"You're going to wake the whole neighborhood." Alyson complained as she watched her boyfriend pound mercilessly at Lucky Spencer's door. She had been less than pleased when he came across something on his computer and was running out the door, leaving her sitting at the table with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"No one made you come." Will Chambers pointed out. He had had enough of her whining. She had insisted on coming so he had let her. Of course, he would never be so stupid as to phrase it that way in the building argument. "This can't wait." He emphasized.

"Yes," Alyson nodded. "You said that. It's dark out here. If he doesn't answer soon, we're not going to be able to get back to the street, let alone find the car." Her eyes darted from side to side, but he could tell by her tone that she was more frustrated than afraid. As a last-ditch effort, he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"Will?" Lucky squinted into the darkness trying to make sure he was recognizing the figure standing on his front porch. "Is that you?"

"Mr. Spencer, hello." Will had never been in Lucky's presence without Cruz close at hand. He couldn't shake off his nervousness. Alyson shuffled past Lucky to inspect her clothing in the light, just in case some small creature had taken refuge on her vomit green skirt or ruffled white shirt.

"Hi. What are you doing here?" To say he was confused would be an understatement. With the trial over, Lucky has assumed Cruz had told Will the case was over. He had figured to never see the investigator again, or at least not for a few months.

"Mr. Spencer," Will began, taking a split second to glare at his girlfriend for her rudeness. "As you know, it's part of my investigation to take a look at the Grimes' bank accounts. For the last couple of weeks, we've seen large amounts of cash going out and, while I still don't know who the faceless benefactor is, when I was checking tonight, I noticed a sum of over fifty thousand dollars disappear from the account."

"Fifty thousand dollars?" Lucky took a step back in shock, sputtering. "Tony and Lisa don't have that kind of money."

"At first I thought, 'Well maybe they're taking a trip.' It would definitely explain the plane tickets they just purchased...under fake names. Mr. and Mrs. Arturo Griswald. I wasn't worried until I saw a third ticket." Will looked up to make sure Lucky was following him so far.

"Three plane tickets." Lucky said in an eerily calm whisper. "Assumed name?"

"Arturo Griswald, Jr. No age was listed, but it was a child's ticket. I know because there's a bit of difference in price." Will explained.

"Right." Lucky nodded. "Did you happen to find out where and when they are taking this little trip?"

"Not yet, but I figured we could narrow it down together. After all, there is only one private company in Port Charles and I don't see them being stupid enough to take Cameron on a commercial flight."

"Check it anyways. Tony didn't expect anyone to find out this much and I'm not putting anything past him at this point." Lucky took a few steps and grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and pressed the speed dial button.

"Who are you calling?"

"Reinforcements." Lucky said evenly. Hearing the other end pick up, he smiled. "Ned. I need some help."

*****

The gravel parking lot only held four cars, Robin noticed, but then, it was getting late and there were no scheduled races at this particular location. From what Cruz had told her, it was used for the sole purpose of practicing. Patrick's stupid crew chief (she might have liked him under different circumstances) had left a message on his cell phone reminding him about tonight's necessary practice. She shouldn't have listened to it, she knew, but how else was she supposed to figure out what was going on? It wasn't like he had asked her to be involved in this part of his life. That might have been because of her reaction to his decision about racing again. He must have misunderstood. It was his life she worried about, not racing in particular.

As she advanced on the somewhat tiny arena, she began to make out the chain-linked fence that ran all the way around it and the backside of a single row of grandstands. Some security, she thought, as she pushed the handle up and let herself inside. She could pick up the putrid scents of burning rubber, car exhaust, and old, rotten food. The closer she got, the greener she expected her face became. She heard someone shout Patrick's name and saw a streak of white lightning run past her. She skidded backwards even though the car was several feet in front of her, swallowing a scream. There were six poles of lights on each side of the racetrack leaving it in mostly darkness. She stared down at her hands, but couldn't see them. Nor could she see where she was stepping. She took cautious steps as she advanced on the grumbling voice that was calling the car in.

A dark head appeared from the driver's side window and said a few things to the older man on the bottom row of bleachers. He craned his neck to squint at who Robin assumed was the crew chief, or someone of equal importance, and crawled out the window, too impatient to open the door. She watched the exchange from one of the many patches of darkness beside the grandstand, but couldn't tell what was being said. The driver stalked back to the car and kicked on of the tires in frustration.

"Excuse me." Robin called out to them in a strained, cheery voice.

The older of the two gentlemen asked, "What do you want? How did you get in here?" His face was just a bunch of lines and shadows, but his eyes were a magnificent blue-green. Striking came to mind, though his manners could use a tune-up.

"How did I get past the top-notch security system, you mean?" Robin teased, enjoying his surprise.

The driver stopped to watch them, decided not to interrupt, and slid into the driver's seat, obviously against permission for all of the colorful words his departure inspired in the old man's vocabulary. He turned back to Robin, nearly snarling, and then his face went completely impassive. "What did you need?" He sounded far less angry and a little annoyed at her for bothering him.

