Racing Forward Pt. 01

Chapter 2

The first memory I have of my father is of him snorting cocaine off of our dining room table. He was manic, insane when he wasn't high and when he was high, he was useless. He kept my mother dependent on the drugs to keep her docile until she died and then his cocaine use became heroin became meth became anything he could get him hands on.

I would have been okay. I was scrappy. I could steal and fight and survive but I wasn't alone when my father started to scratch at the walls or throw things. James was three years younger than me and utterly fucking defenseless. The kid was smart but he lacked any semblance of what it took to make in on the streets.

I was thirteen the first time I drove a car and I nearly killed both of us. Dad was sprawled out, in a drug haze so thick he couldn't hear James's cries that he had broken his arm. James had fallen while riding his bike, which had been held together with tape and hope. Back then I didn't know how to fix metal. I had loaded him into the car and gave it a shot. I was already fast, we made it to the clinic faster than was near legal.

James had healed and I had found driving. We had places to be, Dad wasn't buying us food anymore so I did until the money ran out and then I resorted to stealing. And then I made the move that James hated, I joined the Jackals. James didn't accept that I was in a gang but I didn't have a future to ruin. James was the hope for our family, I could barely scrape by in classes and I dropped out before I came close to graduating.

I tried to support him. I had distanced myself from him when I was a Jackal and even after I left I tried to keep the money flowing. He deserved to go to college, the money was good enough for it. I still sent him part of the money. It was sent under the guise a life insurance plan from my mom. I didn't need anything. I reserved most of my money for him. He deserved a good life.

The prospect of seeing him again was beyond daunting. I sat in the passenger's seat, Waugh was driving which ordinarily would have driven me nuts. I was the driver always, except if I had been driving there were no guarantees we would make it there alive.

Waugh had smirked when I demanded to see James almost if that was the original plan. I was almost sure that this was a setup, some kidnapping, or hostage experience but James was the only person with my information.

The SUV pulled up to what looked like a prison gate. High fences and razor wire made for a forbidding scene. The gate opened and we continued along a far more picturesque pathway. The house, if one could call it that, was enormous. It was a cross between a mansion and a fortress. I was escorted through the doors after only a brief scuffle with Waugh's entourage about getting patted down. It would have been a pointless exercise; Waugh had already seen the knife I had on me.

Then again maybe I'd be okay with a pat down by Waugh, but only maybe.

My eyes were a blur as I tried to take in the space around me. There was obvious opulence, crystal chandeliers and seemingly expensive paintings but there was an air that this was a façade there was more than met the eye. I tilted my face away from the security camera I clocked in the corner. I was sure there were more but minimization was key.

"Okay. Bring James to me," I said, stopping in the center of the foyer.

Waugh turned slightly, "It would be more civilized to sit down."

My bearing changed slightly, legs slightly farther apart, chest tilted outward, arms and shoulders loose. No one mistook what that meant, I would fight to see my brother and I sure as shit wasn't going further into Waugh's house. No one looked intimidated. I wouldn't be able to fight any of them but Waugh's look of utter impatience was a little insulting.

He went to the wall where there was just a fucking IPad attached and clicked around before speaking, "James, come to the entrance." Idiotically, I wanted to snap that Waugh should show my little brother some respect. But angering this high-roller over him not saying please wasn't going to happen.

I must have missed the signal but as one all of Waugh's body-men disappeared into the house leaving only the two of us waiting in terse silence.

The glossy hardwood couldn't muffle the sound of approaching feet. My heart kicked into overdrive. I hadn't seen James in a long time, not since I ran away. Before even seeing him, guilt was heavy in my stomach anything that happened to him was my fault. The fact that he was living at some fortress run by guys who clearly shouldn't be around my innocent little brother. Hell, I shouldn't even be around him that's why we don't see each other. Well, that and the Jackals.

Feet came around the corner, converse sneakers. Surely different from the last time but it could have been him at 16: the same black high top look. There was no denying it. It was James but now he was a man. We had always looked alike, the same generally lean build. The years had highlighted our differences. My arms were covered in ink while his were the same lightly tanned skin. His hair was still dark brown and cropped close while mine was nearly silver. Our eyes used to be the same, in a face that was almost my mirror. But my eyes were untrusting now while his still held most of the innocence he used to have.

