You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere

Fast Car, Tracy Chapman

Z

My files on car choices were spread across almost every square inch of Brian's living room floor. In the dead center of the coffee table was a list of needs and wants scrawled on one legal pad with a second one filled with pro-con lists right next to it. Brian was sitting next to me with his elbow propped on his knee with his hand covering his mouth. I had a sneaking suspicion he was stifling a smirk because of the wrinkles forming around his eyes.

"Would you prefer that we just start driving around looking for something? That would be anarchy." The smile lines deepened and I knew he was laughing at me.

"I already set up a time this afternoon to look at some. You can relax now." My eyebrow shot up as I turned to take him in.

"Which ones?" I started rifling through the files closest to him, but he smacked my hand away.

"Take a nap, Anna. You're overthinking this." He grabbed a few of the files and tossed them to the other side of the room, out of my reach.

I couldn't sleep. I had just had my first FBI undercover assignment and I felt miserable about it. I was questioning whether or not moving down here for the FBI was worth it at all. What if I couldn't do this? What if I ended up sitting at a desk pushing files for somebody that was actually out there catching the bad guy? What if I did all of this and failed?

Brian pushed at my arm and I realized I had been staring into space somewhere in the direction of my lists on the table. He swept those off into the floor too, but the way he looked at me afterward made me think he absolutely knew I wasn't staring at the list. I tried to brush him off, but he put his hand on my shoulder and I knew I didn't have a prayer of that.

"What's making you nervous about it?" He asked when I didn't say anything.

"I just feel gross, I guess," I muttered quietly. He nodded.

"Most undercover ops won't be like that." He paused. "Can you deal with lying to people that you've bonded with? That's the real question to answer when you're deciding if undercover is right for you."

"I've done it for years," I answered bitterly. He shrugged.

"We all have to some extent, but I promise this is different."

His blue eyes were so deep and thoughtful and unbearably earnest and it was making me nauseated. I knew I could do it because I had, but I couldn't tell him that. He could never know how our relationship started. I thought he might understand, but I don't think he'd ever forgive me.

"I can do it, Brian," I replied a little more firmly. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's easy to turn in the people that are hurting other people, but those lines get a little grey sometimes." He seemed like he wanted to tell me so much more, but he stopped talking.

I shrugged in response and he let his hand fall. He motioned back towards his bedroom. A fake smile spread across his face.

"Come on. Borrow some clothes and sleep here. We've got shit to do this afternoon."

Z

Brian and his bouncy golden retriever personality was bad at times, but it was so much worst when you had to wake up to it. He dragged me up after an hour and a half, which was not enough sleep after being at the nasty club the night before. He slung my gym bag from the trunk of my Taurus as my head and demanded I get dressed before he shut his bedroom door again, leaving me bewildered and grumpy.

I forced myself to get dressed in my yoga pants and a tank top, even though I really wanted to curl back up under Brian's comforter and go straight back to sleep. He was so excitable this afternoon that I was afraid he'd come back with a squirt gun to try to pull me out of sleep. He was goofy enough to have one of those handy.

The second I was dressed and opening the door, he was shoving a peanut butter sandwich in my hand and dragging me towards the apartment door. I choked the sandwich down in the elevator, knowing that I would need something on my stomach for Brian's driving.

I was expecting him to have borrowed from the impound lot again, but I was not expecting him to have borrowed a standard Honda Civic. I pointed at it, expecting him to give some sort of explanation, but he just shrugged and motioned for me to get in. Wordlessly, I did as he asked.

I trusted him, probably more than I should have.

He turned the car over and it was definitely more than stock under the hood. I nodded in appreciation when he turned to smile at me. He glanced at his watch, then gave me an even bigger grin. I felt butterflies in my stomach because I knew what was coming.

"We're running late. Ready to see what this thing can do?"

He did not wait for an answer.

The cars parked down the side of Brian's street were nothing but colored streaks as he took off, laughing like a little boy with a new toy. I swore at him as I grabbed the handle above the door. He completely ignored me as he turned down some side streets. He kept going at the same speed until we stopped at a red light. I used the change in pace as an opportunity to slap his arm.

"No hitting the driver!" He yelped with a laugh. He snatched my water bottle out of the cupholder and tossed it at me.

"You're going to make me puke in the impound car!" I shrieked as I tossed it back.

"If you buy a car today, then you won't have to deal with my driving anymore." He reasoned.

"You just don't want to see the files and printouts anymore." I accused.

"Damn straight." The light turned green again and he took off from the line like it was a street race.

