Five minutes.
That was how long it took for the walls to come crashing down. For the meddling deity to send in the flood and wash them all away, purging her plane of their sins.
Roberts had walked in after Hobbs' second drink, taken one look at the three of them, and ordered his fellow lackeys to get their arses to the other end of the plane.
Several hours later, not one of them had made a reappearance. There wasn't so much as a sign of Hobbs, let alone that lying bastard.
But Cipher? That awful haircut and her sharp jaw haunted Elizabeth's line of sight. Back and forth she walked between her office and whatever lay upstairs, returning with what looked like a weapons cache, or a tightly rolled up sheet of paper that could only be a detailed schematic.
Eventually, she stopped paying any mind to her surroundings altogether, until...
"Shaw."
Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring up at the pale figure that loomed over her. Dressed in that black kevlar suit of his like some wannabe grim reaper, Jakob clutched a holster in his left hand. A noticeably not empty holster.
Fuck.
"Put that gun to my head again," she said, "and you won't like what happens next."
"It's a Glock 19."
"Don't."
"Fifteen bullets in the mag. One in the chamber. There's no safety switch so keep your finger off the trigger." He set it down on her lap—all twenty-nine ounces of it—and left it there. "Get used to wearing it."
"Jakob."
"We'll be back before dawn."
Dawn? What the hell was he talking about? Elizabeth stood, only to fall straight back down onto the lounge as her legs gave out. The pistol hit the floor and laid there, ignored, as she forced herself to breathe. "She's making a move?"
"Go have a shower. Get something to eat and go back to sleep. You look like hell."
"Where's Hobbs?"
"He's in the cargo hold."
"And his daughter?"
Jakob sighed. "She's fine."
"What time is it?" Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet again, taking a single unsteady step forward, then another, until she was close enough to grasp one of his shoulder straps. "It was still light when I..."
"Elle."
"Told you—" God, what did it matter what he called her anyway? It was only a damn name. One she didn't even like, if she was being honest with herself. "Are you drunk?"
"No." Jakob's gaze softened and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Why? Are you worried about me?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Elizabeth."
"How long were you going to keep up the charade? Until Cipher told you to drop it?"
His smirk turned into a frown. Jakob stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, and pulled her closer. "Stop pushing your luck."
"God, those apron strings must chafe."
"It's a job. She pays me to do what I'm told." Elizabeth could try to provoke a reaction all she wanted, but she wouldn't get anywhere. Not when Jakob was thirty minutes from sending a very clear, very obvious message to Dom. His mind was clear, and above all else, focused. "Now do what you're told and pick up that holster."
She scowled at him but crouched down, reluctantly picking it up, only to slap it into his grasp. "There."
"Turn around, princess."
"I didn't say I'd be wearing it."
"But you will," Jakob said, unclipping two of the holster's straps, "because you know what comes next if you don't."
They'd have to organize a belt and rig her up properly later. Without one, the weight of the straps would leave her pants down around her ankles, so for now, it'd be enough to secure the damn thing to her leg.
"Hey." Hobbs' voice came from the direction of the cargo hold. "We're green in five."
"I'm aware." He crouched and looked up, unable to help the wry grin that crossed his face as Elizabeth looked down at him expectantly. "Unless you plan on flashing the Fed," he said, "this will have to go on your thigh."
"Which is about as close as you're ever going to get."
"Is that a promise?"
She tugged her pants leg up and rolled her eyes, gesturing at him to get on with it. It wasn't a rebuke, yet it wasn't confirmation either. Jakob secured the holster around her mid thigh, paused, then looked up.
"Don't even think about it," she said.
"It'll fit better."
Elizabeth reached down, unstrapped the holster and tossed it on the lounge behind her. "I'll go get a belt."
"Four minutes," warned Hobbs.
"Fine." Jakob stood and angled her head back, bringing their faces as close as he dared. "Do me a favour?"
"What?"
"Don't go in there tonight."
Elizabeth tucked her hands into her pockets, saying nothing. She didn't look away either, nor so much as blink, as she stared at him like he'd just put his foot in his mouth.
