"...Hobbs?"
Shaw squinted like she couldn't quite believe the holy visage in front of her. Truth be told, Luke didn't quite believe it himself, nevermind the words that'd come out of his mouth last night. The way he'd touched her face like he was seconds from doing something stupid and crossing a line that no man in his right mind would ever cross.
Not with a woman like Elizabeth, anyway.
"I told you I'd be here with bells on," he said.
"What about the top hat and tails?"
"I lost them."
"Of course you did."
Groaning, Elizabeth sat up, hair messy and eyes bleary. Covering her mouth with one hand as she yawned, she reached for her bedside lamp with the other and switched it on.
Luke squinted himself at the sudden flood of light before settling on the end of her bed. Shaw had drawn her legs up and crossed them, giving him plenty of space to maneuver. The ceiling was just high enough that he had a good inch or two of room above his head, ensuring he wasn't going to crack his skull open on anything, while her desk was shoved in the corner and out of his way so he wouldn't kick it either.
"You hungry?" It seemed like a redundant question, but there was no harm in asking. "I got—"
"Sure."
The flat tone of her voice made him sit up and pay attention. After last night, Luke had thought that maybe this would serve as some kind of entertainment for them both. Something that'd take their minds off the situation at hand, as if having Elizabeth sit on him wasn't distracting enough.
But this wasn't her.
Not the her he knew. The woman who'd beaten his ass that morning by sprinting like a bat out of hell or the one who'd nearly ripped his head off for merely suggesting that Hattie might get involved.
No, something was wrong, or something had happened since they last talked.
He glanced at the phone sitting on her desk, almost like it'd been dumped there or tossed, perhaps even thrown. Shit. Had she called Hattie? Her mom or dad? Deckard and Owen would still be laid up in hospital so calling them was a waste of time, but her sister...
Once Hattie knew what'd happened, there was no question she'd get involved. And if Dom hadn't called Magdalene by now to bring them into the fold, he'd regret it the next time Luke and Jakob showed up on his doorstep.
"Elizabeth."
Breakfast in bed. Conversation. Time together. Arguments. Those were the first four of her so-called weaknesses—the ammunition needed to seduce her—and once he invoked the last three, Shaw would be putty in his hands.
At least he hoped it would be as easy as that.
After the last two days, he needed these small successes. Besides talking to Sam, there really wasn't much to look forward to outside of the infrequent opportunities to get off Cipher's plane.
"What?"
Luke leaned toward her and reached up, hooking her chin with his finger just like she'd done to Jakob. She stared at him, a shred of emotion wavering in her eyes as if he'd just pushed past some invisible barrier. Some shield she normally kept up to block out the world and separate herself from it.
Elizabeth pursed her lips like she didn't know if she should smack his hand away or not, but before Shaw could try anything at all, the words he normally kept reserved for people who deserved them came tumbling out of his mouth.
"From now on, if anyone so much as gives you a broken nail, I'll kill them."
For a moment, she seemed wary. Like she was wondering exactly what had provoked that kind of talk from him. Luke didn't quite know the answer himself, but the scar on her stomach, the things she'd told him, had clearly sunk into his subconscious. His volatile and now rather vengeful subconscious.
"So what'd you grab?"
Just like that, Shaw changed the subject, shifting the conversation to the plastic bag in his right hand and the containers inside it. Luke shifted his attention along with it, pulling out two forks from the bag and tossing her one. "Pancakes."
"Did you bring ice cream?"
For breakfast? "Woman, why would I..."
Elizabeth got up on her knees and leaned forward, hands coming to rest on his lower thighs as she braced herself on him. "I thought you liked your dessert first."
It was the husky tone of her voice that did Luke in. The low, sultry rasp sending a shiver down his spine. The less than subtle implication that ice cream wasn't the dessert she was talking about. Then she smiled and pushed off the bed, getting up and stepping out of the room, leaving him feeling like he was about to pop a stitch in his briefs.
Jesus. Who was supposed to be seducing who?
