"Get up."

Well, this was an unexpected surprise. Hobbs was breaking into her house and ambushing her. Technically, Elizabeth supposed, it was more along the lines of simply entering the place. Why bother with personal security or locks at all if some squad of assholes were inevitably going to kick the door in?

"Sod off and let me sleep." She let out a strangled groan as a pair of hands pulled her off the bed and to her feet. "It's too early for—"

"Elle." Something about the sound of his voice made her look up. "Let's go."

"What's going on?"

There was one duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, stuffed with clothes. The now-empty wardrobe sat open, and on his other shoulder was a second duffel with what looked like the entire pantry inside it. "I've got a gut feeling, and I don't like it."

"This isn't because of last night, is it?" Elizabeth yawned into her hand. "You called meMilain front of them. It pissed me off, so I left. No need to blow things out of proportion."

"Because of what you did? No." Luke slipped his arm around her shoulders, hustling her out of her bedroom and out the front door. He didn't say another word until they were secure inside Hobbs' house, the food packed away in his fridge and pantry cupboard, and the other duffel bag dumped beside the couch. "Deckard told Dom last night that certain problems would resolve themselves."

"...If you listen to every word that comes out of his mouth, you'll drive yourself insane." She leaned back on the couch, the cushions already adjusted behind her to support her ribs. "You should go to sleep. It's two thirty. I'll crash here."

"You're bunking with me."

"No."

"You want to get woken up when the cartoons come on?"

"...If this is all some ploy because you need an itch scratched, I'll take my chances with Sam."

"Trust me, this thing onlylookscomfortable to lay on."

"And the ploy?"

Luke chuckled and stood up, walking toward his room. "There isn't one."

"Good," Elizabeth said, reluctantly getting up and following him. "We're keeping all this above board and professional. Leaving everything on the plane where it belongs."

Her attention went straight to the enormous mattress as they entered the master bedroom. It certainly looked long enough that Hobbs' feet wouldn't dangle over the edge, nor would he be able to move in either direction and immediately fall off the sides. Surprisingly there were already two pillows positioned where her upper body would be, two for her head, and a wholly separate blanket as well. Clearly Luke was both more than prepared and looking to avoid a fight.

"You got a specialist lined up yet?" Elizabeth asked, helping herself to the side that was obviously hers.

"I'm working on it. Isn't easy finding someone available on short notice to be brought out to the middle of the woods." The bed creaked as Luke laid down. She felt the mattress sink slightly, then further, until her body almost started to tilt. Hobbs was next to her, alright, and likely closer than she thought. "By the way, there's a loaded gun in the drawer beside you with two spare mags. It's the same model you used on the plane."

"Mm-hmm."

"Beth."

"You want to pick up where we left off." It wasn't a question so much as her seeking confirmation of what she suspected. Why else tell her there was a gun, let alone choose the same model from a week ago, if the Fed didn't expect her to use it? "Keep practicing. Start teaching me how to fight."

"If we're going to take Cipher down, I need my partner at the top of her game."

"That's going to take time." Those cracked ribs of hers still needed to heal, and it didn't seem like there was anywhere to practice. They'd have to find a place, let alone ensure no one was going to be in the way if Hobbs decided he wanted her to pull the trigger. "Likely more time than we have."

"You think Cipher will pay us a visit."

"She has to know we're here by now. They practically left a breadcrumb trail." Sooner or later, Jakob would show up too. There wasn't a chance in Hell he'd pass up the opportunity to take out Dom and make his enemies feel his pain. "We're not exactly hidden from satellite either."

Hobbs made a noise of agreement, then the bed creaked again. Elizabeth found herself staring at him two seconds later as he leaned over her, propping himself up on his arms. She was never going to get used to this, was she? The sight of a man who looked like he'd been carved from marble by Michelangelo, given the breath of life by the gods, sitting there and gazing at her as if all this was normal? Making her laugh and smile as if they weren't living in a nightmare? It was intoxicating.

Least of all because under all that sugar and spice, there was someonedangerous. Someone who didn't flinch or run when he caught a glimpse of the monster behind the facade. Someone who could be more ruthless than even her.

