Outlaw's Last Race

by Dallas Cole

“No. It wasn’t right.” Drazic shrinks down in his seat. “I’ve always known you to be responsible, safe, fiercely protective. I should’ve known that you never would have intentionally gotten behind the wheel after you’d been drinking. That there had to have been something else going on.” He whistles, low. “Taking the fall for that waste-of-breath girl, though . . . There has to be a better way to help your grandmother.”

  “Well, you figure out what it is, you let me know.”

  “We’re in this together. The Drazic Muscleworks crew.” He grips my shoulder. “And we’ll protect our own.”

  I’ve always loved the high desert at nighttime. Cold sinks down into the valley, seeping into my bones, even as heat from the sun rises off the dirt. The empty stretches of earth, strewn with hulking rocks and stubborn plants, seem to glow in the moonlight. But it’s surprisingly dark out here. Elena’s Camaro and Drazic’s Lancer are perfectly camouflaged in the deep pools of shadows off the edges of Highway 12. We sit with our windows rolled down, side by side, engines idling so low it sounds like the wind, and wait for the night to shift.

  Then we hear it—the distant rumble like a storm and the flicker of lights as they sweep down into the valley. Drazic’s eyes glint in the moonlight as we look at each other. I nod to him. Crew leader goes first.

  Two gaudy Nissans, tricked out with impractical body kits and massive aluminum spoilers, come tearing down the path toward us. Paolo and Neshaun, two of Rory’s henchmen, out for their evening practice race, right on schedule. Too bad they weren’t counting on a little bit of competition from Drazic and me. Time to force them off the road and spill what we need to know.

  Drazic surges after them, hitting top speed in under ten seconds. I count to five, then slide into place behind them. Drazic’s rocketing up ahead, side by side with them, then weaving around them, just to let them know he means business. His headlights are off; all they can see is the dark shadow of his Lancer making quick jabs at them, throwing off their speed.

  Neshaun’s lime green car noses ahead, trying to stay out of Drazic’s reach, but Drazic’s relentless. He doesn’t fall for Neshaun’s jukes. I slide in behind Paolo’s electric blue car to box them in, weaving back and forth to block the width of the highway. They can veer off-road if they want, but they’re going to pay for it, tearing up those nice low body kits of theirs and probably shredding their street-race tires as well on the jagged earth. I can see them calculating the cost as they meander from side to side.

  Brakes scream into the night. Neshaun’s trying to flip around, throwing a fancy hand brake trick. Sorry, Neshaun, but I mastered that game. Between me and Paolo’s car, he has nowhere to go in reverse.

  I nudge the back left edge of Paolo’s car with the Camaro, gently as I can. Sooner or later, we have to force them off the highway. He honks wildly, warning Neshaun. Neshaun swerves to the left and exits the paved road with a horrible rip of plastic as he scrapes the bottom of his body kit against the rough desert terrain. Drazic slows down to take Neshaun’s place, keeping Paolo wedged between us.

  Paolo’s eyes lock onto mine. He’s about to try something. He yanks the emergency brake and, in a high-pitched squeal of rubber, the back end of his car fishtails toward one side and he flips around to face me. With a rev of his engine, he’s headed straight my way. Ahh, so he wants to play chicken. But he should know by now.

  I never flinch.

  His headlights grow and grow, but I keep mine dark. Make him second-guess my position. A hum courses through my body, the same one I felt on that night when Troy died, as Amber careened wildly around the ridge. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Already I can feel the crunch of steel and the hard press of the steering wheel against my chest—

  But Paolo swerves at the last minute and flies off into a ditch. The front of his body kit crumples up underneath his car. I slow down and curve around to pin him in. Drazic, up ahead, doubles back as well, and wedges himself on the other side.

  Neshaun jogs up toward Paolo’s car and helps him pry open the door, which is partially wedged in the hard dry earth. “C’mon, man. These dudes are fucking crazy. We have to go.”

  I unfold from the Camaro; Drazic steps out of his Lancer and blocks their path. Neshaun’s wrapped his arm around Paolo to help pull him from Paolo’s car, but then he drops him, and charges at Drazic, head low to butt him back. Drazic absorbs the blow with a mighty groan.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Neshaun shouts, swinging at Drazic. Drazic grips his stomach with one hand while he holds up the other to block Neshaun’s attacks. “We got no beef with your crew. You’re a goddamn nutjob.”