"In where?" Luke said. His footsteps loud and heavy as he threw himself into the mix. "What's he talking about?"
"Not a clue," she said. "Aren't you two supposed to be—"
The plane shook around them. Jakob reacted instantly, adjusting his stance and steadying himself, but Elizabeth was almost thrown off her feet. She fell forward, nearly dragging him down with her, only to thrust her arm up at the last second and grab onto Hobbs' vest.
"Alright," she muttered, dangling limply between them like a puppet with her strings cut. "Not tonight."
"Falling for me again, princess?"
Elizabeth lifted her head, giving Jakob a glare. "Zakroy."
There was no need to ask what that meant—the message itself was fairly clear. Shut up. Luke chuckled, held his hand out, and waited for her to notice it, let alone take it. The seconds ticked by until Shaw finally turned, giving him a hesitant glance before she gripped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Huh," Luke said, noticing the precise position of her left hand in his and her other close to his shoulder. "I thought you didn't like the tango."
She blinked, eyebrows furrowing, before the comment seemed to sink in. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she regained her balance. "I didn't say I disliked it, but I do prefer a partner who doesn't keep a stick up his arse."
"And just how do you know what's shoved up my ass?"
"I noticed it yesterday when I was pulling your head out."
"Ah. Yesterday. Not two weeks ago while you were checking me out?"
Shaw bit her bottom lip, as if she didn't know where to go with that one. Truthfully, neither did he. It was the first thing that'd come to mind—her making that comment to throw him off his game, and her antics in the warehouse kitchen. The kind of signs that would have suggested there was something going on between them, had they come from any other woman.
"Well," she said, letting go of him and stepping backwards to the safety of the lounge chair, "your arse is much prettier than your face."
There was that snark. The fist she couldn't help but swing every time one of them opened their mouths. "You keep talking like that, woman, and Pinocchio here might realize he isn't a real boy."
"Hobbs," Jakob warned.
He checked his watch. "Yeah."
Elizabeth sat mere seconds before the plane jolted again. She pressed herself into the couch, struggling to get the seatbelt secured. Yet through the window beside her, she caught a glimpse of a familiar, albeit dimly lit, sight.
Base Alpha.
* * *
"Ramsey, I can't—" Letty frowned at the PC monitor in front of her, its screen black. They'd been at this for half an hour and still nothing was working. "I can't see a thing."
"Give me a second. It's probably the connection. You'll be talking to Mia in no time."
"You sure?"
"No," Ramsey admitted, "but I've done this before. We just need…Hobbs?"
Letty turned around, searching for whatever Ramsey was talking about. She found herself staring at a black and white image on a screen, Hobbs taking up the centre portion of it. "Oh, shit."
His hand slammed against a button, and no less than a second later, a light on the wall began to flash, followed by the blare of a wailing siren.
"That's the alarm. Why is he—"
"Ramsey, we need to go. Now!"
On another screen, in the far corner of the surveillance room where they sat, stood Jakob, unloading something large from the trunk of a car.
"Wait," Ramsey said. "What…"
"The first thing I learnt in Basra, Letty, is that if it looks like a bomb, treat it as though it is one. Don't stand there fucking staring at it. Run or drive away as far as you can, as fast as you can."
Words from a previous life echoed in Letty's mind as she grabbed Ramsey's laptop and her wrist. "Let's go!"
Ramsey's brain caught up a moment later, finally allowing the two of them to rush out into the hallway and head for the emergency exit.
"Was that what I think it is?" Ramsey said, following Letty up and out into the cool night air. "We have to warn someone. They—"
"It's too late." Letty looked around before spotting her Porsche, parked by the warehouse's west side. The keys were… "Fuck! Is this thing backed up?"
"I cloned it last night. Why?"
Letty threw the laptop aside, not bothering to look as it struck the ground, and started running. "Come on!"
Ramsey gave the laptop a pained look before rushing to catch up. West of the warehouse was clear space for half a mile or more—no buildings or anything they could hide within to protect themselves, but beyond that was a row of buildings, and yet even more behind them.