I only had to endure twenty more minutes of Brian's driving with a quick stop off at the bank before we pulled up at a garage. It looked like it was falling apart, which was fine by me. If it wasn't a high dollar establishment, then maybe it wasn't a high dollar car.

"It's a 1971 Ford Maverick. It's still a slight fixer-upper on the outside, but the engine is absolutely solid. It's a smaller car compared to some of them, which I think will perfect for you in traffic. Reasonably priced. I think this will be it." He told me as he pulled up into street parking.

The Ford Maverick hadn't been on my radar, but I didn't mind branching out, especially if Brian recommended it.

A thin white man in his mid-thirties walked out of the garage doors as we pulled up. He had stringy, unkempt hair and his clothes didn't look like they'd been washed in days; much more grime than the normal mechanics I'd dealt with had on them. I grabbed my gun out of my purse and shoved it in my waistband. Brian's brow furrowed and I knew he was also on edge.

Without waiting to talk about it, I got out of the car. Brain scrambled to get out after me so I wouldn't be by myself. The man-sized up Brian before he turned to me. I gave him a thin, tight-lipped smile.

"1971 Ford Maverick?" I asked. The guy nodded as he scratched his hairy chest.

"Are you the one buying?" He sounded surprised as he turned his eyes over to me.

"We'll see what you've got first," I answered mildly, stepping up to the garage door.

Brian was right, it was perfect. It was smaller than some of the other muscle cars I'd looked at, which was fine with me. The paint was a bright blue with a white stripe, but it was very dull and rusted, clearly in need of some TLC. That wasn't going to deter me though: if it was going for the right price I could get it repainted quickly.

"Pop the hood," I told the man. He raised an eyebrow at me.

Refusing to show an ounce of discomfort or unconfidence, I motioned at the car with my head. Apparently I wasn't looking like someone that would actually purchase what he was selling, because he rolled his eyes and sighed as he walked over to it. He got the hood up and moved off to the side flipping a hand at me dismissively.

The engine was massive. I didn't need to know all of the parts to know this thing had some power behind it. The parts all looked new, even under the dirt. The way Brian exhaled behind me told me it was worth more than the rest of the car.

"You got the keys?" I asked the man.

"The keys?" He asked incredulously looking at Brian.

"Yeah. I'm going to drive it before I make you an offer." He scoffed at me. "The price we discussed is firm."

I glanced at Brian out of the corner of my eye and he nodded, signaling whatever they discussed was fine. I didn't even know what the number was and honestly, I didn't care. I ran my hands over that gorgeous, strong engine and couldn't help but imagine myself racing, feeling my heart in my throat like I did on that car chase.

"I still want to drive it," I told the man. He shrugged at got the keys from on top of his workbench, practically throwing them at me.

Without waiting for Brian, I dropped the hood and opened the driver's side door. The interior needed a little work, but it definitely wasn't as bad as I was expecting. Brian gave me a subtle thumbs-up as he moved to the passenger side.

"Back in ten minutes, and you better not bend it." Our friendly salesman grumbled.

"You don't want to come?" I offered sweetly. He waved me off.

With a grin, I shut the door and turned it over. The growl the engine made was incredible, and I knew I wanted it. Brian started listing off facts that the man had told him over the phone, but I wasn't listening at all.

I shifted us into gear without stalling it and started pulling off into the street. Brian offered some words of encouragement, before going over what needed to be fixed and how much he was quoted and how to use the rest of my budget. As soon as I got off into the street, I opened up the throttle. Brian looked a little startled, but I kept pushing it.

The adrenaline was back, just like it was before. The rush-to-the-head, heart-in-your-throat, stomach-about-to-drop-out feeling of euphoria mixed with a little bit of fear was back. This was what I wanted.

"Slow down just a little up here." Brian cautioned, but I didn't do it.

I downshifted, took a curve entirely too fast, and then pushed the gas out the other side. I kept control, but I slid the back end out a little bit. I kept driving until I realized out ten minutes were up. Without thinking, I pulled over to the side.

"This is it, Brian. This is what I want."

I wanted that feeling. I wanted to feel that almost out of control feeling. I wanted to race.

That realization hit me like a ton of bricks and I almost said it out loud, but I knew I couldn't; Brian would put an end to that one quickly. He might even go so far as to report me to Penning. That wouldn't happen though; I'd be sneaky. First I'd hand the sketchy dude a wad of money, get the repainted, and then I'd find the races.

"You look so much happier than you have in a long time. I'll help you fix the one or two things wrong with. I'll teach you how to do it so you can do it yourself." Brian offered with a grin.

Caught up in my own happiness and my resolution to get myself to the races, I leaned over and kissed Brian on the corner of the mouth.

"I'd like that very much."