Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (11 page)

“What?” I shrug my shoulders.

“Nothing. You done yet? I’m ready to feel her flow,” she says with excitement, shifting from foot to foot.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say waving my hand at her.

We get in and travel few hours southwest of Denver to an old airfield. I pull the car to the end of a runway strip and put her in park for a minute. I need to mentally prepare myself. I close my eyes and place both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, listening to her sound. Man, I love the way she purrs. It’s close to orgasmic for me. I look over at Gemma and smile. She grabs my hand and squeezes. “You ready?” I ask, though, I know she is. It’s amazing how much she truly does support me and my stupid fuck-ups.

“Marlie, as long as you’re in the driver’s seat, I have no fear,” she says reassuringly.

Yeah, she’s pretty fucking cool.

“Alright then, check your belt and make sure it’s secure.” She does and I do the same.

Next, I pair my phone to the cars Bluetooth and search for my favorite “driving fast” song. I pick “Riot” by Three Days Grace. This song means a lot to me. It’s almost creepy how aptly it fits my life now and the past. Turning the volume up to extreme loud, I shift the car and take off.

If you feel, so empty, so used up, so let down.

If you feel, so angry, so ripped off, so stepped on.

You’re not the, only one,

Refusing, to back down

You’re not the, only one.

So get up

Let’s start a riot!

The song’s lyrics hit home as the car quickly hits 60mph in three seconds flat. Barreling down the strip I feel… free - like I don’t have a care in the world. The adrenaline rush alone is enough to keep me high for a week. I’m already halfway down the strip and I’m at 168mph. I have never pushed past 180 in this, but that’s because this is only a small, unused airfield strip and I can only go so fast for so long before I have to shift and slow down to turn. I have done my research, though. I know this car can push past 200. I’m just going to have to wait until the fast approaching summer to do it.

If you feel, so filthy, so dirty, so fucked up.

If you feel, so walked on, so painful, so pissed off.

You’re not the, only one, refusing, to go down.

You’re not the, only one

So get up!

Let’s start riot!

The song echoes in the back of my mind as I begin to slow down, shift and whip the car to the side and drift to the next strip.

“Hell yeah!” Gemma screams, loving every second of this.

Speeding back up on the other side, I do it all over again with same song on repeat. This feeling is heaven if I ever knew it. I can’t believe this is my life now. Two years ago I would have never thought I would be doing this. Sure, I was a part of this world, but that was only from the sidelines. Now… now it’s the real deal. Part of me hates it and the other part craves it. The rush I get from driving, drifting and knowing how to do it well, satisfies me in ways other things can’t. The only thing that stands in my way of this love and hate game I have with racing, is that I have to do it. Otherwise, I’d probably be dead.

Murdered.

Killed.

However you want to put it, I would no longer be around to be the successful jewelry maker and owner of my own business. I can’t think of the why or how I got myself into racing. If I do, it would just tear me up on the inside. I just have to get through this summer and the next, and in theory, I’ll be in the home stretch and will no longer have to do it and can finally leave my sordid past behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I slow down all the way to a stop and park the car. Gem and I sit in the car for a moment. For me, it’s trying to slow down my heart rate. My body is shaking, trembling really. It feels so good, too good. The power I get from being behind the wheel this way is magical. I finally click off my belt and reach for my purse. I get out of the car, walk around the front and lean on the hood. Gemma joins me still wearing a smile on her face.

“Well that was awesome as usual, Marlie,” she praises as she shoulder bumps me.

“Yeah, I definitely needed to do that. It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world for me. Thanks for coming along for the ride by the way.” I reach into my purse and grab a single blunt I rolled before we left. Lighting it up and taking a couple hits, I lean further back onto the hood and begin to relax watching the sun begin to set.

Gemma takes the blunt from me and takes a nice puff. “Well, shit yeah, I came with you! Better than any carnival or rollercoaster ride I’ve ever been on and you know how I like fair rides,” wiggling her brows up and down making what she said have a hidden meaning. She’s kind of a pervert and I like it.

We sit in silence for a few minutes while we smoke and enjoy this time. The blunt is now close to a roach, when I see it… A goddamn cop.
Wonderful.
I leisurely take another drag from the blunt and casually hand it back to Gemma. The cop is still a good distance away and let’s face it, I’m not really worried about getting arrested. Not that it’s the weed I’m worried about. No, it’s the fact that I can get in major trouble being on this airfield. Even if it is old and abandoned. Also, my plates are fake, so there’s that too.

“Isn’t that just dandy?” Gemma asks, also noticing the five-o. She’s just as nonchalant as I am about the whole thing.

She tosses the roach on the ground and smothers the cherry with her shoe. We get back in the car and that’s when the cop lights up his berries and cherries and starts towards us at a faster pace. I don’t waste any time putting on my seatbelt as I peel out and scoot. The cop is now chasing us. No biggie, because in just a few short seconds he’s like dust in the wind to us, with no chance in hell of ever catching up. It puts a smile on my face that I can do that; get away from the cop in a matter of seconds.

Leaving the squad car behind, we head back towards home. It’s now close to eight at night and it’ll take us a good four hours (going the speed limit) to get home. Gem and I relax for the ride home- not that it’s a hard thing to do in the luxury red leather seats.

SEVEN

I
T WAS JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT WHEN
we got home last night. After dropping the car off and taking a cab home, we had a beer while we discussed work for the next day, then crashed out hard. Well I at least did, can’t really speak for Gemma.

