by Kay Marie
We head out to the warehouse. It's in a great location. Nothing else is around it, so the chance of the cops showing up is slim. It's always at some abandoned industrial warehouse but a different one each week. A lot of people race on Friday nights to make sure their cars are ready for Race Wars at the end of the month. Some come thinking they'll make a quick buck, and others come for the fights held inside the warehouse. We park our cars along the side of the racing strip so we can watch some of the races. They’re just now getting started.
We're all reminiscing and laughing about some good times we had in Arizona when Buster hops off his car. His body instantly takes a defensive stance, and I turn around to see what he’s looking at.
I let out a light laugh when I see Rascal, Kicks, Sketch, Hollywood, Raze, and some other guy I haven’t met yet, walking our way. Rascal looks pissed. I look back to Buster and say, “Stand down, B. Those are the Savage Menaces.”
"I take it by the look on that guy’s face they didn't know you were back?" he asks as he relaxes just a fraction.
"Nope," I respond, popping the p. I turn back to the brothers. "Hey, Ras!" I call out as they get closer.
"What the fuck, Minx? Don't 'hey Ras' me. You just show up without giving anyone a heads up, with God knows who," Rascal yells at me. "Who the fuck are these guys? Do you know what kind of hell we've been going through this last month?" He peppers me with questions.
"Yeah, my pops, your Prez, called and told me Jager is in the hospital. That's why we're here," I spit back. "These guys are friends from Arizona, Rascal. Took care of us and helped us while we were there. They're good people, so calm your ass down."
"You should have called. There's shit going on with the Iron Lords. We would have put prospects on y'all," he says to me a little calmer but still pissed off.
"We don't need prospects following us around. We grew up the same way y'all did. We can protect ourselves better than those damn prospects, even on their best day," I bite out at him. My pops and the other brothers taught all of us kids how to shoot guns and fight. They would only teach us girls how to protect ourselves, but Hawk and Kicks taught us how to really kick some ass.
"Can you really, though?" Buster says just loud enough, so I'm the only one that hears him. I glare at him before looking back to Rascal, not wanting to have to explain anything to the brothers. "I'm not here to fight with you. I'm here to fucking race. So either shut up and watch or leave."
He looks taken aback for a brief second. Then turns and whispers to Raze and the other guy. He turns to me. "Come by the clubhouse and see your Pops tomorrow." And he walks away.
"Yes, Sir," I say with a mock salute to his retreating back. I grin as Rivet giggles.
Kicks, Sketch, and Hollywood tip their chins up in a silent farewell and take off after Rascal, leaving Raze and his buddy still standing here.
Chapter Three
Raze
After I left that diner this morning, work at the shop felt like torture. No matter how much I tried to busy my mind, all I could think about was the next time I could go to that piece of shit diner to see her again. Once I was done at the shop, I went to the clubhouse where Sketch and Rascal talked me into accepting a fight for tonight.
What I didn’t expect was to find out that the girl from the diner is Minx, my Prez’s daughter. I know now that I should stay away from her. That would be easier to do if Rascal didn’t ask me to keep an eye on her.
“Minx,” I say. I give her a small grin. She has a look of defiance in her eye.
“What did Ras do, put you on babysitting duty?” She throws out with sass.
“Nah, I just wanted to see the club princess do what she does best.” I smirk and wink at her. “Mind if I check out your car?”
She nods, and I walk around her car, checking out the bodywork and stealing glances at her. She’s fucking sexy and doesn’t even have to try. She’s got the same kind of shorts on that she had on at the diner. She has a basic, black tank top that hugs her tits and sits right above her hips, showing a sliver of her stomach. And to top it off, she’s rocking black chucks— so simple yet so fucking sexy.
This car is almost as sexy as she is. It’s a matte black Chevelle and looks sleek. I get back around to the front, and she grabs the back of the hood, pulling it up as she walks to the front of the car with a sly smirk. I keep my eyes on hers for a second too long before looking around the hood at the engine.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter. Under the hood is an LSX crate engine. This engine alone is fast, but just by looking at it, I can tell there are even more modifications inside.
