by Parker, Ali
A lot could happen out on the streets. My throat tightened as I thought about the crash last weekend. The squeal of tires. The smashing and grinding of metal as the car hit the barrier.
All the blood.
Mason, passed out and slumped sideways in the driver’s seat.
I shook my head. Now was not the time to think of such things. I was only making it harder on myself. This was Mason’s decision. I respected that, and I respected what he was fighting for.
He needed to reclaim his title and push out the men who had turned this sport into a seedy, dangerous, underground game. Sure, street racing had always been illegal, but it hadn’t been as risky as it was with Sid and Mark. They took their business off the streets. They’d come to find you in your home and fuck you up if they thought you were a threat.
All to win a stupid race.
I sighed and tucked a corner of the flag in the back pocket of my jeans before I walked across the street to meet up with Harley, who was standing with her arms crossed as she peered down the road. The taillights of the cars finally disappeared around a corner.
She glanced over at me as I stood beside her and leaned against one of the barriers that outlined the track.
“Whose blood?” she asked.
“Benji’s.”
“Sid and Mark?”
I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. How’d you know?” I asked sarcastically.
Harley frowned. “This is the first time I’ve ever considered canceling all of this. Throwing in the towel. What these two are doing to us… it’s not right. First Rick. Then Mason. Now your brother.” She shook her head. “It’s disgusting.”
“I agree.”
“Do you think I should end this? Put a stop to it once and for all before someone gets killed?”
I felt the weight of her question settle on my shoulders. “I don’t think that’s a decision I should make.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking for an opinion.”
I sighed and shifted my stance. The sound of the car engines had long since disappeared. Now it was just the anxiety-inducing wait. The worst part. “I think if Sid or Mark win this thing, it might be time to put a stop to it. Yes. For the sake of everyone’s safety.”
She nodded. “I thought so too.”
“But Mason can win this. He can turn it around. The Streets doesn’t have to end.”
Harley didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway. “I hope so.”
I gave her the best smile I could muster and nodded toward Rick’s Jeep, which was parked at the back of the starting line-up. “I’m going to meet up with the others. Do you want to come?”
“No.” Harley shook her head. “I’m good here. Thanks, though. Tell Benji I’m thinking about him.”
I laughed. “That will make his night.”
Harley smiled, and I left her, cutting through the crowd, which was much more focused on their own conversations than they were on me, and wound my way over to the Jeep. Rick opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed up before twisting around in the seat to look to my brother and Ginny.
Benji gave me a thumbs-up. “I’m good, sis. Nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t look good.”
“I’ve had worse.”
I nodded knowingly. “Isn’t that the truth? Hey, I have something that might make you feel better.”
“Oh?” he asked, adjusting himself gingerly to lean up against the door panel.
“Harley says she’s thinking about you.”
Rick slapped the steering wheel and laughed as Benji’s one good eye widened in surprise. Then Benji told Rick to shut the hell up, and he just laughed harder.
I smiled at my brother. “Maybe you do have a shot with her.”
Rick wheezed. “Don’t give the bastard false hope, Laina. That’s just cruel.”
“I’m damaged, Rick,” Benji said. “Do you really need to keep kicking me while I’m already down? And who are you to know what Harley wants or doesn’t want?”
“I know what she doesn’t want,” Rick snickered. “Do-gooders like you, Benji. She likes you because you’re a nice guy. And that’s exactly why she’d never fuck you.”
Ginny cleared her throat. “That hardly seems to make any sense.”
Rick looked at her in the rearview mirror. “I never said it made sense. I’m just stating the facts. Harley has a type, and it’s not guys like Benji.”
“What’s her type, then?” Ginny asked.
I met her gaze and answered before Rick had the chance. “Mason.”
“Oh,” Ginny said. “And is she his type?”
I shrugged.
Rick’s eyes were on me. I could feel his stare and knew he was thinking about what he should say. Finally, he settled on something. “Harley might have been his type a long time ago. But now? Mason knows it would be more trouble than it’s worth. And he likes a woman with a good heart, someone who reminds him that he’s a good guy.”
“Someone like Laina,” Benji said. He wouldn’t look at me. He was staring out the window now with his one good eye.
Rick nodded and looked at me. “Yeah. Someone like Laina.”
My cheeks burned as I looked out the window to where Harley stood. She was pacing like I had while we’d waited on Mason. Did she love him?
It was the only thing that explained why she was so concerned for him. The same tension tightened her shoulders that I carried in mine. It was fear. She worried that he might get hurt out there again, just like I did.
“What’s wrong, Laina?” Ginny asked. Her voice sounded very far away.
I looked down and picked at a loose thread along the seam of my jeans. “Nothing. I’m just worried for him.”
Rick turned the Jeep on and cranked the heat. “We all are.”
Chapter 29
Mason
The Boxster was a speed demon.