Taking a breath, Luke got their breakfast organised and leaned back against the wardrobe tucked into the corner between the bed and the door. She'd have no more need to invade his space like that again, or any reason to get close until she was screwing him.
With him.
Screwing with him.
Shaw came back two minutes later with one large scoop of vanilla in a bowl, but she wasn't finished. Not in the least. Instead of immediately sitting down, eating her food and giving him a few minutes of quiet, Elizabeth stopped by his side again. She leaned down, lips all but skimming the shell of his ear, and murmured. It took his brain a moment to register the words he'd just heard, let alone process them, but as Elizabeth sat and helped herself to her breakfast, they sank in.
"You know, that was kind of hot before. It almost sounded like you meant it."
Luke looked up, catching her attention. She tilted her head slightly, focused solely on him as he said, "I did."
And just like that, she was thrown off her game. Vulnerable again. He could see it in her eyes, the way she pressed her lips together and her grip on the fork loosened ever so slightly before she dropped her gaze to the container of ice cream, syrup, and warm pancakes. Elizabeth poked at her food, saying nothing in response. Maybe she didn't know what to say, or maybe she didn't know how to respond, period. Maybe she'd never heard those words, that kind of sentiment, come from anyone in her entire life.
"Ice cream, huh?" Luke reached across, spearing the scoop with his fork, and took it before she could react. He broke it in half, returning one hemisphere to her container and leaving the other on his own stack of pancakes. Breaking off a piece of his ice cream, he ate it with a bite of pancakes and nodded in approval. "Hmm. Not bad."
"Yeah."
There was that flat tone again. A tone he didn't like if Luke was being honest with himself. It spoke of detachment and apathy. Those walls building themselves back up to cut Shaw off from the world and protect herself from being hurt. The same walls he'd built around himself after his team died, with only a Sam-sized hole for his daughter to walk through. Eventually, he'd dismantled them when he was ready.
Elizabeth had clearly never reached that point, and he doubted she ever would.
Not when she threw her defences up at the slightest hint of trouble. The smallest sign that suggested—God forbid—she might be as human as the rest of them.
"Thanks for breakfast," Elizabeth said once she was done. "You can finish up, see yourself out. I'm taking a shower."
Grabbing her towel from the closet behind him and a fresh set of clothes, she made to leave. Luke was on his feet in a heartbeat, catching her by the waist and turning her around. Shaw's eyes widened as he pushed her back against the door with a soft thud, stopping her from going anywhere. "I didn't say we were done yet, woman."
"Hobbs." She tilted her head back to look up at him, taking in all six feet, four inches of him. For once, standing in close proximity to each other like this, Luke actually felt a little intimidating. It wasn't just in the way he dwarfed her, or that he was more like a physical wall blocking her path than a man right now. No, it was the sheer breadth of his body. Those wide shoulders Elizabeth couldn't possibly wrap her arms around. His tree trunk-like waist and massive thighs almost pressing against hers as Hobbs leaned forward, bracing one of his hands above her head. "What are you doing?"
"Close your eyes."
"...Luke."
"You can't take a shower with your clothes on, so one of us is going to have to take them off."
Elizabeth was going to kill him for this. Maybe not today, but some day. She'd haunt him for the rest of his life, ensure he didn't get a single restful night's sleep, and when all was said and done, make his afterlife miserable too. Oh, yeah, there wasn't a chance in hell Shaw ever let this slide. Her on his lap was one thing, picking her up another. This? His hand flat on her stomach, holding her in place, shouldn't have even been within the realms of possibility.
"Make your choice," said Hobbs. "You or me?"
She lifted her right hand still gripping her towel and shoved him, but Luke didn't move an inch. Elizabeth could stand there and glare at him all she wanted, lips pressed together in a pout, and it'd never make a difference. He was nearly two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, resolved not to move unless he wanted to.
Shit. Getting out of this was going to be harder than it looked. Least of all due to the sasquatch who had her practically wedged between him and the door. The door she couldn't open, the sasquatch she couldn't evade, and his hand that wouldn't stop touching her. A hand that ought to have moved by now if Elizabeth had any say in the matter. Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for the door handle.