"Robin?" Patrick's voice came from just a foot behind her and she jumped on impulse. She turned toward him, ignoring the crew chief, and giving herself a headache as she tried to zoom in on his face.

"Hi. Hello." Robin waved awkwardly and then let her hand drop. "How are you doing?"

"How am I...? What are you doing here?" He stammered, keeping his distance for the moment.

"I hadn't been to a racetrack in so long. I just wanted to make sure it looked the same as I remember." Robin glanced over her shoulder at the crew chief. "It does. Good job."

"Thanks, but I didn't design it. My drivers just use it to practice." The crew chief clarified.

"Oh. Well, um. Okay." Robin told herself to stop talking before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

"Doug, this is my fiancé, Robin Scorpio." Patrick told his boss.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Doug left the confines of the bleachers and swung around them, almost missing the bottom step, and grabbed Robin's hand, shaking it forcefully. "It's nice to finally put a face with a name. Pattycake here won't shut up about you." Doug went on, but Robin's eyes never left Patrick's.

"Nice to meet you, Doug." Robin said politely and moved back toward Patrick. She didn't like him on sight, but she didn't know why. Other than the vulgarity of his language, he seemed perfectly nice and normal.

"Nice to meet you too, Robin. If you'd shown up a little earlier, you might have gotten to see Patrick race, but he tells me he's got to go home." Was he blaming her for that? Yes, he did need to come home. He had a family. Who did this guy think he was?

"That's too bad. I'm sure I would have enjoyed it." Robin lied, biting back everything else she wanted to say.

Patrick was watching her very closely, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I have more important priorities."

"Planning a wedding. I get it." Though his words held no hint of a lie, Robin had very little faith that he had a wife. He was the most insufferable...pompous..."Garrison, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Doug shouted suddenly and excused himself to go and yell at the same driver again.

"Does he always yell like that?" Robin wanted to know.

"Not at me. Come on, I'll take you home." Patrick offered, wrapping his arms around her.

"I didn't drive here to be driven home." Robin argued, leaning into him.

"Then why did you?"

"I wanted to see what you did all day." Robin said quietly. "And now I'm kind of wishing I hadn't."

Patrick frowned down at her. "It's not always like this. We're just getting near the end and it's in Doug's nature to throw a hissy fit at least once a season."

"Enough about him." Robin twirled in his arms and brought her hands to settle on either side of his face. "Hi."

"Hi." Patrick echoed, bending down to kiss her lightly on the lips. "How would you like the tour?"

"You mean there's more?" Robin asked in mock surprise.

"Careful, honey. Your cynicism is showing." Patrick warned her.

"Show me then." Robin suggested.

It took over an hour to show Robin everything he wanted to show her. He led her to a lone garage shoved off to the side of the track toward a sun-fire yellow beauty. She smiled at the awe that lit up his features. "It's so beautiful."

"I love this car." Patrick admitted. "I fell in love with it before I was even interested in girls."

"What is it?" Robin insisted eagerly. "I mean, it's obviously a classic, right?"

Patrick smiled widely at her confusion. He was going to like educating her on new things, just as he always had. "This is a 1969 AMX Road Racer. It was raced in the VSCDA for ten years before the owner of this particular racetrack made a deal and brought it here."

"VSCDA?"

"Vintage Sports Car Drivers Association."

"Does it still work?" Robin asked as she circled it.

"Of course it still works. Or at least it could. I think the owner just wanted it as a trophy."

"How much would something like this cost today?"

"Around twenty-nine thousand I think."

"Dollars?" Robin sputtered. "Good God."

"It's a legend." Patrick argued.

"I'm sure it is." Robin answered timidly. "What kind of work would you have to do on it?"

"Why are you so curious?" Patrick asked instead.

"Because you want it." Robin said simply. "And I make it my business to get you what you want."

"Is that so?" Patrick wagged his eyebrows at her.

"Yes." Robin nodded as she ran her hand across the hood of the car.

Patrick rested one hand over hers and used the other to draw her closer. His mouth beside her ear, he whispered, "Tell me Robin. Have you ever done it in the back of a stock car?"

"That's right. Smelly, terrible things, race cars. And so noisy." Robin taunted, letting her arms fall to her sides when his hands picked at the ends of her shirt.

"Well they come in handy when you find yourself in a compromising position and the person with you is slightly less noisy than the car." He kissed her passionately, his hands settling under her arms to lift her a few inches.

"Patrick."

"No one's going to see." Patrick countered, dipping his head for another kiss.

"Don't you trust me Robin?" He folded his hands together and moved them under her so he could hold her more intimately against him.

"Yes I trust you, but I don't feel comfortable here." Robin explained. She watched him draw his head back and look at her face.

"That's fair." Patrick said after a moment. "Come on. I'll follow you home."

Previews:

"Is he cute?"

"Not your type. He's very by the book."

"Maybe I need a change." Sam threw back haughtily.