nowhere. Except, it's definitely not out of nowhere since she's been talking for a while. I didn't even notice she broke the silence to begin with. Shit, I really need to stop doing that. We're almost to her house.

"Uh, I think," I answer, a frown on my face. I don't know, I dropped out, high school was not important to me at all. She and I used to be in the same class, though that was only because I got held back. Twice.

"Okay, well—" Winter cuts herself off as we turn onto her street, nearing a familiar house with a familiar man standing on the front porch, arms crossed. "Shit."

I glance at the time. Almost eleven. We probably shouldn't have stopped for food after the race. Or stopped for gas. Or gone inside and grabbed Winter some snacks.

Well. I'm fucked.

I stop by the curb, Winter turning to give me a pitying look. "Sorry. He has to get up early tomorrow, I didn't think he'd wait up."

Winter likes hanging out with me, which is of course because she's my best friend, but it's also almost the only time she can see Pierce. She sees him outside of that, but since her dad doesn't even know she's in a relationship, she has to be careful.

She's constantly reassuring me it'll be fine if she stays past curfew, so she usually apologizes when her dad actually waits for her. At this point I expect it, though, since he does so more often than not.

And sometimes, when I'm having a particularly rough day or have gone just a bit too long without seeing him... I count on it.

Unknown to her, I'd choose being screamed at by the man over not seeing him any day. I glance behind Winter and already see him walking toward the car. I ignore the spark of... something I feel at the sight of him, now clad in flannel pajama pants that hug his thighs and a plain white t-shirt, both clean. He also has his glasses on.

Ugh.

"It's okay," I tell Winter, and I mean it. More than she knows. She gives me one last regretful look before bidding me a final farewell and exiting the car. She closes it behind herself and the window is fully rolled down. I keep it that way half the time, well aware of the drill at this point.

Winter stops to talk to him briefly, but he dismisses her pretty quick. His pace hardly even falters, eventually reaching the passenger side of my car and leaning down, resting his elbows on the window ledge, forearms and hands hanging inside my car, and bending down so he can look—no, glare—directly at me.

He doesn't even give me time to speak. "How many races?"

I purse my lips, then lie, as per usual. "Zero."

"Drug deals?"

"Zero."

His narrowed eyes flick over my face, lingering on certain areas. Like he's looking for signs of dishonesty or something. He won't find any, something I wish I could be proud of.

After scanning my face for a while, he speaks again, voice lower.

"You know, it's your safety, too. Not just hers."

Wait, what?

I can't help the way I perk up, no longer avoiding eye contact with the man and looking right at him. I raise my eyebrows, hearing my heartbeat in my ears. What did he just say? Am I crazy, or is he implying he cares about my safety? He'd only do that if he cared about me, right? So—

I talk before I can spiral too far into what if's. Something that happens far too often around this man. "Really?"

He scans my face up and down, brows furrowing a bit, glancing off to the side and thinking, before looking back at me.

"Yes," he affirms, and I swear my heart stops. Then, he specifies, "you may be a little older than her, but you're still just a kid."

Right.

I'm not sure what I expected.

I just nod, trying not to be too obvious about my borderline hopeful expression completely falling. I genuinely have no idea why I thought even for a second there was more to it, there never has been. He's a dad, of course he worries about the safety of people he views as kids.

He's a dad.

He's her fucking dad.

He waits a moment for me to respond, which I don't—all I can do at the moment is avoid eye contact and think about alternate realities where things are different, where I'm older—before sighing and leaning back, stepping away from my car.

I can't take my eyes off of him until I'm forced to, once he's back in his house.