"We're gonna need cover."
Dom's voice crackled through her earwig. "I got you, Letty."
As she moved clear of the formation, they all split, with Tej, Deckard and Hobbs taking the front to block the obvious lines of sight. Brian and Dom drove on either side of Letty, while Roman and Owen sat on her six.
Owen aligned himself directly behind the Corvette, tyres almost grazing Letty's as he hugged her. She would have only seconds to get clear once they were in position, but they'd done this maneuver so many times that Letty trusted her muscle memory wouldn't fail her now.
Now all she needed was for Cipher's welcome party to arrive.
"C'mon, you son of a bitch," Letty murmured. The dust cloud had dissipated, yet not once did that Mustang try to hide. Although its bright blue and white paint job couldn't have concealed it out here where everything was a shade of brown. "It's time to play."
"You sure about that, Letty?"
The sudden response sent a chill down her spine. So they were listening in. She'd figured as much. It was a smart move when Letty thought about it. That was how they'd always evaded the cops, after all.
"Who are you?"
"What, you don't recognise me, Dom? C'mon. I thought we were brothers."
"I don't have a brother," Dom said, with all the patience of an angry man.
Letty reached down and switched her transmitter off before she could be tempted to talk. There was something about the voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It was like a distant memory; an old book too faded and tattered to read.
"Is that what you tell yourself? Mom would be so disappointed. That's not how she raised you."
"Half a klick and closing," Deckard interrupted. It was less for his benefit than Owen's. He wasn't stupid - he'd seen them talking, seen his brother slip into formation behind Letty. Those two were working together like it was the old days again. And as much as he might disdain it, it was good to see Owen still understood the meaning of cooperation. "Remember, we—"
Deckard trailed off into silence at the realisation they were a man down. Neither Hattie or Elizabeth were here. There was, in fact, no one to remind. No need to explicitly mention that one or both of his sisters were not, under any circumstances, to blow up the truck and everything inside it.
"Fifty metres and closing," said Deckard. "Sitting at one o'clock."
Letty inched across the lane, with Owen matching her movements, and watched as Deckard broke rank. The view in front of her opened up when he peeled off, revealing the convoy just twenty feet ahead, and the blue Mustang speeding towards her.
"It's a game of chicken, is it? Alright, I'll play."
There was nothing like the feeling of being in a car going over 100mph. The exhilaration, the adrenaline rush. Being moments from danger while still remaining in complete control. Then, when that moment arrived, Letty jerked her steering wheel to the right, sending herself off-road and skidding across the desert.
But as she looked back over her shoulder, she saw it all. The asshole in the Mustang had no idea Owen was behind her. Both his left tyres were lifted off the ground as the ramp caught them, and the speed at which the pair collided vaulted the Ford into the air.
For several seconds, it remained airborne. Then like a two ton metal ball, the Mustang fell. It hit the road with a loud crash and rolled, paint and exterior panels scraping against the asphalt. Side over side, it tumbled off the highway and over the desert plain, carried by its momentum, until the car finally came to rest on its side.
One down, twelve to go. Letty turned herself around, returning to the highway. Up ahead, the convoy had splintered off. Half of the SUVs and all-terrain vehicles were now clear of the truck, leaving the others to defend it.
"Think you can keep it steady, kid?" Hobbs asked. Little Nobody was riding shotgun with a harpoon in his lap. Despite the disadvantage of having one less vehicle, it meant Luke wasn't juggling everything at once. "We're only getting one shot at this."
"Yeah." Eric released his seatbelt, slid across his seat towards the centre console. As Hobbs lowered the driver's side window, he stretched across and gripped the wheel with one hand. "I've got it. Now where the hell is—"
"Change of plans!" Deckard grunted as his Defender was pinned up against the passenger side of the refrigerated truck. The ATV that'd struck him now had its machine gun aimed squarely at his head, spitting out bullets faster than Deckard could blink. They hit the armoured glass window, spreading web-like cracks across its expanse with each impact. "Someone get this bastard off me, will you?"
"No," Brian interrupted. "Hold your position! Hobbs is almost ready."
