Racing Dirty LA
J. Lynn Lombard
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Racing Dirty L.A.
By J. Lynn Lombard
Published by J. Lynn Lombard
Copyright owner J. Lynn Lombard 2018
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual person, place or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
Cover Design by Stormy Anderson
Also written by J. Lynn Lombard
Racing Dirty
Table of Content
Prologue
Chapter 23
Chapter 1
Chapter 24
Chapter 2
Chapter 25
Chapter 3
Chapter 26
Chapter 4
Chapter 27
Chapter 5
Chapter 28
Chapter 6
Chapter 29
Chapter 7
Chapter 30
Chapter 8
Chapter 31
Chapter 9
Chapter 32
Chapter 10
Chapter 33
Chapter 11
Chapter 34
Chapter 12
Chapter 35
Chapter 13
Chapter 36
Chapter 14
Chapter 37
Chapter 15
Chapter 38
Chapter 16
Chapter 39
Chapter 17
Chapter 40
Chapter 18
Chapter 41
Chapter 19
Chapter 42
Chapter 20
Chapter 43
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Chapter 22
Dedication
Note to reader:
Never give up, never tap out. Always keep those who love you close to your heart and fight for what you believe in.
Prologue
Ashley-16
Screaming.
That’s all I hear day in and day out is blood-curdling screams. When I close my eyes, when I draw, even while I’m listening to music. The screaming doesn’t stop. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I can’t concentrate on school. It’s becoming worse and worse each day and I realize I’m going to lose my mind if I can’t control it.
The night my family died in a horrific car accident keeps replaying in my head repeatedly. Tires screeching, metal crunching, bright lights blinding me. The smell of gasoline filling the night air. The sight of the flames as the blue and orange lick it’s path up my father’s car, trapping him inside. It haunts my memories every day and every night. The final explosion shaking the earth and knocking me out cold, taking away my whole family in the blink of an eye. Everything I’ve ever known gone within moments. I need to do something, or I won't make it in this world.
The shrink I’m forced to see isn’t working. She tries to get me to talk about that night, but I can’t. It’s all my fault and all these years later I still blame myself. I need an outlet, something to help me cope.
That’s when I met Shaun Reiser. The surfer boy looks with shaggy brown hair, pulled me back into a part of my life I thought I needed to leave behind. I thought I didn’t need the thrill, the chase, the adrenaline flowing through my body. Little did I know it’s exactly what I needed to keep the past locked up, keep the monsters away and to forgive myself.
Chapter 1
Ashley-Age 16
I’m not supposed to be here, but what my foster parents don’t know won’t hurt them. I’m supposed to be in school completing my junior year at Hollywood High, but the stares and the accusations from my classmates and the rest of the student body along with the dreadful screams piercing my subconscious, I had to leave. No one will even realize I’m not there, no one will miss me.
The sun is high in the sky and there are no clouds in sight. The humidity is sweltering making my black and white tank top stick to my body as I make my way up the dirt trail leading to the Bronson Caves in Griffith Park.
Bronson Caves used to be a popular place for people to visit until the county shut them down, deeming them unsafe. Several movies and television shows back in the seventies and eighties were produced in these caves. That’s the beauty of living in L.A. All the history and the beautiful scenery surrounds you no matter where you travel.
There are very few people out this time of day, even if there was, I blend in and no one would notice me anyway. Hiking my backpack up onto my shoulder, I kick the dirt under my heavy black boots. My long blonde hair is pulled up in a mess bun and I keep my head down, act like I’m supposed to be here, so no one questions me.
I make my way to the side of the cave and check around. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I know someone's watching me. I glance around before I enter my secret spot on the side of the mountain, nestled between two massive boulders. I shake off the notion and walk between the boulders and crouch down. I move another small boulder out of my path and crawl into the dark abyss.
I’ve been coming here for a few months to escape. The seclusion of the caves helps me ground myself and lets me relive the accident with no one to hear my anguish or watch me lose it. I crawl my way into the caves and stand up, removing a flashlight out of my backpack and turning it on. The light shines off of the stone walls as I walk down a narrow dirt trail. I can hear water dripping off into the distance and the air's musty. I enter a wide opening and walk to a dark corner. My flashlight beam bounces off the supplies I had put there. There's a dirty old blanket, a hurricane lamp, and a small metal box.
I shake the blanket out and spread it out onto the dirt floor then sit down and drop my backpack in front of me. I open it and take out my sketch pad, charcoal pencils, and a matchbook. I light the hurricane lamp and switch off my flashlight. The lamp creates a low light in the small space, the blue and orange flames licking up the sides of the glass. My mind tries to travel back to that disastrous night as I stare into the fire, but I shake my head. I’m here to escape and center myself. I can’t think of the past, I need to move on to the present and future. That’s what the shrink keeps telling me. To accept what happened and move on. Easier said than done.
