Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the open doorway of Cipher's office and the tall ginger standing within it. Despite the knowledge that Connor was Cipher's right-hand man, she simply didn't like the look of him, or any of them actually. Americans could never be relied upon to keep their mouths closed and their opinions to themselves nor trusted to carry out a job properly. "I thought you said we'd have privacy."

"Relax. What is it, Rhodes?"

"There's a DSS agent sniffing around. He's looking for Owen Shaw."

Well that didn't sound good. Who the hell were the DSS and how had they caught wind of her brother? Beth turned her chair around to face Rhodes and waited for him to continue. Instead, Cipher broke the silence first.

"What's his name?"

"Luke Hobbs."

Shit. Hobbs had a reputation — even among the circles she moved in — for tracking the toughest targets down no matter the distance. Cipher frowned, laying out the options in her head as to how she could deal with him, then glanced at Elizabeth and the pensive look on her face. "You should go. I'll drop you off at the airport. It's almost time for Maslenitsa, isn't it?"

"Almost." She remembered Elizabeth wasn't practising Orthodox, didn't she? Religious status didn't stop anyone from gorging themselves on pancakes but nonetheless, it wasn't reason enough for her to leave early when there was still so much to do. They were also thirty thousand feet in the air where leaving wasn't as simple as walking out the front door. "Who's Hobbs?"

"Nobody you need to worry about. Just focus on getting those EMPs built and working. I'll contact you again in a month."

"Hey Alice, you with us or still off in Wonderland?"

She glanced down from the folio, making sure her feet were firmly in the middle of the nature strip. They'd been walking around for ten minutes now and Hobbs had said almost nothing beyond 'don't go in that building, or that one, or that other one' and 'I expect you to be on your best behaviour' as if they were troublesome children and he their schoolmaster. "I'll take the two Marussias and whatever spare parts you have."

"The F2 and B2?" Eric questioned, scrolling down through a screen on his phone. If she was sure, he'd send the details immediately to Mr. Nobody. Keeping things compartmentalised, however annoying the protocol was, allowed for a small sense of security. Without Cipher knowing which cars they planned to use, she couldn't have her goons plant any kind of bug or tracking device.

"That's what I said. Both."

"What about the Zhigulis?" He'd seen her looking at them with a fondness in her eyes, as if they held some kind of importance. Personally, Little Nobody thought they were old pieces of crap that needed to be condemned to a wrecking yard, but what did he know?

"Um, yes, those too."

"You don't need four cars," Deckard said. Marussia? Zhiguli? What kind of crappy imports were they? "Three's enough between us."

"And you don't need to act like Dad." The names rang bells in Owen's mind yet he couldn't pinpoint where the familiarity came from. "She's not running the mission with us, Deck. Better she improves her mechanical skills than sits around twiddling her thumbs all day."

It was the way Owen spoke that made the words sit uneasy in the back of Beth's mind. Of course she was going to improve her skills. What else was there to do besides work? Once the cars were armoured, she'd have to wire in the GPS systems with their inbuilt tracking devices, make certain the radios worked and the frequency was clear. God forbid any of them have some fun.

"Right, and you haven't been channelling Mum with all your bloody whispering. What are you two planning? Revenge on Toretto? Things have changed, Owen. We need to stay focused."

"Well someone should bury him for what he did to our family." She shut the folio and handed it to Little Nobody, giving Deckard one long hard look before she picked up the pace. Hobbs was only a few metres ahead of them but his stride was still much bigger than hers. It took her thirty seconds to catch up to him then a few more to match his pace. "Hey, Fed, how long till this tour finishes?"

"Why? You got somewhere better to be?"

"Yes. The warehouse."

". . . I'm gonna guess this little chat means you want your knife back." It was strapped to his belt just behind his revolver, concealed by his holster.

"No, you can keep it. It was a little too light for my grip." Combat knives were meant to be carried around constantly, unlike a good solid kitchen knife. She preferred the latter any day over military-grade equipment. They were far more accessible and could be left in plain sight without anyone batting an eyelid. "I just don't want to be stuck with Moe and Curly all afternoon."

"Ah, well, you'd have my sympathies if you weren't hellbent on being a pain in my ass."

"I wouldn't say hellbent."

"You got a star tattooed on your knee."

"It sends a message."

"The kind that paints a target on your back if anyone sees it."

"Who else was going to do it for me?" Those days were long behind the mob, she thought. Men didn't carry their crimes like brands of honour or marks of war anymore. Call her a little outdated and nostalgic but after everything, a small tattoo was the least she could've done. "Women don't get congratulations for killing a man with their bare hands where I come from."

"So what do you want?"

"Exercise privileges. There's no treadmill in your gym."

He came to a halt and rounded on her, hands on his hips. The lack of a treadmill was unfortunate but Hobbs couldn't do anything about that. Equipment and furnishings had been the CIA's domain. "You want me to let you loose after you've been here for less than two hours? Try utilising a little quid pro quo."

Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. Did he hear himself? "You kidnap my brothers and I, threaten them with prison time if I don't work for you, try to split us up, hold prison over my head as if it's a guillotine—"

Deckard whacked Owen in the shoulder and gestured towards Hobbs. He'd caught the last few words and heard the tone of their voices. None of it sounded good. "You take her, I'll take him."

"No. I've got him, you deal with her."

"I'm not keen on getting punched again, Scarface."

"You're the oldest, Deck. Talking to girls was always more your thing than mine."

Oh for God's sake. Owen really had inherited their Mum's penchant for crocodile tears and manipulation. "Fine."

"—and then when push comes to shove you want even more than what you've already got?" Elizabeth stepped closer, getting in his face as much as their height difference allowed. "Go to hell."

"You keep running your mouth and this won't end well for you."

"Nor you. Considering what happened last time you went up against Cipher, I wouldn't count on your safety being guaranteed."

Alright, that was enough bullshit for one day. Luke reached for the cuffs on his belt and secured one end around Elizabeth's left wrist. He controlled her arm, forcing her to turn around, only to receive a headbutt to the jaw. It rattled his skull, jarring him for a moment, but the lack of force behind it meant the pain faded almost immediately.

"You really don't wanna do this dance with me again, woman."

"Oh? I thought you'd be good at that kind of thing." She smiled to herself, reaching behind her with her uncuffed hand. Hobbs had kept the knife on his right hip, and with his corresponding hand busy, he wouldn't be able to stop her pulling it free. "What do you prefer, the tango or waltz?"

"Beth." Deckard grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, unable to step between the two without forcing them apart and breaking Hobbs' grip. "Don't."

Three seconds was all it would take. One to slide the knife free, two to bury it between his ribs and puncture his lung, assuming he wasn't wearing any kevlar under his shirt. Given their isolation, it seemed fair enough to say there wouldn't be any kind of fully-equipped operating room with a team of doctors on standby. A deep stab wound this far from a hospital would (most likely) result in death.

"Bravo Team." Luke grabbed her right wrist just as her fingers touched the hilt of the knife, twisted her forearm up and secured the other cuff. His earpiece proceeded to beep twice in acknowledgement that the team had heard him. "Escort Miss Shaw to a holding cell."

"Hobbs!"

Owen stood silent only a few feet away, his body tense, alert. If he intervened, put Hobbs on the ground and that knife through his carotid, they'd haul him away too, and then how would their plans work out? So much for being charming. Elizabeth had tried doing things her way and blown it. As usual, he would have to take care of everything himself.

"There's an encrypted landline inside. Go call Hattie." They didn't have time for this bullshit. Cipher was God knew where with God knew who and their situation had rapidly escalated. The last thing he wanted was to risk exposure but what other choice did he have? "Get her ass here now."

"Hattie's busy." Not to mention she was still recovering. Being infected with a bioweapon and subsequently having it slowly filtered from your bloodstream put a lot of stress on a person's body.

Hattie—

"You compromised our sister's safety for this bastard?" Elizabeth turned her head to look at Deckard. There was only one way for Hobbs to know Hattie existed, let alone that they were related. If her hands hadn't been restrained, she would've punched him in the face for what he'd done. "What were you thinking?"

"She was willing to die for the mission, I didn't have a choice . . . Hatts said it was over!"

"Is she okay?" The knowledge Hattie had almost died while she'd been living it up in Cuba certainly put a dampener on things. Elizabeth didn't fight when Hobbs walked her towards a black sedan that pulled up besides them or resist when he helped her to step in. If Hattie had said it was over then she really had been prepared to give up and take a bullet. God, what'd happened to their family? "Deck! She's okay, right?"

"Yeah. Of course." Deckard forced himself to smile, chin up and spine straight. I don't know, Elle. I don't bloody know. The physical scars would fade with time as they were wont to do. The mental ones were the problem — he couldn't see them, couldn't put a band-aid on them. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Dom shuddered against her one last time then rolled onto his back, letting Letty drape herself across his body. He brushed her fringe out of her face, traced the line of her jaw with his fingers and kissed her once more. It was sheer luck Letty was still with him, something he hadn't been able to appreciate till they'd been to hell and back. Now he knew she was the only woman he wanted to spend his life with. "I'm gonna miss this."

"Why? You don't think Hobbs will have us hole up in some abbey tomorrow, do you?" Letty teased. The sheets had slipped down past her waist, tangling around her ankles and calves, exposing a multitude of thin faded scars. She leaned up, shifting closer till she could rest her head on his chest, pressing her cheek flush against his warm bronzed skin. "I don't care if we're surrounded by monks, we can still have fun."

Nah, it wasn't that, he thought. If only. That kind of thing would've been easy to deal with. He'd already told Letty he wanted her with him but still it felt like there was more to say. Whatever it was, it was stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Fun, huh?"

