Mason
“Holy fuck,” I murmured as Rick drove us beneath the overpass and to the clearing where all the drivers and members of the underground scene were gathered.
There was a shit ton of people. At least two hundred and fifty. This was way bigger than what I’d expected, and a bit of anxiety started chewing at my insides.
Rick slowed to a crawl as we drove through the swarm of bodies. People got out of our way for the most part, and I was glad the Fastback had blacked-out windows. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be recognized yet.
Eyes were drawn to the green car like moths to a flame. People stopped and pointed, and Rick revved the engine a bit.
“Knock that shit off,” I said.
“What? I’m just giving them a show.”
“I don’t want to tip anyone off as to what’s under our hood. Slow and steady.”
Rick grumbled about how I was no fun at all, but I didn’t care. He found a spot to park and turned off the engine. He tossed me the keys, and I slid them into my pocket. “What’s the plan?”
I craned around and looked out the back window. We had driven past the registration table where I knew Harley would be collecting information from all the drivers. “I’m going to go register. You stay with the car. Like I said, I don’t want anyone knowing what’s under her hood. That’s only for us to know.”
“It’s better to be underestimated than overestimated, right?” Rick winked.
I chuckled. “You’re catching on.”
Rick got out of the car. People were already gathering around the Mustang and wanting to ask questions. Rick directed their attention to him, saying he was the owner, and I heard him turning down requests to see under the hood as I slid out of the passenger side and ducked through the crowd to make my way to the registration table.
I cut in front of a young kid who shot me a dirty look but didn’t say anything. There were perks to looking the way I did.
I only had to wait a couple minutes before I stepped up to the table. A beautiful woman was sitting there alone with her head down as she filled out the last bits of information from the previous driver. Her hair was red. Not a natural red or a fire engine red, but a deep almost purple sort of red. It was long and thick and hung in a curtain in front of her face as her hand moved frantically from side to side as she wrote.
“Next,” she said, not bothering to look up.
“That’s all I get? ‘Next’?”
Harley looked up with a smile curling her mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. Mason Thomas. You panty-soaking bastard.” She got to her feet and walked around the table to wrap her arms around me. Her rather large breasts crushed against my chest, and when we parted, she kissed my cheek. “How have you been?”
“I’m good. You look great.”
“I’d better,” she said, putting a hand on her hip and batting her lashes at me. “This body takes a lot of work.”
“I can only imagine,” I said. Harley was a beautiful woman. She was the sort of woman men couldn’t keep their eyes off of when she walked into a room. Her features were fierce, her eyes calculating and intelligent, and she had a mouth on her that would curl any Girl Next Door’s hair.
“If you’re ever looking for someone to keep you company at night, you have my number,” she purred as she dragged her finger down my chest.
I caught her wrist and flashed her a seductive smile of my own. “I think we both know that would be a bad idea.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. Then she walked around the table and took her seat. “You’re here to race, not flirt with me, I presume?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What are you driving?”
“A ‘67 Mustang Fastback.”
Her eyebrows lifted as she looked up at me. “And you plan on winning tonight?”
“I’m not here to lose.”
“The other cars are faster, Mason. We’ve got Skylines and RSs all souped to shit. I can pull strings, but I can’t help you win a race if you’re driving an old box.”
I chuckled. “Just write it down, Harley.”
She clicked her tongue at me. “That confidence. Always such a turn-on.” She picked up a yellow badge from beside her with the number seventeen on it. “Good luck out there, Mason.”
“Thanks.”
As I turned to leave, she called out to me, and I looked back at her. She winked. “It’s good to see you back. Put it all out there, won’t you?”
“You know who you’re talking to, right?”
She smirked and disappeared from my view as the next driver stepped up to register.
Mason I cut through the crowd and drew eyes as I went. People were recognizing me and bowing their heads together in whispers they probably thought I couldn't hear. “Holy shit. Is that Mason Thomas?” “Who’s Mason Thomas?” “That’s the guy who won The Streets five years in a row. The one with the beef with Mark Denning.” “Hey, look. That’s Mason Thomas!” “He’s the one who married Evelyn Thomas.” “He’s the Street King.” I kept my attention straight ahead and ignored the attention. When I made it back to my car, Rick was there with another guy. They shook hands and bumped shoulders as I came around the hood. It was Benji, my best friend, and he threw an arm around my shoulders. “Mason! Shit, man, it’s good to see you. A little weird to be back, huh?” “A little bit,” I said, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow to get him to release me. He grunted and rubbed
LainaThere was something about the way Mason looked at me that had me getting wetter by the second—and it wasn’t from the rain. His electric blue eyes lingered at my hips and tits and at the bare strip of skin between my crop top and leggings. I didn’t want to cover myself up. I wanted him to look. I was shocked by how much I wanted him to look. Had my brother not been there, I might have taken my jacket off and fallen into his arms and begged him to fuck me in the back seat of his car. The windows were tinted. It would be fine. Right? I shook my head. Get a grip, Laina. You’re not that kind of girl. You’re the kind of girl a man takes home to his family. The kind of girl who makes soup on Sundays and prefers jeans over dresses. But Mason was a whole other level of sexy. His blue eyes were just the start. He had sharp, square, masculine features and the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow forming along his jaw and neck. His
Laina “Yes.” “Good. Nice lipstick, by the way.” “Thank you,” I said, blushing a bit. Harley was the type of woman all men wanted and every girl wanted to be. She was hot as hell, and you didn’t mess with her. Her word was law, especially here, and any man or woman who opposed her had another thing coming. “Who are you pulling for?” Harley asked me. She didn’t look at me. Her eyes were trained on the cars pulling into their starting positions. I glanced over at the lineup. Mason had rolled his green Mustang into his place. Benji was coming up behind him in his coupe. I shrugged one shoulder. “My brother is racing. Aren’t I obligated to pull for him?” Harley looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “There are no obligations here.” “Who do you think will win then?” “Oh, sweet girl. Is that a question worth asking?” I smiled. We both knew who was winning this race. Mason Thomas.