As I’m getting ready for the day, Gemma walks in, “Whoa! That’s some outfit for a Monday, chick. Especially since you are usually more casually dressed on Mondays, with no meetings and all.” She waves her hand in the air, “but I’m sure it has nothing to do with your lunch date with that sexy devil, Wes.” She arches her brows at me, then adds a wink trying to be cute.

“It is not a date!” I defend. “I’m trying to be friends with the guy, not date him!”

“Could have fooled me,” she says, walking away before I can say anything else. I look down at myself and again in the mirror. I’m in a short fitted, blue, lace dress, with nude pumps. I took the time to straighten my hair - which is a long process because my hair is thick and long. I even paid extra attention to detail with my makeup.

Shit. I
do
look more like I am going on date and not to work or to lunch with a
friend
. I place my hands on the counter and lower my head. She’s right. What am I doing? Did I intentionally dress this way? No, definitely not. Subconsciously? Maybe.

I kick off my shoes and head for my closet and start to rummage through my clothes. I need to change and I should probably wear the total opposite of what I am now. I wish I had a burlap sack to wear. That shouldn’t give him the wrong impression, right?

“Oh come on, Marlie! You look good. I was just kidding. Don’t change your clothes,” Gemma says coming into the closet and as tries to shoo me out and taking an old pair of sweats out of my hand.

“No, you’re right. This is definitely inappropriate. I can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can. This lunch with Wes is only a big deal if you make it a big deal. No matter what you’re wearing.” She grabs my pumps and pulls me out of my room.

“Fine, but if he tries to do me, I’m blaming you.” She looks back at me and smirks. I can tell she’s biting back some comment. This is probably wise because if I wasn’t nervous before, I sure as hell am now.

I
’M ON EDGE MOST
of the morning. I can’t stop thinking about this lunch. I can’t stop thinking about
him
. Do you know how hard it is to do the kind of work I do in a dress like the one I am wearing today? Almost impossible. I have had stares and comments from both Alex and Henry about my attire, so I can only imagine what Wes will say. I really don’t want to give him the wrong impression, and if he knows better, he’ll keep his perfect mouth shut. This day just needs to end so I can go for a run or drink a six pack to myself while I hide in my room for the rest of the night. I’m just not sure whether I’ll run or drink. Maybe both. Yeah, probably both.

It’s a few minutes before noon when I hear the door to the store open. I look around the corner from Gemma’s desk where I have been perched on top, chatting with her to help distract myself. I about lose my shit when I see him. He’s here and looking so damn edible in casual clothes. Dark blue jeans, olive green V-neck shirt, with a grey loose beanie on top and his dark hair curling a little bit out of his hat. His muscles and tats look more than impressive today. I wonder what his tattoos look like with his shirt off. I bet they are they are just as sexy permanently imprinted on his chest.

Hmm… his chest.

He’s definitely pulling off the bad boy look today; a look that makes me weak of course. Damn, I’m not sure how I like him best, casual or in a suit? I’m thinking it’s a draw. Just looking at him right now is making my breathing is heavy, palms sweaty, and I think I might have actually forgotten how to speak. I could very well be royally screwed when it comes to this man if just looking at him affects me in this way. I have no clue how the hell I am going to manage a real one on one conversation with him without my telling his ass off for once, or being intoxicated.

This is such a bad idea.

I watch him for a minute as he slowly browses the display case up front. Then suddenly, he looks over and makes eye contact with me. I blush knowing he must know that I was obviously checking him out. He smiles and waits for me to walk to him. I stand with shaky legs and stride towards him. It’s only now, when he takes me in in full view, he appears to be stunned.

“Hi,” I say in a small voice, not really knowing the person I am for being so shy. It’s like I’m back in high school! I remember it being much easier to talk to him when I wasn’t sober.

Damn, should’ve downed a shot of whiskey before he came. Or two.

For a second there, I think he may have become mute since Saturday, but eventually he speaks, “Hi yourself.” It comes out almost as breathless as I feel when he says it.

Come on Marlie, get yourself together. He’s only a man
. Straightening myself, I breeze past him to grab my jacket, but not before our shoulders graze. I gasp at the touch, but not in a bad way. The feeling was… nice. I have to wonder how this can be happening. How can I be feeling like this? I despise most men.

This is not going to be good. This is not going to be good. This. Is. Not. Going. To. Be. Good! I repeat the mantra over and over again silently.

I wonder if he feels it too, this connection? These emotions that I feel every time we speak? Turning back around I notice that all three off my friends are staring at me, pretty much opened mouthed. Well, except Gemma who has a cocky look on her face that says,
you like him!
I roll my eyes and turn away to walk out.
“Way to be obvious, guys
!” I think, as Wes opens and holds the door for me to walk through.

“Where would you like to go?” he asks, appearing to be in a very cheerful mood. That’ll make one of us. I’m over here being a complete nervous wreck and he’s Mr. happy-go-lucky.

Lucky duck.

“Um... it really doesn’t matter to me. You choose.”

He lightly laughs. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

Confused, I eye him suspiciously as I watch him walk over to a truck; a black Chevy, which I assume is his, and takes out a… picnic basket? He shuts his truck door and gets change from his pocket and sticks some in the parking meter.

“Shall we?”

“Sure… Mind telling me where are we going?” I ask, even though I have some idea as to where.

“The park. I packed a few things. I hope you like my choices,” He says shrugging his shoulders as he holds up the basket.

I look down at myself. “Err… I’m not quite dressed for a picnic ya’ know?”
Yeah, good choice of outfit, dumbass.

He smiles scanning me up and down oh so slowly, “I’ve noticed that. Got a date tonight or something?” He asks the question casually, but I can see he feels rejected; it’s written all over his face. This is not starting off well. And wow, he really hit the head of the nail on the head with that one.