The Winchester brothers aren't the only ones who got caught up by police. After a thrilling ride through the downtown area, Danny turns out not to be the only one who thought of that escape route. Danny can do lots of things, but he can't get through a roadblock. He sees the signs ahead on India street, placed especially for him and his friends, they probably blocked a lot of roads like this. By the looks of it, the police was on to them before they even meet up at the harbor, those bastards. No wonder, the cops have been tailing him for years, they want to have him behind bars. Crap, how could Ty have missed that police call on the radio! But Dan can't blame anyone, his enemies probably communicated through another channel, or not by radio at all, knowing the streetracers would be tuning in. With reluctance Danny hits the brakes and turns the wheel. His Acura makes a 180 ̊ and stops. The cops, which were on his tale, come to a halt as well. For a few second nothing happens, the red and blue lights shimmer on their surroundings. Danny looks over his hood at the men who are going to put him in jail. Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes is playing on the radio, the strong bass pounds through the subwoofers. This is it then.
"Danny Parker, step out of the vehicle with your hands behind your head!"
Dan stares though his windshield in the eyes of six policemen who all have drawn their weapon. It's pretty hard to see them, with the headlights of their Swat cars still shining in his face. Safe behind their car doors they have a clear shot on him.
"Damn it", Danny curses.
It seems like this is the day the police finally catches him. He takes a last look around, but there's no way out of this. No alleyway he can move through and backing up isn't an option either. There's nothing he can do about it; he has to get out of the car as asked. Pray Dan, pray for your buddies to have a fantastic Houdini plan, pray for a miracle. With a sigh he opens the door.
"Show your hands!", the policeman with the megaphone shouts.
"Yeah yeah", Danny muddles softly.
He's been through this before, a few years back when he wasn't in that deep yet. Thanks to a big time lawyer who Aby arranged for him, he got out with community service. But now there's no Aby to get him out.
"Move away from the vehicle!"
He does as told while two police officers approach him, still keeping their guns on him. Both grab Danny's arms from behind his head and force them on his back.
"We've been looking for you, Parker", one officer acknowledges.
Danny huffs. "I'll bet".
"Danny Parker, you are under arrest for illegal streetracing, burglary, extortion, false pretenses, receiving of stolen property, theft…"
Yada yada… Danny looks around for any sign of hope. There must be a way to get out of this, he won't go behind bars, he can't have that!
"You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can be used against you. You have the right for an…"
The cop can't finish his routine speech, because out of nowhere a motorcycle speeds between the police cars on high speed. Disorientated the cops can only get out of the way and watch how in a split second the rider of the Harley Davidson grabs Danny's wrist, who smoovily swings on the back as she turns right. Then one of the four policemen still by there cars opens fire, but the bullets hit the brick wall of the Italian restaurant. The motorbike is small enough to move between the narrow high walls, but fast enough to outrun the police. A wooden fence doesn't stop them either as they speed through a back yard by a swimming pool, then again through a fence and ends up on the sidewalk, where they make a sharp left turn as the Harley Davidson bounces of the curb. They are about an inch from crashing into an SUV who moves out of the way honking. On the straight State Street she gassed up as sirens sound from behind.
"Who are you?", Danny laughs thrilled by that miraculous escape.
He watches the rider in the mirror, who's face becomes slightly visible when they are out of the shade of the Route 5 overpass. He now sees his rescuer is in fact a woman, and one he knows too."Who else would I be? It's always a Sullivan who has to get your ass out of trouble", Zoë grins.
As if it's child play she moves past the cars from left to right. Of course she ignores the curses and shrieking tires, she knows what she's doing. Danny doesn't seem to feel uncomfortable either, but then again, he's used to breaking the speed limit. The police is slowed down by the busy traffic though, not even their sirens can help that.
"Where to, Danny?", Zo asks.
"The garage, Zo", Danny answers.
Zo grins. She assumed all he needed was a little hint. She likes the sound of that, the garage is where the good stuff happens. It's the place where cars are built and beers are drunk. A haven for Danny and the family, a remembrance of what once was for Zoë. For a second there it feels like the good old times, times with her sister.
In the rather quiet neighborhood of Al Cajon, a town East of San Diego high in the hills, Zoë pulls over at a gas station next to a garage. On the roof a busted '69 Pontiac GTO is just sitting there, like an owl in the night, overlooking the scenery. It was there the first time Zoë got here, it looks a bit more rusty these days. Red letters display Cubic Inch Customs, the name of the garage and hide out of Danny and the gang. It surprises Zoë they haven't moved in all these years, you would expect the police to find them at some point. It hasn't changed a bit, a part from the cars in front of the shop. She remembers it well. Abigail invited Zo over into her crazy world when she was only sixteen. With a father who use to be on of the biggest car dealers in LA, her interest for cars came naturally. But when Abs met Danny, one of the best streetracers of San Diego, she started to prefer fast cars over luxury. Zoe turns off the ignition on the porch of the shop and gets out of the saddle after Danny does. When she takes off her helmet, the guy in her company steps back a bit shocked.
