Page 19 of Ride or Die (The Shores #1)

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

JOB

COLTON

While driving to meet Axel, I can’t get the look Layla gave me out of my head. I know she doesn’t want me to do this anymore, and I need to make moves to get out to prove to her I’m not lying. A life with her is better than continuing on with this.

I pull into the yard and see Axel waiting there with the shitty Corolla he bought to take us to jobs.

I hop in and grunt out, "Hey, man."

“What’s up, brother.” He puts out his fist, so of course, I bump it, but I don’t respond otherwise, just signal him to start driving.

I stare out the window, trying to work out a plan in my head, but I feel Axel’s eyes on me.

“What’s your problem?” He digs for information, and I let out a deep breath.

“I just want out. I’m done with this shit. I’m speaking to Williams tonight. I got my education, my contract is almost done. I wanna move to the West Coast.”

Axel shifts in his seat. I know he’s not happy about this.

“Is this because of Layla?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, clearly annoyed.

“Don’t fucking bring her up!” I snap. I’m not in the mood for him to tell me she’s just a girl, that there will be others. Because there won’t be. I’m in love with her. She’s all I see. All I want. And I’m not going to fuck this up.

He scoffs a laugh. “Dude.”

“Don’t fucking dude me either! Is it so bad to want more out of life? To have the girl meant for me? To get the fuck out of The Shores? I’ve been lucky so far. But luck runs out. I’m either going to get killed or caught and spend years in prison. I’ve done what I need to do,” I spit out.

He doesn’t say anything, he just keeps driving. Because he can’t say shit and he knows it. He grew up in a comfortable home getting new sneakers and shit while I got the garbage worn out ones from the clothing donation bin my mom used to scour. I remember being in awe of the palace he grew up in.

He chose this life. I was born into it.

And if everything for him rides so much on me, then maybe he should work fucking harder and earn his place.

Tonight we’re lifting a car in the parking lot of a popular chain motel by the freeway. This fucker likes to bring his whores here and leave his luxury car out in the shitty parking lot. Willing to take any risk to get his rocks off. Just because people are rich does not mean they are smart.

I gotta give Williams credit. His team does a great job gathering intel on the targets, allowing us to formulate our plans to execute the lift and reduce the risk of being caught. Some plans are more intricate and risky, then there are the easy ones, like tonight.

We’re here for his Viper. We have a device that steals the key fob’s signal, allowing us to unlock and start the car.

Axel pulls into the spot beside it and leaves the car running, shining the lights into the target’s room and turning up the speakers to dull the sound of the Viper starting.

He installed this crazy sound system into the piece of shit Corolla, and it's kind of funny how booming the system is, considering how rickety the car is.

But on those nights when the adrenaline is kicking, having a bomb sound system is the icing on the cake.

We make sure the coast is clear and walk up to the room, using the device to start scanning for his keys. It takes less than two minutes before we’re successful. We only have to wait a moment before we hear grunting and fucking sounds coming from the guy’s motel room.

He’s distracted. It’s time.

I look around to make sure we’re still in the clear, then unlock and open the door and slide into the Viper. It starts effortlessly, and I drive away, the owner totally unaware he’s been ripped off.

Axel follows in the Corolla as we drive onto the freeway towards the docks to drop off the merchandise. This is probably the most nerve-racking part of a job, constantly looking around for cops, praying you don’t end up in a high-speed car chase.

When we pull into the docks, one of Williams’ men directs me to the shipping container, and I drive directly into it. In seconds, I’m out and they’re closing the doors behind me as I exit the container.

I love these quick, easy jobs. They pay well, and I’m usually done within a couple of hours.

Some jobs are higher-risk, and I’d hate to admit some of the shady things I’ve done to pull one off.

Between threatening people, working for the target, or fucking a chick until she passed out, I’ve partaken in my fair share of schemes.

No matter what, I get the job done. It’s why I get paid what I do.

I never want Layla to know that side of me, and I won’t do the shit I’ve done in the past now that she’s in my life. No car is worth breaking her heart and fucking this up.

Williams approaches me with his arms open and a huge smile on his face. He’s always so happy to see us when we successfully show up with what he requested.

He’s a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, a designer suit always stretched around his muscular form.

The guy keeps fit because you have to flex some muscle in this industry so people don’t fuck with you.

He’s a friendly guy when you do good work for him, but he’s a fucking prick when you don’t.

“Hawthorne, my man. Thank you!” He shakes my hand, and in his palm are the two envelopes full of cash for the job, both Axel’s and my share. Axel walks up behind us, and without a word, I hand him his cut and put mine in my back pocket.

“Williams. Let’s chat.” We walk away from Axel, who’s heading towards the Corolla to go back to The Shores.

“I’m going to be moving soon, and since our contract is coming to an end, I won’t be renewing. I wanted to give you ample notice,” I state. He looks at me, a bit confused.

