A/N – Thank you so much to all of the wonderful people who asked and begged and pleaded and threatened until I updated this story. Seriously I could not do it without you. I can't even list all of the names because THAT many people messaged me over the last few months.

So thank you for being patient and here is a new chapter, and I promise many more to come!

Happy New Years! I love you all!

Arya calls Sansa, and her sister picks up on the first ring. "Did you do it?" She asks.

"I'm leaving for the race now. Joffrey should be preoccupied until at least ten. But get in and out as fast as you can."

Sansa breathes a sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver Arya. I'm own my way home now. I'll grab the file, make some copies, and put it right back where I found it. No one will know. I'm sure of it."

"You'd better be." Arya looks at the clock on her nightstand. "I've got to go. Good luck."

"You too," Sansa says. "Drive well. Drive safe."

Arya ends the call and slips her phone into the pocket of her black jeans. She looks at Nymeria who is nestled in a pile of blankets on the bed, head resting on a fluffy pillow. Arya walks over and gives her dog a tight hug. The tension eases from her body, and she laughs when Nymeria gives her a wet kiss across the cheek.

"I'll be home soon," Arya says. "And two thousand dollars richer."

Nymeria barks softly and gives Arya another kiss.

It's 7:45 on a Tuesday night, and the roads are practically empty. Arya drives down Cajon Cross and stops when she sees two cars parked on the side of the road, their soft headlights streaming over the pavement. Arya pulls off the road and shuts off her ignition. She tugs down her hat before stepping out of the car.

"You're early," Joffrey says, eyeing Arya with close scrutiny.

"So are you," she retorts.

"Just making a few finishing touches on the route."

Joffrey has two small maps before him on the hood of his car. He's going over them with a thick black sharpie. Sandor is leaning against his own car, a lit cigarette perched between his scarred lips.

"Done," Joffrey says. He snatches the maps off of the car and hands one to Sandor. Arya takes a few steps forward and goes to take the second, but Joffrey holds the map away from her. His eyes are cold and accusing, and she stares at the dirt ground, feeling barely shielded by her cap. "Did you bring your money?" He asks.

Arya nods to her car. "Yes. Did you bring yours?"

"I always keep my side of a deal. I trust you'll do the same."

"Of course."

Arya goes to take the map again, but Joffrey still keeps it from her. "Give me your phone," he says.

"Excuse me?"

"Your phone." His voice is ice. "I won't have you looking up alternate routes while you drive. This is going to be a fair race."

"You can't have my phone."

"Then the race is off."

Arya bites her lip. Damn him, she thinks. She takes the phone from her pocket, double-checking to make sure the password lock is on. "Fine. Take it."

She gives him the phone, and he gives her the map. Their hands touch for just a moment. The feeling of his skin on her own makes her sick. Bastard, she thinks, filthy fucking bastard. She can't wait to beat him tonight. She can't wait to sink his entire family into the ground.

"All right," Joffrey says, glancing at Sandor and then back to Arya. "The rules are simple. Follow the route. No deviations. I'll be out there in my own car, so don't you dare think of cheating. First one to Baratheon Corporations wins the money."

Arya's mouth goes dry, and her heart starts racing. "Baratheon Corporations?" She asks.

"The finish line."

"But- why – maybe we should go somewhere else."

Joffrey stares at her like she's an idiot. "I choose the route, and the finish line is Baratheon Corporations."

"But-" Arya panics. The whole point of the race is to distract Joffrey from the building. What if they run into Sansa? And now Joffrey has her phone – Arya can't call Sansa and warn her. "Are you sure you want to meet at your own building? What if we get in trouble? What if the press hears and-"

"I choose the route, and if you have a problem, we can call the whole thing off and you can never race in San Diego again. Are we clear?"

It'll be fine, Arya tells herself. Sansa will be in and out before we get close to the building. Joffrey is staring at her with small, suspicious eyes. Arya steadies her voice and says, "We're clear. Let's start."

Arya glances at Sandor who couldn't seem less interested in the entire night. "Are you ready?" She asks.

He grunts in response.

"Great," Arya mutters under her breath. "Great."

Arya scrutinizes the map Joffrey gave her. The route shoots straight from Cajon Cross back into the city where it then proceeds to twist and turn through some of the most congested parts of the downtown area ending straight at Baratheon Corporations.

Sandor obviously has an unfair advantage. He's lived in the city for years now and is familiar with the streets. Arya has been here for less than a semester. She opens her side compartment and takes out her racing gloves, flexing her fingers under the soft material. This will be a tough race, and if she loses, she'll be out of money again. She'll have to take another shift at Burrito Bonanza.

Just that thought is enough to make Arya look forward, grip the wheel, and set her jaw. I can do this, Arya tells herself, for Sansa, for my family, and for my own sanity.

She pulls out onto the road and levels her car besides Sandor's. He turns to her and gives her a curt nod. She nods back before facing forward.

Joffrey stands in the road before them with a whistle in his mouth, and for a moment, Arya fantasizes slamming her accelerator and running him down. She can practically hear the cracking of his bones, practically see the blood splashing over the road. But unfortunately murdering Joffrey would make more problems than it would solve.