Too bad he was Hobbs.

"Hey."

A federal agent.

"What?" asked Elizabeth.

Deckard's friend.

"We have time."

Her enemy.

A man who made her feel all the wrong things...

Yet the longer she looked at him—the longer she let herself enjoy coffee and beer, and a weird sense of safety that only existed in his presence—the more she wanted it all to stop. The more she wanted him to touch her. Kiss her. Roll her over, pin her to the mattress, and use his mouth to drive every last thought from her head.

"Okay."

Because the man who once condemned her to Hell was now the man who made her feel like she was in Heaven...

Cipher was right, wasn't she? Makarov had all but wrapped her around his finger, ruined her, and nowhewas going to do the same. Like a true professional, Hobbs only needed to snap his fingers, and she'd do far more than just bend over for him. Why else was she laying there in his bed, pretending all of this was part of the job?

"Beth."

"Get some sleep. It's late."

"In a minute. I'm not done yet."

"Clock's ticking, Hobbs."

"You really want to keep it above board?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? As long as Luke was at arm's length, as long as she didn't let herself get any more tangled up in him than she already was, he couldn't hurt her. If he couldn't hurt her, Elizabeth wouldn't have to exhaust herself by keeping her guard up twenty-four seven.

Not that she'd ever lower it in the first place.

Not whiletheywere still here...

"It's the only way this works."

"No, it's not."

"Jesus. It's two a.m. We are not having an argument this early in the morning."

"Then how about you let me finish?"

Elizabeth gestured for him to get on with it. Preferably before she fell asleep to the sound of his voice and this all too tedious conversation. "The bed is yours."

"The way I see it, you have two choices when you wake up. Number one is you can be a professional, bored out of your mind, and slowly drive yourself insane because we both know that ain't no goddamn halo on your head."

"...Or?"

"Or you walk into the kitchen, kiss the chef, and at least try to enjoy the tedious weeks ahead of you. The first option requires you to walk on eggshells while playing nice with the Shaws, the team, and everyone else."

"And the second?"

"You drop this self-sacrificial family-pleasing bullshit that's got you more twisted up than a pretzel and start being the bitch from Hell who's going to help me kill Cipher."

If her jaw dropped, Luke didn't give any indication. Neither did he point out if she was gawking at him with a facial expression that suggested Elizabeth was having a stroke. The words that'd left Hobbs' mouth had certainly put a stop to her residual brain functions and now all she could do was blink and try to figure out something to say, but there wasn't a sentence in any language on Earth that could properly express the sudden surge of whatever it was inside Beth that left her utterly speechless.

Not that she needed to speak.

It turned out Hobbs wasn't finished.

"So, if we're going to do this, I need you at your worst."

As much as she wanted to scoff and tell him he didn't know what he was asking for, because the truth was Hobbs didn't, Beth kept her mouth shut. Her worst? Luke hadn't come close to seeing that yet. Despite what he thought, despite whatever Luke was telling himself right now, he didn't need heranything. What he needed—what he wanted—was a martyr. Someone to blame when he finally dropped this self-righteous goody two shoes act and shot Cipher in cold blood.

Someone who wouldn't bat an eyelid when Luke was athisworst.

Then he leaned in close and braced his hands on either side of her head. All two hundred and forty pounds of vengeful muscle hovered above her, close enough that Luke could have crushed her flat in a heartbeat if he wanted to. "What's your choice, Beth?"

Shit, he wasn't going to let her sleep until she actually said it, was he? She huffed, pushed herself up on her elbows and closed the remaining distance between their heads. His gaze was locked on her, eyebrows furrowed as if Luke didn't know what was coming next. Neither did she until Elizabeth tilted her head, holding that stare like he'd just become her lifeline.

"I'll take option three," she said.

"There is no option three."

"Yes, there is. You get the bitch from Hell, I work on my family issues, and that kiss doesn't—"

Luke suddenly moved in two seconds flat, rolling back to his side of the bed and putting distance between them as quiet footsteps sounded outside. Elizabeth settled under her blanket, half closing her eyes just before Sam walked into the bedroom, clutching a pillow and blanket, with tears staining her cheeks.

Shit.