It ate pavement and cornered like a beast, which meant one thing. I was able to take risks. The roads weren’t as slick as I’d been anticipating. I was lucky that the rain had cleared up well before the race started. My tires had excellent traction, and I took corners tight—tighter than any of the other cars I watched in my mirrors. Those saved fractions of a second kept inching me farther and farther ahead of the group.
And farther ahead of Mark and Sid.
Their cars were at the front of the pack but were driving a good three or so car lengths behind me. And I was still losing them. I owed Kline big time for this car.
The race Harley had planned led onto busier streets, as they all did, and when I hit one of the main roads, I opened up on the throttle, racing toward a red light I knew would turn green as my tires crossed the sidewalk.
It did.
I blew through the intersection. People laid on their horns in an effort to get me to slow down.
It was useless.
I could taste victory on my tongue, coppery like blood and salty like anticipation.
The street narrowed from four lanes to two. Other cars were merging in, cutting into my path, and I was hell-bent on not slowing down. I wove around them and was forced into the shoulder lane. Keeping the wheel steady, I came up on their left-hand side.
Most drivers veered to the right as I passed. More horns honked.
I laughed as I whipped back out in front of them.
Now the rest of the racers were cut off from me, blocked by a herd of slow-moving civilians in their sedans and SUVs on their way to who the hell knew what.
Sid’s car drove up on the sidewalk.
I watched his bumper send sparks over the road as he came down off the curb, and he swerved from left to right as he tried to regain traction and control. He came out in front of the pack of cars, and Mark Denning was quick to follow.
“Fuckers,” I breathed as I took a sharp right turn. The street dove under an overpass and became a tunnel. The lights flew by like strobes flashing inside my car. I put my foot flat to the mat and the Boxster screamed down the tunnel, t
he roar of its super-powered engine ricocheting off the walls.
I caught air when I came up onto the street level. The Boxster came down hard, and I hoped I hadn’t damaged anything. The car was nice and in pristine condition. I didn’t want to bring it back to Kline damaged.
Although, he seemed to hate Sid enough that as long as I won, he wouldn’t give a damn if the car came back beat to hell.
I took a left turn and then another, and soon was opening up onto another straightaway as the course started turning around and heading back to the finish line.
The only cars I could see in my mirrors were Sid’s and Mark’s. The rest of the drivers had fallen behind. The chaos of the city streets had proven too much for them, and they weren’t able to keep up the sort of speed required to win a race like this.
They weren’t willing to put it all out there and take chances.
That was the difference between the winners and losers in The Streets. If you didn’t know your car and your skill inside and out, you were doomed to fail. And if you weren’t willing to push the limits, to swallow your fear and trust yourself in the moment, you would never know what victory tasted like.
The road became windy as it led through a quieter area in the city lined with boutiques boasting lavish window displays. I blew past wedding shops, shoe stores, and men’s apparel shops as the Boxster soared down the street.
A quick glance in the mirror told me one sure thing. This race was mine.
Sid and Mark might be able to make up some ground, but there was no way in hell they would ever overtake me. We were getting too close to the end. This race was mine.
I came peeling around a corner. The back tires slid out, and I drifted to the far side of the street before gaining traction and flooring it. The road angled into a straightaway, and the finish line came into view.
Mark and Sid were seconds behind me.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and clenched my jaw. This was the moment. Right here. One little fuck up could spoil it. And I couldn’t afford that. I needed a win.
My knuckles were split open from the fight. Blood had leaked over the backs of my hands during the race but had dried. Now, as I tightened my grip and the skin turned white, my knuckles started leaking again. I could barely feel it.
All I could feel was the power of the car beneath me. I could feel every inch of road gained. The steering wheel trembled. I kept her straight and true. The speedometer maxed out.
“Come on,” I growled. Just a little farther. The line was so close. I could practically smell it.
The crowd was moving like a wave, jumping in place as my car hurtled toward them.
I indulged in one last look in the mirror. Sid and Paul were still trailing behind. They’d caught up but not by much. I still had at least a car length on both of them, and that was more than enough to guarantee me first place.
My cheeks stretched in a grin that I was incapable of concealing. The screams of the crowd reached my ears. Harley was there, standing near the front, waving Laina’s red flag as I closed in.
The spray-painted red line passed beneath my tires.
I took my speed off as Sid and Mark crossed behind me. I came to a slow stop at the end of the road and waited for the rest of the cars to finish the race before I circled back, driving at a snail’s pace, and kept my eyes peeled for my people.
I spotted Laina first.
She exploded out of the crowd, her face alight with joy, and leaped over the barrier to run to my car. I watched her run in front of my car as I put the brakes on. Then she was at my door, and I stepped out.
Laina threw her arms around my waist. “You won!”
I held her tight and was more than a little aware of her breasts crushed against my chest. “Piece of cake,” I said.
She looked up at me. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were bright and full of relief. Her lips were full and a little wet. Maybe she had lip gloss on. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was a mess from no doubt running her fingers through it as she anxiously waited for me to cross the finish line.