The white sketch pad calls to me as I shake out of my memories. I turn my phone onto my music app, put my earbuds in, and hit play. Lzzy Hale from Halestorm fills my ears as she sings one of my favorite songs, "Freak Like Me.” I open the pad and start to draw. My fingers move swiftly over the sketch pad. I don’t even notice what I’m drawing anymore. It’s the same thing day in and day out. My sketch pad filled with the same images.
Goosebumps break out on my skin. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck prickle again. Someone's in the caves with me. As Lzzy sings the last lyric of the song, I discreetly hit pause on my phone and turn off the hurricane lamp, plunging myself into the darkness. I reach into my backpack and pull out my pepper spray. I’ve learned to watch my back out here and the only person who will save me is myself. I hold the small container in the palm of my hand; the spray pointing out.
A small rock skitters across the dirt in the distance and it’s enough confirmation to me that someone's in here. My hands are sweaty, and my heart is beating rapidly in my chest. I continue scanning the cave, waiting, and watching.
Finally, a tall figure comes into view. He stops at the entrance and glances around. I’m tucked back into the shadows in the corner and my vantage point lets me see anyone who comes
in here. I can see him, but he can’t see me. The intruder’s shadow bounces off his flashlight onto the walls, distorting his features. I can tell he’s tall with sandy brown hair. He doesn’t have a lot of muscles and he appears to be about my age. Maybe a few years older than me.
I’ve trained myself to be patient, how to read people and their intentions in their body language. I can tell if I’m in danger from the way they move. This guy seems unsure if he wants to be here. He doesn’t appear like he'll harm me, but I still wait and watch. See what his next move is.
He lets out a deep, harsh breath. “Fuck. What the hell am I doing?” he asks himself. “I know I saw her come in here, but why would she want to talk to me? I’m acting like a fucking creep.” His one-sided conversation is entertaining. Running his hands through his hair, he lets out a sharp sigh and turns to leave.
Ignoring my instincts to stay put, I rise and come out of the shadows into the glow of his flashlight. “Looking for me?” I ask.
The guy whips around, his flashlight shining in my face. I already had my hand covering my eyes, prepared for his actions. See I can read people.
“Do you mind?” I ask him, raising my eyebrow.
“Sorry. You scared me,” he replies. He moves his flashlight so it’s pointing at the ground instead of at me.
“You followed me in here, so I suggest you state what you want and leave.” My tone is confident, but inside I’m shaking. This guy might not be that powerful, but he could overpower me if I drop my guard.
“Yeah, I uh, I was wondering if you wanted some company?” he stutters. His voice is unsure, and he wasn’t prepared for me to approach him.
“Why would I want company when I came in here alone? You know by myself?” I ask.
Now that I can see him better, I take in all his features. He has a surfer boy look with sandy brown hair hanging in his face. His body is trim, and he has the famous California tan. Something people have when they live in the sunny state and spend a lot of time surfing. He's wearing light stonewash jeans that hang low on his slim hips and a tight black t-shirt showing a hint of some muscle.
“Damn it. I knew this was a bad idea. I kept trying to talk myself out of it, but I found myself belly crawling through that narrow tunnel before I realized my feet were moving. This is no way to approach someone. Great job, Shaun.” He’s having another one-sided conversation again. Rambling like I’m not even here, running his free hand through his hair repeatedly.
“Shaun? I’m standing right here.” I announce, struggling not to laugh.
He stops rambling and his face turns red. He clears his throat and shines the flashlight on my secret place. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this. I’m Shaun. I’ve seen you come in here before and I wanted to talk to you. I swear this isn’t me. I’m usually more confident but standing here with you I seem to have lost my confidence back when I belly crawled through that tiny tunnel. Can I go back and search for it?”
I can’t help but laugh. I haven’t laughed like this in a long time. I quiet down and study him. His brown eyes are watching me cautiously.
“Let me grab my things and we can get out of this cave. Maybe you can find your confidence back at the entrance.”
I back up, not turning my back on him as I make my way to my things. I fold my blanket quickly and shove my sketchpad and charcoal pencils into my bag. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and walk back to him. I’m still clutching the pepper spray discreetly in my hand.
“After you,” I gesture with my free hand.
He nods his head and makes his way back to the tunnel. I follow behind him taking in his backside. Not bad. A toned, firm ass and his legs muscles are strong and sure. His boots are black making a stomping noise, as he strides down the dirt path. He gets on his hands and knees at the tunnel, but I stop him from going first. No way am I crawling out of this tunnel behind him.
“Wait, I’ll go first,” I declare.
He stops moving and lets me pass by. I don’t take my eyes off him until I’m crawling through the tunnel. I reach the outside and the sun temporarily blinds me. I shield my eyes and stand up. Wiping the dust from my jeans, I turn to see Shaun exiting the tunnel. He squints into the sun and stands up. I notice we’re about the same height. He wipes the dust off his jeans and studies me. I arch a brow at him.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Do you want to go for coffee or something?"
