5. Cruz

5

CRUZ

G rowing up on the streets, I learned two things pretty early on. The first was that life was an unfair bitch, and the second was that money, no matter how dirty it was, still meant power.

My view of the world became jaded as soon as I picked up on it. It was hard to grow up with rose-tinted glasses when you lived your life on the charity of others. Always two steps behind everyone else, and if, for some lucky reason, you managed to get ahead, you had someone more than happy to knock you back into the hole you crawled out of.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had naively thought that getting out of the town of Blackstone would be a welcome change. It changed nothing because, once again, life was a bitch, and money was power.

I went from being under the thumb and accepting charity from Lorenzo Rivas, a shady motherfucker, to now being in the shadow of Ricky. He was the local drug lord in Blackwell Lake. Mostly everyone knew him as Big Dog, and he had a comfortable lifestyle funded by the privileged college population.

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 least problems always 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 with that day.

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 to blind 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.

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.