"So were you trying to get me alone or is this all a happy accident?" Elizabeth watched the inch-thick steel door open and Hobbs step through the doorway from her seat against the wall. Her wrists were still cuffed behind her back, wrists crossed and elbows bent. As big of an arsehole as he'd painted himself with his unstoppable force vs immovable object game, there had to have been a strategy behind it. "Last time it was you, me and a closet. Now this? Hard to believe I'd get lucky twice in a row."

"A happy accident." He stopped a distance from her, well beyond arm's reach. The walls were solid concrete with no windows, just one vent in the roof to pump in air and a yellowing fluorescent light so Shaw could see. Beside him, a man in grey military cams stood with an MP-7 assault rifle slung over his right shoulder and his hand on its grip. "It's your turn to cut the bullshit. Criminal or not, even you have morals."

It seemed he'd finally caught on, or so she thought. Was the truth that Hobbs had been paying attention the entire time? "You said she kidnapped a child. That's where I draw the line."

"So then why are you here still standing here? The reason can't be your brothers. You walked out on them once already."

Rude much? It was and wasn't them. Magdalene had asked her to keep her brothers alive but the fact was, Owen and Deckard could do a fine job of that themselves. Elizabeth attempted to fan herself with her shirt to no avail, sweat beading on her nose and forehead. Despite the relatively cool floor, the air was warm and humid. "You said it yourself: even I have morals. Cipher needs to be stopped before she does something really stupid."

"Like hijacking a submarine and stealing a nuclear football?"

"Jesus Christ." What kind of power trip had she been on? And who stole a nuclear football? The only reason anyone would need one of those was to launch a nuclear missile, which in itself was not something normal people did. "Bastard didn't mention that."

It appeared Shaw really had no clue about what'd been happening while she was enjoying her siestas in Cuba. Her brother had withheld information, kept her in the dark. Now — if Luke had any say in the matter — Owen's poor attempt at lying through omission would bite him in the ass.

"I'll bet he didn't mention a lot of things." Luke fetched a solid metal chair from against the right wall and turned it around, sitting on it backwards. Five minutes, he'd give himself, then he was out and going straight for the showers to cool off. Beneath his flak vest, his shirt was soaked with sweat and being in this room did him no favours. "Call it mutual interest or whatever helps you sleep better, but if those cuffs come off, you work with us till she's behind bars."

"With you, not for you."

Was she playing games with him? "That's what I said."

"Just double-checking. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

That's what she wanted to call it? A notoriety within their family was more like it. Outside of her old job, and her relations, Shaw (like most people) bore the reputation of a nobody. Luke dangled the keys from his index finger as he sat there, watching her. If she made a move he didn't like, so much as sneezed wrong, Hobbs would leave her there to rot. Whatever Shaw thought would happen, he'd ensure it was worse.

"Well?" Elizabeth turned around and wiggled her fingers at him. The metal was starting to dig in and her arms had begun to ache from the uncomfortable position. "Oh come on, you can't be planning to actually leave me in here. This isn't even a prison, it's just a storage room."

"You catch on quick."

She glared at him over her shoulder, scowl half-hidden by the angle of her head. How many times would she have to prove it? Elizabeth was standing there, playing along with his stupid games instead of making a break for it. That alone was evidence she had no interest in walking away or being locked up. Besides, it wasn't her fault he was so disagreeable.

"Would you like me to say 'please' then? You weren't this much of an arse last time."

Luke scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. What was with her and that two-faced act? One second she was nice, the next Shaw was insulting him. He pushed himself up off the chair and approached her, undoing her cuffs without another moment wasted. "For the record," he said once she was facing him, flexing her hands and rubbing her wrists, "I prefer the tango."

"Well that puts us at odds, Fed." Elizabeth stepped past him, a sly smile on her face as she glanced at the watch on his wrist. Had she really only been in the room for just over half an hour? It hadn't felt like forty minutes, but what was that compared to the years she'd already served? "Because I'm much more interested in waltzing."

Of course. A slow dance for a slow woman. As short-tempered as she was, Shaw had spent all those years playing the well-mannered office girl only to turn around and stab her bosses in the back. That kind of patience couldn't be taught to most people. It needed to be cultivated, honed — no doubt their mother was to thank for that. One day, Luke was going to have to meet the woman and congratulate her on raising such hellish children.

"Are you now?"

"Mm-hmm." She dropped down onto the chair and straddled it, arms crossed over the back. Elizabeth rested her chin on top of them, proceeding to stare at him. If not for the fact he was someone who'd locked her up in prison and made her life a living hell, who'd actively tried to harm her family, Beth might've found herself wanting to move this whole thing further than small quips and dull banter. "So while we still have some privacy, why don't you tell me about this quid pro quo thing?"