"Dad?" The kid sniffed, wiped her eyes, and took a breath. "I can't sleep in there. It's..."

Too dark. Too quiet. Too isolated. Sam could have picked any reason at all, and Elizabeth would have felt that pang of sympathy in her chest, as if she didn't already.

"I know. Come on, baby," he said, patting the space beside him. "Climb in and I'll turn the light off."

Sam hugged him then clambered over Luke and curled up next to her dad while he fixed up her blanket, got her settled and kissed her on the forehead. "Are you two having a sleepover?"

"Something like that, which means in the morning there'll be..."

"Pancakes!"

"Uh-huh, so you'd better get some sleep," Luke said as he switched off the lamp, leaving her to lay there in the darkness and listen to the sound of their breathing. "You too, woman."

Elizabeth didn't reply. Deal or not, option three or not, something about this suddenly felt wrong. Like it was a huge mistake to be lying in bed with Hobbs, with hisdaughter, and pretending none of it was outside the realm of normality. What the hell was she even doing here? Why had she just let Hobbs rush her out the door without a fight? She didn't belong here, after all. Elizabeth was trespassing in his life, no ifs or buts about it, and yet her gut said that if she waited for the Hobbses to fall asleep, slipped out and went back to that empty, silent bedroom across the way, she would regret it.

Yet if she didn't, what kind of signal was that sending him?

That he could twist her arm at any time? That all Luke had to do was look at her with those dark, beautiful eyes and Elizabeth would do whatever he asked? Or that for some screwed up reason, she currently felt a sense of loyalty toward him. Loyalty that no one else had ever inspired in her before, including her own family. Maybe it was just empathy talking, though, and maybe once all this was over and there was some distance between them, this myriad of conflicting emotions would finally be gone from her body.

God, Elizabeth couldn't wait for this to be over. Better yet, for Hobbs to fall asleep so she could get out of this room and go curl up on the damn couch. At least there she wouldn't feel quite so much like an intruder as she did right now.

The seconds ticked by, then minutes, until Sam was asleep. Elizabeth eased herself toward the edge of the bed, moving slow so Hobbs hopefully wouldn't notice. It was too much to hope he'd already passed out, wasn't it? As soon as her feet touched the floor and she got up, she'd find the Fed ready and waiting like he already knew.

"You still awake?"

He did know, didn't he?

"Mm. I'm going to go sleep on the couch."

"If Sam being around is a problem..."

There was no mistaking the underlying warning in Luke's voice. The tone that said to tread very carefully, and no doubt his wariness came from past experiences. Not that this was in any way on par with whatever relationships or flings Hobbs had been in over the past decade, orher, and that was honestly part of the problem right there.

"It isn't. I—I don't have experience with dads and kids." She closed her eyes, struggling to find the right words. Everything came second to his daughter. She understood that perfectly well, and frankly Elizabeth had no issue with that. Constantly being relegated to third, fourth, or fifth-wheel status, was something she'd forced herself to embrace after a lifetime of it. "I don't know where the lines are, how to act or..."

"So it's not a jealousy thing?"

"No. God, don't tell me women get jealous because they aren't the most important person in your life."

"It's happened once or twice."

"That explains why you're still single."

Hobbs chuckled. "What's your excuse?"

"I don't like people."

If either of them spoke after that, Elizabeth didn't notice. She yawned, settled against the pillows, and felt her head grow heavy. Sleep came quickly after that, then almost as quickly there was sunlight pouring through the window and voices outside.

Voices she didn't recognize apart from Hobbs and the kid. Elizabeth groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the glaring morning sun, and slowly eased herself up to a sitting position. A quick shove and she was on her feet, walking casually out of Luke's bedroom like nothing had happened.

"Can we, Dad? Please? After breakfast?"

"How about we let them get settled in and then we'll talk about it?"

Them? Jesus. Hobbs' brothers were here, weren't they? This was about to become her worst nightmare if those two were anything like Luke. One Hobbs was bad enough, but three? Now she knew how he probably felt being surrounded by five Shaws.

"You and I need to talk as well, woman."

