Boost by Vi Summers

Chapter 1

-Raf-

 

 

Exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke filled the night air, intoxicating in a way that never failed to get me high in its own special way. Rumbling turbo engines competed with music bass, both loud enough to be felt throughout my entire body. Energy radiated off the crowd of hundreds, thick enough to taste while electrifying the adrenaline boost surging through my veins.

I was in my own fucking Kingdom; the one I owned. The one where I was God.

Standing at the epicenter of the buzz was almost enough to make my cock hard. The scantily-clad women scattered throughout the sea of people had the same effect. Like the spectating guys, they weren’t here to race. Unlike the spectating guys, those bitches were here to showcase their cleavage, and then go home with some deadbeat for a line of coke and a quick fuck to end their night on a man-made high.

I heard my name being yelled above the music and I smirked knowing Shady Sam was about to appear. Shades, as I called him, made his way over to where I stood a few steps away from the open hood of my Supra RZ. I owned multiple cars, and this one with the holographic custom paint job was my baby for the streets—she hadn’t let me down yet.

Shades was the street race orchestrator and money man. Wanted to race? You had to front up to him with the cash. If he didn’t deem you worthy, then you didn’t get a buy-in.

These meets weren’t for pimple-faced wannabes handing over their weekly allowance. They didn’t belong in this world—my world—and I should know; I’d been running these circuits for well over a decade.

Shades stopped to appreciate a leggy brunette that thrust her tits in his face, and I cocked a lip when he murmured low-toned words against her ear—no doubt detailing a rendezvous time and place for later.

A hand landed on my ass and another on my shoulder. Two lithe bodies slid against either side of my own, and I didn’t need to look to know Stevie and Tequila had arrived. One blonde, one dark. Who was I to deny either of them? We had a thing, the three of us. One where if they showed, we rolled later.

Shades finally withdrew his hand from the woman’s ass and resumed his exaggerated swagger toward me. “How’s it hangin’, brother?”

“Good, bro. You?”

“Rollin’, ballin’, and face deep in pussy, just the way I like it.”

I shouted a laugh that barely penetrated the thumping music as I slapped my hand in his and pounded my fist on his back. Greeting complete, I stepped back and extracted a tight five-grand roll from my jeans pocket.

“Still five?” I asked with a smirk.

“You know it, brah.” Shades’ meaty fist closed around the cash and he tucked it into his inner jacket pocket, next to a snub-nosed revolver.

Slinging an arm around Tequila’s shoulders, I let Stevie please herself grinding against my back. “How many tonight?” I asked Shades.

“You’re the sixth,” he drawled, with a half-cocked grin. “Word on the street sayin’ there’s some new kid try’na break into the circuit.”

I scoffed. Good fucking luck. “He any good?”

Shades didn’t comment. Instead, he grinned with a wicked look in his dark eyes. He was hard to read at the best of times. Add that to his shady dealings, and we had ourselves the ultimate ‘go to’ guy. He’d been running the streets long before Colton and I first got addicted to the taste of nitro, speed and pussy.

Colton hit the big time not long after we’d begun to make a name for ourselves. He was one hell of a driver, I gave him that, though he had issues, a volatile temper, and a past as dark as Shades’ skin. As close as we had been as teenagers, we gradually lost touch and I hadn’t seen him since.

All these years later, I was still street racing illegally by night and fueling the devil that had a dirty thirst for the adrenaline that only came with racing. Reaching speeds of up to 100mph through the deserted suburban streets of Los Angeles, during the early hours of the morning, was a kick like no other. I thrived on that shit. Lived forit.

In contrast to the underbelly world I ride and die for, by day I was an entrepreneur; legally sourcing unicorn cars for rich idiots willing to pay whatever it took to get what they couldn’t find themselves.

“When have any of them ever been any good?” Shades asked, while casually pursuing the smorgasbord of ass on display.

Filling my palms with Tequila’s behind, I squeezed while maintaining my conversation with Shades. “I could count them all on two hands.”

“Exactly,” he replied, with a finger point.

