A/N - revisions Aug2015: minor editing. Translations at bottom.

Chapter 3

A Strange Predicament

Sunlight glared off the hood of the gorgeous Lancer Evo beside Letty. She closed her eyes and rubbed her head. Her mind should have been on the race she was revving her engine for, but all she could think of was the strange woman who she had spent the past few weeks with. Shannon, who had up and left the week before with barely a goodbye.

Over lunch, Letty thought to ask the questions she should have asked the night before. "What were you doin' in those slums?"

Shannon looked up from her chile relleno. "Taking pictures."

"Did you lose your camera when you went all Jackie Chan?"

"No." Shannon stood, reached into the pocket of her tight jeans and pulled out a small camera before sitting back down. Her smile was adorably lopsided. No wonder the cashier had stumbled over himself to serve the gringa first instead of Letty. "Travel size."

An important set of details clicked in Letty's mind. "The cops were already on their way when that asshole tried to jack my ride."

Shannon shrugged, turned on the camera, and pointed it at Letty. "Most likely. I'm glad you had your car nearby, because I left mine here and took the bus this morning."

An amused Letty watched the camera's shutter blink.

Looking at the image on the screen, Shannon smiled. Her next question was hesitant."Why were you there?"

"Doing a job." The camera took a picture of a scowl. "How come you didn't take me to a hospital?"

Shannon set the camera aside. "You seemed as eager to interact with the local law as much as I was. People like that usually don't go to hospitals."

Making note of Shannon's avoidance of the law, but ignoring it, "What was wrong with your car?"

"Nothing was wrong, I just didn't want..."

Letty threw her sandwich wrapper at the woman. "I don't care why you took the bus. Back in the desert, what was wrong with your car?"

"Bad alternator."
Curiosity sated, Letty smiled. "Jorge took care of you."

The woman nodded. "Yes."
"Good."

A bemused smile crinkled Shannon's eyes, and she took a sip of her iced drink. "I was in a bar last weekend, listening to the locals complain about some American puta who swaggered into town, all boots and attitude and a seriously ugly piece of shite car, and took all their money in a big race. That must have been you."

Letty did her best to slide back in her chair, prop her gorgeous boots on the chair beside Shannon, and put as much smug pride in her expression as possible. "You bet your fuckin ass that was me."

The bimbo in the tiny outfit dropped her arms, her tits popping out of the tight pink bra they had been squeezed into. Letty rolled her eyes and slammed her car into gear, heard the erotic roar of her engine, and enjoyed the rush as she was thrust back into her seat. A quarter mile down the road, Letty won because the other two drivers had been as distracted by the bimbo's tits as she had been by thoughts of Shannon. More half-naked women, the curves of their ass exposed by hoochie-mama shorts and mini skirts, bounced around and screamed cheerfully, but most seemed confused by the sight of a woman winning.

A few sidled up to her anyway, whispering what Letty could do with the money in her ears. She counted her stacks of cash, tipped the friendly bastard who had gotten her into the race, and blew a kiss to the losers skulking around the perimeter. More politely than she had ever treated skanks before, Letty brushed the touchy women away. "Sorry ladies, I don't swing that way."

A week after Shannon had saved her sorry ass, the two of them were hanging out in Letty's shoebox apartment in Mexico City. Shannon had that look about her, one that Letty was very familiar with. It was the look that skanks were always giving Dom. That hungry, almost desperate glint on their cosmetic caked faces, leaning in close, smelling him, feeling his heat, and moaning when he smiled down at them. Back in L.A., Letty would have postured and said something nasty to scare off the leeches, then berated her gorgeous man for leading them on. Studying Shannon's face, she took it back. The expression being aimed at Letty wasn't horny and greedy with intentions as see-through as hosiery.

How Shannon was leaning in her direction, breathing deeply, and wearing a light flush in her cheeks was almost cute. The way she seemed torn about her inner thoughts was endearing. It had always been more than obvious that Shannon was attracted to Letty, and the honesty with which the Aussie treated her was pleasant. If a man had treated Letty half as respectfully, complimented her a third as enthusiastically, or even made a fraction of the effort that Shannon did, he would have gotten a regular invitation to wax her car hood.

Letty took a heavy breath, inhaling her companion's perfume and exhaling noisily. At that moment, she wished with everything she had that Shannon was a Shane. Feeling the woman's heat as she leaned in, seeming to have come to a decision about something, Letty stood, grunting out a little huff as her ribs protested. "Want another beer?"

With her head in the fridge, hiding from Shannon's disappointment, Letty stared longer than she needed to, long enough to completely zone out. She didn't notice footsteps coming to her side. "Letty?"

"Ow! Fuck." Letty hissed at having snapped upright too quickly. Gentle fingers touched her arm, and she turned to meet concerned sea-green eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I ain't a fragile china doll."

"No. You aren't." Shannon's hand began drifting up.

Letty looked at her feet, feeling strange at how she didn't want to tell Shannon what she knew she should, feeling even weirder that she didn't want to see hurt in those pretty eyes. She knew as well as anyone the pain that rejection could cause.

"Letty?"

She grit her teeth.

The hand stilled. "In the past few days we've spent a lot of time together, and I've learned a couple things about you. You are remarkably intelligent despite your crass language. You're very talented with your hands and hide a beautiful woman under all that engine grease and fearsome scowls."

