Chapter four— The Call

  The first light of morning crept across the city, washing the rooftops in pale gold.

  Alex stood in the doorway of the garage, coffee in hand, watching the sunrise burn through the thin LA haze. The world felt quieter now — like the chaos of the night had been nothing but a dream.

  The MR2 sat parked in the shadows behind him, cooling in silence, streaks of dirt and rubber still clinging to its sides. He smiled faintly.

  “She earned her keep,” he murmured.

  Then his phone buzzed on the workbench.

  He glanced down — Rico, the race fixer.

  Alex wiped his hand on his shirt and answered.

  “Yeah?”

  Rico’s voice came through, rough and raspy from too many cigarettes. “You alive, man? Thought those cops turned you into a road stain last night.”

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  Alex smirked. “You know me. I don’t make it easy.”

  A low laugh crackled through the line. “Guess not. Anyway, your winnings are ready — clean handoff, same spot as always. But listen…” Rico paused for a moment. “Got something else lined up. Something bigger. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Alex leaned back against the workbench, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Bigger how?”

  “You’ll see. Just don’t be late.”

  The line went dead.

  He pocketed the phone, finishing the last sip of his coffee before tossing the empty cup in the bin. Something bigger usually meant more money — and more heat. But curiosity had always been one of his worst habits.

  He turned toward the corner of the garage, where another car sat half-covered in dust: a Subaru Impreza estate, silver, unassuming. No body kit, no loud exhaust — just stock panels, faded paint, and quiet confidence.

  The kind of car nobody looked twice at.

  He lifted the cover and smiled.

  “Let’s keep it simple today.”

  He popped the hood — beneath it, the story changed completely. Tuned engine, reinforced mounts, upgraded turbo. It was built to move when it had to, but never to draw eyes while it did.

  He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and listened to the low, controlled rumble. No drama, no flash — just efficiency.

  Pulling out of the lot, he took one last glance in the rearview mirror at the garage fading behind him. The MR2 waited inside, resting. His other life, locked away until nightfall.

  The Impreza merged easily into morning traffic, blending with commuters and delivery vans.

  To anyone watching, Alex looked like just another guy heading to work.

  But beneath the calm, his mind was already racing — thinking about Rico’s call, about what “something bigger” might mean.

  More money, sure. But maybe more danger.

  He gripped the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead.

  Whatever it was, he’d find out soon enough.