Adrenaline

As she approached her suite and let herself in, Blair realized that she was instantly smitten by the fiery man she had just met. Toretto was a wild one, his reputation had preceded him to the Compound; he was a felon, convicted of jacking cars, semi trucks and a few gas trucks. But he had also taken down a major Mexican Drug Cartel, and seemed to be a good guy. Blair wasn’t used to meeting “good guys,” the only ones who lived in the Mansions were ones like the man with the King of Hearts - men who had been to prison and had been branded there.

Three days passed before Toretto finally knocked at her door, seeking her help. Blair had just climbed out of the shower and was squeezing the moisture from her hair when the knock came; she wrapped her towel around her middle and went to the door to unlock it.

“Oh my God, Dominic Toretto what have you done!” She exclaimed, letting the bulky man with the black eye and an enormous cut on his face in and immediately locked the door behind him. Blair went to get ice and a towel from her kitchen as Toretto explained himself.

“I didn’t know there were three of them,” Toretto murmured, helping himself to a Corona from the fridge before laying on the couch - when Blair placed the ice on his eye, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Why ever would you attempt to fight someone anyway?” Blair rolled her eyes as she spoke; her image of Toretto as unpredictable had been right.

“I feel all pent up here. I need something to do. I need a car,” The muscular man looked at the little redhead and wondered why she looked so disappointed in him.

“I figured you could hold out a little bit longer until I re-stocked my garage. I sold a few cars to the Mafya here and haven’t chosen new ones.”

“Selling cars to the Mafya? Who the hell are you?” Toretto was unnerved by Blair’s calm smile, by how much it reminded him of Letty when she was up to no good.

“You’ll find out soon enough. I figured it was about time to upgrade the garage though; the stock was getting a bit old. So the boys and I re-enforced the cars with bulletproof material and some window tint and sold them to the Russians down in Moscow - they were about drooling over my babies.” Blair had a look of pride, as if they really had been her children that she had released into the world. “I have a few vehicles on… order. Some are harder to track down than others.” Toretto leaned his head back against the sofa, attempting to relax. It was nearly impossible for the huge man, so he watched Blair prepare herself a drink - vodka in a small glass tumbler with ice and a touch of olive juice. She slammed half of it down before she spoke.

“I’m going to go dress, ok darling? Keep yourself comfortable and keep that ice on your eye if you’d like to be able to see tomorrow.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the big beast of a man laying on her couch with an ice pack on his eye and a piece of paper towel on a cut. She selected a purple high-waisted skirt with a black, ruffled satin shirt and a pair of black tights, topped off with black high-heels and her red curly mane. Blair rarely wore more makeup than a swipe or three of mascara and lip balm.

Toretto was surprised at her quick change as she emerged from her room.

“So let’s go downstairs and talk shop then, shall we?” She asked, drinking the rest of her tumbler and seizing her key.

“Do I get to see your garage?” Toretto asked hopefully, leaving the ice pack and bloody paper towel on her black marble counter top, he felt inadequate in jeans and a white muscle shirt as he followed Blair, who had donned her black trench coat as she closed the door behind them.

“No, but you’ll get to see more of the house garage.” They walked in silence after that point, Toretto had no more questions and Blair was not in a chatty mood. She was a strange creature to Toretto, with all of her couture and that devilish accent. He watched as she stalked through the winding corridors and clacked down stairs to the garage.

Even though she looked extremely out of place, it was easy to see that Blair ruled the garage beneath the Mansion. Men stopped their work to hail her as she walked by, and she seemed to know each one of their names. The must have walked past at least a hundred people (there were a few women mixed in with the large majority of men) on their way to Blair’s parked BMW. Each parking space seemed to be its own separate garage, and Toretto had a feeling Blair was taking him the long way around to show this fact off. So far, he hadn’t seen any cars he liked - there was no American Muscle and very little Japanese work, just a lot of European engineering. He wasn’t certain if he liked it or not.

“So what exactly are we down here for.”

“Easy, silly, I’m due for an oil change. Can’t have the lubrication thickening up on us, can we?” Toretto gave a start at her crude joke; he ended up watching as she set up her workstation, first she searched for an oil pan, a few quarts of new synthetic and a pair of coveralls, which she hung on the edge of the workbench.

“Just in case,” Blair winked as she leaned over to open the hood, surveying with her arms above her head like an old pro. “Ah,” She bent over to grab the dipstick, she displayed a good bit of leg to the seated Toretto, who groaned inwardly.

“Why did you bring me down here anyway? Watching you change the oil in your high-end ‘ultimate driving machine’ is so much fun…” Blair whipped around to face the muscle man, wiping the dipstick off on the dirty rag she had tucked into her waistband for the purpose.

“Have you seen Brian and Mia recently? Are they enjoying themselves?” She asked nonchalantly, turning back around and bending over delicately. Toretto nearly leapt out of his seat to throttle her, but somehow managed to keep a level head.

“Listen lady, I’m stuck here because of you; I’m in need of a little entertainment. If I can’t get a car from you then I’ll find it elsewhere.”

“And get yourself caught by the authorities? Isn’t that why your family moved itself here to begin with?” Her haughty British accent drove him up a wall. “I’m not here to entertain you, and you’ll get a car when I believe you’re good and ready.” She wiped the oil-coated dipstick clean again.

“Your oil doesn’t need to be changed.” Toretto growled, getting out of his seat as she turned to replace the dipstick.

“You’re correct.” Blair nodded, screwing the cap on the oil canister. She straightened to find herself face-to-face with a livid Dominic Toretto; he seized the hood of the car and slammed it down just centimeters from her fingers. She could see a vein pulsing in his bald head. He could see her subtly mismatched eyes - one forest green and the other tempest blue - and a completely calm facade.

“Who the hell are you to decide when I get a car? I can get one whenever and however I want - you said so yourself!” Blair strained against Toretto‘s massive weight as he snarled at her, the sound of a wrench clattering to the ground was heard nearby as a few large men - whom Toretto recognized through his black eye - gathered around the opposite end of Blair’s BMW.

“I invite you to walk twenty miles into Tver and jack your own piece of shit Saab or Mercedes from the eighties. By all means Dominic.” Blair twisted in his grasp, she managed to raise herself into a standing position. Her nose almost touched his chest as Toretto spun the dainty little Brit around, clasping her arms to her side. That wry smile again appeared on Blair’s face as she nodded to the hefty security guards, who winced in pain in anticipation of what they knew was to come.

Toretto saw stars as a spiky heel smashed onto his instep, attempted to grasp at his stomach as a bony elbow stabbed his groin, and felt blood trickle down his face as a backhanded punch landed square on his nose. Blair stepped pertly away from her victim as Toretto went down - he hadn’t expected such a brutal attack from the little thing, he felt almost certain her heel had gone through his foot and that his nose was broken.

“When are you going to learn that you’re no longer the king of the scene Toretto?” Her cruel voice hovered above him.

“Who the hell are you,” He managed, looking up at Blair while she attempted to staunch blood flow from his nose. She offered him a hand, her smile deceptively kind - at least, Toretto thought so. The muscle man glanced at the girl as if there was a feral tiger in his path, he contemplated whether he could run away if she tried to eat him.

“Come, I’ll have to clean you up again and straighten up that nose,” Toretto refused her hand, but she forced her help upon him as he laboriously pulled himself to his feet, he leaned heavily on his right side. Deftly, Blair slipped herself under his right arm to offset his limp.