"You...but not here."
Her eyes darted to the side, looking for the lock. Alright. This had gone far enough. She wanted out, and far be it for him to stop her. Luke stepped back two feet, giving Elizabeth the space she needed to pull the door open and slip out, then immediately followed in her wake to the rear of the plane.
Shaw was almost in the bathroom by the time he caught up, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. He put the toilet lid down and helped himself to a seat, Elizabeth not glancing at him even once as she stripped down to her underwear and stepped into the shower. She then slid the curtain across, being careful to make as little sound as humanly possible.
"Turn around."
"Luke."
"Take it off." If his mom could see him now, she'd have sasa'd his ass with that slipper for letting things get this far. Hell, once he got Sam home safe and took her back to Samoa, Momma would really give him an earful. Maybe she'd even ground him. Take away his badge and tell him that unless he cleaned up his act, he wouldn't be going to work for the next hundred years. Ah, that'd be the day. "Slowly."
Elizabeth poked her head out from behind the curtain and stared at him like she couldn't believe what was happening. Maybe she was wondering exactly how they'd ended up here, talking like some goddamn married couple or a pair of horny teenagers who couldn't keep their hands off each other. "You do it."
"Woman, if I take it off, you won't have much of a shirt left."
Her lips suddenly pressed together in a tight line, cheeks lifting, and her upper body began to tremble just enough to tell him that she was silently laughing. Fucking laughing at him while here he was trying his best to 'seduce' her. A plan which had been her idea to begin with. After a few moments, Shaw managed to take a breath and said, "And what about my..."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
He was going straight to Hell for this. Do not pass the pearly gates, do not collect $200. Yeah, there wasn't even the slightest chance he'd shake the big man's hand now. It was all over for him, and for some reason...Luke didn't give a damn. As long as they got Sam back, all this bullshit would be worth it. Every minute of the foreseeable future would be worth whatever pain and suffering it entailed.
"You can take those off too."
Hobbs' voice deepened, almost dropping an entire octave as it became rough and low. The very definition of dangerous. The kind of sound that shouldn't have come from someone like him. He was supposed to be a Fed. One of the good guys. So why did he suddenly give off the vibe of someone far more ruthless and intimidating? If she didn't know better, Elizabeth might have closed her eyes and mistaken him for a man who was at the far end of the criminal spectrum.
Someone who, for the first time in a long time, just might be on her side.
She grabbed the curtain and slid it across the rest of the way, blocking her from his sight. Luke heard the tap handles turn, then the shower came on. He sat there and waited instead, not going anywhere. When the shower turned off, he stood, picked up the towel she'd left on the sink and tossed it over the railing.
"...Thanks."
"Elizabeth."
Towel wrapped around her, she stepped out after a minute and walked toward the sink where her clean clothes sat. "I need a minute."
"Okay."
Luke stepped past her, peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto a rack that sat adjacent to the shower cubicle. He stood behind the curtain to take the rest of his clothes off, all too aware that given the chance, Elizabeth might very well have sat there and made some comment about how she could bounce a kopeck off his ass.
The rest of his shower passed in relative silence, allowing the past half hour to run through his head on repeat. Those words he'd said, the ones that implied they just might actually be partners, were coming back to haunt him. In what world would he protect a woman who'd tried to kill him? Or rather, in what world was Luke the kind of asshole who expected someone to save his daughter and defend him in a gunfight without returning the favor?
None.
There was no world where he would ever be that person.
He'd given Elizabeth his word that she wouldn't end up in prison and Luke would sure as hell follow through on that, just as he'd follow through on this too. Why else tell her that he did mean them? That if anyone touched a hair on her head, Luke would break their necks? That kind of talk should've been reserved for Sam, not her.
But he'd meant it...
Every single word that'd come out of his mouth was true.
Whether Shaw wanted to acknowledge it or not, having each other's backs wasn't just a necessity, it was crucial. Up until the moment he had Sam in his arms, until they were safe, he needed her to be there. To fill the void that existed due to the absence of his partner. Luke would never fault Elena for prioritizing her son, but the sense that something—someone—was missing? It wouldn't go away.
