Hell on Wheels (Faetal Attraction #1)

Speed Racer

My hair is tied back in a tight French braid and stuffed under a beanie so I can tuck it into the helmet before I climb into the car. I’m sporting the baggy gear that makes the hangers-on in the crowd think I’m my step-brother. It would be hard for anyone in the area to guess who I am, yet I’m still on edge. While I’m used to pissing people off everywhere I go because I win matches or don’t take any shit, I’m not used to having roving gangs and girl bullies trying to kill me.

I suppose that’s a good thing, but it’s cramping my fucking style.

The chicks in that bathroom stole my big sexy orgy with their childish garbage and I will definitely figure lout how to pay them back for it when I’m not as big a target. Now Reb is pissy as shit, I’m not much better, and all my hot mates are wandering around playing Scooby Doo. I’m not objecting to racing; I love switching with Reb, so I can feel the thrum of the engines as I leave the others in my dust. But I’m not a fan of losing out on orgasms, especially when it would lower my stress level immensely.

“What are you thinking about?” Rebel asks under his breath as his eyes cut to me briefly. “Your expression keeps flickering from hungry to homicidal. It’s… interesting.”

My smirk makes him laugh, and I shrug. “Nothing you should worry about in present company.”

“Jaysus, Rogue. You’ll get us caught, for fuck’s sake.” He shakes his head, purposefully adjusting himself as he scans the crowd at the entry booths. “Get it under control.”

“You’re one to talk,” I mutter. “I’m not the one grabbing my crotch in public.”

Rebel gives me a dirty look, then heads up to the table to chat with tonight’s sign-up chicks. They eye him flirtily, as usual, but this time it does more than just irritate me. This time, it makes me want to bash their faces in with my goddamn skate. I don’t have them with me, but the sentiment still applies. Track bunnies are a fixture at the events—some attached to drivers or their crews, some there for a good time—and I normally ignore them as I prep for my own mischief.

Not a fan of this ridiculously vicious possessive feeling in my gut that makes me want to turn into that girl who makes a scene.

Grunting under my breath, I walk away from where he’s negotiating the remaining slots in the rest of the cards to survey the crowd. Everything seems on the up-and-up; there’s a normal amount of drivers, crews, bunnies, thrill seekers, and gear heads. The usual weaslley looking gamblers are haunting the areas where crews are futzing with their cars and showing off new mods hoping to get a hint of who will win before they bet.

Maybe we were mistaken about finding a clue at the underground?

I’m about to walk over and tell Reb that when my magic—and my gut—go crazy. Whirling around, I look through the throngs of people until I find the source of my alarm bells. When I see it, my fists tighten until my nails dig into my palms.

Standing at the top of a hill, a group of women are watching the races with sharp eyes. They’re dressed down in hoodies, crop tops, and low riding jeans with fat sneakers, but I’d know them anywhere. Even without their glittering uniforms, I know that’s the Sickos. I can’t see their faces under the hats pulled down to hide their features, but one of them is Mina for certain. She’s in so deep with them now that I’d be surprised if any of them can shit without removing her from their colon first.

I move towards one of the demo cars, hoping to blend in with their crew until I can figure out what those bitches are doing here. Mina never once came to Rebel’s races, nor have I ever seen any of the derby girls from any team here. The worlds are different and like any other big city, there’s too much to do and see in Bay City for there to be a lot of overlap.

And yet, a group of grungy looking human girls approach the Sickos as I watch. They’re rough and tumble, with leather and attitude out the ass, so it only takes me a few moments to realize who the fuck they are.

The goddamned Drop Kick Mollies are here at a supe underground racing circuit run by the supe mob, plain as day.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself. “If they get caught inviting normies to this kind of shit, they’ll all get bounced from the league—maybe even arrested.”

It’s very tempting to pull out my phone and make one brief call. I could call the Society line and if they mobilize fast enough, the Sickos would be shit out of luck. The human cops would scare the hell out of everyone here because they’d have to go through an ass ton of bullshit before they get released. Even notifying Stuhll racing on their social media would be enough to get this entire event shut down and asses kicked. But none of that would tell me why the Sickos are consorting with the human team, nor how they fit into Merra Stuhll’s plans.

And why the fiddling shit I’m even on their radar besides Mina’s petty ass.

I growl softly, aching for revenge on the girl who tried to have me aced out for daring to stand up for myself. It would be so easy to make a public spectacle of her recklessness and bad behavior. The proof is right here and it wouldn’t be hard to follow this disgrace with proof of all her other misdeeds. But I just can’t make myself give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s even a blip on my screen. I’d rather let her play the ‘star’ role she’s cast herself in up there and find out what they’re all up to before I show the world who she is.

“Besides, if you wait, she’ll likely do it to herself,” Rebel says as he comes up behind me.