"How long do you think we have?"
"However long it takes him to set that thing up," said Letty, feet pounding the asphalt, "and get outside the blast radius."
It felt like they'd run for hours before they finally came within reach of the first line of buildings. Orange strobe lights flashed within them, signalling the alarm that Hobbs must have triggered.
"That's not really an answer."
"Ramsey!"
Sharp pain shot through her sides and calves as Letty ran, breathing heavily. Any distance they could put between themselves and the warehouse was better than nothing, but all those windows—all that glass—would turn to shrapnel the moment that bomb blew.
They needed somewhere safer.
Somewhere…
Tyres screeched ahead of them as an SUV came flying around the corner.
Hobbs' Gurkha, in all its armored glory, with Little Nobody behind the wheel. "Get in!"
He pulled up in front of them, only waiting the few seconds it took them to climb into the car and shut the door, before he floored it and swung the car west.
"I was setting up the link for her to call Mia," Ramsey stammered. "We were…Hobbs—Jakob has a bomb. He has a bomb! Inside the…"
They parked behind one of the few brick buildings on the base, sitting almost parallel against its rear wall.
"Get down on the floor," Eric said, clambering over the centre console and into the rear seating area. "Come on! We don't have—"
* * *
"This better be a false alarm," Deckard groaned, rolling out of bed. He reached over and slapped the thin wall that divided his room from Owen's. "Oi! Get up."
"Piss off."
It'd taken them twelve hours to remove the ruined front of Owen's ramp car and replace it with a spare rig. And if that one was destroyed, well, it'd be days before they built another.
Deckard snatched his own keys from his nightstand and the pistol he'd carried all the way from their mum's house. The one that Hobbs had either ignored or somehow missed.
"Yo, anyone know what the hell is going on?" Roman groaned as Deckard stepped out into the motel parking lot. Dom, Tej and Brian all milled around as well, looking like they'd just rolled out of bed. "Come on, man, it's midnight. What's with all the—"
"Get down!"
They yelled as one—Dom, Deckard, Brian and Owen—voices overlapping as a bright light illuminated the distant sky, followed by a fireball that billowed out, filling the sky above the warehouse. It all happened in a matter of seconds, followed by the loud, unmistakable roar of the explosion.
And then all hell broke loose.
Everything within half a mile of the warehouse was torn apart and turned to rubble, glass shattered and metal twisted. The warehouse itself became a burning mass of steel, consumed by smoke and fire.
All while Dom screamed. The howling of a man who suddenly remembered something important. "Letty!"
Without a word, Deckard threw his car keys to Owen and drew his pistol from where it sat tucked into his pants. Owen slid in behind the steering wheel, waiting the two seconds it took Deckard to climb in and no longer.
He floored it and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Dom and the others to stand there, choking on their dust.
"It's not a coincidence," Deckard said, double-checking his magazine was loaded. "Alarm goes off. Building blows. That's—"
"No shit. North or south?"
To the north were empty buildings, the fence line, and then nothing but desert. To the south lay the highway.
"North. He'll take out the plane and go north," said Deckard. "Less interference. Jakob has the advantage out on the sand."
It sounded logical, and when Owen took the time to think about it, his gut said Deckard was right. Jakob had used the terrain last time. He'd be a fool to forsake that advantage now when up against people who could easily outpace him on asphalt.
But a desert plain—
"…read me…" Their radio crackled to life, but interference turned most of the message into a garbled mess. "…help."
"This is Delta Sierra," Deckard snatched up the receiver. "Say again?"
"…trapped…Letty…west…"
Fuck. Owen tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. If they drove north, away from the chaos, they just might find Jakob in his Mustang. But west, somewhere, was Letty, and what sounded like someone else.
"Owen." Deckard looked at him. "We let this bastard go and Cipher will hit us again."
"She's pregnant."
"What?"
"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. Her and Toretto were talking on the plane. Letty's pregnant. She doesn't want to tell anyone yet."