He faltered for a moment and then was running. His arms caught around my neck and I staggered a little bit to keep us upright. I brought my arms around him breathing out a sigh of relief that he seemed whole. The years in between us had been torturous, of not knowing if he was in trouble and even if he wasn't, not having any way to help him.

James released me and I noticed a wetness around his eyes, "Hey Roman." It actually hurt my heart to hear my little brother call me by that name.

"It's okay James, Waugh's already told called me Alec." It seemed impotent but I couldn't help but ask, "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

An awkward silence filled the room. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask him but none in front of Waugh, "Can you leave us alone?"

He turned away from me to look at James giving him a reassuring look, "Feel free to sit in the main living room." He paused and looked back to me before addressing James again, "Don't hesitate to yell if you need something." James smiled, his winning smile not seeming to pick up the warning that was being given to me. I prickled that Waugh thought I would hurt James though I let the slight go.

Waugh gave me a warning look before walking down a long hallway.

"I can't believe you're here." James said, his voice low like a whisper.

"Me? I can't believe you're here. What the fuck, James? You're supposed to be in college and you're living in some thug's house? What happened to the kid who hated crime?" It came out harsh, my irritation and fear for James bubbling up.

I felt like a dick when he ducked his head, "It was my only option." He tilted his head back up, fixing me with what might have been the beginnings of anger. "Did you really think the Jackals would just be fine with you leaving?"

Suddenly murderous, "What did they do?"

"Came looking for you, of course." James had been in college back then, just starting out but no where near their sphere of influence. My knees felt a little weak, I should have known they would look for James. I had been the source of a lot of income for the gang.

I felt fingers close around my arm and James leading me to a sitting area. "What did they do?" My fingers clenched in fists getting ready for his answer.

"Tried to get me to tell them where you were." Such an evasion, he knew I got pissed when people fucked with him. He was a stubborn little shit "Look. It was bad, Alec. But I got out. Rodriguez and Mr. Waugh found me and got me out. I work for them now and yeah I told them about you."

"You shouldn't have done that."

James scowled, "You shouldn't have joined the Jackals and you shouldn't be drag racing. Look this is a good job where you'll be safe. Come and work for Waugh."

"How is this any different from the Jackals? Gangs and organized crime, James, they go hand in hand."

"They take care of their own. You don't have to trust them, trust me."

My stomach churned. My autonomy was everything to me. But the only thing that could trump my need for agency was James. Hadn't I said I would protect him? That I would do anything for him? Two deep breaths and I was still panicked. It was almost a question, "Fine."

James looked giddy, "Really? That's amazing. Really, really great." He paused and screamed, "Mr. WAUGH!"

Seeming as if they had been around the corner the whole time three of the entourage including the apelike Rodriguez appeared. Waugh was on their toes.

He assessed the situation for a fraction of a second relaxing a fraction, "You called, James?

"Alec agreed to work for you."

I groaned at the use of my name being used in front of the others. Waugh knowing was already compromising.

Waugh turned to his crew, "We will be addressing him as Roman and you will not tell anyone else Roman's real name." They all nodded slightly while James nodded like a bobble head. Waugh dismissed the men and turned to me, "Why are you called Roman?"

"Umm. My first drag race someone didn't pay their debts to me and so I blew up their car with a Roman Candle dipped in kerosene." I didn't add that first I had gutted the car for parts. That was unnecessary.

James hadn't heard that story, his face blanching while Waugh let out a laugh that shook me with its bass. It was full and joyful.

"Well, great. So we'll also consult you for any arson jobs. Let me show you the space."

I followed behind Waugh feeling like I had sold my soul to the devil.

Chapter 3

Working for Waugh was an adjustment. All of his employees slept, ate, and worked on the property. They only went out to do jobs and fuck. I forced Waugh to give me two weeks to close out my tabs with the rich dudes' cars and then all of my stuff was boxed and moved to his compound. I only yelled at his employees a few times for nearly breaking my shit.