No matter which way O'Connor looked, it was chaos. Tej and Ramsey were in their Jeep, narrowly avoiding being wiped out. Roman was ramming an SUV, trying to force it off the road. Letty wove in and out, trying to get close to the truck, but Dom?
Dom was about to have a horse up his ass, and there was nothing Brian could do.
The blue Mustang, now upright and on its wheels, pushed past 70mph. Every moment brought the asshole closer to them. Every second gave him an opportunity to take one or more of them out.
Brian looked every which way — Roman had pulled clear, alive; Tej and Ramsey were aligning themselves with the right side of the truck; Deckard remained stuck with no way to go — until his eyes landed back on Dom.
Maybe there was something they could do. Something he could do.
"Letty, I need you on Dom's left!"
There was no verbal response, but she fell back immediately. If Dom sped up at the right time, he and Letty could close in on the Mustang. Pin it between themselves until Owen Shaw could finally and completely stop their unwelcome guest.
"Brian, what're you up to?" Dom didn't sound worried. Rather, he was...curious.
"Trust me, man. I got an idea. Just keep driving."
"Owen!" Deckard's shout coming through the radio made his ears ring. There was fear in his voice, or something close to it. Good, Brian thought. Now you know how Han felt. "You've got fifteen seconds before this window blows."
That seemed like an exaggeration, yet from the safety of his car, Owen could see the predicament Deckard had placed himself in. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, measuring the distance between himself and the Mustang. If he were fast, perhaps there'd be time.
Christ, this bloke just didn't give up, did he?
Fine. Owen turned himself around, dropped the ramp once more and drove in Deckard's direction. He'd just have to hope that Letty and the others could delay their new friend for long enough.
Cracks spread across the glass with every second that passed. Deckard could see it weakening, beginning to give away. Even armored glass had a breaking point. Like everything else, it was only able to withstand being hammered for so long.
Knowing that, Shaw had still hoped that it would last beyond this point. If his windows blew, it'd be the end of both the car and him.
"Owen, hurry it up, will you?" Deckard said, adjusting his seat. There was still a chance he could avoid most of the bullets if he simply moved out of the way, but that was no guarantee. Still, it seemed better than doing nothing. "You're cutting it a little—"
The glass shattered. Bullets flew over the space where his chest had just been, impacting the window that was pressed up against the truck. Deckard grunted and reached down the side of his seat, blindly searching for his pistol. He'd strapped it to the underside of the cushion, but all Shaw found was empty air.
"—close."
The SUV, machine gun and all, was finally thrown into the air. Tossed aside like old garbage. However, that didn't solve the issue of the armor-piercing rounds and still-active machine gun. Bullets sliced through the air, striking the right side of the truck. The side window shattered instantly, and more bullets impacted whatever lay within the cabin. The driver slumped forward in his seat, foot pressing down hard on the gas pedal.
The truck surged forward, the speedometer rapidly rising with every second that passed. At this rate, there was a good chance it'd jackknife and take them out in the process.
"Shaw, what the hell is going on up there?" Hobbs' voice echoed in Deckard's ear. "...Shit! I need more time. Reisner, speed this thing up and get me closer."
Grunting, Deckard peeled away from the truck, weaving between two ATVs in search of some space to maneuver. "The driver's dead."
"That's not good," muttered Roman.
Tej scoffed. "You think, man?"
"I ain't talking about the driver." Pearce looked back through the rear window of his car. The Mustang sat almost bumper to bumper with him. Some smug white boy was behind the wheel, glaring daggers at him. "Yeah, I see your shrivelled gremlin-lookin' ass."
"Cipher." The Mustang's driver clearly wasn't talking to them, but the microphone still picked up what he was saying. "Hit the one in front of me then take out the crab. They're getting on my nerves."
"Oh hell no." Roman shifted gears and murmured a prayer, tapping both hands against the steering wheel as he drove. He didn't want to know what 'take them out' entailed beyond the obvious. "Can someone please," he said, checking his mirror to see the Ford was keeping pace, "deal with this guy out? For real. I ain't playing anymore. Y'all hear that?"
"I do, Roman." Luke adjusted his aim once more. His finger teased the trigger, gaze fixed on the rear doors as the truck began to sway ever so slightly. "But we've all got problems right now. You're going to have to deal with him yourself."