"Now you want to talk?"

"Owen and Deckard were who she approached first, and she only went for Oh because Decks refused." A little misdirection wouldn't hurt her brother. If everyone's eyes were on the loose cannon instead of her, Elizabeth's chances of pulling the heist increased. "If Owen thinks I'm betraying the family, he'll close himself off. You want Cipher? Watch him."

They already had people watching her brother, and some listening, but if Elizabeth wanted to try and play him, Luke would sit back and let her. Or he could ruin her fun and rattle her. If Shaw thought she was on shaky ground, she'd be much more likely to slip up. Maybe she'd tell him something, or reveal something. Perhaps, if he were lucky, Elizabeth would lead him right to Cipher without him having to say so much as 'please'.

"Would this be the Mick Jagger you're trying to pull?" he asked after another moment of deliberation. "Deckard, your sister and I already used that one. Try again."

"Oh please, does this seem like some stupid grift to you? We're not talking about a couple bored kids."

"No, just two scheming adults."

"I'd hardly call it scheming."

"What would you call it then?"

"Plotting?" Elizabeth suggested. She immediately scoffed and rolled her eyes, pushed herself up off the chair. Clearly he thought he knew something about their family, and maybe he did, but bringing up some memories from their shared childhood wasn't going to change much of anything. "The only thing we've been discussing is how much armour it'll take to keep us alive. That woman is ruthless and neither of us want to die, Hobbs."

"You're a glorified kitchen hand." With Owen and Deckard on the team, it brought their numbers to an even ten. The Shaws contributed their military experience while both them and Dom brought to the table their knowledge of the target. "You'll be staying at your desk, doing what you're told, not driving a car. You have no reason to worry about dying."

"Right. You just keep on telling yourself that." Owen, Deckard and herself would take Cipher down, just like Deckard had hinted at in his little 'ride or die' speech. She wasn't going to wait around for this other so-called team to turn up, not when they could be kicking the hornet's nest. If one of them drew Cipher's attention, lured her out (something much easier said than done) then Deckard and Owen could take her down while Elizabeth dealt with the corporate espionage side of things. "So where are my brothers?"

"Outside. In a conference room. Wilson will take you to it."

"An armed escort? I didn't think you cared about my personal safety."

"I don't." Luke walked past her, hand on his holster strap. He gave a nod to Wilson and opened the door, revealing the ground floor of the warehouse. The hydraulic platform on the north side of the building hummed loudly, slowly lowering his Gurkha and its driver, while voices upon voices carried across the open floor, talking of everything from bullet calibers to 'port scans' and the latest football game. "Just concerned with everyone else's."

"Do you distrust me that much?" They might as well hash it out while the topic was on the table, she thought. Better to see where they both stood than remain unaware. "I don't kill people for pleasure, Hobbs. I might be tempted by revenge but there's a long hill I have to descend to get there first."

Of course that descent was quickened when she was angry, but whose wasn't? People did all kinds of stupid things when they were angry, like try to kill their girlfriend or repeatedly punch their brother in the face.

"The people you'll be working with are the ones who nearly killed your brothers, who killed Riley. Who's to say you won't seek revenge on them?"

As good as it would feel knowing Toretto was six feet beneath the ground, that he could never hurt her family again, they had an apparent 'mutual interest' in stopping Cipher. Elizabeth wouldn't absolve them of their actions but neither would she hold them accountable . . . yet. Call it gut instinct or common sense but that little voice in the back of her head said revenge could wait till she had the full story (and the money). "I've more important things to deal with right now, Hobbs, although I do have one question."

"What?"

"Will your team be joining us? They were faster than I expected, and I did enjoy kicking your friend in the balls."

Luke paused in the doorway, staring blankly at the warehouse as if someone had just hit a great big pause button in his head. His team. Right. His team had been alive when they'd caught Elizabeth, had helped him take her down. Wilkes on the infrared and heat cameras, Fusco running down the corridor and grabbing her. Shaw slipping out of the backpack. Chato herding her towards them like a sheepdog that needed no orders, only a signal.

His team and himself on the plane, personally transporting her to Cuba while on their way to Brazil. Shaw had sat there quietly the entire time except for the occasional bathroom break, staring out the plane's window while he, Chato and Wilkes played poker. Fusco had gone to sleep, and Macroy spent the entire time cleaning their weapons. Shaw, still seated by her window, forehead against the fogged-up glass, pretending that she wasn't crying even as her whole body shook.

Less than two weeks later, his men were dead. Bleeding out and blown up in the favelas, in Reyes' ambush. By ordering the attack, that corrupt sumbitch had signed his own death warrant.