It felt good to have a woman waiting for me at the end of a race again.
I lifted her chin and kissed her. She held me tighter, and I kissed her deeper.
I didn’t notice that the crowd was chanting until our lips parted, and I was staring into her eyes.
“Street King.”
“Street King.
“Street King!”
Their voices grew louder every time, and Laina looked around as laughter bubbled out of her. Then she turned back to me. “What now, Street King?”
“Now?” I asked, putting my hands on her waist and rubbing her bare hips with my thumbs. “Now we celebrate.”
“And later?”
“Later, we can do whatever you want.”
She grinned. “That sounds good to me. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. Benji and the others are already heading back to your place. Want to stop to pick up some drinks?”
Laina still had her hands wrapped in the front of my shirt. I tipped her face up to mine, kissed her sweetly, and then nipped at her full bottom lip. She giggled. “Drinks sound fun. Get in.”
Laina ran around to her side of the Porsche and climbed in. I dropped into the driver’s seat and revved the engine before turning away from the crowd. They dispersed for us, and some of them continued the chant as we passed and pumped their fists in the air.
It felt the same as it had before.
I had a beautiful woman riding shotgun. She was smiling at me and glowing like a ray of my own personal sunlight. She was good, and pure and sweet but also fierce and wild and everything a man like me needed.
And she was everything that Evelyn was not.
For the first time in a long time, I was right where I was supposed to be. I held out my hand to her, and Laina threaded her fingers between mine. She tucked a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear as she leaned back against the seat.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whispered.
Laina laughed like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I mean it.”
She pursed her lips. “I believe you.”
I turned my gaze back to the road as we reached the edge of the crowd. “Let’s get back to your brother. Get some Tylenol in him and make sure he’s not too fucked up. Then we’ll celebrate.”
“He’s all right,” she said. “I checked on him when you were racing. Definitely banged up but nothing a few shots of tequila can’t help with.”
“I like your style.”
Laina yelped when a loud slamming noise startled her. I hit the brakes and looked out the windshield to see Sid standing in front of my car with his hands flat on the hood. He was grinning like a fool. His teeth were stained with blood from our fight and his nose was still leaking. I saw some of it drip onto the hood of the Boxster.
“Get the fuck out of the car, Mason!”
Laina looked to me. All the light and joy in her was suddenly gone and had been replaced with fear. That pissed me off.
“Don’t,” Laina warned when I unclipped my seat belt.
“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to get him to move.”
Laina bit her bottom lip, and I opened my door, stepping out halfway. “Get the hell out of my way, Sid. Or so help me God, I’ll run you over.”
Sid’s lips curled in a smile. His gold teeth flashed, and he straightened up. “You don’t have the stomach for that, Mason. You and I both know that.”
Chapter 30
Laina
I gripped the edges of my seat, and the leather creaked beneath my fingers. Sid Paul looked like a rabid dog at the end of the Porsche’s hood. He had both hands planted firmly on the glossy black paint, and he was looking at Mason with a crooked sneer. Blood ran from his nose over his upper lip and into his mouth.
My stomach rolled. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.
“Mason,” I said nervously.
But I was concerned. I was very concerned.
Sid slammed his hands down on the hood again, broadcasting his crazy to the stragglers who had lingered after the race ended.
“Keep your hands off the car,” Mason said. His voice was much calmer than I expected it to be. Still, even. If he was angry, he wasn’t showing it.
I shifted in my seat and relaxed my grip on the leather. A deep inhale followed by a slow exhale calmed my beating heart, and I kept my eyes trained on Sid, who was chuckling at Mason.
“I hope you had fun tonight, Mason, because this is all the glory you’re going to get.”
I watched Mark pull up behind Sid and get out of his car. He put a hand on Sid’s shoulder, and the two of them exchanged words I couldn’t hear.
It was dark outside. Quite dark. Just minutes ago, the gravel lot had been awash in light from all the cars, but now that people were leaving, it was growing darker and darker by the second. If I looked out the passenger window, I couldn’t see farther than maybe thirty feet or so. Then it all faded into nothing. Behind us, down the street, was the pale glow of streetlights. But soon, it would be full dark here, and I wanted to get out of this place before that happened.
“Mason,” I said as I pressed the lock down on my door. “Let’s go.”
Mark’s hand fell from Sid’s shoulder, and the two of them glared at Mason, who held his ground.
“Get out of my way,” Mason said.
It was more than a little surprising to see both Sid and Mark back away from the Boxster and head back to their cars. Mason remained where he was, watching them like a hawk for any tricks or sudden moves. I’d been sure we were in over our heads. They had Mason alone for once and just let him slip through their fingers.
What were they playing at?
When Sid and Mark got back into their cars, Mason slid back into his seat. He didn’t look over at me as he started the car back up and put his seat belt on. The anxiety in my chest and stomach was still screaming at me to get out of this place as Mason pulled off the gravel lot and took to the road.