Letty's jaw fought between a smile and a sad frown.

"You don't back down from a fight. When you don't want to talk about something, you change the subject. Your silence is scaring me a bit right now, love. Did I do something wrong?" Shannon finished quietly.

"No!" Letty's head snapped up as she barked out her response. "No. You're, you're..."

There were tears shining in those eyes. "I'm what?"

"Shit. You're one of the most, the best..." Cursing her horrible skill at expressing herself, Letty sighed. "You're amazing, and I wish you were a guy."

Shannon's lips twisted, pressed together, opened, twisted again, and her eyebrows did a weird little dance of their own too. The hand dropped away. "Carajo."

"I'm sorry." Apologizing for something she had no control over, Letty silently laughed a little to herself. Not even Mia would believe it, and she was the one who usually saw Letty's gentle side.

Soft chuckles pulled her from her reverie. "You are something else."

"Am I?" Playful growl or plaintive grunt, Letty wasn't sure exactly what had just come out of her mouth.

Shannon tucked a strand of curls behind Letty's ear, leaned down and pressed her lips to a warm cheek. "You are."

Letty tossed back a few drinks at the local club and eyed the men with their silk shirts mostly unbuttoned, chest hair and carved pecs on display. After a fourth round of shots, she gave up trying to convince herself to fuck a stranger and slipped onto the dance floor. In the heat of moving bodies, she lost herself, not caring who she danced with or what hands were doing. Not until some guy thought he had won her for the night and was possessively grinding his hardon into her ass that she was brought from her nice drunken haze. It was exactly the kind of attention she had always liked from Dom, that cool display of strength and masculinity, pressing his hard length along her, showing her how much he wanted to be in her.

The man with his hands on her pissed her off. She whirled around, his wrist in her hand, and twisted it angrily. Under the neon lights and heavy bass, she didn't hear it pop nor his grunt of pain, but she saw it on his face and hated herself a little for it. Up until her mood swing, she hadn't given any indication that he should stop. Without a destination in mind, she stomped off the dance floor, pushed through the crowd at the door, and exploded out into the night. Behind her, angry calls sounded, which she responded to with a solid finger. A taxi pulled up, dropped off a stoned looking couple, and Letty dropped into it, telling the driver to take her home.

She checked on her car when she got there. Stumbling into it, she was more than glad that she had dropped it off before heading out for the night. The cost of the garage with its sturdy door and locks was outrageous, but she wasn't going to complain too loudly. Her landlord didn't ask questions and let her pay cash. That, and the fact that the man respected her privacy, was what kept Letty in the creepy part of Mexico City. Inside her sardine can of an apartment, she stripped and stepped into the claustrophobic shower stall. Cold water jolted the last of her buzz out of her.

Dried off and no longer smelling of sweat, booze, and gasoline, she crawled into an empty bed, hugging a mangled pillow to her chest. Her face pressed into it, she could almost smell Shannon's perfume.

"Are you quite sure you want me to stay with you?" Shannon's features were creased.

"That place you're in now is a complete shit hole. My digs don't got roaches."

Shannon was looking at the bed in the corner. It was about ten feet away from the little kitchenette and ten feet from the bathroom and ten feet from the front door. There was also a table with a sketchpad, pencils, eraser rubs, and a few other drafting instruments scattered about. The chair had a pair of work pants draped over it. Otherwise, the room was extremely tidy. All of her clothes were stored in the little dresser, empty dinner cartons were in the trash, and her few dishes were sitting clean on the drying rack. Even the bed was made.

Dom had always enjoyed a clean house and workspace as well. No one ever left the garage without putting away their tools and taking care of any fluid spills. Every week before the Sunday barbeque, Dom, Mia, and Letty would spent a few hours cleaning. Roaches were not tolerated in the Toretto house, garage, or store.

"Your flat is tiny."

Leaning against the wall, Letty cocked her head up at the taller woman. "Don't tell me you're going to pass up the chance to sleep in a sexy woman's bed."

Shannon took a moment before she turned to Letty. Many more passed before she spoke in a carefully calm tone. "You're straight. I'm lesbian. We barely know anything about each other. Why?"

Outside, the street lights began to click on. Down the street, a dog started barking.

"I don't want to be alone." Letty's arms crossed over her stomach.

"You know I'm attracted to you. I cuddle with whoever is in my bed and love to admire beautiful bodies. Given enough rum, I'll probably try to taste your lips." Shannon argued. "Again."

Letty dropped her arms, stood with her shoulders back, and spoke softly, leaving herself open and vulnerable in a way that terrified her. "I trust you." She swallowed.

"Fuck." Shannon swayed on her feet, thrust out a hand to steady herself on the wall. Desire was plain on her face. Letty wanted to hug her with a passion born of her unwanted loneliness. The depth of her quick attachment to the foreigner confused her, made her frown and wrinkle her brow. She became lost in her focus, trying to dissect the strange predicament, and jumped slightly when Shannon's arms were abruptly pulling her close. "I could get used to the smell of petrol and dirty grease."

Tears escaped Letty, and she wrapped her own arms around her new friend's waist.

Letty choked on a sob, hugging the pillow closer, not sure if she missed Dom or Shannon more.

Aussie translations:

flat – apartment

Spanish translations:

chile relleno – popular Mexican dish. Stuffed, breaded poblano pepper usually served with a red sauce.

puta - bitch

carajo – shit