“Who did all the work on this,” I ask her, and her face breaks out into the biggest smile.
“I did. With my Pops’ help, of course, but I did the majority of it,” she gushes. Damn it if that doesn’t make her even sexier.
“You did a damn good job,” I compliment her as I close the hood. “What got you into cars in the first place,” I ask curiously, not expecting an answer.
“It started from just watching my pops and brothers. One day, Pops decided to teach me some basics, and it all came so naturally. After seeing how quickly I took to it, he bought me this Chevelle to fix up. On my sixteenth birthday, he surprised me with the new paint job. And told me it was officially mine.” She pauses. Seems like I found a good way to get her talking. The thought of her getting dirty, working on a car, makes my dick jump.
“I’m sorry, I could talk cars for days,” she says with a nervous laugh.
“And she has,” her friend says, reaching to shake my hand and adding “I’m Buster, part of Minx’s family in Arizona.”
“I’m Raze. That’s Saint.” I motion with my head toward Saint as I shake Buster’s hand. “So what brings y’all to Texas?”
“We were missing our girls,” one of the other guys says as he comes up and puts an arm around Minx’s shoulders. I stand a little taller as a wave of jealousy goes through me. I keep a neutral look on my face and see Saint looking at me out of my peripheral. I ignore him.
“Shut up, Shade,” Minx says, laughing as she elbows him in the side.
“Oomph.” Shade drops his arm away from her shoulder and grabs his side. Buster shakes his head, smiling.
“Minx told us about her brother being in the hospital. We wanted to be here for her and Rivet,” Buster explains. “Plus, it gave us an excuse to check out the race scene here.”
“How long do y’all plan on staying?” Saint asks Buster. I watch Shade move to Rivet and start picking on her. Minx laughs at them, and that sound is music to my ears. I realize that Shade is acting like a brother to them and subtly shake my head.
“We haven’t decided yet. Figured we would just play by ear,” Buster tells us, looking between Saint and I. I nod my head. I watch Minx interact with Rivet and the guys for a minute. She’s so happy and carefree. She’s in her element here. I feel Buster staring at me and look to him.
“Be careful with her. She acts tough as shit, but she’s pretty fucking fragile right now,” he warns me. He leaves it at that when he sees Minx walking up to us.
“Are y’all done with your chit chat? I’m about to go race.” And there’s that sass again.
“Go get ‘em, Lil Mama,” Buster says to Minx. I give him a questioning look at the nickname. Minx’s face lights up. She meets Shade and Rivet at Rivet’s car. Rivet goes to the window, messes with her phone and some music starts playing.
“It’s a thing we did in Arizona. We have a hype playlist that we listen to before racing. It helps us all get in the zone,” Buster explains to me. I can’t take my eyes off Minx.
Chapter Four
Savannah
I can feel Raze watching me, and I have to force myself not to turn around to look at him. Rivet turns on our hype playlist. It has all of our favorite songs we listen to get us pumped up for our races. Pedal to the Metal by TK is the first song on.
“Pedal to the metal we ain’t ever gonna stop, better go get up on my level if you
ready or you not. See I’m something like a rebel, we ain’t never gonna settle. I been steady raisin hell, pissin’ off the devil. Got the pedal to the metal.”
After listening to half the song I get in my car, excitement racing through my veins. I live for this. To some, a quarter mile is just that. For me, it’s ten seconds of pure freedom. It’s just me and my car. There’s no worrying about my family, the club, or any problems I may have.
I turn the ignition, and my baby starts with a growl. Music to my ears. I don’t get nervous before racing. I don’t stress out about the race either. That may make me seem cocky, but I’m just confident in my skills. I’ve had my fair share of losing, and it sucks. I was taught to learn from my races, win or lose. Six years of racing, I’ve bettered my car and my driving. I get to the start line, and hear the guy I’m racing whistle. I turn to look at him to see what he wants.
