Dom pulled up in front of Sean's place and looked at the kid. "This it?"

"Yeah." He hopped out and lifted open the garage. Then he turned to Dom and shook his head, frowning. "It's not here. She's not here."

Dom climbed out and closed his door, leaning against it as he rested his elbows on the roof of the car and folded his hands. Why did she run? "Letty…"

"Why do ya keep callin' 'er that?" Sean asked, looking at him finally. "You're Toretto, right? That big-time American street-racer. Who's an even bigger ex-con. Ain't that right?"

Dom smirked, bitterly, staring at his folded hands. "Yeah. Guess it is, kid." Then he looked up at Sean. "What do you mean, why do I keep calling her that? That's her name."

"Nah, man, that girl is Anabella Gonzalez. She's a college student, who works in a garage downtown and lives with me and my pops. She use to work for Han but…well, yeah, you know what happened." Sean placed his hands on his hips and chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think of a place Letty might go.

Dom furrowed his brow. Anabella Gonzalez? Anabella? Letty hates that name. But there was no mistaking it…it was her. Why did she—why did she run? "Hey, kid, I gotta go. Ain't safe for me out in the open for long stretches of time. Here."

He disappeared into his car for a moment and then returned to view with a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled for a moment and then held it out to Sean. "If she comes back or somethin', call me. This is the number to my hotel room. Don't let that number get into anyone else's hands, got it?"

Sean looked at the number and then at Dom. "Yeah, sure. But why is this so important to ya? I told you, she's not—"

But Dom had already climbed into his car and started the engine and before Sean could say anything more, he had driven away.

Sean sighed and looked at the number and then turned, closing the garage before he walked inside.

-*-

Letty braked the car hard in front of the garage she worked at, causing its back end to jerk around a little. She climbed out, and slammed the door.

The garage was closed but Letty was all but pro at breaking and entering. She was a regular grade-A criminal.

And it was all Dom's fault.

She scrubbed at her face, anxiously, trying to forget the night. Trying to forget him. But she couldn't. She couldn't just push him out of her life. And apparently his gravitational pull was working overtime if he'd found her in Tokyo, Japan!

"Dammit!" she hissed, kicking the tire of Sean's car before she jimmied his trunk open and pulled some tools out.

There was a simple lock on the garage. The owner felt pretty secure that his garage wouldn't get broken into because a lot of people in the neighborhood knew that he worked on a lot of cars for the Yakuza. So he didn't really worry about having high tech locks and alarms.

So, it was fairly easy for Letty to pick the lock with Sean's tools and open the garage.

She took a step inside and went to her little workspace, opening her toolbox. She pulled the picture she'd "confiscated" from Twinkie out of the drawer and looked at it.

It was her, Dom and Han in the Dominican Republic, partying at a race before their last oil-tanker heist. She turned it over.

Dom and Letty, Dominican Republic

Han hadn't written his own name, for obvious reasons and Letty let out a loud breath through her nose. This was bad. This was dangerous.

Dom shouldn't have found her. He shouldn't even be here. She'd made the right choice, running away from him. She couldn't have him ruining everything the Witness Protection Program had fixed for her. She was able to go to college here, work in a—mostly—legitimate garage and still go to races on a regular basis.

But the worst thing was…she hadn't wanted to run. She had wanted to stay there. With him. She had wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him and let the memories embrace her and just go back to way things were.

But things would never go back to the way they were. She was always in danger as long as Braga's organization was still operating. Braga may've been behind bars, but that didn't mean someone wasn't still behind the scenes, pulling the drug-running strings.

And she had no doubt Braga himself had his ways of getting his orders to his constituents even from prison.

And, as much as it pained her, that meant she had to continue being Anabella Gonzalez, even if it meant running away from the man she'd loved since junior high.

She gritted her teeth hard behind her lips and finally let out a feral scream, slamming the drawer to her toolbox closed and kicking it with her trademark platform-flame shoes before she flopped down on the hood of the car she'd been working on before Teiichi Katsumoto had shown up at the garage.

