Son of a bitch.

There was egg on his face.

Literally.

Luke Anderson brushed his hand through his hair and shook out the few remaining pieces of scrambled eggs from his ill-fated attempt at feeding his youngest brother, then stared out the kitchen window, silently willing his mother home with his mind. The sooner she got here, the sooner he could get out of their old, non-air-conditioned house and away from his screaming younger brothers. Rex had already left to set up for the party hours ago, leaving the dinner and afternoon activities for Luke to handle until his mother got back from campus.

And, apparently, baby Tyler was not in the mood for peaceful cooperation today.

"Luke!" Fred bellowed from the living room even though he was only about five steps away.

"What?"

"When's mom coming home?" The nine-year-old asked for what must have been the millionth time that afternoon.

"When she gets home,” Luke muttered. "Now finish your eggs."

"I don't like them."

"Yes you do, Fred. You love eggs."

"I like them with ketchup,” Fred snapped back, then crossed his arms over his chest and said, “and on these, there’s no ketch-up.” He made a little popping sound at the end of the word and Luke rolled his eyes before heading for the fridge and grabbing the ketchup from the door.

But before he could make his way over to the table, the fridge light flickered and died, leaving what little food remained inside in the dark.

"Fuck," he snarled under his breath. If it wasn’t one thing in this place, it was another.

"Oh, you said a bad word,” Fred cooed from behind him and Luke had to strangle the urge to glare at his little foster brother before squeezing a healthy portion of ketchup onto the child's plate.

"Dad does it in criss-cross over the eggs,” Fred protested.

“Yeah, well, too bad. Tonight you dip them,” Luke shot back, then crossed the room to check on the baby in his playpen.

When he was sure Tyler was snoozing quietly, he peered out the kitchen window again and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mom's home, booger,” he said, and then ruffled Fred's hair as he zigzagged through a minefield of toys to get to the front door.

When he opened it, his mother was still only just getting out of her old suburban, but he didn't care. Babysitting duty was over for the night and he finally had some time to blow off steam and, with any luck, make a few bucks while doing it.

“Hey, Luke.” She grinned at him and settled her mountain of papers on her hip as she surveyed him. "Heading out?"

"Yeah, won't be back until late."

"Staying out of trouble?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Always." He kissed her on the cheek, then added, "Fridge light is out."

"Third time this month,” she tsked. "Okay, I'll take care of it. And be careful when you park your motorcycle, tonight. Your father won't be home until dawn and you know he likes to park in the garage.”

As if Luke could have forgotten. Among all the boxes of junk and accumulated clutter from their years in this house with kids coming in and out pretty regularly, the Andersons had only one little space in their two-car garage barely big enough to park a sedan. Still, his father insisted on parking his beat-up old truck in the space and making Rex and Luke both leave their dirt bikes out to rust. Lately, Luke had taken to covering it with a tarp if only to keep it in shape for races.

Unfortunately, his brother, Rex, hadn't had that foresight. His bike was chained against the fence, rusting to shit in the Louisiana damp.

“Make sure you look after your brother,” his mother said, and Luke nodded as he dragged his bike from the garage and started the motor.

Once it began to purr, he tossed a wave over his shoulder and then left the tiny house in his dust.

He loved his family, he did, but sometimes...

Sometimes he wished his parents would stand back, look at their tiny house and their less-than-profitable jobs and decide that enough was enough. That it wasn't their job to save every foster kid in the system. That maybe—

No. He wasn’t being fair. Even if he was crammed into a small house, even if he didn't grow up with all the luxuries the other kids in town had had, his parents had been the best. Loving and tough on him when they needed to be. They were the ones who'd truly sacrificed to take him in when no one else would. So what did it matter if he had to stick around and chip in with the bills and groceries? It was the right thing to do. Even if it was the one thing that kept him chained in this Podunk ass town into the first half of his twenties.

But soon all that was going to change. Tonight, with any luck, he was going to win the money that would put his bank account over the ten thousand dollar mark and jettison him out of this two-bit hellhole. With that kind of cash, he could finally buy the little shop in the city he'd had his eye on, open a motorcycle repair store, and live in the loft above it. His parents would have more space in their house and he'd be in an even better position to help them financially if they needed it.

All he had to do was win this one little race. No problem.

With one last rev of his engine, he veered off the main road, a hot rush of anticipation running through him. He pulled off and parked his bike in an empty spot beside the little knot of cars beneath the trees twenty yards from the lakeshore. After chaining the bike up, he headed over to find his brother, Rex, putting one of the kegs on ice and yelling at one of the other guys.