I wouldn't say I was making friends fast. James on the other hand was fucking loved by everyone. Everywhere we went men who looked like they had just gotten out of a twenty-year prison sentence ruffled his hair or called out to him.

It took a while but I had to ask, "What do you even do here?"

"I organize all the logistics with Mr. Waugh." Fucking great, the bastard had turned my little brother into a mastermind. Was it better than the smuggling that was happening? Yes.

The whole operation was drugs. I wasn't surprised; the city was rife with them. My job was to modify the vehicles in order to make them safer for the drivers (if you could even call them that) and make the stuff nearly undetectable. It really was a well oiled machine and it was boring as hell. In my so called job interview Waugh had discussed me driving for them. My talents would be lost in these routes which could be operated by really anyone with a license and a loose moral compass. There was either a larger job out there that needed my skill or it had been a rouse to get me to be their glorified mechanic. I wasn't even modifying cool cars anymore. They were vans or ones that you could pick up from any dealer in America, all cars that wouldn't rouse suspicion. Of course, the PT Cruiser with the gun rack in the inside was kinda cool.

I was going out of my mind not driving. Waugh had told me I would go out in the field "soon". Soon wasn't soon enough. It was a Friday night and I knew where the race was. I was going to fucking race. Adrenaline already was mounting in my veins but I faced with a problem. While other members of the crew might have been able to leave freely, I wasn't. I got it. Everything was about trust and me being brothers with James only gave me a good recommendation, I had to earn that trust on my own.

I wasn't even allowed to go everywhere in the compound. My key card could only access certain parts: the main lobby area that looked like a real house, the room I slept in, and my workshop. Everyone had access to the floor where Waugh worked just in case of an emergency, it was simultaneously the easiest to access but also the best protected.

I got off the elevator on his floor, James also worked there so it wasn't the first time I had seen the entirely too masculine vibe. I was dressed for the race, in a ratty shirt with brief sleeves that showed off my ink and black ripped up jeans. My hair stood in disarray with a touch of mousse. Waugh knew what that meant the moment he allowed me to open the door to his office.

I took in all the deep mahogany and his large desk. I tried to keep my eyes away from Waugh himself. Who today looked more professional than usual in a black suit that was cut to his body. "Where are you going, Roman?"

"Out. I need to race tonight."

His dark eyes tightened, "No."

"What do you mean "no"?"

He laced his fingers together in front of him, "I don't allow my employees to participate in illegal activities that aren't related to their work with me. You could get arrested and then that could complicate my plans and compromise our work flow."

"Fuck that. I haven't driven in weeks. I'm going nuts. I've never been arrested while driving and I'm too good at driving to start. So see you when I get back, I guess." I was halfway to the door when a massive hand settled on my shoulder holding me in place.

"You aren't going." He sounded pissed that I would even consider ignoring his rules. He clearly didn't have people challenging him often. Well, he was going to have to deal and I really don't like people putting their hands on me.

With my left hand I grabbed his offending wrist, I twisted and punched him square in the face. His eyes closed as the force ran through him. I could see the trickle of blood form on his lip. It only took him moments to recover, punching me in the stomach. I wasn't expecting it and almost heaved from the force. I couldn't feel the pain yet, the adrenaline kicking in. He used my preoccupation to pull me against his body my neck caught between his bulging forearms.

"You are not going to drag race." He bit out.

I swung my head back at the same time my elbow slammed into his side taking all of my motion down so he had to let go of me. I made a dash for the door but his toe came out and tripped me. I went down hard. He was on me immediately, his body dwarfing mine as his weight held me down. My breath rushed out in harsh angry breaths as his hands caught mine and held them down against the floor.

"Listen to me, Alec. You are not going. End of discussion." His breath hissed next to my ear and I was struck by how warm he was and how his body fit over mine. I struggled momentarily and then went limp. I wasn't going anywhere.

As we lay there bodies fused together, I heard his breath suddenly hitch faster and then I felt it against my hip. He was fucking hard. My rage boiled even hotter, he wasn't going to get his rocks off on me being beneath him. I wasn't anyone's little bitch.

I did something I'm not proud of. I bit him. He really shouldn't have put his arms where I could reach. It was almost his fault. I didn't half ass it. I bit him hard, really sunk my teeth into his bicep. Even through his shirt I drew blood.