That was another monkey wrench thrown into the shit that was her life. This man had an obsession with her and he was trouble. Big trouble. Yakuza trouble. The kind of trouble that got bullets caught up in an engine valve.

And Dom had slugged him good tonight.

Despite her innate need to break something right now, she had to grin a little at that. Dom had decked him good. Twice. For her.

Always for her.

She let out a noise between a sigh and a growl and stood up, folding the picture she was holding and sticking it in her back pocket before she popped the hood on the car and got to work.

She needed to think.

And she did that best when she was fixing a car.

-*-

Teiichi Katsumoto growled as he threw his coat and gun down on the long dining room table of his family's home. He glared at his father who sat at the head of the table, which was his mother's cue to stand and leave.

She kissed her son's cheek as she walked by before she left the room.

Ichirou Katsumoto folded his hands atop the shining finish of the tabletop and looked at his son. "Nan desu ka, Teiichi?"

His father's voice was rough and gravelly and it fit his stern, slightly wrinkled face and black hair with specks of gray thrown in. Teiichi respected and feared his father.

His father was one of the many Yakuza bosses and so he was the only Teiichi always came to first when he had a problem.

"Baka no onna no hito!" replied the younger, running a hand through his spiked hair and then placing both of them on his hips.

"Ah, sou desu," replied the older man as he stood. "Tell me about it, my son."

Teiichi flopped into a chair, and then turned his head so his father could see the bruise near his eye.

Ichirou stood and moved toward his son. "Who did this?"

"Some baka no gaijinn who was defending the little saseko," replied the boy as his father snapped his fingers and yelled at some servants to get an ice pack for him.

"Saseko?" His father murmured, more to himself than anything. Then he looked his son. "The same saseko who fixed your car? The one you were so confident you'd be able to get into bed?"

His father smirked.

"Otousama, this is not funny," grumbled Teiichi.

"She had a man with her, hm?" His father's cocky smirk twitched a little in amusement as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Iie! He wasn't with her! I mean, he seemed to know her but she acted as if she didn't know him at all. And she must not have because he called her by a different name than she gave me," replied the younger as a servant came in and pressed an icepack to Teiichi's cheek.

That got Ichirou's attention. "Different name?"

"Hai. She told me her name was Anabella Gonzalez. But he kept calling her Letty."

"Letty?" He looked at him. "Was there a last name to go with that?"

"Not that I heard, Otousama. Why?"

"It's nothing," replied his father, before he stood Teiichi up and placed his hands on his shoulders. "I doubted what good this racing thing of yours was for our family—especially after you used my sedan to race and then got it shot up by those you were racing—but I think you did something profitable for us tonight, my son. Good work."

"Otousama, I don't understand…" murmured Teiichi, but his father just patted his shoulder.

"Go on and see your okaasama for a bit."

"Otousama—"

But with a stern look from his father, he pressed the icepack hard against his cheek and walked out.

Ichirou stroked a thumb and forefinger over his chin and then looked at the servant who'd brought the icepack. "Go to my office and retrieve that fax from Mexico for me."

"Taishou?"

"Now."

The servant bowed and walked out.

Ichirou smirked, devilishly. "Letty, ne? Lets see if you are who I think you are, Ortiz-san."

-*-

Letty finished the car sometime in the early, early morning. Two or three o'clock. The garage didn't open until ten o'clock and she had class beginning at seven-thirty. She knew the owner had a shower in the back and she had an extra pair of clothes in her locker for those nights when the boss wanted her to do overtime.

Standing, she placed her tools back into their consecutive drawers and decided she'd get a few hours of sleep so she wouldn't be completely dead for her classes or her shift.

She yawned and closed the garage from the inside, and then it was dark.

"Hey, Let. Why'd you run tonight?"

She gasped and jumped. She couldn't see him. It was too dark. And perhaps he wasn't even there. But she could hear him.

"I…I have my reasons, Dom. I don't need to tell you," she grumbled in reply, wondering if she was crazy for talking to him as she searched for the shop lights.

"I looked everywhere for you for a long time, babe. I thought you were dead. You let me think you were dead. Why did you do that to me?"