Hobbs had almost forgotten she'd seen what he was like between jobs, his team laughing and making bets on whether Chato would have to step in and prevent Luke from getting his ass kicked for smiling at the wrong woman. What could he say? Women just seemed to like him.

"No, they won't be," he said finally, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "They're dead."

"Fuck." What else was there to say? Elizabeth hesitantly stepped forward as if to offer condolences then backed off, dropping her arms by her sides. How many years had it been since their encounter? She hadn't memorised their names, or paid any attention to them at all really, but they'd acted like a family. Despite spending most of the flight to Cuba ignoring them, Elizabeth had noticed that much. "I'm sorry."

"It is what it is."

Was that meant to be some macho man talk or had he simply come to terms with the past? She waited till Hobbs cleared the doorway then stepped out with Wilson on her arse. "The person that killed your friends, did they get what they deserved?"

"I put three bullets in his chest so I'd say that's an affirmative."

"Then you understand why I'm still standing here."

At that, he rounded on her, blocked Elizabeth from going any further. If she was insinuating that they were similar, she was dead wrong. Him and her were nothing alike. She was a killer, a greedy piece of shit indirectly responsible for numerous deaths, while Luke was a lawman. Yet as much as he wanted to deny them, there were minor parallels. "Say I were to turn a blind eye to your . . . let's call them 'shenanigans'. You take Cipher's money, the billion dollars—"

Elizabeth lifted her head and met his gaze. How did he know? How the hell did he know about the money? Unless the cars had been bugged, or they themselves were bugged. There'd been plenty of opportunities for Hobbs' men to slip a listening device on them. Perhaps the security cameras she and Owen had seen were wired with microphones too. The 'when' didn't really matter though. There were too many variables, too many moments when the tables could've turned, for her to pinpoint the exact one.

All that did matter was they knew.

And there was that look. A mix of horror and surprise. No doubt she was wondering how they'd gotten the information. Luke nodded, smiling like the Cheshire cat as he crossed his arms and leaned forward, getting into her personal space. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention we know all about your plans with Owen. What was it you said about needing Raspberry Pis and Linux?"

Son of a bitch. There had to be a bug on her somewhere, or on Owen. The moment she had some privacy, she'd strip and search herself, tell Owen to check himself too. Was it in her jacket pocket, she wondered? Maybe concealed beneath the back of her collar? However Hobbs had managed it, he'd done it without ringing any alarm bells.

"What of them?" Elizabeth asked. There was no point denying things, not when Hobbs was talking about turning a blind eye. Perhaps if she played along, she could twist things around to her benefit, or maybe Hobbs had been two steps ahead the entire time and once again she was being reduced to the role of a puppet on someone else's strings. "You want me to split the money with your team? That'll never happen. I didn't go to prison so some arseholes could cash in."

"Can I finish?"

Go on, she gestured.

"—and then you make the rest disappear too. You think you're so good because you stole a couple million from the mob? Claim bragging rights when you take Cipher for all she's worth."

Wait a minute. Was he challenging her? If she pinched herself, would she wake to find herself still in the car onboard the C-130? "In return, you turn a blind eye to any shenanigans," Elizabeth said, making air quotes with her fingers. "Wow, sounds like you're actually just as much a criminal as the rest of us."

"There's your quid pro quo. Take it or leave it."

"Well it doesn't matter anyway, because I can't just take her money from the outside. I need access to her servers."

"And where are they?"

Goddamn it. So much for her ethics. She looked away from Hobbs, staring at the floor and chewing on her bottom lip as the options circled around in her head. Play along or get locked up. Two choices were all she had, and she really didn't want to go back to that hellish prison again.

"You want your life back? Your freedom? They're on the table right now." She hadn't broken so much as buckled, Luke thought. Pile on the heavy weight of knowledge of the past, the future, all those options, and anyone would crumble beneath it. "Thirty seconds. Make your choice."

"I don't know where they are."

"Try again. Twenty-four seconds."

"I don't fucking know where her servers are because they're on trucks that constantly move! Coño! What part of Cipher being a 'cyberterrorist' don't you understand?"

"What trucks?"

"I don't know. Refrigerated ones, I assume, to keep everything cool."

"So much for that star on your knee." Luke looked her up and down as if amused then turned and walked away, heading for the east end of the warehouse. It was time for that shower, he decided. He needed to get the sweat off him, and the grime, as well as rid himself of the feeling that he'd just betrayed his own code. Luke didn't turn blind eyes to 'shenanigans', and he certainly didn't make deals with the devil either. At some point, this would come back to bite him in the ass. "Wilson, take Miss Shaw upstairs to her brothers. Make sure the three of them are comfortable. They've got a long night ahead of them."