“Hey, baby! How about I race you for that sexy little ass,” he arrogantly calls out.
“Oh, honey, you couldn’t handle this ass. Now, nut up or shut up. How about an adrenaline rush? $2k,” I reply, holding up a roll of cash.
“You’re on,” he says, holding up his own cash. I smirk and look back to the flagger. She’s one of the tire biters. It’s pretty common for the tire biters to stand in as flaggers. I haven’t seen this girl around before. I forget that I’ve been gone for four years and things tend to change a lot faster than that.
She’s a pretty blonde, wearing daisy dukes with her ass hanging out and a bikini top that barely holds her noticeably fake tits. I’m sure she has her pick of guys that want to take her home tonight. I rev my engine, waiting for the signal.
“Y’all ready?” she asks, looking to me. I nod, and then she looks to my opponent.
“Get ready . . .” She points towards my car. “Get set . . .” She points at his car. “Gooooo!”
I shift into gear and take off. We are neck and neck for the first couple of seconds before my car flies forward, taking off toward the finish line. That kid never stood a chance.
Adrenaline flows through me as I slow down to make my way back to my crew. The adrenaline rush is there, win or lose, but with a win, it’s amplified by about ten. The tire biter is there when I pull into my spot.
“Nice win,” she says to me, but she has her eyes glued to Buster. She hands me my winnings and sashays away, more than likely trying to get his attention. He’s too smart for that. In the three and a half years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him go after a tire biter. I think he has an old flame haunting him, but he’s never talked about it.
Rivet, Raze, Buster, and the rest of them come up to congratulate me. I’m on cloud nine right now.
“Way to go girl!” Rivet shouts.
“You showed them!” Buster says, holding his hand in the air for a high five. I smack his hand, sporting the biggest smile, and then hug him. I look over to Raze, who is standing there with his arms crossed.
“Nice race,” he tells me. His face is pretty blank, but I swear I see a fire in his eyes.
“Thanks, Raze.” I give him a small grin.
“Time to head inside for the fights. We might make it in there to see Sketch and Rascal’s matches before I have to go on,” he says to the whole group.
As if I wasn’t already amped up from racing, now I get to go watch the brothers fight, and that always amps me up more. I’ve always loved watching them. Seeing Raze fight may be tortuous. They don’t wear shirts during their brawls. It’s so hot seeing their ripped, tattooed bodies. I can only imagine how sexy he’ll look without his shirt on.
“What a way to celebrate a win,” Rivet whispers to me with a grin. “Seeing half-naked men fighting each other.”
I giggle at her and hook my arm with hers.
“Buster, are y’all going to come inside with us?” I ask, and I think I hear Raze growl. Buster talks it over with the others before responding.
“Shade and I will come with you. Diesel and Clutch will stay with the cars, and might race,” he answers, and I nod.
We head inside the warehouse. Raze and Saint are in front of us, and Buster and Shade behind us. It feels like they’re bodyguards, walking in formation. There’s a pretty big crowd already here watching the fights. Kicks and Hollywood have front row seats, and it looks like they saved us seats too.
I look into the octagon and Sketch is already in there. It looks like he’s been in there a minute. Both he and his opponent are sweating. The other guy has a pretty bloody face. The next thing I know, Sketch throws a punch to the guy’s face and it drops him to the floor. I cheer with the rest of the crowd.
“Looks like I have to go prepare for my fight,” Raze tells us.
“Good luck,” I say to him. He looks at me, holding my stare for a beat too long. A chill runs down my spine.
“Luck isn’t needed,” he says with a wink and takes off to locker room.
“Well, he isn’t cocky or anything,” Rivet says with sarcasm. I look at her and smile.
“Not cocky. He’s just that good,” Saint shrugs. “He’s very calculated when he’s in the octagon. His opponents really never stand a chance.”
