"Vince got beaten up? And it's serious?"
Dom drove Letty and a very worried Mia toward the hospital.
Both women wore expressions of disbelief.
Dom's fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel.
He could barely believe it himself. In his crew, Vince was the heavy hitter. Aside from Dom himself, nobody could take Vince in a fight.
Sure, Vince was hot-tempered, but he backed it up. Whenever the crew ran into trouble that Dom couldn't personally handle, Vince was the sledgehammer that solved the problem.
And now? The sledgehammer was broken.
"We don't know the details yet. Let's wait until we get to the hospital," Dom said, his voice flat and detached, trying to calm the girls down.
Through the rearview mirror, his gaze settled on Mia.
Before leaving, Dom had called Old Parker.
The hospital didn't know who attacked Vince.
But the location where the ambulance picked him up? It was the exact address Parker had given Dom earlier—the address of that Chinese kid, Hunter.
"Kid, you better pray Vince is okay."
"And you better pray you didn't set him up with a gang."
"Otherwise... this isn't over."
Thinking about how Mia had genuinely fallen for this kid, Dom felt a headache coming on. Even for the King of the Streets, this was a mess.
Dom wasn't the only one with a headache.
"Old Parker, that was a dirty move."
"Giving my address to Mia is one thing, but to Vince?"
"Did you not know he was coming to start trouble?"
Old Parker had a bad feeling the moment he hung up with Dom.
Sure enough, Hunter called almost immediately.
Normally, Parker was the boss. Hunter was just an employee. Parker should have had the upper hand.
But Hunter's skills were undeniable. The recent side jobs had received rave reviews, bringing Parker lucrative repeat customers.
However, skill alone wouldn't make Parker sweat.
Earlier today, Vince demanded Hunter's address. Later, Dom called asking for the same thing.
Parker, being nosy, had asked Dom what was up. That was how he learned that Vince—the violent, unstoppable enforcer—had been beaten into a coma right outside Hunter's apartment.
Parker was an ex-racer. He had seen it all—chop shops, underground races, gangs.
He put two and two together instantly.
Vince went to hurt Hunter. Instead, Hunter destroyed him.
Parker didn't know about Mia. He assumed this was payback for the incident twenty days ago when Vince shoved Hunter and gave him a concussion.
Twenty days.
For twenty days, this kid had worked quietly, plotting his revenge. And Parker, who saw him every day, hadn't noticed a thing.
That kind of patience... that kind of brutality...
It made Parker's scalp tingle.
So, when he heard Hunter's displeased voice on the phone, Parker—lying comfortably in his own bed—felt like a venomous snake was coiling around his neck.
His mouth went dry. His voice trembled.
"H... Hunter..."
"You know... Dom is the majority shareholder..."
"If... if they ask for an employee's address..."
"I can't say no!"
The explanation was exactly what Hunter expected.
Hunter clicked his tongue in disgust.
"I probably can't come back to the shop for a while."
"You know why."
"I need money. A lot of it."
"Set me up with some generous clients. You know my skills are worth it."
Hearing that Hunter wasn't pursuing the betrayal further, Parker let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Maybe he was getting old. Maybe he had lost his edge. But he was genuinely afraid of this young, calculating man.
Better not to make an enemy of him, Parker decided.
He thought for a moment.
"Hunter, I don't have any big clients right now."
"But... a friend of mine asked about a mechanic a few days ago."
"My friend is an information broker. He has a client looking for a specialist to modify a car."
"The pay isn't great, though."
"And there's a catch: The client insists on meeting the mechanic face-to-face to discuss the mods."
In the US, modifying cars was legal. But illegal modifications for street racing or heists? That was a felony.
Most high-level mechanics refused to meet clients directly. Anonymity was their shield. If the client got busted robbing a bank, the mechanic didn't want to be identified as an accomplice.
Parker had asked his trusted circle, but nobody wanted the job. Low pay plus high risk equals hard pass.
He was about to decline his friend.
But since Hunter was desperate for quick cash...
"Hunter, like I said, no big fish right now."
"But if you're willing to take the risk, consider this one."
Hunter perked up. "Details."
"The client wants a modification expert, but they demand a face-to-face meeting," Parker explained.
"If you agree, you can negotiate the fee directly with them."
"With your skills, you can probably squeeze a decent price out of them."
"And if you need parts, I can supply them to you at cost."
"What do you think?"
Silence on the other end.
Hunter seemed to be weighing the pros and cons.
Finally, his voice returned, calm and decisive.
"Give me the contact info. I'll handle it myself."
"Deal."
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