"I'm on my way, Roman," Brian interrupted. "Letty, you coming?"
One moment the Mustang had been coming for Dom, the next it'd switched gears and pushed ahead, going straight for Roman. Every car had given way, handing the driver a clear path, then closed the formation to block them in.
"Damn it." Luke's mutter was barely audible above the noise of his SUV. "Letty, O'Connor! Clear me a path. I'll deal with this sumbitch myself."
"Copy." Letty looked every which way, searching for any sign of Owen. She hadn't seen the ramp car for a solid minute now, let alone noticed anything being tossed like salad. Wherever Owen had put himself, it had to be in front of the truck, or possibly beneath it. "Shaw, where are you?"
Silence.
"Owen!"
"I'm a little busy right now." The truck's tyres weren't turning, and its speed surely had to be into the red. At this rate, it would run off the road, hit dirt, then keep on going and hit everything in its path until it either used whatever fuel it had or hit something solid and blew up. "Decks, think you can keep me next to this—"
Two loud, sequential gunshots rang out above the noise of everything. The kind of deep, violent booms that didn't come from some simple assault rifle. No, what'd just been fired was a much bigger and more unpleasant toy.
And in less than a second, the screech of metal being sheared off filled his ears. Owen flinched instinctively, swerving left to duck under the truck itself. He didn't immediately notice the hole in the road, or the crumpled mess that was his ramp. The only thought going through his head in that moment was survive.
Survive this and whatever else Cipher threw at him. Live to see another day. Live long enough to see his sisters again so he could complain about Hattie sitting on the sidelines, enjoying her mojitos while they did all the work.
"Roman?!" Brian's voice was filled with panic and fear. "Answer me!"
With one hand, Owen ripped his earpiece out and let it drop. Every inch of his body shook, hands trembling violently as adrenaline flooded his veins.
"Damage report?" Deckard shouted, pulling in close to the truck. The hole in the road was now metres behind them, but no one could fail to see it. Where the shell struck, the asphalt had been shattered. "Owen, talk to me."
"I'm fine," he muttered. But his car wasn't. Owen could see it now. The ramp was completely gone. Only twisted and crumpled metal remained. Just a few inches closer, he thought, and the lower half of his legs would've been torn to pieces too. "What do you think?" he spoke into his throat mic. "Cannon, maybe? Damage is certainly bad enough, and the sound..."
Owen didn't hear Deckard's reply, but there was no need to. His brother would be processing the exact same information.
"Cipher could've killed me. She didn't. Why?"
She had everything to gain from his, their, deaths. Two less enemies placed the odds in her favour, yet somehow he still breathed. Unless she hadn't wanted him dead.
Or there was a card up her sleeve.
Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. Soon enough, Cipher would have plenty more opportunities to finish the job and end things properly.
He reached down, fishing around for his earpiece, and slid it back into place just in time to hear, "Whoo!"
"You like fishing, Letty?" Luke laughed. "Me too. What do you say we reel him in?"
The harpoon's claws tore through the Mustang's outer panels, scraping against the fibreglass plates within. Jakob cursed under his breath and reached for a small blue button on his dash.
In the beginning, it'd been nothing more than an idea. A 'cross your fingers and pray' kind of thing. Now, it seemed like a wise decision. One hand on the steering wheel and his feet on the pedals, Jakob stretched himself over the centre console and passenger seat, and pressed the release button.
The corners of the front windshield exploded outwards, ejecting most of the safety glass. He sat up and pushed out the rest, then lifted both of his feet off the pedals and hurled himself through the now empty space.
Jakob tumbled forwards. He caught himself with his left arm, body stretched out over the hood. Already the Mustang was beginning to noticeably slow down. Shit. "Bravo Two, hold your position. I'm on my way."
"Oh, you ain't getting away that easy, boy." Luke hooked the harpoon into place, gripped the metal roof rack, and pulled his lower body out, bracing his feet on the side step. He inched his way forward, leaving Little Nobody to take the driver's seat, and climbed up onto the Ghurka's hood.
Wind blasted him in the face, buffeting his body, but he didn't flinch. It was just like playing Hot Potato with Sam, only instead of a soccer ball, they were tossing around a 240lb man.