Beth paused just outside his bedroom, looking toward the open plan kitchen, dining area, and living room, where Hobbs sat with an equally large and slightly younger brown guy, and a slightly shorter yet likely olderbrown guy. "I'm having a shower. Should be done in the thirty minutes it takes you to shuffle down this hallway, old man."

Both men had tattoos, beards, long hair, and that classic Hobbs smile. Oh yeah, there was no doubt in her mind those two were Jonah and Mateo. The only question was who was who? And were either of them as insufferable as their brother or was Luke the only one to inherit the pain in the ass gene?

"So that's your partner?" His older brother said, wearing a shit-eating grin. "I see she's got some experience in dealing with you, huh?"

As much as Elizabeth wanted to stand there and hear what Luke had to say in response, she went straight for the bathroom and showered instead. Taking her shirt off was gradually getting easier, although it didn't lessen the pain entirely. By the time she was done, her burns washed clean with soap and allowed to air, wearing a set of clothes that Luke had clearly left there in anticipation of her waking up, breakfast was ready.

The smell of hot food and coffee wafted through the house, accompanied by the sound of furniture being rearranged and Sam trying to decide who she wanted to sit next to. When Elizabeth finally walked into the open space, Luke and his younger brother were standing in the kitchen arguing about something in that way only siblings could.

"Mateo." Well, that answered that question. "Sit down. We ain't kids anymore."

"Stop being a polo head." Mateo was just as tall and built as the Fed. His voice was deeper, though, and rougher; he also looked like the kind of guy no one would ever willingly mess with if they were smart. "You know how this works, man."

She yawned, walked up to the kitchen counter and took one of two plates stacked high with pancakes. Elizabeth carried it to the dining table then went back for the full coffee pot and eggs, not saying a word to either of them while Luke stood there being the world's biggest hypocrite. The man had spent the last month complaining aboutherbeing a pain in the ass and now here he was doing the exact same thing.

What a surprise.

"So do you. You're my—"

Luke suddenly looked down as Elizabeth grabbed the last plate of pancakes, finally noticing she was there. He sighed and turned around to grab the maple syrup, only for Mateo to naturally get there first. There really was no convincing his brother that despite them being related he was still a guest in Luke's house, was there? On any other day, he would have accepted the help, but something about waking up this morning in bed with Sam, withher, had gotten under his skin.

Last night, it hadn't felt like a mistake...up until the moment it did.

He was supposed to be protecting himself, protectingSam, but for whatever stupid reason, Luke was allowing someone to walk all over his boundaries as if they didn't exist. Hell, he'd practically rolled out the welcome mat for Elizabeth. All because what, Luke had a single fucking moment of weakness? One bad month that meant he needed someone to lean on more than ever? He glanced over at the table, at the woman standing near it who would'vekilledhim four years ago if only he'd been a few seconds slower, and frowned before walking out of the kitchen and down to the bathroom.

Footsteps sounded behind him like someone was coming down the hall, then they faded into nothing. A moment later, he could hear Jonah asking Sam how many pancakes she wanted while Mateo organized coffee. The tension was gone, no doubt, along with the woman who'd slipped into both his bed and his dreams. The woman who still wanted to kill him.

He'd never held any delusions that things would change between them, Luke thought, yet it would've been nice if—after everything they'd been through—she at least abandoned her need for revenge. Her utterly pointless desire for it because there wasn't a goddamn chance Elizabeth would ever come that close to taking him out again.

Luke washed up, clearing his head in the process, then sat himself down next to Sam. Jonah sat opposite her and Mateo beside her, looking almost like they didn't believe his daughter could fit all that food. Clearly, they'd forgotten who she took after in the appetite department.

"I guess you finally learned to cook, eh?" Jonah said. "You stop burning the talo?"

"Yes, I—That was one time. I was fifteen, and I overcooked it. It wasn't burned."

Mateo laughed between bites of bacon. "Sure, it wasn't. It justlookedlike a lump of charcoal."

The light in Sam's eyes, the happiness she practically vibrated with, said it all. His daughter needed this. She needed her family if she was going to heal and not turn into some bitter, angry, vengeful...Shaw. After all, if one single night could do that to someone, how might weeks affect Sam?