  Drazic deflects Neshaun’s fist and shoves it down, exposing Neshaun’s face. Then he knocks him out cold. Neshaun crumples to the dirt floor.

  I look down at Paolo, hunkered in the debris. “You feel like cooperating more than him?”

  Paolo cusses in Spanish in response.

  Drazic circles Paolo’s car to block him in while I crouch down in front of Paolo. This guy used to be—well, if not my friend, then at least my brother in arms. Circumstance forced both of us into the McManuses’ service. But can’t he see them for what they are? There has to be some way I can get through to him.

  “Dammit, Lennox.” Paolo spits into the dirt, then squints up at me. Only the dome lights from his car illuminate our dark patch of desert. “I can’t fucking help you. Don’t you get it?”

  I grip his chin in one hand. “No. I really don’t.”

  He tries to jerk his chin away, but I hold firm. “You know what the McManuses are like. It doesn’t matter what I think. What’s right. Any of that shit. I can’t cross them or I’ll be just as dead as you.”

  Paolo stumbles backward, falling out of my grasp, and scrambles along the side of his car to get to his feet. Before he can get away, though, Drazic sweeps his legs and sends him crashing back down to the ground.

  “I see we’re going to have to do this differently,” Drazic says. “Stay.” Then he reaches into the back of the Evo and pulls out a tire iron.

  “Aww, come the fuck on, man!” Paolo cries. “Lennox. Man, I know you aren’t in for this gangster shit.”

  “Nope. Not my style. But Drazic, on the other hand . . .”

  Drazic grins and twirls the tire iron in one hand.

  “There was a time I saved your life, Paolo.” I fish a lighter out of my pocket. I haven’t smoked in years, but there’s comfort in the rhythmic clicking of the flint. There’s a subtle menace in it, too, and I’m sure Paolo will agree. “I saved you, Neshaun, and Sean McManus. Because it was the right thing to do.”

  “Yeah. And I respected that. I watched your back then, too, until I got out. So that debt is fucking paid.”

  “Not so quick. Where were you when I got jumped in the showers? When I took a pipe to the chin?”

  Paolo squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head.

  “Sleeping in your bed, all safe and sound, because I’d sent the big bad to the infirmary. But the big bad had friends. I paid for saving your ass. And I’d do it all again.”

  “Fine, so I owe you. But fucking with the McManuses, that’s an order of magnitude worse—”

  “Is it?” I ask. “I mean, I get that you’re paying a debt to Sean, too. That’s where our real loyalty was. Sean McManus. But we didn’t count on Rory. Is that the man you want to pay your debts to? Is that the guy you’re giving your life away for?”

  “Dammit, Lennox, you know what he’s like,” Paolo says. His voice is strained; desperate. “He’ll kill my whole fucking family. I ain’t stupid like you. I’m not gonna give him any reason to torture my girl. If you wanna help that lady of yours, then you forget about ‘loyalty’ and ‘the right thing’ and you do whatever the fuck he says.”

  “Wrong answer,” Drazic says, and takes a step closer. “Rory McManus isn’t the only scary motherfucker in this town.”

  Paolo throws his hands up over his heads. “You’re crazy, man!”
/>
  “Damn right. Especially when it comes to my niece.”

  Then he swings the tire iron overhead.

  “Okay, okay, shit, I get it! I didn’t know she was your niece, man! Fuck!”

  Drazic pulls back at the last second. His eyes lock onto mine—there’s a question in them, of whether Paolo is really worth our time. If it’s really worth sparing his life, even if Rory McManus will be only too happy to take it from him the next chance he gets. I give Drazic a firm nod. Paolo could be someone. But like me, he’s got a lot of baggage to shed first.

  We’ll start tonight.

  I pull the stack of zip ties from my back pocket and tie up Paolo’s hands and legs, then move on to Neshaun, still unconscious. “You get ten minutes,” I tell Paolo. “In ten minutes, Drazic and I are driving the fuck outta here. If you tell me what I want to hear, then we’ll leave you just like this. Tied up, but you’ll still have your cars, whatever else you have on you. I’m sure you’ll find a way home eventually.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My family will die.”