MasonMy teeth were clenched, and I was white-knuckling the steering wheel when we took the first corner after we went beneath the overpass. I’d been a tad bit trigger happy watching Laina, and as soon as that flag went down, I was ready. The damn car in front of me had held me up a quarter of a second. He was weaving across the road and leading the pack, being an ass and not letting any of us past him. I guess that was the name of the game. But I was itching to get around him to really see how this car of mine could perform. I knew there was a hell of a lot of power in her than what I was currently riding her at, and the only way I could let her fly was to get out in front. The car in front was a yellow Mitsubishi Lancer. A typical ride for this scene. The paint was broken up by a royal blue stripe from the front of the hood down to the rear bumper. As it swerved from left to right, another car pulled up beside me. A red Nissan. Low to the ground w
Mason Sid swerved all over the place to block me. He took the last corner tight, forcing me to the outside. I lost more ground on him. We straightened out to take the final straightaway. The finish line was a speck in the distance. I had about a mile and a half to catch him and take the lead. “Come on,” I yelled, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. “Come on!” I came up on his right side. It was my best chance. I had a bit more space as we barreled toward the finish line. I drove hard and opened the Mustang up all the way. The engine roared. Everything thrummed with power. She crept ahead, inch by inch, until my front end was in line with Sid’s. He jerked his car to the right. I retreated and anticipated his next move. He would do anything to guarantee his win, and there was still plenty of time for me to pass him. I knew he’d try again, and I’d be ready. I rode in his blind spot an
LainaI licked the rain from my lips as I looked back and forth between the two men who were staring each other down. I felt like I was on the brink of seeing something I could never unsee. I wasn’t sure if I should be curious or frightened. Ginny had her left shoulder pressed tightly against my right. She was shivering a bit from the cold and looked from Mason to me before muttering, “Isn’t that the guy you told me to stay away from?” I nodded. “Yeah. Sid Paul. He’s not a good guy.” Sid took a couple of steps forward, moving from the rear end of the Mustang to stop at the driver’s side door. Mason stood at the front of the car with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like the last person I would want to pick a fight with. But Sid was crazy. Always had been. And he had Mark Denning at his right side, hovering over his shoulder like any respectable villain’s henchman. Had I not known how mean Sid really was, I might have found the whole thing
Laina The tension in the crowd evaporated, and soon they all dispersed, going their own ways and talking about the excitement of the race. We were left standing near Mason’s car with hammering hearts and goose bumps rising to attention on our wet skin. Benji finally released my arm. I ran my fingers through my hair and shook it out as Ginny deflated like a balloon beside me. “That was tense,” she breathed. “Tell me about it,” I said grimly. Mason looked over at me. “You all right, Laina?” “Me?” He nodded. I blushed and tried to look like the tough girl in the crowd. The girl who didn’t get her feathers ruffled by a guy like Sid. “Yeah. I’m fine. I can handle a loser like Sid Paul in my sleep.” Mason smiled, but I wasn’t sure if he bought it or not. His jaw flexed as Rick threw an arm over his shoulder. “I thought fists were going to fly.” “For a minute, so did I,” Ma
MasonTaps was a pub not far from the docks that my old racing team and I used to frequent back in the day. It was in an old rundown apartment that had been converted into an office building, and the pub consumed the entire bottom level. It also had a set of stairs right in the middle of the place leading down into a basement that was riddled with high tables and chairs. The walls were the original brick from nearly a hundred years ago, and although it smelled a bit musky down there, it was a perfect place to sit and have a couple of beers. It was open late on weekends, so when we showed up, we knew we still had a good few hours left before we’d have to clear out. We went straight downstairs because that’s where the dance floor was, and the girls found us a table while Benji, Rick, and I went to the bar and ordered drinks. I paid the tab and ordered everyone two shots of tequila along with some drinks packed with liquor sure to get us feeling good in no time. It was a cele