Rascal’s fight is a close match. His opponent got a couple of good hits in before Ras took him down. About five minutes after Rascal’s fight ends, the ref comes back out to call out the next two fighters.
“And now for the main event,” the ref starts. My heart rate speeds up with my excitement. “Challenging our current champ . . . Shifter!”
Raze is a big guy, at least a foot taller than me and brawny. Both times I’ve seen him, his shirt stretches across his chest, giving me a pretty good idea at how built he is. This guy, Shifter, has to be at least the same height as Raze, but a little huskier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little worried about how this fight is going to go.
Chapter Five
Raze
After seeing how well Minx handled her car, I’m just that much more attracted to her. She knows her shit about cars, and that’s sexy as hell. She won her race like a fucking pro.
When she got out of her car, she had a smile so big I’m surprised her face didn’t split in half. Seeing Minx and Buster hug pissed me off though. I blame this pull I have for her. I’ve never felt so possessive over a chick, let alone one I barely even know.
I’m walking back to the locker room to get ready for my fight. Just thinking about Minx is a distraction. I need to get my head on straight, so I can win this fight. I get into the locker room at the same time Sketch gets back.
“Congrats on your win, Sketch. Nice knockout.” I congratulate Sketch, patting him on the back.
“Thanks, man,” he replies and dumps a bottle of cold water over his head and neck. Rascal is still in here getting ready to go out to the ring.
“Where’s Minx?” he asks me.
“Sitting in the front row with Saint. He’s watching her,” I tell him, and he nods at me. It seems he’s stepping into the protective brother role. No one knows what’s going to happen with Jager, but it’s not looking good. I’ve heard some talk about Minx and Jager’s brother, Hawk, dying a couple of months before Minx left town. I assume that’s why she left, but I haven’t asked anyone. I know Bull is going to make sure she goes to visit Jager soon. I’m sure I’ll be the one to accompany her to the hospital sometime this weekend. Maybe I’ll be able to get her to talk to me.
“Rascal, you’re up,” one of the bouncers calls. Both sets of locker rooms have bouncers to make sure no one tries to attack any of the fighters.
“Go get ‘em, brother,” I say.
“Kick his ass,” Sketch says. Rascal takes a deep breath and heads out of the locker room. I start on my stretches and do some deep breathing to get both my mind and body ready. Sketch is standing at the locker room door watching Rascal’s fight.
“Shit! That was quick. That dude got a good hit in, but Ras took him down!” Sketch says enthusiastically. “You’re up next.”
Good, I’m ready for this, I
think to myself.
Ready to get back out to Minx. Fuck, I need to get her out of my head. I walk over to Sketch. We watch as the ref walks out and announces my fight.
“And now for the main event,” the ref calls out and announces my opponent,
Shifter. This asshole sent me a challenge about a month ago. The club hasn’t been able to find much info on him, but we think he’s an ally of the Iron Lords. I need to stay as focused as possible in case this fucker decides to fight dirty.
He’s a little huskier than I am, but I’ve taken down bigger guys before. I was able to see Shifter fight a couple of weeks ago. He was a bouncy fucker. I’m surprised he didn’t tire himself out. He got lucky, though, and the guy he was fighting didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Shifter knocked him out pretty quick. He won’t be that lucky with me. I know what the fuck I’m doing. My moves are planned out before my opponents ever know what hit them.
“Annnnnnd now…” the ref says, and I look around the crowd, my eyes instantly finding her. “Hellraiser!”
Her face lights up, and I make my way to the octagon. I hear a few boos throughout the loud as fuck cheering. I keep a pretty neutral expression, like any other time. I don’t like people trying to read me. I make my way to the middle of the ring to listen to the ref.
“Let’s have a clean fight. Protect yourself. Listen to my instructions at all times. Now, touch gloves if you want, then back to your corners,” he explains to us. We touch gloves and move to our corners. From where I’m standing, I can see Minx out of my peripheral, and I have to force myself to stay focused. The ref looks to Shifter, and Shifter nods. Then he looks to me, and I nod.