"Leave me alone!" she growled, as she felt around the wall. Where the hell was the lightswitch? "I didn't do it to hurt you, Dom! Leave me alone!"

"Then why? Tell me why. Tell me wh—" The lights were flicked on when she finally found the switch and she looked around.

No one.

The shop, save for her, was completely empty.

"Fuck," she hissed.

She was losing her mind, she concluded, as she flipped the lights back off and flopped onto the couch to sleep for three or so hours before class.

When she fell asleep, her dreams were plagued with him.

-*-

Rodrigo Emiliano Ortega was a well connected man. He had been a silent partner when Arturo Braga had been in charge, a quiet second, who stayed out of sight and usually out of mind.

But now that Braga was behind bars, Rodrigo was in charge of Braga's cartel and with that came many, many connections.

Most of the mobs in Europe and Asia were on that list, including Japan's own Yakuza.

But he had a problem. After the death of Fenix Rise, he'd looked into every one of Rise's kills to make sure he'd done the job right. He'd exhumed graves, had ashes DNA tested, searched cars.

As far as he'd searched, every driver was dead. Everyone except Leticia Ortiz.

Her casket had been empty, her car was in ashes but she was not.

Now, she might be dead out in some desert somewhere for all he knew, but a good leader was better safe than sorry and so, with little confidence, he faxed a picture of the elusive girl to all of his connections.

He didn't expect much back. He had a good feeling she was dead.

Which is why he was a little surprised when one of his men came into his office to tell him that a Yakuza mob boss from Tokyo was on line one for him.

Rodrigo nodded to the man and shooed him away before he picked up his phone. "Hola, this is Ortega."

"I have some information I think you'll be quite interested in, Ortega-san."

"And who am I speaking to?"

"Someone who you will want with you rather than against you, I assure you."

Rodrigo smirked. He sounded like him. He was intrigued already. "I'm listening, senor."

"My son likes to race. He likes to drift, but also enjoys street races. As of late, he's taken up racing less than…friendly people. One of them riddled one of my favorite cars with bullets."

"Getting bored, senor, please get on with it."

"Well, he did the right thing after this incident, of course. He brought my car in to get fixed. And you'll never guess who the mechanic was."

"Who?" He was a little irritated. He didn't like stories, much. When he'd been old enough to use a gun competently, he'd killed his own mother because of her boring historias de familia. And he was bored easily.

"Anabella Gonzalez."

"Who is Anabella Gonzalez?"

"That's what I wondered. But tonight my son came home and told me that a very large man punched him in the face for roughing up Gonzalez-san. Said the man called her…Letty."

Rodrigo's eyes widened, and suddenly, he was intrigued again.

"And?"

"So I took the fax of one, Leticia Ortiz that your very competent organization sent out and I showed it to my son, and guess what he said?"

"The woman in the picture is Anabella Gonzalez."

"The woman in the picture is Anabella Gonzalez."

Rodrigo smirked and wrote Tokyo, Japan on a little piece of paper and then murmured into the telephone, "And what do you want for this information, senor?"

"Nothing much. Just…25% percent of all your profit to help you get your most volatile flight risk out of your hair."

Rodrigo smirked. "Hm. Done."

"Then we have a deal."

"It seems we do. May I get a name, perhaps?"

"Katsumoto. I assume I'll be seeing you in Tokyo soon enough?"

But Rodrigo hung up the phone with a smirk before answering and scribbled down Katsumoto before he folded the paper up and tucked it in his coat pocket.

Yes, soon enough.

He'd be in Tokyo, Japan soon enough.

-*-

Nan desu ka? = What is it?
Baka no onna no hito! = Stupid woman!
Sou desu = I see
Otousama = Father
Iie = No
Hai = Yes
Okaasama = Mother
Taishou = Boss
Historias de familia = Stories of family (I think?)

AN: Again, special thank you, Kaika-sama, for helping with the Spanish translations. I didn't use them in this chapter but I know they'll come up again in later chapters. And thanks to the rest of my reviewers for all your wonderful reviews so far!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Beta'd by MoonchildDJ