“Well, if he doesn’t show soon, he’ll be losing the race before it’s even started.”

“He’s gon’ pussy out anyway,” Shades drawled and shrugged. He then turned to another woman in disastrously high heels. “Hey, baby, how you doin’?”

She ran a hand across his chest while sauntering past, ass hanging out the bottom of a scrap of material that wrapped around her waist.

Despite the meat buffet, I was content with my two slices. Sure, I liked to keep it non-exclusive, but I limited how many women I sank my cock into during any given period; I still, of course, had standards.

Turning to appreciate Stevie dancing to the heavy bass, I licked my lower lip and bent back to fully appreciate her never-ending legs. I had a good feeling about tonight; it seemed like a good night to earn an easy thirty-to-forty grand and then celebrate with not one, but two willing women.

The sea of people parted on demand for a revving engine, and a pimped-out late model Toyota 86 idled to a stop close by. It no doubt packed some serious heat under the hood, and while I was curious, I was more interested in the driver. He at least looked the part. His driving skills, however, remained to be seen.

The newcomer scanned the crowd, obviously searching for a certain individual. By pure luck, his eyes settled on Shades and recognition filtered over his face. Without looking around, he pushed through the crowd that had gathered around his car and stopped a few feet away from my boy.

“Shady Sam?” the kid asked, darting a nervous sideways glance at me when I stepped close to hear the conversation.

It was none of my business, but him interrupting my conversation with Shades just made it mine.

Shades barked a laugh. “Depends who’s askin’?”

Newbie pulled back his shoulders and stood tall with an air of arrogance that made my top lip curl.

“Arlo Linetti.”

“And just what do you want, Arlo Linetti?” I sneered.

His eyes narrowed on me and he puffed his chest further. “You are?”

He either had balls the size of eighteen-inch alloys, or he had a rod so far up his ass it penetrated his brain and took away his situational fucking awareness.

Sniggering wickedly and running my tongue over my lower lip, I took a calculated step closer and tilted my head to the side when I got up in his grill.

“Pretty little boy like you shouldn’t come here askin’ questions like that. If you knew who I was, you’d fucking show some respect.”

“I’ll show some respect once I see a reason to give it.”

I lifted my brows at Shades and gave him an is this idiot for fucking real? look.

Shades pursed his lips and shook his head. “You ain’t riding this race, kid.”

“What?” he spluttered. “Just because of this guy? That’s fucking bullshit. I’ve got a car, I’ve got the buy-in, so it seems that this pussy is scared of some decent competition.”

I shot out my hand left and slammed my palm against Shades’ chest before his retort shut down the kid’s bullshit attitude.

“You know what? Why don’t we make an exception, Shades? Let the kid race. I’ll be glad to take his cash.”

A dirty smirk crossed Shades’ face at my suggestion, and my hand fell away.

“Sounds like a fine-ass idea, brother.”

Arlo’s expression immediately turned skeptical. “What’s the catch?”

Spreading my arms wide, I gestured to myself in a show that others around me knew all too well; cocky, arrogant, egotistical—I’d been called it all, and it was all true. I walked around like my shit didn’t stink, because that was what the crowd here tonight had hyped me up to be.

“Losing to the best,” I declared.

The cocky little prick laughed in my face. “Seriously, are you still here?”

I glowered in anger while Shades’ chuckle was close to dangerously unhinged. “Ooh, kid, you’d better check yourself before runnin’ your mouth, because what my man Raf wants, my man Raf gets.”

With my non-existent point proven, I turned my attention back to my two women dancing with each other, an arm’s length away.

“Raf, as in…?” I heard the kid ask.

“Ortiz,” Shades enunciated over the music with distinct amusement in his tone.

Arlo finally put two-and-two together. “Ah fuck.”

My name was gold on these circuits, and while Arlo would have heard it breathed in certain circles, I purposely kept a low profile where I could; it was better for daylight business that way.

Tonight, Arlo Linetti was going to find out what it was like to lose to the King of the street, just like every other asshole here tonight.