"I'll bet you a hundred dollars Eli ends up with his bike in the lake by the time the night is over," Rex said. “Him and that Evel Knievel shit are due.”

One of the taller, muscular guys "taste testing" the other keg guffawed in response. "Double if it's some girl that throws it in there because she found out he was trying to get with her best friend behind her back."

"I wouldn't bet against that one,” Luke chimed in, and his brother looked up at him and grinned.

"Just the guy I was hoping to see. You looking to set up a bonfire?”

"In this fucking soupy heat? It will be all smoke at first and near impossible to get lit."

"Not for normal people, maybe, but for you? The guy who can do anything?" Rex said, and Luke pushed his shoulder before walking past him.

"That just means nobody else wanted the job."

"You're damn right it does."

Luke stared out at the pile of logs and grimaced. If he was going to light a fire, it was going to have to be soon. Dusk was already setting in, and before long the place was going to start filling up with people.

“Fine,” Luke speared a hand through his hair, then nodded, “I’ll get the fire set up, but you gotta help.”

He made his way toward the scattered twigs and logs and began gathering them up and tossing them onto the small pile someone else had already started.

“This is gonna fuck up my shirt,” Rex complained and Luke snorted a laugh.

“Was that your big plan for tonight?” he asked, eyeballing his brother’s white, button-down shirt. “You were trying to look good since you can’t race for shit?”

Rex feigned hurt, clutching at his chest. “Ouch, man. Keep talking like that and I’m not going to root for you. And everyone knows I got the best rooter in the business.”

“Don’t need it. I’ve already got the skill.” Luke heaved another stack of wood onto the fire and clapped his hands together to shake off some of the dirt.

“Funny, that’s not what your last girlfriend said,” Rex shot back and Luke flicked a fallen twig at his brother’s head.

The thing about Rex that everyone loved was that he had a heart of gold, was super easygoing and the life of every party. Those exact qualities were what had their mother in a near constant state of worry because they kept him on a continuous raft of shit that sometimes cost them all. Still, his lighthearted enthusiasm and joking had already rubbed off on Luke and his mood ratcheted up another notch.

It was going to be an epic night.

Before long, more cars started rolling into the space, along with all the familiar bikes in the circuit. Joe Kestler had his old lime green monstrosity. Declan Pruitt had the same bike he’d been riding since his first year of high school.

“Looks like the competition is gonna put your old dog of a bike through its paces. I should change my bet,” Rex said, needling him as Donnie Rickter pulled up in his beat-up, electric blue dirt bike.

“Get the fuck out of here, bro. This is gonna be the easiest money I ever made.”

Rex jawed with the rest of the gang as Luke bent low and spent the next ten minutes lighting the fire, which finally caught, to Rex’s howling delight.

“Nice!”

Luke grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching as more and more people hopped from their cars and headed for the newly minted fire or the lake.

Some would stop and say hello and he’d greet them politely enough before they headed off in one direction or the other. More often than not, they’d ask where Rex was and rush over to greet him.

But then, that was Rex, unofficial mayor of every social event Alhouette had ever seen.

“Okay, looks like mostly everyone is here and I’m through with all the small talk. When we gonna race?” Luke nudged his brother’s arm and Rex glanced at the sea of cars.

“I’m just waiting for—Ah, there we go.” A light blue station wagon rolled onto the grass nearby, the radio blaring Destiny’s Child so loudly that it nearly drowned out the music playing from their industrial-sized radio.

When the car was in park, two girls slid out of the car and Luke sighed.

He should have known.

Suzette Delacroix was sprinting across the grass, her long blonde hair perched in a high ponytail on top of her head. Her flannel shirt was tied in the middle at her midriff and her shorts…well, those left very little to the imagination.

Behind her trailed a girl with sleek brown hair, her clothes less showy than her friend’s, and if she was wearing make-up Luke sure as shit couldn’t tell, but she was damned pretty. He squinted, trying to figure out if he’d seen the girl before, but before he got the chance, Suzette was standing in front of them, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“We ready to race or what?” she asked, and though she smiled at Luke, her eyes were only for Rex.

Rex nodded. “I’ll call ‘em to the line. You know where to get your flag?”

Suzette nodded and Luke took a deep breath as he went for his bike. Steering it toward the little dirt path beside the lake, he closed his eyes and thought of the prize.

