Looking each way at an intersection, I took the corner fast and got a little drift on, just like old times.
Colton let out an amused chuckle. “You’ve still got it, Raffie.”
“Damn right, I still got it. Have youseenmy track record?” I asked, surprised as hell when he drawled, “As a matter of fact, I have. Impressive.”
I rolled to a stop at a red light and cast a cocky look sideways at him.
Colton scoffed. “I see your ego is still intact.”
I casually slung a wrist over the steering wheel while waiting for the green and smirked. “Pot calling the kettle black, man. You’ve got enough ego for the both of us.”
He simply grinned and didn’t bother denying it—we both knew I spoke the truth.
“We started in the same league and look at us now; I’m the best in mine, and you’re the best in yours,” he stated.
Well-earned pride rose in my chest, yet I locked down the grin. Compliments from Colton were rarely handed-out back in the day, and as much as I savored it, I refused to let it show.
Toggling my feet and getting the perfect balance between clutch and accelerator, the power of my GT-R’s engine demanded to unleash while we waited for the light to change. I would be off the mark within a split-second of the green light, and I was primed and waiting.
An older Skyline with three young guys in pulled up beside us, windows down, music blaring, and yahooing at the top of their lungs. I didn’t miss Colton pull his cap lower while sinking further into the seat.
My head snapped to the carload of guys as soon as the driver revved the engine. I burst out laughing at his amateur show of skills. Revving my engine in response, I checked the light while the youths whooped and goaded me into a race.
“You gonna do it, Ortiz, or pussy out?” Colton drawled with a smirk.
“Don’t test me, Donavan,” I growled, trying to ignore the heckling from the car beside us.
The traffic on either side of the intersection slowed.
Colt sniggered. “You’ve got approximately three seconds to decide, Raf.”
Turning a smirk on guys next door, I pressed a little harder on the accelerator and felt my car instantly react. I looked back at the light the millisecond it turned green and stomped on the gas, surging through the intersection with a well-timed gear change that put us two lengths in front of the carload of wannabes.
Colton cracked a laugh. “Oh, come on, you could at least toy with them a little.”
Sufficiently provoked, I slowed just enough to allow them to think they had a chance, then cut sharply into their lane, accelerating perfectly to avoid getting rear-ended.
It took a few blocks for the adrenaline to subside from my veins, and when my ‘day driving’ had returned to acceptable speeds, I wove through suburbia while cutting the crap with Colt.
“Look, man, as much as I’m loving this blind date, how about you get to the point?”
He took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his dark hair. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and you’re the perfect person to bring on board to make it happen.”
“Which is?” I pressed.
“A foundation to hand-pick the cream of the street racing youths, and give them the opportunity to break into the pro circuit.”
“Like you?” I deadpanned.
His green eyes locked with mine when I looked his way, and he nodded. “Like the opportunity I was gifted, yes.”
I cut him off. “There’s no bad blood between us, brother. I just don’t understand why now? All these years later?”
Silence trickled over us, and I waited for his reply.
“I guess seeing the kids where Rylee works and having kids of my own has changed my perspective.”
Smirking, I pulled down my street. “You’ve softened, bro.”