  “Not if I kill the McManuses first,” I say.

  Paolo sighs. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.

  “The other way this scenario goes,” Drazic says, “is that we leave here in ten minutes, but we set a nice little fire first to keep you warm.”

  Paolo groans.

  “This is your chance,” I tell him. “You can get out from under Rory’s thumb. I can protect you and your family, too, when this is done, or I can make you part of the carnage. You can stay afraid of Rory McManus for the rest of your very, very short life, or you can have a chance to be free. Which do you prefer?”

  “You can’t protect me,” Paolo says, his tone high. Terrified.

  “When we’re done, there’s no one you’ll need protection from.” I click the lighter on once more.

  Paolo groans and bashes the back of his head against the side of his car. “For fuck’s sake. Okay. Okay. I don’t know anything for sure—”

  “Nine minutes,” Drazic says, an edge in his tone.

  “Fine! Okay, so they have a safehouse. It’s in one of the old industrial parks on the far side of the valley—west of here.” He gestures toward the other side of the desert, on the ridge west of Ridgecrest. “Near the old Goldwater mines. Maybe one of the old miners’ dorms, something like that. They take people there, sometimes. But they won’t keep her there long. In fact, they may already be moving her. Depends how long Rory gave you, really.”

  I snatch Paolo by the collar and shove my face in his. “What exactly do you mean?” I snarl. “That they won’t keep her there long.”

  Paolo swallows audibly. “You know what kind of man Rory is,” he says. “What the hell do you think I mean?”

  Rory. Rory would kill her. Or sell her off to a brothel, keeping her all doped up like those girls. I drop Paolo and turn away, gripping my hair. We have to save her. And fast.

  Drazic clutches me by the shoulder. “Lennox.”

  I close my eyes and let his grip steady me. It used to be enough to remind me that I was fighting for someone more than myself. That I had a family, and not just a job to do. That I belonged. Maybe I can have that feeling again.

  “We need to go now,” Drazic says.

  I open my eyes. “Let’s kick some ass.”

  Drazic slides into his car, tossing the tire iron in the rear, and I climb back into the Camaro. “Hey! Wait!” Paolo shouts. “You can’t just leave me here!”

  I dig around in Elena’s glove compartment and pull out a can of Fix-a-Flat, then toss it out of the window. It rolls and lands against Paolo’s bound feet. “Since you were so very helpful.” I grin at him. “We’ll repay you in full by putting an end to Rory McManus.”

  23

  Elena

  “If you’re done screaming, Elena,” Rory McManus says, those steely gray eyes looming right in front of me, “I think it’s time that you and I had a chat.”

  Almost without thinking, I jerk my knee, aiming to bring it up right between his legs. But it’s duct-taped to the chair. Fuck. It’s probably for the best. Rory’s the sort of guy who would have an entire toolbox full of torture implements. Best not to give him a reason to use them.

  Then again, the good thing about torture implements is that they’re also handy for cutting duct tape.

  I tug my wrists, but they’re bound tight to the chair. Glance around my surroundings. That’s what I need to do. Figure out just where I am and how I can use it to my advantage. Like figuring out the inner workings of a car—I just need to learn what makes this place tick before I can make it work for me.

  Rory straightens up, still watching me, and nods. “That’s much better. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue,” he says. “It’d really hurt your value on the black market. My friends like a girl who knows how to use her tongue.”

  I roll my eyes. That’s when I notice the camera over Rory’s shoulder, high in the corner of the room. So he can monitor me from outside, I’d assume. The camera’s cord dangles all the way to the ground, then disappears into the door frame. Hastily assembled, or built by someone who just didn’t know or care about making this room secure? Either way, I can use that knowledge for myself.

  “Don’t you want to know why you’re here?” Rory asks. His voice has a weight to it. I can tell he’s irritated that I’m not playing into his psychopath games. If I don’t start going along with him soon, he’s going to snap.

  But maybe I need him to snap.

  “Let me guess,” I say. “Lennox realized what a bunch of scumbags your crew is and decided he didn’t want a part of it anymore.”