"Hobbs?" Eric said nervously. "We have a problem."
The refrigerated truck finally began to jackknife. The cabin slowly slid one way and the trailer another, undercarriage and tyres squealing in protest.
Oh well.
That was Shaw's problem, not his.
Luke took two steps forward and jumped, landing on the rear of the Mustang. He dropped into a crouch immediately, shifting his weight as the car slowed. Ahead of him, Toretto's so-called brother jumped onto Roman's Lamborghini and braced himself.
Before he could move again, Luke stood upright and lunged, throwing himself over the Mustang's roof. He hit the empty space where the windshield should've been and planted his feet against the framework, stopping himself from falling backwards into the car.
"Roman, drop your speed."
"Nah, man, I ain't crazy."
"Goddamn," Luke groaned. He pushed himself up, pulling his knees forward, and got to his feet once more. But instead of finding only empty air, Hobbs' line of sight was filled. Kevlar pants, kevlar jacket. A bulletproof vest and…
Jakob whipped his knee up, striking Hobbs in the jaw. His head snapped backwards, and the momentum took his body as well. Hobbs slammed into the empty frame, but managed to catch himself with his arms at the last second.
"You know," said Jakob, "I promised our mutual friend that she'd be the one to kill you, and I owe her at least that."
Without pause, Luke kicked out, striking Toretto in the groin twice. Cheap pot shot or not, it was almost always an effective move. The unimpressed look on Jakob's face, however, suggested those pants were of a decent weave. "That's cute," Luke laughed, voice dripping with condescension. "You think she's on your side."
Hobbs pushed himself up, standing upright on the hood, even as the metal creaked beneath him. Perhaps it would cave in a few seconds. Or a few minutes. But eventually, it would, and then there'd be some serious burns the moment Luke hit that hot engine.
Not that it mattered. This game of human pinball was only just beginning.
"The last man who believed that ended up dead." Luke brought his knee up, striking Toretto in the stomach over and over again. Driving him backwards inch by perilous inch. "Has she told you about that yet? The morning she cracked her boyfriend open like an egg?"
Jakob didn't have to look over his shoulder to know there was a two foot gap between himself and the nearest ATV. Nor did he have to turn his head to see an SUV on his right creeping closer. Pearce's car was now several feet away — a gap nigh impossible to close — and the Mustang was really starting to slow.
He smiled, sidestepping Hobbs and ducking beneath the first swing of the Fed's fist, then threw himself backwards. Jakob landed ass first on the hood of the SUV, grabbing ahold of its mounted machine gun for support as the car peeled away.
As a matter of fact, though, no, Shaw hadn't told him about her dead boyfriend. Or anything else for that matter. They weren't exactly interested in having heart to hearts and sitting around, painting each other's nails. Neither had she broached the subject of her tragic family history and the sob story that came with it. The one detailed in the half inch thick file that Cipher kept. A file he'd read cover to cover on the first night so there wouldn't be any surprises.
"Hobbs!" Little Nobody pulled up alongside him and pushed the Ghurka's passenger door open. "Get in."
"We need to go after him."
"I know. Mr. Nobody…It turns out there's a few things my boss hasn't been telling us."
Luke looked skeptically at the kid but stepped off the Mustang's hood just as the metal sheet crumpled beneath his feet. "Like what?"
"Like once upon a time, Dominic Toretto had other friends."
Hobbs climbed into the Ghurka and slammed the door shut. "Cut the bullshit."
"Dom's telling the truth. This guy's not a Toretto."
Luke shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't like Dom to outright lie. Conceal the truth and betray them, sure, but never lie. He was several kinds of honorable that way.
"Jesus, Reisner, spit it out." They didn't have time to play twenty questions right now. Not while the truck was teetering on its wheels, ready to tip over at the slightest hint of a bend in the road. "Don't dance around the subject. Who is this asshole and what does he have to do with Dom?"
"His kid brother used to run with Dom and Letty. Got deep into the racing life. Made some bad bets. And when the kid didn't pay up…"
It didn't take a genius to see where this was going. "Someone put a bullet in him."
"Several. He died on Dom's front lawn."