So Arya takes a deep breath and waits for the whistle.

When it does blow, she veers to the right and shoots forward, trying to leave as much distance as possible between her car and Sandor's. They're neck and neck as they blast down the road, but eventually they'll have to merge into one lane as they enter the city. And Arya plans on taking the lead.

After ten minutes of driving, the lights of the city come into view. Arya leans forward and braces herself, waiting for Sandor to do something drastic. They're still side-by-side, but that'll have to change soon. She glances at the route on the map and prepares to take a sharp right down the main drive of the city, hoping that Sandor won't manage to cut her off.

"Shit!" She screams. Just as she goes to cut the right, another car merges in front of her. And it's not Sandor. It just a citizen. She has to slam on her brakes to keep from hitting the car, and in that one moment, Sandor surges ahead, gracefully merging lanes and pulling into the lead. "Damn it!" Arya screams.

She accelerates, and another car honks at her as she cuts them off. This is going to be more difficult than she thought. There's not much traffic, but there are still plenty of cars on the road to impede her way. Not to mention the possibility of a cop around any corner.

Is this really worth it, she thinks as she continues to speed down the road, keeping Sandor in sight, yet not being able to catch up with him. Is getting a ticket worth it? Or going to jail? Or hitting someone?

She can hear Gendry in her head. You're being stupid. You're going to get yourself killed. Stop thinking you're invincible.

But she can also see the scars and bruises on her sister's face and the look in her father's eyes when he came home and told the family he lost his job.

"It's so worth it," Arya mutters.

And with that, she runs a light seconds after it turns red. Cars continue to honk at her, but she ignores them, keeping her eyes focused on Sandor and anything in her way. She's catching up to him now. He's stuck behind two cars, and the route says they have to keep going straight. She'll catch up to him and then—

"That bastard!" Arya screams.

Sandor turns left down an unmarked road, completely ignoring the route that Joffrey mapped out. Arya chews her lip, thinking quickly. If she cheats and Joffrey finds out, the race will be over—but she has no chance of winning if Sandor takes short cuts.

"Fuck," Arya curses, before taking a left and following Sandor down the small street. She continues to tail him through back street after back street, the lanes getting more and more narrow. She has no choice. She doesn't know her way around the city. If she loses him, she's lost for good.

But the streets get smaller and smaller, and the road gets more and more deserted. Finally the lane dead ends, and Sandor pulls to an abrupt halt. Arya has to slam her brakes, tires screeching hot against the pavement, to keep from crashing into him. Her heart is racing. Her palms are sweating beneath the gloves.

What is he doing, Arya thinks. The engine shuts off and Sandor steps out of his car and starts approaching Arya. Nervous anxiety races through her veins. Uncontrollable thoughts bubble to the surface. Is he going to threaten me? Punch me? Kill me?

Sandor continues to approach until he is standing outside of her driver's door. He knocks twice on the window and bends down so he can look her in the eye.

Arya glances in her rearview mirror. The road is empty behind her. She should reverse and drive away. But her curiosity is too great.

Slowly, she reaches for the button and rolls down the window, just a crack, so they can speak. "What are you doing?" She asks. "We're supposed to be racing."

Sandor's voice is rough. Harsh. "I know," he says. "I'm buying us time."

"What?"

"I'm buying Sansa time."

Sandor's hard eyes flicker for just a moment. He clears his throat and takes a step back from the car.

"You're what?" Arya asks, her voice raised.

"You heard me."

"You're what!"

"Don't scream, stupid Cat. It's annoying." Sandor crosses his heavy arms. "Sansa told me she needed Joffrey distracted tonight. Distracted and far away from Baratheon Corporations. So I'm buying her some time."

Arya speaks very slowly. "What else did she tell you?"

Sandor's eyes darken. "Nothing. That's it."

"Why are you helping her?"

"Why are you?" He shoots back.

"Because she's my—" Arya hesitates. At this point, she isn't sure how much Sandor really knows. What if he's playing her?

"Sister. Because she's your sister. I'm not stupid, Arya Stark."

Arya snorts. "Could've fooled me." She takes a deep breath and tries to handle the situation. Sansa has put her trust in Sandor. In a racer. In Joffrey's lackey. How can Sansa trust someone like that? Arya didn't even tell Gendry what was really happening tonight. Not the whole truth at least.

"So you're buying her time," Arya finally says.

"Yes."

"Won't Joffrey find out?"

"Fuck Joffrey." Sandor takes a step forward. "If he says something, I'll take care of it. But we're going to sit here for half an hour, and then we're going to finish the race, and you're not going to say a word. Do you understand me?"

Arya nods. "Fine."

"Good," Sandor grunts.

He starts to walk back to his car, but then Arya rolls her window down the rest of the way and leans out of it. "Hey!" She calls, and he turns around. "So, uh, is it cool with you if I just go ahead and win the race?"

Sandor stares at her with his scarred face and dark eyes. And then he lets out a low, hard laugh and a twisted smile. "Fine," he says. "Fine."