"Damn it Zo, you look just like her", he stammers, seeing a replica of the girl he fell in love with nine years ago.
Zoë smiles and looks down. She heard it before, she's the spitting image of her sister Abigail. The only difference is her dark straightened hair.
"It's good to see you", Danny says with some pain in his heart.
"You too, Dan", Zoë nods, feeling a bit uncomfortable herself.
"It's been like what? Five years or so?"
As Danny starts walking up a small alley to the back of the property, Zoë pushes her bike forward, following him.
"Something like that, yeah", Zo realizes, even though it doesn't seem that long.
They move through a closed gate behind the main garage to a backyard, where she leaves her Harley on center stand, out of sight for bypassing policemen. She pulls the cover from her license plate, good thing she covered it. The main building has been extended several times, housing several smaller garages, some of the racecars, in case their cover is blown. They walk to the back door, which Danny opens with a key. The four men present in the room jump up from their seats.
"Danny! Jesus man, we heard you were caught!", a large African American shouts flabbergasted, not expecting his friend back.
"Come on, guys. Who do you think I am?", Dan smiles victoriously. "Thanks for the help by the way".
Zoë huffs. Men, they're all the same. Of course he wouldn't mention that she got him out of there. As Danny greets his friends, she takes a moment to have a look around before she attracts the attention of the guys. The place hasn't changed a bit. A small kitchen in the corner on her right and a few worn down sofa's on the other side of the room. On the wall she finds the same old posters and photos of tuned cars and hot chicks as when Abigail showed her the place. In the back there's a small bathroom, a mattress lays on the floor in case someone decides to spend the night. But in the back it's where it all happens: their playground. The garaged where cars go from legal to illegal.
"Who's she?"
It's a short guy who first notices her. He wears glasses and has short spiky hair. He looks like a bit of a geek. After his comment, now all eyes are on her.
"The name is Sullivan", she introduces herself shortly.
Two of them, the African American who Zoë remember as Crunch and Tweed, a weird looking guy from Laguna, look at her surprised. A sign of recognition, yet confusion. They look over at Danny for answers.
"Zoë Sullivan, her sister. I think you two have met her once or twice", he explains.
"Oh right, I remember now", Tweed grins so that everyone can see his golden tooth shimmer and bends over to grab his beer of the table.
"You've got a bike?", the geeky kid asks with a nod at the helmet in her hand.
"No, I put this on my head in the car for safety", Zoë responds sharp.
Tweed can't help to laugh. "Nice icebreaker, Marley".
Now all guys snigger, they like her attitude.
"What kinda bike do you got?", Crunch asks interested.
Zoë can't help to answer with a little smirk on her face. "A Harley Davidson Road King '92".
"Sweet!", he shouts thrilled.
"Au! Nothing beats a woman on a bike", Tweed likes the idea too.
"Too bad a Road king ain't fast", Marley counters, a bit insulted by her comment earlier.
"It was fast enough to save Dan's sorry ass from the cops", Zoë bounces back.
Now all eyes are on Danny; he forgot to mention that. It's Tweed who comes with the brilliant conclusion.
"Dude, you needed rescue from a girl?"
Then all the guys burst out in laughter. Even the Mexican guy, who hasn't said a thing yet, can't help to laugh. Tweed makes an 'L' out of his thumb and finger and places it on his forehead while making a funny face. Tweed is funny anyway. He has redish shin, almost if he's English and has white blonde dreadlocks. He has a bit of a surf thing going on with a necklace made out of shark teeth and a smiley tattoo on his arm. Danny huffs and seems a bit embarrassed about the whole thing. Then he looks aside at Zo, who has a twinkle in her eyes and an amused smile on her face.
"Zoë, you already know Tweed and Crunch", he nods at the two familiar figures.
Tweed waves like a little kid and Crunch nods at her, as Danny goes on.
"This is Petro. He doesn't say much".
Now Danny points at the Mexican guy, who looks her in the eye for a second and looks down sigh again.
"… and this is knows-everything-about-everything-Marley".
Marley raises his hand. "Your personal genius".
"I'll bet", as she grins, realizing the weird company she's in, but then comes to business.
"So, is anyone gonna offer me a beer or not?"