“Sure, but you’re paying.” No way am I going to let him know I’m flat ass broke. Being a ward of the state will do that to you. My secrets stay safe with me. I don’t trust or know this guy yet.
We wander down the dirt path away from the caves and for the first time in a long time, the tortured screams are quiet in the back of my mind. They’re still there, but not as strong, as I follow Shaun across the bridge and out of the park.
He approaches a black shiny Toyota Supra MK4 and unlocks the doors with his key fob. It has a big rear scoop, slim tires and a large exhaust coming out the tail. I’ve seen these cars around lately, but I haven’t been near one in a few years, not since the accident. Shaun opens the passenger side door and motions for me to get in. I hesitate but finally get in setting my backpack between my feet. The leather interior is hot against my skin as I buckle my seatbelt. I take in the slick black interior, low seating, and the simple three-gauge instruments. The five-speed stick shift is between us and the radio is aftermarket.
Shaun slides gracefully into the driver’s seat and starts the car. The rumble of the engine sends familiar chills down my spine. He turns the A/C on full blast and then revs the engine before he drops it into first. The steady strum of shifting gears and the whine of the engine center me better than any dark cave.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I know a small place off Beachwood Drive, not far from here. They have great farm fresh food.” Shaun answers.
“OK, but I have to be home before four. Mike...I mean, my parents don’t know I skipped school." I almost slipped up but caught myself. He doesn’t need to know they aren’t my parents, they’re just a couple who took me in. They’re good people and care about me, but after losing my parents and little brother I have a tough time letting others in.
Shaun nods his head. He hits the gas, and it throws me back into the seat. Adrenaline fills my body and I let out a sharp breath. I love the speed and power under me. I realize I’ve been denying myself something I used to love to do, and it quiets the screams and self torture I’ve inflicted upon myself.
Shaun handles the car around the twists and turns with ease as we make our way down the winding mountainside. I take in the trees zipping by us as he expertly down shifts and drifts around a tricky curve. I release a quick gasp as Shaun pulls out of the curve and gasses the engine. A smile graces his lips and his brown eyes gleam.
“Do you like to race?” he asks, breaking the awkward silence surrounding us.
“I’ve never raced before.” That’s the truth. I’ve been to plenty races growing up and even rode in the car with a driver, but I was never old enough to drive. “I used to go to the drag strip with my dad until a few years ago, but never behind the wheel. Why do you ask?” That's what my dad and I used to tell people if they asked. We went to the drag strip.
“Just the look in your eyes tells me you enjoy it,” Shaun says. He has no clue who I am and who my family was. Which is fine with me.
Before I answer, we pull into a small parking lot and he shuts the car off. There's a quaint little restaurant surrounded by a few trees in front of the small brown brick building nestled between other businesses. I get out of the car, hike my backpack on my shoulder and follow Shaun inside the restaurant. The floors are checkered blue and white and there is a counter in front of us with red stools lining it. An assortment of coffee machines and everything a restaurant needs is behind the counter. There's an open kitchen behind it and the cooks are busy preparing food, the smells making my stomach growl. There are small, cozy two or
four-person table tops along the windows and Shaun makes his way to a two-top table. He grabs the plastic menus and hands one to me. A waitress approaches us as we take our seats. I set my backpack between my feet. It never leaves my sight.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asks. Her name badge reads Maude and she has on the standard waitress uniform. It’s a blue dress with pockets in the front to keep pens, a notepad, and tips in it. She has her brown hair in a tight bun. I order a Sprite and Shaun orders a coffee. She leaves to get our drinks.
“So,” Shaun says trying to fill the awkward silence surrounding us.
“So,” I answer back. Not really sure what to say. I haven’t had a normal conversation with someone in a couple of years. Not before the tragedy that ripped me apart. Most of my friends left me high and dry when things were rough, and I was sent to live in a group home. Then luckily for me, Mike and Sharon Spencer took me in. They’re great people, but they can never replace my parents. They try to get through to me, but I can’t open up to them. If I do, their lives might be in danger and I can’t do that to them.
“Do you want to tell me your name?” his cheeks turn pink from the question.
“Ashley,” I answer. Yeah, he forgot to ask me my name. I must make his brain scrambled or something. It’s a change from the nasty looks and whispers I’ve endured for the last two years.
The waitress brings our drinks and we place our orders. As the smell of food fills my nose, my stomach growls loudly, again. I laugh and cover it with my hands. I haven’t eaten since this morning and it’s going on two o’clock.
“Well,” Shaun stumbles over his words. He’s cute the way he can’t seem to find the right words to say to me, but I can’t let him in. I won’t let him in.
Racing Dirty, L.A. Page 1
