Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Dominic Toretto, Lance or Johnny Tran. They are property of Universal Studios and those that produced/directed/wrote The Fast and the Furious. All other characters are mine.

Chapter Nine

Bastian watched the two of them from the kitchen window. He didn't know much about this guy, but obviously he was of importance to Cris.

"She can take care of herself, ya know," a familiar voice said from beside him.

He turned to see Rocky, then smiled. He knew Cris could handle herself and could fend off the assholes, but he would rather her not have to.

"I know, I'm just…" Rocky finished his thought for him.

"…worried about her, yeah, I know. So am I, bit I know she's a big girl, Bastian. There's never been a day that I've doubted Cris's ability to take care of herself."

"It's just he's new in town and I don't want her caught up in shit. That's not what she's about."

Rocky ran his hand over his bald head. He knew Cris better than he was willing to admit to Bastian.

"You don't know what's goin' on Bastian. You know Cris is smarter than that, anyway. She'll keep straight."

"I just don't know this boy, ya know? It's not like usual, when I know the men that show up here lookin' for her," Bastian argued.

Rocky put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his fears.

"She'll be okay, I promise," Rocky had to keep himself from forcing Bastian back into the living room.

They both stood there a few minutes longer before going back into the main part of the house where the party was.

Moments later, the door to the kitchen burst open and Cris flew through it, flowed closely by the mystery man.

She scanned the crowd quickly and locating whoever it was she was trying to find, she made her way through the crowd of people.

Bastian and Rocky both saw her fighting her way towards someone, but couldn't tell who it was.

All of a sudden a gasp, then a hush, fell over the crowd. Immediately there was a hole made where Cris had walked to.

Both of them pushed their way to the front of the circle now formed around Cris and the person she was looking for. Upon seeing who it was, Bastian's line of vision automatically went to Cris.

He held his breath when he saw what had caused the crowd to fall silent. Cris was pointing her Colt 45 at this guy.

"Whoa, hold the fuck up! Whatchu doin pointin' that thing at me, Garcia?" the guy asked.

"I wanna know where the fuck your cousin is right now, Lance. Or so help me God, your family will be IDing you in a body bag," she growled.

Bastian and Rocky knew they had to move, and fast.

"Aight everyone. Show's over. Nothing to see here," Bastian sprung into action, his brain working overtime.

Rocky followed his example by starting to usher people out of the house quickly.

Within ten minutes, everyone with the exception of Bastian, Rocky, Cris, Lance and this mystery guy who'd shown up, who didn't belong there was gone.

"Cris," Rocky tried to approach her, but she blew him off.

"Where the fuck if Johnny, Lance. I know you know where his punk ass is," she seethed.

"I don't…I don't know," he answered. When Cris pulled the safety, he held up his hands in defense. "Shit, Garcia, I'm fuckin' serious, chica. I don't know shit about where Johnny is."

"Thought you guys were all tight 'n' shit," Cris mocked.

He was infuriated inwardly that this loca chica had caught him off guard and was now holding him at gunpoint.

"Look, Garcia, if you want, I'll show you my fuckin' cell. You can run through the numbers if you like. I swear, I ain't got Johnny's in there."

He started to reach for his jacket pocket when he realized it was a mistake. By then, however, it was too late. When he looked back up, he saw not one, not two, but THREE guns pointed at him. The only one not holding a weapon at him was the guy in the back, behind Garcia.

Cursing inwardly, he knew he was fucked.

He watched as the guy Cris was calling Lance reached for something in his jacket pocket. Instantaneously and simultaneously, he watched as the two guys pulled their guns on him as well.

He could see it in the guy's face that he knew he was screwed. He just hoped it wouldn't actually come down to a gun being fired, for he was having enough of memories for the moment.

"Thought you Trans always stuck together. What, after the shit in LA you two don't speak? I highly doubt this," Cris taunted him.

"You don't know shit about what when down in LA, Garcia, so keep your fuckin' mouth shut," Lance growled.

"Oh, I don't, do I? I don't know that you and Johnny got your ASS handed to you by Dominic Toretto and some cop? C'mon Lance, everyone on the whole West Coast and Midwest knows it. How would word not travel here?"

"Shut the fuck up, Garcia," Lance warned her.

"Or what? I don't think your boys or your cousin are gonna show up here, 'specially if you 'don't know' where Johnny is."

No sooner had Cris finished talking shit than everyone could hear the bikes roar up to the house.

By the time everyone had a chance to react, five other people were in the house, all with guns either pointed at Cris or the two guys who were with her.

"Long time no see, Garcia," an unknown male spoke. Something about his voice, though, sounded so familiar to Jagger.

And in an instant, he knew why. For when the unknown male stepped into view, he had the most smug grin on his face.

"Go to hell, Tran," she spat back.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to your ex-lover?" he sneered.

"There's a reason it's ex," she retorted.

He approached her slowly, her gun still trained on Lance with what could be seen as expert calmness. He waited to see what would happen.