Page 10 of Beneath the Surface

I shook my head—stupid hockey team.

I jumped on and quickly steered across the lake toward where I had seen the glint.

I didn’t consider just how far and vast the lake was in the darkness. I was driving blind. It wasn’t until I was halfway that I saw the boat’s light coming, hurling straight toward me. I instantly braked, and since I wasn’t used to the machine, it took me off guard, and I almost fell off.

I was trying to get myself together when I heard a crash. My eyes snapped up, and I saw something hit the boat head-on. It was wide, long, and covered in black.

Oh fuck.

My self-preservation was yelling at me to get the fuck out. Bad shit happened in life, and it wasn’t my business to make sure that justice was served. I was no one’s hero. I cranked the gas and began to turn around, but not before my eyes locked with Blackwell’s hockey captain. It was just an instant, but I could see the same emotions I was feeling mirrored on his face.

For someone who had made their whole life a show of staying in the dark and being on no one’s radar to survive, coming to Blackwell seemed to put me under a fucking spotlight.Months later, I hadn’t been able to get out from under Big Dog’s thumb. Life was still a bitch, but at least she had eased up on me since that night. Or so I thought.

My phone pinged as my hands flexed on the steering wheel. It served as a reminder to get me out of my head, which was needed to win this race. I looked up as the girl in the barely-there skirt began to raise her flag, and I had the urge to throw my phone out the window. Why did I ever bother with a cell phone? It wasn’t like I had any family who wanted to keep in touch with me. My few friends could contact me at the races or school. I debated throwing it, but then the flag came down, signaling the start of the race, and for the next few minutes, I knew my mind would be in bliss.

Fuck it.

I took off with everything in me, wanting all the noise to stop…for my mind to stand still—so I could breathe.

The people became a blur, the lights seemed to sparkle, and when I skidded around the last turn, the wheels burned as I brought my car to a stop following a drift.

The crowd went wild. I got out of the car, giving everyone the fake smile I had perfected in the last few months. My eyes met Ricky’s, and the motherfucker seemed pleased. I turned around, and my heart stopped.

Standing right at the side, huddled together, was Grayson Cross, the photographer, and the pretty little figure skater. Seeing them together brought me back to that night, and for the first time, I could put a face to the other people who had been in the boat.

Grayson and the other fucker were glaring at me. The pretty little figure skater was chewing on her lower lip and looked at me with fearful eyes.

Sooner or later, all our problems caught up to us, and it looked like mine had already found me.

6

GRAYSON

Cruz fucking Martinez. The fucker stared at us, his lip curled, disdain written all over his face. But there was a curiosity too, and so I smirked at him, stepping forward as I did so.

He leaned back against his car, his arms folded across his chest in a casual display, but I wasn’t fooled. His raven hair was falling over his dark eyes as he shot me a challenging look, daring me to come any closer.

When I reached him, I shoved my hands into my pockets, acting just as casual as he was. “Martinez. Still slumming it at the track, I see.”

“Fuck you, Cross. Why don’t you fuck off back to the ice rink with your brain-dead jock bros and your puck bunnies, instead of ‘slumming it’ here where you don’t belong?” he ground out.

I gritted my teeth, my patience running out. “Drop the act. I know you know why we’re here.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was lost in the crowd as people swarmed around him. A pretty girl tugged on his arm, saying something I couldn’t catch,pulling him toward a man standing at the edge of the crowd. Tall, huge body, greasy hair…

Fucking great. Big Dog was here. If Coach ever caught wind of the fact that I’d been in the vicinity of a notorious drug lord, my life wouldn’t be worth living. Even associating with Cruz Martinez was risky, but I had no choice. I glanced back at Ava and Micah, both alert and waiting, and straightened my shoulders. Fine. I could do this. I was the captain of the Barracudas—I could command a team, and I could make Cruz Martinez think twice about ever pulling a stunt like this again.

I stepped back, out of the way of the crowd. “You guys shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you wait in the car while I talk to him?” I was speaking to both Ava and Micah, but my words were mostly directed toward Micah. I knew firsthand that his dad ruled with an iron fist, and we’d both bear the brunt of his ire if he ever found out about Big Dog. My record had to be impeccable for me to hold my captaincy, and I had no doubt that Coach had the same high standards for his own son.

Micah glared at me, his eyes glittering dangerously, and I almost smiled. For someone so quiet and unassuming, he seemed to have no issue with letting me know exactly what he thought of me. I seemed to get under his skin, somehow, and I couldn’t deny that a part of me was excited by that.

“We’re not going anywhere. This affects all of us.”

Ava nodded firmly. “We all stay.”

“Fuck. I try to do something nice,” I muttered under my breath, and the next thing I knew, Micah was yanking me into him, speaking low and fast in my ear.

“What’s nice about you acting like the arrogant asshole we already know you are? Yeah, we know you’re the team captain and you’re used to being in charge, but we can handle ourselves, and more importantly, you can’t do this on your own. Use yourfucking brain for a second, if you even have one. You don’t walk into a situation like this on your own.”

---