  Rory narrows his eyes. “I’d suggest you watch your tone.”

  “My tone? You want me to worry about my tone?” I snort.

  Rory snarls. His face turns genuinely frightful, his lip curling, his eyes flinty points of hatred. I want to curl up in a ball. I want to push him, but not too much. I need him just angry enough that he’s off-guard. Not so angry that he fucking kills me.

  He may just kill me anyway. But I have to try.

  “Go on. Please explain,” I tell him. “I can tell you’ve been rehearsing for this.”

  Rory grits his teeth, but then nods. “He’s an unloyal fuck, is why. He swore a pledge to us. And he’s broken that pledge. Wouldn’t go through on a delivery.” Rory smirks. “Don’t you want to know what kind of delivery?”

  “I learned a long time ago it’s better if I don’t.”

  Rory tilts his head to one side, studying me. My blood runs cold from that look. He reaches out, fingers stretching for my cheek. I cringe and shrink back, but there’s no room for me to move. His fingers flutter against my skin. It burns like poison, the way he’s caressing my face. I wish I could stand under a scalding hot shower from that touch.

  “He was supposed to take some girls out to our brothel in Reno.” Rory’s voice is all sweetness and eerie softness. It makes me want to hurl. “But they never got the delivery. So I’ll have to make a substitution instead.”

  His fingertips dig into my cheek, nails biting my flesh. He jabs his thumb against my cheek between my jaws, forcing them open.

  “I’d suggest you learn quick how to pretend a man’s touch doesn’t repulse you,” Rory says. “Your clients at the brothel won’t be as patient with you as I will.”

  I start trembling. Shit! I don’t want him to see me scared. But there’s a real possibility I won’t find a way out of this. Where is Lennox? Does he even know I’ve been taken yet? Does he know where I am?

  Oh, my god. I squeeze my eyes shut as a new, horrifying possibility washes over me. What if Rory already has him captured, too?

  “Tell you what.” I grit the words out between my teeth. “If I start screaming again, will you go away?”

  Rory sneers, as if I’ve suddenly turned into a bit of dog shit stuck on his boot. He rears back his hand.

  And then slaps me so hard that everything goes black.

  When I come t
o, I’m wrapped in blessed silence. No Rory in the room. Just me and my chair and the camera watching my every move. My cheek is throbbing something wicked, and my wrists ache where the duct tape is constricting them, but otherwise, I feel remarkably at peace. It’s the same zen sensation that washes over me when I start tinkering with a new car. I know how to fix it—I just have to roll up my sleeves and figure out what tools to use.

  I can hear water dripping. A quick glance over my shoulder shows it trickling down the wall beside me, pooling not far from the dangling camera cord. There’s a faint hum in the air, like maybe we’re near a power station, or a massive generator. Hmm. One of the old mines, maybe? There are plenty of them scattered along the mountain and the opposite valley, like Goldwater. Some are from the gold rush days that got modernized around the 1950s, while others were built in the ‘70s or later. I can’t be sure which one this is.

  Then I hear the whistle of wind through the cinder blocks.

  We’re close to a mountain, then—out on the high desert, the wind is flat and constant, but this wind buckles and warps on itself. Goldwater moves higher on my list of our possible locations. But the real question is, what can I do about it? I have no way to communicate with the outside world. No way of knowing where Lennox is, or if he’s even alive. He has to be. Doesn’t he? The only reason Rory has to keep me alive is as collateral. I’m a bargaining chip for the McManuses to get those poor girls back from wherever Lennox took them. But whether Lennox is in captivity or not, whether they’re using me to lure him out or to break him down, I can’t be sure.

  My eyes sink closed as frustration bubbles up in my chest. There’s no use in crying. No use in much of anything that isn’t finding a way out of here. But I’m running low on options.

  Lennox. What’s he thinking right now? Is he blaming himself for causing this mess? I wish he wouldn’t. His devotion to doing the right thing is what I love about him. Doing whatever he can to better the world around him, even if it means he has to suffer for it. Like helping his grandmother. Even if it does cause lots of problems in the short term. He always frets that he doesn’t deserve me yet. But it’s his good heart that makes him so special. It’s what makes him more deserving than anyone in the world.