Buckle Up and Bunker Down

Skye slid into the black leather seats of her dearly-beloved Mustang. She didn’t turn the key right away – oh no. She simply closed the door and waited for the other cars to clear and for the Nissan GTR to pull up beside her. She could feel the epinephrine release slowly into her system as the anticipation built in her stomach. The new guy – Derek – was a cocky bastard and she couldn’t wait to knock him from the high horse he paraded around upon. This was a race he stood no chance in winning. The weight of the Super Snake wasn’t enough to give that damn tuner the advantage.

To be crude, he was screwed – and they both knew it.

Excitement bubbled past her lips to be released as a giggle when she finally heard and saw the black GTR slow to a halt at her left. At that point, she reached forward and turned the key. The deep rumble of classic American muscle roared into life, and Derek could do nothing but marvel in complete awe…and rather undeniable envy. It was like nothing he had ever heard or felt before and the testosterone churning in his core raged and wanted…and then wondered how in the hell a feminine woman like this ‘Skye’ could possibly handle all of that vehicle. For the briefest of moments he entertained the thought that maybe – just maybe – he stood a chance.

…and then the engine revved and all hope was lost.

With the dainty push of a button, Skye’s window rolled down and she casually draped an arm across it to get Derek’s attention. The dark passenger window of the GTR rolled down and she flashed the undercover officer a bright smile. She was enjoying her impending victory much too-much.

…but the lieutenant wasn’t going to just surrender.

“I’ll give you one last chance to back down!” She punctuated the statement by lightly tapping the gas pedal twice and producing the desired menace of the growling engine.

He smirked…and then got an idea.

“I’m all in…unless you would like to back down?”

Again the engine snarled twice, that derisively sweet smile upon her lips.

“That answer your question?”

He chuckled. He was starting to like this woman more and more. Her confidence almost seemed to match his! And that was impressive!

“Well then, I’ll make you a deal: If I win, you buy me dinner and if you win, I’ll buy you dinner.”

The raven-haired woman studied him briefly and then tilted her head back to emphasize the laughter that followed. Derek, however, remained unfazed. He instead kept the most nonchalant expression he could muster. Yes, he was “putting the moves” on her…it was all a part of the plan.

“Well…? What do you say?”

Mischievous blue eyes met his green. Skye would admit – silently, of course – that the driver of the GTR was undeniably good looking. Hell, who wouldn’t admit it? You would be lying if you said otherwise. It was obvious that he took care of his body. She could see the outline of the muscles of his arms and shoulders even by the faint light of the moon. The added glow of the GTR’s cluster panel also allowed her to bear witness to the clothed definition of his chest…what could she say? She was a sucker for a well-kept guy. Unfortunately, this one was a pompous asshole, and if she were to agree to this bet, she would only be feeding his already insurmountable ego.

…unless she stood him up.

“You’re on, Pretty Boy.”

At the nickname, his irritation piqued just slightly. He was aware that he was a lot of things -several not quite so nice - and that a ‘pretty boy’ was clearly not among them…but he composed himself. She had accepted – that was all that mattered at that point. He had the hook in, now all he had to do was start the slow, potentially painstaking process of reeling her in. So, again, he flashed his prize-winning smirk and nodded.

“Perfect! Lay down the law, Gorgeous.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes pointedly before answering.

“Your new pal there, Jimmy…” She paused briefly and gestured to the Challenger that was then-parked on the side of the road. “…will honk three times – third time is go.”

Derek’s green orbs drifted to the headlights of the rumbling Dodge. So that was that guy’s name! He filed it away for later.

“Tonight, it’s just a straight race with only one drift-able curve. The end is there-“ she pointed to the headlights stretched across the pavement a few miles down the otherwise abandoned road “-with Chris and TJ in a 350z and RX-8, respectively. The line their headlights make across the road is the finish.” She then purposefully rolled her head to face him. “Got it?”

As he assessed the track fleetingly, he frowned at the curve, but steadied himself with a slow breath.

Well…he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He mimicked her previous response of revving the GTR’s engine twice, the considerably higher tenor of his tuner’s exhaust a rather drastic contrast to its opponent. He briefly considered it akin to hearing a lion's roar and then a cat's hissing growl...

“Got it. Shall we?” he offered with a nod.

Skye was grinning wildly as their windows slid smoothly up to softly ‘thump’ into place. She gave a staccatoed double honk to let Jim know to start the countdown...and he did.

First horn.

She inhaled slowly and her lips parted to release the carbon dioxide building up in her lungs. Her eyes closed as time started to slow.

