RUSH ― han lue

LOS BANDOLEROS

Part 1

•

•

"Welcome to the Dominican Republic, Violet Parrish."

There was a large smile on the face of the man who stamped on my passport before I was finally let go. I was half expecting to be deported back to my country where I could tell the one who called me that I was barred from entering the country ever again under suspicions of whatever they could put on my name—but unfortunately, I was able to pass all security and had finally stepped foot out of the door with hundreds of faces greeting me.

I knew I had the tendency to do crazy shit. And it all started with the stupid military discharge. It wasn't really dishonorable—but being caught driving 150 in what's supposedly a quiet neighborhood on my short time off, all while being on a bet with a couple of street racers, definitely didn't sit well with my superiors. They let me go with only a slap on the wrist, mainly from the certain skills and achievements they couldn't ignore, and a permanent ban from entering all kinds of service again. That meant no more army, no more cool guns to hold. There was only Violet Parrish, who now had unlimited time in the world to buy a car and make it fast.

With a cigarette in hand, I waited at the side for the car that was supposed to pick me up from the airport, all while remembering how I met Dominic Toretto. It was in Mexico, where I was wasting all the money I had saved up from service. Drinking day and night, betting unreasonable amounts to cockfights and street racing, and making sure I've had a pack handy even though it cost a goddamn fortune there. I was the only redhead they'd seen in the city during those times, and with a newly earned nickname, Red's flair for winning races was passed around until it reached the man himself. I remember being incredibly shitfaced when Dom asked me to join him on a run. He said it was going to be complicated, and if I had the guts to go against everything I believe in—considering my service and military experience.

But honestly, I couldn't give the tiniest shit.

The only reason I entered the military was for a bed to sleep in, a meal three times a day, and enough money to buy a car. I was an orphan, and not being adopted until I reached the legal age had its certain perks. I got freedom a little early, made a decision to be something other than a crazy bitch, and was able to realize slowly how the system was broken from the very root. It exposed the façade. The supposed right way or wrong was only an illusion. There's only people that want to be right, and people scared to be wrong. Slowly, it blurred the lines of my belief, and I started going instead, not for right or wrong, but if it made me happy enough to go for it.

And the very proof was this, being here in the fucking sweltering heat. I've been to hotter countries but that didn't stop me from complaining to hell. Good thing I dressed up in befitting summer clothes, I didn't have to sweat through my jeans.

Before I could light up another cigarette—my last name was called from somewhere. I darted my head behind, but there was no one there, "Parrish. Are you fucking blind?" Then, a dull grey car strode by slowly with an asshole in the driver's seat, bearing a stupid smile on his stupid face.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You ain't dreaming, red. Hop in! I've got ten cars behind me and I'm not in the mood." The man, with slick black hair flowing down his shoulders, popped food in his mouth before he opened the other door, waiting for me to get in. And he must be joking. "Parrish, get in. Please." He said, exhausted and seemingly piss off about something—with the gal to talk to me like that. But as the honking was also pissing me off, I cursed it off to hell, dragged my feet around the curb, and entered the car with a loud bang on the door. "Thank you."

"Dom must be pretty desperate for dragging you out of the rat hole you're holding yourself into, Han Lue." He laughed, and somehow the act irritated me, too.

"I'm sure he just needs someone to keep the amateurs in place." I scoffed at the abominable words, almost laughing at how unbelievable this day was turning into. Three years—that's when I last saw the shadow of the man driving beside me, and he didn't change. Not the hair, not the clothes, and not even all of him.

"Oh, Dom's not that dumb to do that. I'm sure he pulled you out of there 'cause you're starting to stink up the place."

"Maybe. Or maybe he knows how amazing I am, and deeply dedicated to my work."

I huffed, "Are you sure? You're not exactly the type to be dedicated—much less do work when your pockets aren't benefitting."

"My pockets are already full, Parrish. So, I'm more into charity work nowadays." The way he talks, the way he snapped comments with me back and forth. Simply the way he acts as though he was drowned in the tub full of confidence when he was a baby. Not a trace.

"You're simply incapable of change, Han." I turned to say something more—something close to insulting or unforgettable, but Han stopped the car right as the lights turned red and he looked at me. Intently, and with those dark eyes, I was transported back three years ago from a time of regrets and drunken mistakes. Of bad choices and miserable fates. "You're so incapable of it that you're looking at me now as if you deserve the right."

It didn't surprise me when he smiled, albeit small, and spoke in a hushed tone. "Not a day goes by, Vi." Before popping another chip in his mouth. I didn't pry any longer, as the very thought of conversing with him to no end has got to be my ongoing nightmare.

I choose not to care.

Or at least, try not to care.

Because what happens in Mexico, while drunk off of freedom and money, while liberated to the fullest limit, and while finding out what the other end holds, was Han Lue.

He happened, and for that few months of sweet ignorance and utter bliss, a horrible mixture from the very start, he left. Just like that. And all that was left were nothing but a nightmare of him and a bleeding fucking heart.

Dominic Toretto better have a good reason for dragging me halfway around the world only to be teamed up with this class-a jerk.