By the time they drive up to Baratheon Corporations, it's almost eleven at night. Joffrey is there, standing in front of his car, his mouth set in a hard line.

Arya gets out and tries to smile. Tries to look cocky and arrogant. Sansa is nowhere in sight, but that doesn't mean the night was a success. Not yet anyways.

"I'll have my money now," Arya says.

Sandor gets out of his car and pulls out a new cigarette. He watches from a distance.

"You cheated," Joffrey said.

"No I didn't." Arya glances at Sandor. "Look, I barely beat him. How could I have cheated?"

"It shouldn't have taken three hours. I don't know what you did, but you did something."

Arya makes her voice hard. Firm. "I didn't cheat. I won. Now give me my fucking money. We had a deal, and I won."

Joffrey clenches his fists, and Arya forces herself not to step back in fear. She knows what Joffrey can do. She knows how his temper can get out of control in seconds. But she refuses to back down.

"Give me my money," she repeats.

"Dog," Joffrey calls out, "What do you have to say about this?"

"The little bitch beat me fair and square." Sandor shrugs his shoulders. "It was a tough race. Nothing to be done."

Joffrey is caught. There's nothing he can accuse her with. But he hates admitting defeat. "Fine," he finally says. He opens his car and takes out a brown bag. He throws it hard at Arya, and she catches it tight against her chest. "I don't want to see you on my circuit again," he says.

"But-"

"If I see you out there again, I swear to god you'll regret ever stepping foot in this city."

"Fine," Arya says. There's nothing else she can say.

"Fine. Good night then, Cat."

"Wait," Arya says. "My phone."

"Oh, of course." Joffrey takes the phone out of his pocket but then drops it from his fingers. It hits the ground. "Oops," he says.

Arya bends over to pick it up, but then Joffrey lifts his foot and stomps on the phone with the hard sole of his boot, crushing it into pieces. "Oops again," he says coldly.

Arya wants to say something. Wants to punch him. Wants to kill him. But she just shakes her head and walks back to her car. She glances at Sandor for just a second, and he gives her the slightest of nods.

"Good night," she says.

With no phone, Arya can't call Sansa and check to see if everything went well, but she just assumes there were no problems. After all, Joffrey would have been twice as mad if something had gone wrong.

Arya swings by her motel and lets Nymeria out. She gives her some extra food and hugs her before getting back in the car and heading to Gendry's. She pulls up to his apartment complex, but the windows are black. She knocks on the door and there's no answer.

She feels a twinge of anxiety but ignores it. She gets back into the car and drives over to the mechanic shop. Sure enough, the garage light is on. Arya pulls into the lot and walks into the unlocked store.

Music is playing—some kind of soft rock—and Arya follows the sound into Gendry's office. He doesn't hear her come in, and she smiles, watching him for just a moment without him knowing.

He's sitting at his desk, bent over a pile of papers. There's a pencil in his hand, and he's sketching out designs, scribbling formulas. Arya had no idea he designed his own work. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and his long, muscled arms are exposed under his tank top. Arya bites her lip, feeling the lust well up within her. After a long day, Gendry looks unbelievably satisfying.

She clears her throat, and surprised, Gendry looks up. He smiles slowly, and she smiles back. "Hey," she says.

"How'd it go?" He asks.

She holds up the brown bag of money. "I won."

"That's great."

"What are you working on?"

Gendry glances down at his sketches. "Oh, nothing really." He gathers the papers into a messy stack and shoves them in a side drawer. "Nothing important."

Arya continues standing in the doorway, strangely content just staring at Gendry. His dark blue eyes are on her, and it makes her entire body feel flushed and warm. She knows she should keep her distance. She knows he's a distraction from helping her family—but she can't help it. She's already in too deep.

Gendry stands up and takes a step forward. "Are we—" he starts. "Are we all right?"

"Yeah," Arya says. "We're all right."

He takes another step forward. And then another. "Is there something you want to talk to me about?"

"No," Arya says. She steps forward too. Her lips curve into a dangerous smile. "No," she repeats. They're close to each other now. She can feel the heat of his body. The light, clean scent of soap. "I don't want to talk," she says.

Gendry hesitates for just a second before smiling. "Good," he says. "Me neither."

And then he sweeps down and captures her lips in a deep kiss. She steps forward and lets his arms wrap around her small frame. She breathes him in, kissing him again and again, letting his warm tongue slip between her lips, tease her, toy with her.

His hands travel down her back and grab her bottom, pushing her against his body, pushing her against his already hard arousal. Arya gasps. She moves her lips from his mouth to his neck and then up to his ear, breathing warm against the skin. "Good," she says, gasping again as his fingers pop open the button on her jeans, "Talking is stupid."

His hands tug down her jeans, rough and fast, and desire floods through Arya. She wants this. She needs this. "Talking is stupid," Gendry agrees. "Very, very stupid."

A/N – Thank you for reading and reviewing and dealing with my ridiculously long hiatus. I promise to update much more frequently!

Please read and review wonderful people!