by Vera Hollins
“Gotta like aggressive girls.”
I adjusted my cap and gloves. “Maybe the police will do you a favor and get rid of T’s gang.”
His expression grew steely. “If that does ever happen, it better not happen tonight. It’s already bad enough that you’re coming with me to this race. The last thing we need is the cops.”
I didn’t answer. An unusual sense of nervousness twisted my gut. My intuition whispered to me that something bad was going to happen tonight, but there was nothing I could do about it at this point.
Masen turned in to the forest, following a path that could easily be missed if one didn’t know about it. We didn’t make a mile when we reached two cars barricading the path, and I would have started making plan B, C, D—hell . . . the whole alphabet—to deal with the cops, if only the five guys waiting there didn’t have such a gang vibe to them.
They stood like a living shield with their arms crossed over their chests. They wore all black and looked as though they would cut my jugular vein in a heartbeat. One of them signaled for Masen to stop.
“What’s going on? A welcoming committee?” I asked. My body got ready for action.
Masen’s expression turned ruthless, showing me a glimpse of a guy who had witnessed and done many despicable things. “They’re here to make sure no one uninvited gets in.”
I raised my brow. “That would be me.”
“That would be you.”
“So, what are we going to do? Hide me in the trunk? Because, let me tell you, I ain’t gonna do that.”
“Nothing so dramatic. Not that we have any time left for that. Relax.” He squeezed my thigh and stopped only a few feet away from the guys, his headlights turning them into scary silhouettes.
One of them approached Masen’s side of the car, and I made a mental note once again of the knife safely tucked in my boot.
Masen rolled down his window. The guy smirked at Masen, but then he noticed me in the car, and a large scowl marred his features. “Who’s this?”
Not a muscle moved on Masen’s face. “My friend’s sister.”
The guy snorted. “And you brought her here, why? Get rid of her.”
Masen opened his mouth to reply, but I said, “Listen here, mister. I’m Steven Brooks’s sister. I’ve already seen more than enough of your gang to last me a lifetime, and I still haven’t chirped a word about it to anyone. So, chill. I’m here to be his moral support. A lucky charm, of sorts.” I patted Masen’s shoulder.
The guy raised his eyebrows at me, and Masen gave me a “What the fuck?” gaze.
Then the guy looked at Masen. “You have your hands full with her, Brown?”
Masen muttered something that sounded like “You have no idea,” and I wanted to swat his shoulder.
“Okay, you can come through,” the guy said.
I looked at him incredulously. Had it seriously been that easy to convince him?
Masen nodded and started the car, closing his window. He swerved around the cars and accelerated.
“Okay, tell me. There has to be some catch. No one in their right mind would let us pass that easily,” I said.
“Someone with a dick would.”
I glowered at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he thinks you’re hot, sweetheart. Your little sassy display back there?” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “It made him hard.”
I shuddered. “I don’t know if you think that’s supposed to flatter me, but it doesn’t.” It disgusted me.
Sensing the shift in me, he ran his fingers across my cheek and gave me a soft look before he returned his attention to the road. “I know. But sooner or later, you’ll have to get used to the fact that you’re attracting guys, Satan. That doesn’t mean they’re going to hurt you.”
He cupped my cheek without taking his eyes off the road, and I leaned into his touch. I knew that now. I knew now that I had a twisted perception of sexual relations because of that night. Getting used to Masen was just the first step. I had a long way to go, but I was getting there.
The trees opened out into a clearing, where almost twenty cars, each more expensive and badass-looking than the last, waited at the start of the track. My stomach twisted into knots because of the looming confrontation with Ryder. I had no doubts there would be serious trouble in just a few minutes.
Masen parked behind a red Dodge Viper and shut off the engine. He turned to look at me. “Okay, listen to me now. I know what I’m going to ask will be nearly impossible for you to do, but at least try.”
I cocked my head to the side. “If this is you telling me I should stay hidden behind some rock while you deal with the baddies, you can forget it.”
He snorted loudly. “I’m not naïve enough to think you would actually listen to that. No, I’m talking about self-control. Ryder is about to pop up. Let me handle him and don’t interfere.”
“You mean I should be an obedient doll.”
He grinned. “Yes. Can you do that?”
“Nope.”
He exhaled a long sigh, growing serious. He caught me by my hands. “I’m worried about you. I don’t want you getting hurt. You’ve already interfered in their business more than enough times, and you’re lucky they haven’t targeted you already. So, zip it for once and let me do the talking.”
“And miss all the fun?” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll try.”
“Good.”
“But don’t hold your breath.”
He pulled his black cap low over his eyes. “Sadly, I didn’t even plan to.”
We got out, and the evening air sent a chill down my spine. I rubbed my arms through my jacket as I looked over the parked cars and people. The car headlights were the only sources of light, and I shivered, thinking about the driving conditions. Masen had told me this race had a high crash rate, which was no wonder, since the drivers would be in the complete darkness of the forest and mountains surrounding us. There were no laps, but the track was long and it had a lot of turns.
I hated this place. I hated everything gang-related that had turned my brother’s life into one of danger and anxiety. I wanted to burn every single place the gang used to the ground and send all of them to prison.