"Dad?"

"Mm?"

"Can we go swimming? Please?"

"After breakfast," Luke finally conceded. Sam had been hinting at it all morning ever since Jonah walked in and mentioned the river looked nice. "Not before."

"Yes! Thank you!"


Hobbs really had cleared the place out expecting this plan of his to last longer than a single night, hadn't he? At least the asshole failed to take the loaf of bread stored in the microwave or the peanut butter she stashed in a bag thinking that Luke could use it instead of her. By some miracle, the appliances and kitchen sink all remained in place.

As did the heavy lump of regret inside her that'd grown in the hour since Elizabeth walked out.

Even now, she could practically still smell the bacon, the pancakes, the shirtless asshole she was supposed to...

But it wasn't her house, or her family. It wasn't her place either. Elizabeth wasn't meant to be there, acting like all this was fine and dandy, and deluding herself that if she just closed her eyes, everything would be different. Too bad the walking reminder of her past, present, and future, was thirty feet away, probably sitting on the couch watching TV.

Toast and plain water in hand, she finally helped herself to the couch. Pain flared through her exposed shoulder as it made contact with the cushions, causing her grip on the glass to tighten. Fuck, why hadn't she dressed it herself? Why had she walked out instead of grabbing the first aid kit and asking Hobbs to help with the gauze so she wouldn't end up tearing her own skin off?

And why was she still sitting there instead of walking toward the highway, hitching a ride, and hopping the next plane to Yakutsk? No one would find her in the Sakha Republic, least of all no one would expect to. Maybe she'd even finally meet someone, settle down, have a few kids, and spend the rest of her life in a frozen—

Hurried footsteps sounded outside, followed by the door opening. Elizabeth dropped the plate and glass instinctively, pulling out the knife she'd stashed yesterday between the couch cushions and gripping it tight. No hello, no knock, which meant it wasn't Hobbs or his kid, and that spelled trouble.

A whole lot of trouble as Deckard said, "Mum wants you at breakfast. Let's go."

"Sod off."

"So that's a no?"

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, knife visible in her right hand, and forced herself to look at the asshole standing inside her doorway. Deckard was calm, casual, acting like bygones were bygones or something, as if he hadn't been ready to burn her at the stake a week ago.

"That's a no," she said, "and if you or Owen ever touch me again, I'll kill both of you."

His lips pressed together, jaw clenched, and there it was in his soulless hazel eyes—a flicker of the real Deckard. The murderous, raging, vengeance-obsessed monster that lived insidehim. The one he kept hidden until he decided he was done playing nice, or until he chose to trash a hospital, a city, and almost kill a woman who had absolutely nothing to do with what had happened to their brother.

Deckard kept his gaze fixed on her, though there was no doubt in Elizabeth's mind that he'd clocked the knife the moment she stood up. Now, he was watching her shoulders. Waiting to see the slightest twitch that would suggest she was going to throw it at him instead of on the couch. Instead, Beth sat back down and waited.

Waited for who she'd caught a glimpse of overhisshoulder. With legs as long as Luke's, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for him to...

...walk in some other direction, apparently.

"You can close the door behind you," she said, picking up her plate from the couch. The water had spilled everywhere, but at least her last piece of legume paste-slathered bread was intact despite being slightly soggy in one corner. "Tell your mother we're done."

"Beth."

"Be happy. You're getting what you want, right?"

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"You had one job—protect our family, but you couldn't even do that. Now we're all stuck here paying the price because you can't kill a woman who's standing right in front of you."

"Like you?"

"Get out."

Deckard did. He walked out onto the porch, then he glared over his shoulder at her. "You've got two days to pack your shit and leave. And stay away from Hobbs while you're at it. You've caused him enough..."

Enough what? It was Deckard who'd failed to kill Cipher and prevent all this. Deckard who failed to stop Owen from getting involved with Cipher in the first place. Now she and Hobbs were the ones who'd get the job done and put an end to this nightmare. Toretto and the others could race around in their little Matchbox cars, enjoy their free holiday, while the two ofthemhunted Cipher down.