Four laps and he’d be a thousand dollars richer. In a way, this was the first night of the rest of his life. He just had to do what he always did—he had to win.

Engines roared on either side of him, but he tuned them out. The way the bikes sounded never mattered. It was the driver that mattered.

He glanced at the other riders’ faces, searching for some sign of weakness, some hint of tension. Their jaws were set, and each of them was staring out in front of them, looking at Suzette and waiting for the flag to drop.

That was, everyone except for Eli Walker.

Eli was staring right back at him—and if Luke didn’t know better, he might have thought he winked.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Don’t let him get in your head. That’s exactly what he wants.

He breathed deep through his nose and focused in on Suzette, then gripped his handlebars tighter and revved his engine.

It would all start in 3…2…1…

Suzette slashed the flag through the air and Luke raced past her, letting the wind whip his face as he zoomed along the dirt path.

On either side, he could see a few guys keeping pace with him in his periphery, but none of them had managed to outstrip him yet. Vaguely, he was aware of the crowd, heard the girls who screamed his name as he went past once, then twice.

It was exactly as easy as he’d hoped it would be. He could practically feel the money in his hands, could taste the new life waiting for him. Freedom. The big city. His own fucking shop. He was poised to have it all.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red.

Eli.

The crazy bastard was going to try to pass him around the corner. He crept up but Luke didn’t let his aggression shake him. He kept steady pressure on the gas, knowing he would pour it on once they hit the straightaway. When the path smoothed again, though, Eli shot out in front so quickly that Luke let out a muttered curse.

Clearly, his opponent had gotten some upgrades since they’d last raced, and seemingly from a much better mechanic than himself. Eli didn’t have the skill to get his bike going that fast. As least not for more than a short burst.

Gritting his teeth, Luke revved his engine and laid it on. They zoomed past Suzette again and Luke knew it was now or never.

The final lap. He had to make up the distance he'd lost somehow, and quick.

For the next minute, he inched closer and closer until they were nearly neck and neck. Luke leaned forward in his seat, willing himself to go faster, to push harder, and then—

Eli jerked to his right and Luke swerved instinctively.

The world ricocheted around him as his bike skidded out of his control and then he felt it—something hard and jagged under his tire. Without warning, he was airborne, still gripping his handlebars as hard as he could.

Then, like concrete meeting water, his body thudded onto the ground and his bike followed suit, clanking on top of him and hitting him so hard in the groin that he doubled up, heedless of the way the world spun and swirled around him.

He’d knocked his head on something, but the searing pain in his groin was too extreme to pay attention to anything else.

He let out a string of violent curses as he craned his neck just in time to see Eli fly past the finish line. Faintly, he was aware of the chattering of the crowd and the sea of faces crowding in around him as he lay motionless on the ground.

“Should we call a hospital?” someone asked, but then he heard Rex shush them.

“Luke, are you okay?” Rex was close. So close that it seemed like there were two of him. Or maybe three. It was hard to tell from this angle.

Luke muttered that he was alright, but Rex shook his head.

“I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

“No!” Luke bellowed, and winced as his head throbbed. “Fuck that. You know you’ll get hit hard for violating your parole. Just get me a beer, some ice for my balls, and a soft place to sit,” he murmured, rolling up to a sitting position. He could tell by the concern on his brother’s face that he wasn’t convinced, so Luke grabbed his arm hard. “Mom and Dad don’t need anymore shit from you. Just let it be, you got it? I’ll be fine.”

He was thinking that was probably true, long-term, at least. His nuts were still aching, but his blurred vision had cleared and his noggin felt mostly intact. In fact, besides the overwhelming urge to nap, he’d suffered worse crashes, that was for sure.

Rex flexed his jaw and then finally nodded. “Look, we can handle this, people,” he said to the gathering crowd. “Do we have a nurse or a med student here?”

If there was an answer, Luke didn’t hear it. He was too busy thinking about that prick Eli and what he was going to do to him once he was back on his feet. And he couldn’t quite bring himself to look around at his bike yet.

He felt a tug on his arm and opened his eyes to find himself staring into the hazel eyes of Suzette’s pretty brunette friend.

“You’re cute,” Luke murmured and the girl blushed deeply.

“Can you stand up for me?” she asked.

Luke tried to shake his head, but it felt about as easy as moving a rock. Instead, he settled for simply saying “no” and then the world was nothing but blackness.