Elbowing him in the ribs, I growl, “What did I say about staying out of my fucking head?”

He sighs, looking wistfully at the group of girls on the hill. “I’d love to peel the skin from their frames piece by piece while they scream. But even I know that’s not the smart play tonight. Mingling with humans like this is a dangerous game, Rogue. Mina’s finally gone off the cliff entirely.”

No shit, bro.

We watched from a distance for a bit longer, but the assholes didn’t do anything but watch the races in proximity to one another. I’m sure the supes in the Sickos could sense the eyes on them, but Reb and I are well trained enough to keep ourselves in the shadows.

Unfortunately, that meant no new clues, and we had to give up to find the others so we could get ready for the first race. I hated leaving, but Reb signed us up for the final three cards. We had to go fire up his car and discuss the switch so it’s seamless.

Also, I’m curious as to what the fuck the twins, Archie, and Javier have been up to.

“We’ll get them, sis,” Reb says as he tugs me to his side and drapes his arm over me. “I promise she’ll pay.”

I roll my eyes at him, pushing him away with a laugh. “Dude, you’re going to blow our cover.”

He looks sheepish as he holds his hands up in defeat, jerking his head at the mostly occupied race fans surrounding us. “No one’s paying any attention to us. Besides, you look cute when you’re trying to pretend you’re a guy.”

“I… what?” My cheeks heat at the casual compliment. It’s not like my stepbrother to say something randomly nice, especially without any snark behind it. “I’m not really pretending to be a guy.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and I’m entranced by the way his eyes dance. “Whatever you’re doing, I like it.”

Feeling flustered, I wrinkle my nose and give him the finger before stalking away toward the car. I have no idea how to deal with him being… not him… while I’m also watching for people who want to kill me. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jumpsuit, stomping towards the place we parked Reb’s GT in irritation.

This whole evening is bullshit, and I need to get behind the wheel to burn off my fucking fury.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The hands that catch me before I run flat into him are familiar, which is why the person they belong to doesn’t get stabbed.

That doesn’t mean I’m not clutching the switchblade in my pocket, of course, but luckily for Archie, it’s not sticking out of his gut. “Motherfucker, Archie! You almost got shanked.”

His golden boy smile is broad and my heart flutters a little. “Aw, Wheels. You’d never gut me, especially not since you figured out how much you love my dick.”

Tilting my head back, I look up at the sky, pleading the universe to give me patience. Mostly, I want to not stab him to prove a point because he’s right—I really enjoy his furry ass in the sack. “Provoking me is not a smart plan tonight, Glaser.”

Rebel saunters up, eyeing me as he approaches. “Don’t run away like that, Rogue. There are too many unknowns here and it makes my ass twitch.”

I arch a brow, smirking as I shrug. “I’d say you should ask Damon to help with that, but I’m not sure you’re his type.”

“He wishes.” The soft voice of my chaos demon makes me smile and I turn to see him and his twin appear out of the ether. “I’d rock his fucking world.”

Archie’s face flushes as Damon teases Reb and I have to bite my lip not to say anything. Normally, I wouldn’t notice shit like this, but since I mated with them, I notice a lot more than usual. In fact, I feel a lot more than usual and it’s driving me fucking crazy. I know they need to figure this out for themselves, though, so I just give my stepbrother a smug look.

“You would, little D. You’re so eager to please,” I murmur as I lean in to kiss him hungrily. His hands grip my hips as he pulls me away from Archie to settle me between him and Angelo. When our lips break, I look over at Reb and wink. “All of them are.”

His jaw clenches and I laugh as he has to adjust himself again. “Stop it, all of you. If you don’t quit pawing at her in public, she won’t be able to race when the time comes. We’re good at the glamors, but there are folks who will see through them and we want them to think this frumpy mess is male.”

Damon sighs, rolling his eyes as the twins move away. “Gay and bi men exist, Rebel Kelly. They race cars, too. It’s not like there’s a fucking ban or anything.”

Before they can get into a scrap about bullshit, neither of them means, I clear my throat. “Listen up, dick waving fools. You’re both right—LGBTQ peeps like me enjoy racing and I need to look like I’m possibly Rebel if someone can see past the glamor. Just because he can barely admit he wants me, much less figure out if he’s bi-curious, doesn’t mean you need to fight like dumbasses.”

Archie, Javi, and the twins are all silent for a second, then burst into howls of laughter. I grin at my stepbrother, shrugging when he scowls darkly.

“You bring it on yourself,” I sing-song as I round the car to pop the hood. “Maybe you shouldn’t take yourself so damn seriously.”

Snorting, he walks to the trunk, pulling out what we need from it as he mutters, “Maybe you’re right.”

I’d call that a win any fucking day.