"What is it, Dom? You've got that look on your face like . . ." The crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggested it was some kind of sadness. She pushed herself up, swung her left leg over him completely, moving to sink down on him once more and straddle him. "I love you, Dominic Toretto."

"I know." He lifted his hips to meet her, groaned at the sensation of her enveloping him. Dom reached up to fist a handful of her hair, eyes fluttering closed the moment Letty rocked her hips. "I've always known that."

"And I love our son too. This family we've got. The family we're going to have. I'm never going to let anyone take it from me again, but I can't keep fighting for it on my own."

"Letty—" He opened his eyes, staring up at her. The dim sunlight coming through the window cast a glow over Letty's skin and made her look like some kind of angel. "I'll always fight with you. I said that. I promised it the night we got married."

"Then why didn't you save me?"

What was she talking about? "I did save you."

"No, you didn't. You drove off with Elena and left me on the Antonov with Shaw."

"Dom?" Brian shook him gently, keeping at arm's length. "Hey, come on, it's time to wake up, buddy."

"Letty, I—"

"Dominic Carlos Toretto, get your ass up."

He groaned, slowly opening his eyes as he sat up on the couch. The image of Letty faded to the recesses of his mind but her words still lingered, as did the sensation of her body on his. Dom rubbed his neck to ease the tension and leaned forward only to wince as pain shot up his spine. Brian immediately pulled him to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, grinning at him.

"Man, you can sleep."

"Sorry." Dom stretched out the kinks in his arms, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. The scent of hot meat, spiced rice and vegetables wafted out from the kitchen and made his stomach growl. "Any word from Hobbs?"

"Nah. He's probably got his hands full."

Good, he thought. The longer it took Hobbs or Nobody to turn up, the more time they'd have to prepare. "What did you think of the schematics?"

"I don't know. A normal job takes about six weeks to complete." Those kinds of armouring jobs also had 3D mapping equipment to measure the panels. All they would have was their eyes, skills, and a pile of kevlar sheeting. "Cipher could be on our asses in two."

"You know, I don't think she's going to be looking for us here any time soon."

Brian wanted to ask what exactly Ramsey and Tej had been up to but he was afraid the technical jargon would make his brain implode. "Well that's good."

"That's what I said."

"Yo Dom, Brian," Rome shouted from the backyard. "Hurry it up, we're starving out here!"

"Well maybe that's a good thing," Brian retorted. "Losing a couple pounds might help you fly better the next time you drive out of a plane."

"Like that's gonna happen." He shifted in his seat and looked towards Tej and Ramsey. The smirk on Tej's face couldn't be hidden even under his hand. "What? You got something to say too?"

Tej shrugged. He certainly did but Rome wouldn't like it. "I was just thinking we could get you a heat pack in case your balls seize up again. It gets cold up there with the altitude, you know."

"Oh my God," Ramsey groaned, scooting her chair half an inch across. Maybe if she got close enough to Mia and Letty, Tej and Rome would forget she was there. "No more talk of balls. You two are starting to sound like Hobbs and—"

"I know what you're gonna say. Don't compare me to that Boss Baby lookin-ass."

"You want food? Come help carry some plates, man," Brian said, standing in the back doorway with a pile of warmed plates. "I thought you two said you were going to set the table."

"It ain't my fault. He distracted me with all his computer hacker talk."

"No, I didn't." Tej pointed at Rome and mimed drinking. "Your ass is just lazy."

Lazy? He wasn't the one always sitting on his laptop. Roman gave Tej a shove before standing up and taking half the stack from Brian's hands. "Ladies, here you go." Roman grinned, proceeding to set three plates down before Letty, Mia and Ramsey. "Tonight at Casa Toretto we have a lovely—"

"Roman, hurry it up or the food's gonna get cold."

"Shit. Alright, alright, where's the forks?"

As Roman and Brian hurried to get things sorted, Mia leaned sideways towards Letty and asked, "So how did you convince Dom to do all the cooking?"

"Simple. I told him he and Brian would be doing it, no questions asked."

"You told him?"

"C'mon, Mia." Letty sat up in her chair and adjusted her cushion while Dom carried out two large oven dishes. When did Letty not get what she wanted, when she wanted it? The only time she'd ever truly suggested Dom do something had been on their first date. "You know how these things work."

"I've told Dom to do a lot of things and he doesn't follow through on them."

"The problem is you don't have to put out."

They'd once agreed never to talk about Letty's sex life with Dom, yet there she went putting the image in Mia's mind. Clearly that agreement had been momentarily thrown out the window. Mia nodded and watched Brian finish setting up the table, a contemplative look on her face. "I see."

"It's all in the pants, Mia," Letty whispered. The grin on her face said she was struggling not to burst out laughing. "You just dangle the carrot and if he doesn't do what you want, no sex for a week."

"A week? We haven't had sex in a month."

"Girl, you got problems, but Brian isn't one of them."

Right, she had two kids and a husband with a penchant for trouble. Sophie was sleeping rough, Jack woke up irritable in the mornings, and now her family was leaving. "You can say that again."