Most of all, I wanted justice. I wanted good to prevail and eradicate all evil.
If only the police would lock them all up. If only.
A couple guys standing nearby raised their eyebrows at us. “New wheels?” one of them asked Masen.
Masen hooked his thumbs in his pockets and smirked at him. “Yeah. Like it?”
“Ryder is going to kill you, man,” the other said.
Masen’s smirk grew bigger. “Ya think?”
“I’m positive,” the man in question replied, appearing next to us in all his bald glory, his two minions in tow. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked Masen, his veins bulging along his neck.
Masen’s smirk dropped. “Do the math. It’s not that hard to figure out. You mess with my car? I’ll mess with yours.”
Ryder lunged at Masen and grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt. I stepped toward them, but Masen gave me a quick look over Ryder’s shoulder that indicated I was to stay right where I was.
“It’s very stupid of you to show up here in my car. You want to get killed, huh?” Ryder tightened his grip, but Masen locked his hands over Ryder’s and stepped up into his face.
“No, I want to leave your ass in the dust as I cross the finish line first and then beat you up. But first things first . . .” He swung his fist and hit Ryder directly across the face, knocking him to the ground. “That’s for my car.”
Ryder’s thugs darted forward, but Masen pulled his switchblade out of his pocket. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, and then he looked back at Ryder. “I’ve stashed a huge amount of coke in your car where you’ll never be able to find it, and guess what will happen if I don’t drive that car tonight? You’ll have the cops snooping all over
your car by morning. So be a good boy and drop it. You’ll get your car back.” He smirked at him. “I’m not sure if it will be in one piece, but that’s a whole other story.”
I gaped at him. He was bluffing about the coke. He had to be. And what the hell was he doing going against the three of them?
“Son of a bitch,” Ryder hissed at him and stood up. “I’m going to fuck you up.”
Masen held his knife up at him. “I wouldn’t come any closer, Ryder. You don’t want to lose your dick, do you?”
Ryder ignored him. He motioned with his head at his thugs, and they lunged at Masen and surrounded him, which gave Ryder an opening to get to him. Hell no!
I dashed behind Ryder before I could even think about what I was doing. I took out my knife and pressed it against his back. “Touch him, and I’ll cut you myself,” I hissed and dug my fingers into his shoulder, violence pumping through my veins.
He grew motionless, and so did his thugs, who looked at Ryder as though they didn’t know what to do. Masen gave me a dark glare moments before he swung his arm at the guy standing nearest to him and sent him crashing to the ground. Ryder used this to try to twist around, but I pushed my knife so hard against his back that it felt as if I was stabbing him. He cried out.
“You think I’m joking around?” I tightened my shaky fingers around the handle. “Stand still or I’ll cut out your kidney and feed it to these pigs!”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” T shouted. He rushed up to us with his goons following him closely.
I lowered my knife and stepped away from Ryder with my pulse pounding hard in my ears. T glared at me as he took in the sight of me standing there, and I tucked the knife back into my boot before he ordered his goons to make lasagna out of me. The man looked more intimidating than usual, with his black suit, mustache, and hair to match. He was around sixty, but he had more strength and vitality than those half his age, carrying himself around with an air of ruthless efficiency.
Masen pocketed his switchblade and stepped right in front of me in two quick strides, half shielding my body with his. “We were just solving a misunderstanding, sir,” he said.
“Solving a misunderstanding? What are you? A bunch of fucking twelve-year-olds? We don’t have time for this bullshit.” He glared at all of us. “I already have enough problems with the cops snooping around. So, let’s wrap this race up quickly and go home.” His gaze zoomed in on me. “And who are you?”
I jutted my chin forward. “I’m Steven Brooks’s sister.”
He gave me a blank stare, as if the name didn’t mean anything to him, but then he turned to one of his goons and asked, “Is that the kid who OD’ed and kicked the bucket last month?”
I winced, my blood pressure soaring instantly. I curled my hands into fists. I wanted to pummel his wrinkled face into a bloody mess for speaking that way about my brother.
Masen wrapped his hand around my fist and gave it a surprisingly soothing squeeze, his gaze fixed on T.
“Yes, that’s the guy,” his goon said.
T returned his gaze to me, no sympathy in it whatsoever. Only suspicion. “And what are you doing here?”
“She’s with me,” Masen answered for me. He entwined his fingers with mine behind his back. “You don’t have to worry about her. She’s already seen more than enough and hasn’t ratted us out.”
T closed the distance between us and pierced Masen with his evil gaze. “Let me tell you this, boy—if I believed the mere word of every single fucker I encountered, I’d be a dead man by now. She’s not supposed to be here.”
Masen’s fingers tightened around mine, which was the only indicator of the tension raging within him. “I assure you, she’s harmless, sir.”
At the moment, I felt less harmless than ever. The need to punch T until all his teeth fell out pumped furiously through my system, but for the first time, I kept my mouth shut and let Masen be in charge.