Elizabeth looked up, expecting Deckard to finish his sentence and maybe glare some more. Instead, there were heavy footsteps, and then a tall, familiar asshole was looming over her brother with what looked like a comically sized rectangular plastic suitcase in hand. It was five feet long, maybe two wide, with the handle on the lengthy vertical side. Luke didn't say a word as he side-stepped Deckard and took up the entire doorway, lifting the case like she was somehow meant to know what it was.

"My brothers have Sam for an hour. I've got you. Grab your shoes and let's go."

"Care to tell me what the sniper rifle's for?" asked Deckard.

Sniper—

Oh.

Hobbs was going straight from A to Z and skipping everything in-between, wasn't he? Elizabeth stood, left the remains of her breakfast on the couch, and got her socks and running shoes on. Luke turned his body sideways, leaving just enough space for her to slip past him and step onto the porch. He straightened himself out again then held the rifle case up towards her almost expectantly.

"Do I look like your maid?"

Luke chuckled. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

She scowled but took the case without complaint, keeping all her attention fixed on Hobbs. Not once did she glance at Deckard or so much as pay him lip service. Elizabeth hadn't been lying when she said they were done. Him, Owen, Magdalene—whatever relationship they once had was officially over. Hattie was on thin ice, for all intents and purposes, but the second she and her sister were put in the same room together, all would be forgiven. No matter how many years passed, Hattie was still Elizabeth's pressure point; the weak point that left her more vulnerable than ever.

The only person who could stop her in her tracks, even after she went off the deep end.

Once they were away from the house, Elizabeth glanced up at Luke as that now even larger lump of regret embedded itself in the pit of her stomach. Where the hell were they going? With the case, with whatever last night was, with all of it? This entire thing was supposed to be simple and uncomplicated, but one bad decision on the plane and now she was in his bed. Letting him drag her around like some puppet on strings? Allowing Hobbs to put his hands on her and acting as if everything was normal?

"You didn't stay for breakfast."

"No."

He rested his hand on the small of her back as they walked, keeping his eyes forward. Luke had schooled his facial expression into something approximating neutrality, keeping his voice flat and low so no one looking at them could read into anything they saw. "Is the problem the company?"

"You know it's not."

"So, why'd you leave?"

"Feels like I'm intruding."

If Hobbs was an idiot, she had to be an absolute fucking moron. Talking to him? Working with him? None of it should've been this easy, yet all he had to do was poke her and everything came tumbling out. Poke her again and she'd be ready to stand back-to-back with him in a fight. The worst part of all this was it felt completely natural too. Much as she despised Hobbs for what he'd done in the past, there was no one here who she just clicked with. It was like they were two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, working in tandem, up until she remembered who he was.

"By being there?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Luke said, exhaling. He took the case back and lifted it up onto his right shoulder, leading Elizabeth toward the shooting range. "Feels like I'm not doing my job properly."

"As a Fed?"

"Father." He swallowed and looked away, like there was a lump in his throat. "If we were dating, you wouldn't have met Sam for two or three months. I don't let anyone get close to her unless I know they're going to stick around."

"Makes sense. You want me to pack my bags later?"

"No." There was a flash of something in Luke's eyes as he turned his head back around and stared at her. Anger? Surprise? Irritation? Whatever it was, he hid it fast. "Just...stay. Stay, and if you feel the need to leave, pace the fucking hallway or something."

"Okay."

His hand didn't move the entire time until they got close enough to what looked like a smaller barn adjacent to the main one, then Luke was pulling the wooden door open and grabbing two sets of earmuffs. Cipher could avoid being stabbed or blown up, but a bullet at five hundred yards was significantly harder to dodge. As much control as she tried to maintain over every single vantage point, there was inevitably going to be holes in the psychopath's security.

The hour was spent just learning how to hold the rifle, the differences between it and a pistol, and what each dial was for. No shooting, no trying to gauge if Elizabeth was remotely decent at judging distance or not. That could wait until later tonight, Hobbs said, after he grabbed some gear and measured out five hundred yards precisely. He wasn't going to miss a single chance to bury Cipher and end things, not even if the Devil was snapping at his heels.

"So," Luke said, once they'd left the barn and the sniper rifle behind, "you like swimming?"