Anger ignited in my veins and all that was once cool, calm and collected, charged to the surface. My hand itched to throw a punch. In fact, itdaredhim to make the mistake of crossing me a second time.
Sensing my sudden change in temperament, his cocky attitude extinguished like a finger on a wick. He forced a smirk that didn’t match the new fear in his eyes, and luckily for him, he stepped back before I shoved him from my space. I continued to glare as he strode to his car with his tail between his legs.
“Brah,” Shades’ voice broke my focus.
“I was about to throw down, man.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “He’ll get it one day, brother. Now, let’s bounce before-”
“Cops!” someone shouted at the top of their lungs.
That one word had the same effect as pouring gasoline on roaches; the sea of people scattered in a million different directions. Engines roared to life over the chaotic yelling and tires squealed as people panicked in their rush to escape.
I slid into the driver's seat of my Supra and immediately got swept up in the mass evacuation. Brake lights flashed, doors opened to let more people into the cars ahead, and the disorder created confusion at every intersection.
My radar chirped when it picked up on a police conversation across restricted channels.
“Mass gathering of illegal street racers dispersed. Majority heading East on…”
“Fuck,” I cursed, and hung a tight left to head in the opposite direction. I wasn’t the only one either; a handful behind me took the same deviation.
Years of experience in this situation told me that you don’t drive it like you fucking stole it, instead, you needed to match the traffic flow to not draw attention. I did just that as two cars from the gathering sped through the red light I’d stopped for.
Horror played out in slow motion.
A pedestrian stepped from the curb without checking for traffic. The first driver swerved in the nick of time. The other didn’t.
A scream tore from my mouth as if it could halt time and prevent the inevitable from happening. Reality crashed over me at the same time the man’s body hit the sidewalk, unmoving. Cursing while checking the streets connected to the intersection, I ran the red light and pulled up at the opposite curb.
I dialed 911 and the operator’s voice spoke in my ear as I dropped to my knees beside the man.
“Nine one-one, what is your emergency?”
“Ambulance. There’s been a hit and run on…” I panted, and glanced around for the street names.
A slow trickle of blood seeped out from under his head. I went to check the injury, but pulled back from touching him. The sight of an unmoving body and pooling blood brought back debilitating memories from my childhood. I’d never had to confront them like this, and it took me back to when I was fourteen and fucking helpless all over again.
“Sir?” the operated asked. “Are you with the casualty right now?”
“Shit,” I cursed, and forced myself to swallow down the bile that burned its way up my throat. “Yes, I am.”
I looked down at the disheveled man, only now seeing that he appeared to be one of the city’s many homeless. With my phone on speaker, I shrugged off my t-shirt and gingerly lifted the man’s head with shaking hands. The increased blood flow made my stomach churn.
“Head injuries. He’s bleeding,” I yelled through the nausea. Dropping my gaze down his body, my gut clenched from the odd angle of his legs. “Broken legs,” I choked out.
“Does he have a pulse?” the operator urged.
My trembling fingers were numb as I pressed them to his throat. Closing my eyes against the scene and biting back the need to vomit, I tried to focus on what I felt, other than what I saw and smelled—both of which brought my dormant demons to life.
I exhaled harshly. “Faint pulse.”
A second wash of relief came when sirens permeated the night air. As if losing time, an ambulance pulled up, followed by two police cars.
Great.
I stepped back from the man and gave as many details to the ambulance staff as I could, then left them to their job. Propped against the rear spoiler of my car, I sucked in deep lungfuls of air, desperately trying to regain control over my shaking body. I was locked inside the memories that tore my family apart when a blue uniform appeared at my side.
“I need to take your statement, Mr…”