Not on the base and not here.
"Minute's up." Luke tossed his shirt over his shoulder as he stepped out of the shower. "So what are we doing?"
That was the question, wasn't it? What the hell were they doing? What the hell was she doing? Climbing onto his lap, offering to blow him, telling him to seduce her? And that didn't even take into account when she'd halfheartedly bitten his head off and allowed Hobbs to see something he had no reason to see.
As if he hadn't already seen it when she was half naked in his motel room...
She crossed her arms over her chest, towel still wrapped around herself. Elizabeth stared at the floor, not lifting her head an inch when Hobbs took a step closer. He was almost breathing down her neck now, less than a foot away and probably looking at her like she was some broken vase he could repair if only there was enough krazy glue on hand.
Fortunately for her, in less than two weeks, this would all be over. He'd have his kid and she wouldn't have to hear Hobbs' voice again. Least of all see him again. With any luck, Elizabeth would never see any of them again either. No Jakob, no Cipher, no Toretto.
No brothers...
As soon as she had the money and Sam was safe, there'd be a flight somewhere with her name on it. One that would take her to the edge of the world where not even Hobbs could find her.
Jokuuskay.
A city of 200,000 people and a place no one would think to look, including the Russian mob. She'd never told anyone her mother was from Siberia. It was a secret kept tightly under wraps. The ace up her sleeve in case of emergencies. Her grandmother—her real one—was still there by all accounts, and there was no question a seventy-eight year old woman would welcome the help, never mind the cash.
"Elle."
Her head turned in his direction, but she didn't look at him. It was hard to when Luke was right there, his bare chest close enough Elizabeth could've rested against him. The thought flitted through her head in an instant, yet her body didn't move. This pantomime? It was easy. Simple. A distraction that should've required no emotional involvement. Instead, Beth had begun to let her guard down one fucked up conversation at a time.
Telling the truth to Cipher was one thing. Lying to her was a lesson in the art of deception, and to pull it off required Elizabeth deceiving herself in the process. After all, the best lies were built on a foundation of honesty.
Honesty that was only possible because of him.
"You have thirty seconds to take that towel off before I do it for you."
Twenty-nine.
If she opened her mouth again, there was every chance she'd say something stupid. Something Elizabeth couldn't take back, like 'training with you isn't all that bad'. Maybe it was due to the fact she hadn't gotten laid in over a year but having his arms around her, his body encompassing the entirety of hers, felt kind of...nice.
Twenty-two.
Oh, yeah, it was definitely the lack of sex.
There was no other reasonable explanation for why she didn't mind having Hobbs' respectably sized dick pressed against her arse for hours on end, or why she'd stood there and let him touch her like that. His hand sliding up her spine, fingers coming to curl around the back of her neck, almost as if she belonged to him. Or like yesterday in the car, or that time less than one hour ago in her room when he touched her face and told her he'd kill for her.
Sixteen.
Any other day, any other time when Sam's life wasn't at stake, Hobbs would've received a knife to the heart for putting his hands on her, let alone cracking her ribs.
Thirteen.
Or so she kept telling herself.
Truthfully, she'd be lucky to scratch him. Up close and personal like they were now, even Elizabeth could see the odds of her winning a fight against Hobbs were utterly nonexistent.
Eleven.
The man was as solid as a marble statue.
Ten.
Really, in what universe would someone like her ever have a chance at taking him down?
Nine.
And then there was the other side of things.
Eight.
Hobbs had saved her sister.
Seven.
Herself too.
Six.
If the mob had caught on before he got her out of Moscow, Elizabeth would've ceased to exist.
Five.
But there was also Riley. Her brothers. The damage Hobbs had left in his wake.
Four.
The 12,581 hours she'd spent locked in a glorified hole in the ground.
Three.
The 12,581 hours spent planning how to make him pay for leaving her to rot.
Two.
And the 547 days of hoping that Hobbs might come back for her...
One.
Hoping it was all a huge fucking mistake.
Ze—