T looked between the two of us. He was probably thinking about a thousand ways to torture us painfully, but then he said, “I’ll let this slide only because we’re pressed for time.” He fixed me with his gaze and pointed his meaty finger at me. “But I’ll keep a close eye on you.”
I barely suppressed a snarl.
“Yes, your royal high ass,” I muttered to myself.
“Let’s get this thing rolling,” he said loudly and looked between Ryder and us. “And leave your fights for when you’re not about to start a fucking race.”
He marched away with his thugs, and the talk of bets and odds filled the air. The buzz of excitement became louder, but I didn’t feel any excitement. I just wanted this to be over with.
The racers headed for their cars, and Masen shot a warning glare at Ryder, who stared at us like he was going to kill us.
“Get even a scratch on my car, and I’ll disfigure you,” Ryder said to Masen as I climbed into the car.
“Not if I disfigure you first,” Masen threatened in return and got in the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary. I looked over my shoulder and followed Ryder with my gaze as he got into the Lotus Evora parked several cars away.
I exhaled loudly. “That went surprisingly well.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and caught Masen’s glare. “Now what?”
“Now what? What the hell was that?” He pointed to the spot where we’d been standing. “Do you want to die? Is that it?”
“And what was I supposed to do? Let them beat you up? You had nothing on the three of them. Nothing.”
“Better me than you! You think they’ll let you get away with this? Think twice.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “If they want to attack me, I say bring it on.”
He hit the steering wheel with his fist, cursing out loud. “You have no idea who you’re messing with! This is not something you can handle with your fists. They’ll catch you when you least expect it and fuck you up.”
“You’ve survived so far, haven’t you? And you had only your fists. Oh, and that switchblade, which was totally hot, by the way.” I winked at him. “So, don’t worry about me.”
He opened his mouth to argue more, but a man with a bullhorn announced the race would start in a few minutes, and Masen had to line up at the starting line with the six other racing cars. Ryder parked his Lotus right next to us and revved his engine, glaring at us. Masen flipped him off.
“Okay, it’s going to be tough to drive in the total darkness, so hold tight,” he told me and gave me a quick, hard kiss on my lips. I stared back at him in a daze.
“What was that for?”
He gave me a quick smirk. “For luck.”
A race girl in a tight black jumpsuit stopped in front of the cars with a tiny racing flag and without much ado, marked the start of the race. The sound of engines roared through the night as the cars flew forward, and I was pushed back in my seat. Masen switched gears fast, wearing a look of concentration that sent a spark right to the pit of my stomach. He took the lead, racing down the dark track surrounded by dense trees. It was impossible to see anything beyond the headlights, so when Masen reached the first turn, I had to grab my seat so I wouldn’t hit my head against the window.
Masen shifted gears the moment we cleared the turn and straightened the car. Ryder caught up to us, but instead of passing us, he drove side-by-side, far too closely. My stomach twisted anxiously.
“‘Get even a scratch on my car, and I’ll disfigure you,’ he said,” I said through gritted teeth, clutching my seatbelt. “And now he’s almost going to ram us off the track.”
“Unless he really wants to total his own car, he’s just trying to scare us off.” Masen shifted into fifth gear and accelerated, gaining a slight advantage over Ryder.
I looked in my side-view mirror. The other cars were falling further and further behind. Before I knew it, one of them careened off the track and ended up smashing into a tree, and I grimaced with a twinge in my chest.
“One down, five to go,” Masen s
aid calmly. Too calmly.
I looked at him. “Did you bluff back there? Did you hide coke in this car?”
“And what do you think?” He slowed down before the second turn. “I’m not sitting on kilos of coke. Of course it was a bluff.”
The next turn came too soon. It was swallowed by darkness that hid just how sharp it was, and Masen almost lost control of the car, fishtailing to the side.
“Shit,” Masen shouted as Ryder passed us, almost colliding with us. Ryder accelerated and had gained a considerable advantage by the time we regained speed.
The rest of the cars were still far behind us, with yet one less car to worry about as it skidded off the road and crashed, but those cars were the least of our worries, considering the complete darkness still ahead of us.
Masen stepped on the gas, and my heart jolted against my ribs when he shifted into sixth gear, driving even faster than before. Ryder was only a few feet in front of us, but he wasn’t giving up his position that easily, and the next turn was already here.
“Hold tight,” Masen said and swerved sharply. He entered the turn at a much higher speed than he should have, and my stomach did a giant flip because the track was narrow and there was not enough space for both cars to fit in the turn. Ryder drifted, and his rear fender scraped the side of our car in the moment it took Masen to pass him and accelerate.
“You’re crazy,” I shouted, watching in the side-view mirror as Ryder struggled to straighten his car.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me now! I want to live to ninety, thank you very much!”
He smirked. “You’ll live to hundred and ten, don’t worry. It’s just a little scrape, nothing more. I won’t let him come that close again.”
And he didn’t. As we progressed down the track that spanned miles and miles, he only increased the distance between us and Ryder, but the turns were becoming more unpredictable. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally out of the forest, but Masen didn’t stop when the track abruptly ended. He continued driving along a barely visible dirt path.
“What’s going on? Why did the track end there?”