He didn't completely release me but reared up enough to wrest by hands away and jump to my feet. "I'm not your prisoner. I'm not your bitch. I'm going to the race."

Waugh got up with death is his eyes, or was it lust? There was a dark eroticism that stole my anger leaving me uncertain. He stalked toward me, all predatory grace.

I saw his fist rear back and then there was nothing.

I awoke in an unfamiliar room. The only familiar thing was James and his disappointed expression.

He saw I was awake and immediate broke into, "Are you fucking nuts? You tried to fight Mr. Waugh? You're lucky he didn't kill you. You're lucky the guys didn't kill you. Hell, you're lucky I didn't kill you. You're not gonna last long here if you don't get it. Mr. Waugh's word is law. You're not making any friends by pissing him off."

Feeling only slightly abashed, "I'm his employee not his prisoner. I might be neither if this shit keeps up."

That got James worked up into a lather, his screaming giving me a pounding headache, "So you're just going to run again. You know what? Fine. It's all you're good for."

James ran out of the room before I could say anything. The door stayed open before Waugh came in. I had done some damage, his lip was red and swollen and I could see the drying blood on his sleeve. "So," he said appraising me and I wondered if I should push myself up into a seated position, "should I be worried that I need to find myself a new mechanic and driver?"

"I can't stay cooped up in here. I'll die."

Waugh sighed, "I don't want you to race."

"Then I have to leave." I couldn't stay here and dry up. I needed racing. I needed the drug of it all, the power, the prestige.

"So racing is more important than your brother?" Waugh spat at me.

"Nothing is more important than my little brother. But he's fine. He doesn't need me around." I pushed myself up. He really didn't need me anymore, he didn't even need the money I was sending, wealthier than me by half.

"You're wrong. All he asked when he came to work for me was that we find you and make you safe again. You were all he talked about. I can't believe that kid was so wrong. I can't believe that you were the reason that I found James fucking bleeding to death. And I can't believe that you're so ready to leave him and still he asked that I make an exception. So because of him, not you, you can race but only if I go with you."

Chapter 4

The only good thing about being locked inside the compound for another week with nothing but basic mechanical work to do was I souped up my car even further. Waugh had gifted me with even better tools, I picked them but he paid for them. This operation was clearly making money, the machines and tools I asked for weren't cheap, and I could tell everyone was getting paid well because there were a lot of ex-cons with smiling faces.

The week was worse than the previous. News that Waugh and I had fought had spread like the bruise that adorned my cheek. Angry eyes followed me everywhere, some were more concerned that James wasn't speaking to me either. Shoulders seemed to jar me everywhere I went. It was childish but effective. I had never been a social animal but the silent treatment sucked. The only person who would talk to me was Waugh.

It was embarrassing but I started to look forward to his visits even if it was just coming down to inspect a new piece. He sometimes stayed and I would explain the new parts of my car. One afternoon it was hot as balls in the shop because I had been welding and I had taken off my shirt when I was done, fixing the engine of one of the vans.

Waugh came down and as I greeted him, I noticed his eyes widen slightly then darken. He wasn't covert about looking at my chest and arms. He reached out and brushed some dirt off of my pec and his fingers brushed against my nipple. My body betrayed me and both tightened and went limp. All my muscles went to Jello while my cock and nipples hardened. His hands didn't leave my skin as he registered the change in mood. His lips crashed down on mine, forcing me to submit to him. I fought back, our tongues and teeth in a battle for the upper hand. He thought he had it by rights but I didn't bottom nor submit, not even to him.

His hands came up to tangle in my hair, pulling slightly on the roots. The pain went straight to my cock and I only kissed Waugh more passionately. Lip was still bruised and red but he didn't back away. My hands made a power move, he needed to know how this would go, they cupped his ass. Moving him forward into the space between my thighs. A harsh breath hissed through his lips and he grabbed my hands from his ass and used them to force me to turn around so that my back was flush with his front. In a battle of wills, he pushed me forward onto the hood of a van. I was bent over, my ass out. I felt vulnerable, his body covered mine and unlike when we fought, I didn't try to buck him off me.