Page 9 of Beneath the Surface

Like calls to like, and as soon as my Mexican ass landed here, I got grouped with the other people from the less-than-savory side of town. If I wasn’t going to be accepted with open arms on my new campus, I figured I might as well try to fit right in where I was welcome.

So that’s what I did. Trouble had a way of finding me, and I reveled in it. At leastproblemsalways brought good pussy and cash. It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and that’s when shit hits home.

Big Dog had fucked me over. I always associated his betrayal withthatday.

Looking back on it, I realized that Ricky never liked me. I got claiming your territory and putting grunts back in their place, but the motherfucker had a vendetta out for me since the moment I landed my ass in Blackwell.Everyone had connections, leading him to believe I was a spy trying to infiltrate his little setup. He welcomed me with open arms to test me as he slowly brought me into the fold. The money had enticed me, and being in a new place with a crew to kick back with beat the loneliness I was used to carrying.

The difference between the crew and me was that I was trying to survive and trying to make enough cash to keep up with my college education. The scholarship I got only covered so much, and if I wanted to be someone in life, I needed to bust my ass off to keep my head above water.

And that was what I was doing.

It wasn’t my fault Ricky could have been a better leader. Leadership wasn’t something you just claimed; it was earned, and it was obvious that although his crew followed him, they didn’t respect him. I’d seen what respect looked like—it led toblind loyalty, but Ricky had a house of cards ready to tumble, and he hated that.

Ricky had botched more than one raid, and when I jumped in to cover our asses, people in our crew started to look at me for guidance. I didn’t want to be the face of the crew any more than Ricky wanted his men to look at me when he hesitated.

I knew I needed to get out from under his thumb now more than ever. When trying to break a deal with the devil, you must offer him something better for your soul, back him into a corner, and blackmail your way out.

Since I had no interest in giving him anything he might deem better, I needed to blackmail him to let me leave. If he were rational and actually thought things through, he would just let me go and let bygones be bygones. My education was my lifeline. I didn’t want to branch out and open a shop right across the street and be his competition. His deranged way of thinking made him dangerous.

Alas, being king didn’t always mean you were brilliant. Sometimes brute force got you the crown, but it didn’t let you hold it for long.

Now here I was, spending my Friday night trailing the motherfucker so I could find something—anything—to get his claws off my back. My senior year was fast approaching, and Blackwell was another town I couldn’t wait to leave behind. That was the plus side of having no set home. I could pick up my life, and no one would care. I was ready to become a blank slate at a moment’s notice.

I sighed into the darkness.

It was stupid of me to think that Blackwell Lake would be my redemption, but it turned out to be worse than Blackstone. At least over there, we were left alone—at least the orphans had someone watching over them.

I looked across the lake and could see the faint glow of the bonfire the hockey team had going on. How did it feel to be them? The popular jocks everyone revered as gods? It must be nice not to have a single worry when all they had to think about was homework and their sports.

Ricky had been acting shady with me for a few weeks now. Every race I got seemed to be intended to make me lose or fucking lose control. I loved racing; nothing was better than my feet on the gas pedal and my hand on the gear stick defying the laws of gravity. It was freeing. The closest I’d ever come to flying.

Racing was the closest thing I had to a religious experience.

Big Dog had ducked out early from the last meet. I found it odd that he didn’t even bring any of his boys. I figured that this was my chance to get proof he was trying to sabotage me. If I had enough evidence, he would need to let me go. If his crew couldn’t trust him, they wouldn’t let him lead.

There was a reason rats had to be put down. When backed into a corner, their survival instinct took over and they wouldn’t hesitate to maim so they could get out—Ricky was no different.

After the meet, I ended up at Blackwell Lake all alone, and now I was fucking annoyed that I had to watch the fucking hockey team drown themselves in alcohol and pussy.

Life was not fucking fair.

Just as I was going to drive away, something in the middle of the black lake caught my eye. It was a glint that, had I not been staring at it so intently, I would have sworn I had dreamt it. Adrenaline spiked through my veins. I drove my car to where it would be hidden by a few bushes and turned it off. Technically, the lake was free access to all citizens, but I was on the side of the rich, and their private properties didn’t mean free for all.

Ojos que no ven corazon que no siente.Eyes that can’t see, a heart that won’t feel.

That had been my life motto for as long as I could remember. Growing up, I learned it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

I made my way along the shoreline of the residential houses. A few minutes later, that glimmer was back. Someone was out there. They had to be on a boat with no motor. All you could hear was the faint shouts from across the lake.

The third house had a little dock. The owners had a boat and two Jet Skis. They usually had a box out here where they kept their keys.

The box was there with a lock. I sighed but still reached for it, just for shits and giggles. I already decided that I was wasting my time and needed to return before Ricky noticed I wasn’t at the race, and his mind started conspiring against me. No one was more surprised than I was when the lock pulled open.

Fucking rich people.

The dead of the night was so still and quiet that when I snorted, it sounded loud enough to wake the dead. I loved rich people. In the orphanage, I always triple-checked that my few belongings were under lock and key. People had sticky fingers and loved to take shit that wasn’t theirs.

There were three sets of keys, and two looked more alike than the third, so I figured those were the ones for the Jet Skis. A few seconds later, the stolen Jet Ski purred to life. I cursed myself because whoever was there would be alerted by the noise, but luck was on my side for once. The roar of a boat motor could be heard from the other side of the lake.

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