"Jesus." Deckard glanced out the window. The sky above them was already turning red with dust and ash, turning the moon's light into an eerie glow. "If someone's on the radio, they're in a car."
"If she's in a car at all," Owen said. "Where the fuck are Toretto and the others?"
"We don't even have enough room for…"
"Then we go one at a time. Any bottled water in this thing?"
"Yeah. There's two beneath the seat."
Good. They were going to need it by the time they found whoever was calling. With all the metal and fuel that'd be burning inside what remained of the warehouse, the air would be toxic enough to choke on. A damp shirt wrapped around his face, although not ideal, was better than nothing.
"West," Owen said, looking at Deckard for confirmation. "I won't make the same mistake twice."
Deckard nodded reluctantly, only to be thrust back in his seat as Owen floored it, heading south to cut around the scrapheap. "Find her and the others. Get safe. Make the call."
There was no question as to what his brother was talking about. Cipher and Jakob had just sent them one hell of a message, and it was time to return the favour.
"Try them again," Owen said. "Might be less interference out here."
"This is Delta Sierra. Does anyone copy?"
"…Shaw! We're…Fuck," Little Nobody coughed. "We're trapped. Four streets west…car got flipped. Headlights on. Is Dom with you?"
"They're at the motel," Deckard said, squinting through the window at the unlit street. Someone had finally shut off the power to the base, plunging everything into an eerie yet silent darkness, save for the hum of their engine and the crackle of the burning mass at the base's centre. "Where's Letty and Ramsey?"
"We're here," she groaned. "So are Jakob and Hobbs."
"Say again?"
"Hobbs set off the alarm," Ramsey said. "We saw Jakob with the bomb."
"What about Beth?"
"No sign."
Deckard released the transmit button on the receiver. "Hobbs boarded—"
"Yes."
"Now he's here."
Owen sighed. One day, he'd have to fill Deckard in on what exactly went down in Spain, and Hobbs' prior experience with betrayal. "That's usually how it works."
"He wouldn't…"
"Apply enough pressure," Owen said as they reached the base's western side, "and any man will turn against his team."
Four streets. He counted each road then turned off his headlights and peered out, searching for the beams that Eric mentioned. It was a struggle to see them at first, but beneath a pile of rubble, there was something that might be vehicle shaped. The faintest hint of light emanating from…
"Drive!"
Headlights flashed in their rear view, illuminating a blue hood with a lone white stripe down its centre. Owen slammed the accelerator down and the McLaren surged forward, howling past what they could both now see was the vehicle they'd been searching for.
"…Was that you guys?" Eric's voice came through the radio. "Shaw?"
"Jakob's on our arse," Deckard said, radio in one hand while he unclipped his belt with the other. The driver's side window slid down as they cleared the top of the street, swinging wide and turning around to face the Mustang. "Be done in a minute."
"Done?" said Jakob, "I'm only getting started."
Owen drove down the empty stretch of road on the Mustang's left side. One hand on the wheel, he slid in a pair of ear plugs. Deckard did the same, just in time as they began to align with Jakob's side window.
"Give Cipher our…"
Jakob smiled and leaned back in his seat, revealing Hobbs beside him. Dressed in body armour from the neck down, Luke turned to look at them, his eyes as cold and devoid of emotion as Deckard had ever seen.
Back in Hobbs' office that night, all those years ago, the Fed had been determined, but this was true ruthlessness. The brutal stare of a man who had everything to lose.
"I don't think so," Jakob said, lifting something off his dash. His side window slid down, only for him to toss whatever it was into the McLaren. "But I will give your sister my condolences."
Owen looked down at his lap, his brain processing the familiar sight of a grenade, while Deckard forced his own window down.
"Throw it!"
He did.
Through the driver's side window.
It fell into the gap between the two cars, clattering against the road. Owen didn't hesitate to send the supercar flying down the street, putting as much distance as he could between them and the Mustang. As they turned the corner, the grenade blew, sending shrapnel flying in every direction.
Letty's included.