Chapter 1

 

Reece drove down the street packed with clubs, bars, and people hunting for a victim. He turned at the city park. Reece spared a glance away from the car in front of him. He frowned at the dirt road path lit with torches on poles that protruded from the ground. He was a little late for the race registration and there were a few slick cars in front, leading the way in through the high trees on one side and the tall abandoned buildings on the other.

The street race was on the edge of a park with row houses bordering one side. All of the houses were dark, lights out, with broken windows, and in need of repair. The block was completely empty, abandoned. The street was clear of parked cars, and the trees on the sidewalk across from the park looked sick with brown leaves. A few trees with blackened trunks and webbed with vines had sprouted up in the middle of the road in odd places. Trash and a foul smell seemed to dim the air around the houses, which had likely been empty for years. The trees and dirt couldn’t even cover up the filth. Reece rolled up his window and smoothed his long, thick, black hair behind his ear. He flicked the flying pieces of his hair from the back of his studded earring.

Reece got out of his car in the worst part of town he’d been in since moving to Newport, Rhode Island. He’d been warned about going to the woods after dark in the area called the Hound Devil Hills. He felt at home—well, sort of—not many places were like New York. Tonight, the crowds of teens and some older racers gave him a semblance of belonging he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had been some time since he’d been able to race. He was betting none of them could beat him and his souped-up R32 GTR Nissan Skyline he’d painted black with a luminous lightning bolt on the side. It didn’t matter that he’d spent every day since they moved there in late spring working on the car. The weapons he customized within it just in case his fellow racers tried to do him dirty had cost him all his savings. He had to make back the money he’d blown on energy drinks and custom parts to finish the job.

The other racers in line at the pop-up table eyed him. One of the tallest guys, who had grey eyes that seemed to glow, spit on the ground and narrowed his gaze. Reece straightened his back, stretching to his full 6 feet 2 inches that matched the guy with the dark hair and pale skin. Reece stepped forward, relaxed his shoulders, figuring he could take down the one guy, and maybe a few others if he had to, but that wasn’t what he was there for, so he waited. The guy turned his back to him to answer a question from the girl at the table. Reece smirked. There are jerks everywhere. He was used to it since it came with racing, fighting, and—his eyes wandered to a tall brunette who winked at him—getting the girl.

Focus, Reece, he reminded himself and smiled. His twin sister, Rei, who always teased him about his daydreaming, would pinch Reece to get his attention. He was there for the cash prize. He heard some guys at the car shop mention what this race paid each round—win, lose, or draw. That wasn’t usual where he’d raced before, and he made sure to ask them when and where the next one was so he could go. The guys seemed hesitant until one laughed like he was setting Reece up in some sick joke. They resolved themselves to a joke and shared the race information. He didn’t think the scribble on his receipt would be a real place or direction to a race, but he decided to go anyway.

Reece stood some distance behind the last racer in the line. He smelled weed, liquor, and cheap perfume, all the things he loved about street races. He tugged on his black jean jacket with a pinch and tug then stepped up to the table. A girl with orange-red hair, round glasses, and a bubble from her gum sticking out the side of her mouth, looked up at him.

She popped the bubble and slurped it in her mouth. “You’re new here”—she smirked—“and have no idea what you walked into, do you?” Her green eyes twinkled. Actually, seemed to have a twinkle of light within them.

Reece blinked. “I know why I’m here. I am here to race.”

She laughed. “I’m Megan, and my newspaper manages this race. There is no way you were invited. Maybe you need to move on, continue up that street there to safety.” She gestured behind him.

“No. I’m Reece Lewis, and I don’t back down from a race. I was invited. How else would I know where and what time to be here?”

“Reece Lewis—as in Max Lewis’ the prized fighter who opened up one of the largest MMA and training gyms in town—you’re his son?” Megan pursed her lips to the side as if thinking about something. She snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes, I have a place for you alright.”

“Wait! I don’t want a spot because you heard of my father.” Reece shook his head.

Megan tsked. She jabbed a hand into her bag and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment paper. “Then why do you want to race?”

“The money and pink slips.”

“Ah! Cash and the loser’s car. I guess that’s a good reason to risk your life.” Megan smiled. “Well then, you need to sign a contact and waiver form for damages.” Megan pointed. “Here, use my pen.” She shoved a pen with a feather connected to it toward Reece’s hand. “You owe me a favor for letting you into our closed race.

“Yeah, right, you got it.” Reece sighed, snatched the pen from the girl, and scribbled his name. “Ouch, what the hell.”

“Oh, so sorry, here’s a tissue.” She slid one to him on the table. “That pen bites.” She giggled. Megan snatched the scroll off the table and put it into her bag.

Reece stuck his bleeding finger into his mouth. The prick was small, but it stung. “Can I race now?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned onto the table.

“Absolutely! But I can only put you in if someone doesn’t place in the last heap. Don’t worry though, someone always gets hurt.” She shrugged then said, “Oh! I need your cellphone number so I can send you a message when you are up.”

“Sure.” Reece reached in his pocket for his cellphone.

Megan snatched it, typed on it quickly, then held it out for Reece.

“That’s it?” He grabbed the phone.

“Yep! Race starts in ten minutes. Oh, and—” Megan leaned closer, covered her mouth, and whispered, “None of these people are friendly. Stay away from everyone until it’s time to race. You are fresh meat here; I haven’t allowed anyone new into the races in ages. Old family and good money kids from a long line of street racers are the only ones who have ever been allowed into my race.” She smiled at him sweetly as she settled back into her seat then blew a whistle. Everyone seemed to quiet down.

Reece went to his car and leaned on it. “What was that?” Something wasn’t right about that girl Megan. He held his cellphone tightly in his hand, ready for it to vibrate so he’d know his time had come to race.

The brunette that winked at him earlier glanced at him. She whispered into the ear of the girl next to her, who was dressed like someone out of a steampunk movie. The brunette’s blue eyes and pale skin were a contrast to the other girl, who had lighter brown hair, thicker with tighter curls, in buns at the top of her head. The girl had brown skin. She wore gold-rimmed shades that covered her eyes. The girl held herself in an irritated stance. The glasses had multi-colored reflective lenses, and the leather covering just under her eyebrows gave her a flare of mystery. They were dressed in similar colors like they had coordinated their outfits in blues in bronze. The brunette’s black hair was in long curled waves around her shoulders and hugged the form-fitting blue mini-dress with bronze trim framing the hem. Her friend had on a bronze bustier that pushed up full cinnamon-brown breasts, and hip-hugging tight blue pants with bronze boots that fit over her knees.

“After the race,” Reece promised himself, he’d make sure to seek them out. He’d take either of them home if they let him.

He stayed back while the crowd pushed forward to the main street that was once abandoned. He watched while they set up the cones, rolled beat-up cars as barriers in place, and girls or guys got on top of each obstacle. Some stood seductively. Others were positioned with guns like they were preparing for target practice, and some had smoke grenades. At least, that’s what they looked like to Reece.

He smiled. Yes, he would win and was going to have a helluva time, too. The best since moving to this boring town.