“Moving? Where? When?”

“California, in the Spring.”

“Ah, when you graduate.” I nod. He rubs his chin, looking pissed, but I expected that.

He nods over and over, pacing back and forth. “Okay, so in the meantime, I’ll continue to use you for the remainder of the contract. Only for a few more jobs. How’s that sound?”

That's the thing about Williams; he spreads out the work amongst his drivers. He never liked risking an asset. He says the more you send out that asset, the higher the chance they get caught. That’s why Williams only sends me out for the cars valued at hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The big fish. Whereas the junior drivers steal family SUVs and luxury sedans and get paid significantly less.

“Hold off on asking me unless it’s for the real money makers. Otherwise, have the other guys do it. They’re always looking for work.”

I knew there was no way he would just let me walk away today. Me promising another cash haul helps with the sting of losing his best driver. It’s proper etiquette in this field. In the meantime, he also makes money off of my street racing, so he can go fuck himself.

“It’s too bad, kid. I like ya. I could have offered you a long-term deal, pay raise, maybe a position change,” he offers, trying to change my mind.

“Nah, man, I’m good. So, deal? Finishing officially by April when my exams start.” I offer my hand to shake on it.

“Deal. You’re lucky I value an education kid. Got me where I am today,” he says, taking my hand. “And what can I say? You’ve made me a lot of money. As long as you don’t fucking cross me, we’re good.” He places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze and a look that says everything.

Not a fucking word about his business, or I'm dead.

Williams is a man of his word. He’s said numerous times, he’s not a gang or mob, he’s a business, and while he runs legitimate businesses that the rest of the world knows about, he also has his shady work. Those of us who work within it know better than to cross him.

A wave of relief washes over me, but I keep myself emotionless. You have to exhibit that hard exterior so well in this world. It’s why everyone thinks I’m an angry asshole all the time, when I’m really an alright guy.

I nod in silent agreement, my boots dragging against the gravel as I turn and walk towards my car.

“Hey, Hawthorne!” he calls out after me. “Take care of that girlfriend of yours, eh? She’s quite the catch.” I turn around to see him watching me, a smug, devilish smirk on his lips.

My heart sinks into my stomach. He knows about Layla? Fuck!

My jaw twitches, teeth grinding with tension, but I nod again in acknowledgement and continue walking away. I just need to pull off a few more jobs and we will be safe. It’s nothing. I’ve stolen hundreds of cars over the years.

I get back to my car and sit in the driver's seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. While I’m happy he’s good with me leaving, I hate that he knows about Layla.

I pull out of the docks and head towards the freeway.

Everything passes in a blur on the drive, and before I know it, I’m pulling back into the sullen-looking suburb.

I park my car at home and decide to walk over to Axel’s place as I will be sleeping at Layla’s anyway.

The party is already in full swing when I show up.

Chicks are dancing together, party goers are laughing, drinking, and doing lines of coke.

Working for Williams gets us access to cheap booze and drugs, and that’s why these freeloaders are always around.

They're also waiting for their opportunity to get in with Williams, and I’m the guy to help them do that.

I walk past the people greeting me, grab a beer, and sit down on the bench seat to watch things unfold around me. Axel is in full on party-mode, the greasy fuck acting like he’s the fucking king of the castle.

My mind is elsewhere, though. The fact that Williams knows about Layla leaves a very unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Who told him? Has he been watching me? Is someone else spying on me?

Maybe all of the above, but it's likely my own damn fault.

I feel like a fucking moron for making her so public.

My excitement over our relationship clouded my judgment.

She wanted no part of this world, and then I went and made out with her at street races and on campus.

Actions that were selfish, and didn't protect her at all.

I spent years avoiding her to keep her safe, and now I've violently shoved her right into the spotlight.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I’m zoned out, staring at the floor, still trying to figure out how Williams knows and what he meant by that comment. He wouldn’t really do anything to hurt her just to get to me, would he?

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye, and I look up from the ground to see Simone and Serena in skimpy outfits, dancing seductively a few feet away from me.

They’re making out, licking each other. Touching each other’s breasts and moaning.

This is a frequent sight at these parties.

The girls know how to work their sexuality to manipulate us stupid men into a quick lay.

I’m not gonna lie, it’s hot. I’m a man, and seeing two chicks grind and make out a few feet from you is not something you can initially look away from.

I take a few sips of my beer and watch them momentarily before Simone notices, her eyes locking with mine.

She gestures for me to come over with her finger as she continues licking Serena’s tongue.

Serena pulls down Simone’s top just enough to expose her tit, revealing the barbell through her nipple.

She pinches and twists her piercing, and Simone seems to be fucking loving it, throwing her head back and moaning.

I stand, sauntering up to them and leaning in closely. They both look horny as fuck. Riled up and ready to go.

This will be so easy.