Second horn.

Both drivers dropped their right hands to their shifters and left-feet hovered over clutches. Skye lethargically opened her eyes and revved once…then twice…then…

Third horn.

Within seconds, reflexes took over: feet slammed to gas pedals, tires spun in place and cars took off. The GTR was first off of the line and Derek was doing everything in his power to play on that advantage. Foot to the floor, he glanced back only once to see the Super Snake’s headlights beginning to bear down on him.

Then he stopped looking back.

Skye was neither surprised nor panicked. She had expected the GTR to take off just like it had and had the distance of the race been shorter, she might have worried. But compared to her, Derek was blatantly an amateur, although not a bad driver by any means. So she let the muscle memory control the transition through gears as the space between the two cars started to close. The curve was where she really expected to take control. At the speeds they would be cruising towards, it was a prime corner to drift around…and her favorite on the entire road. Not to mention the heavy Mustang drifted quite beautifully…

Neither driver had time to marvel at the seamless chorus of the differently-tuned engines.

As the curve rapidly approached, Derek started to hesitate and slow…while Skye kept a steady pace at the height of her second gear. His loss of speed gave her the chance to meet and slowly surpass him. His jaw clenched as he took notice and attempted to execute the handbrake drift he had pulled earlier in the day with the stock car. He hugged the inside of the corner, fighting all-the-while to cut it close while the customized real-wheel drive kept the rear-wheels spinning.

Skye, on the other hand, gladly took the outside of the corner. Just before she turned into the corner, she tapped the break and flicked the steering wheel in the opposite direction of the turn, effectively and abruptly shifting the weight of the car before turning the wheel back in towards the turn. This resulted in the rear of the car swinging outward as her foot slammed onto the gas and she turned the wheel back in the opposite direction. The Mustang slid fluidly and quickly around the curve, the rear bumper hovering just over the edge of the road as the rest of the car sailed past the struggling GTR. Back on the straight-track, Skye’s transition was, again, flawless.

All the while, Derek cursed and fought to regain ground…when an odd grating noise reached his ears.

His green eyes became nearly poisonous in his fury as they shot to the gauges set in the dashboard…where the needle for temperature was steadily rising.

“Those bastards,” he swore, punching first the steering wheel and, as he slowed, the window. He didn’t even acknowledge the pain blossoming in his hand nor the small crack that had formed in the glass. Once he had screeched to a halt, he threw the door open, rose, and unceremoniously reared his leg back and kicked the back quarter-panel to add a new bruise to the vehicle.

The assholes had set him up to fail!

Skye had continued on without noticing the GTR’s distress and passed across the headlights to the hoots and cheers of her race-mates. She fluently slid into a j-turn, ending up with the nose of the powerful muscle car facing the now-stationary headlights of the GTR. Leaving her car running, she opened the door and stood, laughing as she leaned against the window. With the utmost satisfaction, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted.

“Having some engine trouble, Pretty Boy?”

Derek snarled a fuming response as he started the miserable and embarrassing trek of shame to the other cars…on foot.

“Guess so,” he finally called back. He could just hear the amused pleasure lilting from her tone. He couldn’t believe those bastards at the station had purposely set a trigger…he knew he should have done a sweep of the car beforehand…

As Skye was chatting amiably with Chris and TJ, waiting for the others to arrive, she glanced off-handedly at the male tromping rather pathetically towards them by the headlights of the stalled tuner…

…the suddenly-smoking GTR.

Her eyes widened.

“Derek – get down!”

The mentioned male eyed the flailing woman with raised brow. What the hell was she saying…?

“PRETTY BOY! Get the hell down! Your car is about to-“

She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

The GTR sparked and, with what seemed to be an earth-shattering clamor that broke the still air of the night, exploded.

The racers at a distance all ducked behind their cars and swore, shocked at the outcome. Luckily for Derek, he was just far enough from the then-shell of a car to not get caught up in the expulsion of energy. Despite his arrogance, he was not immune to the overwhelming confusion as he spun around and stared wide-eyed at the blazing car.

He was going to murder the assholes that gave him that damned car. They could’ve killed him!

Skye was the first to recover, blue eyes cold and calculating on the inferno before her protective instincts triggered. She turned to her slowly-rising companions and cursed loudly.

“Get in your cars and get the hell out!”

Perplexed, several started to question her, which only caused her to silence them angrily.

“That damn piece of shit is drawing way too much attention! It’s a fucking beacon to the cops!” She looked at each man in turn. “Get. Out!”

It took a while, but most finally started to move and climb into their vehicles to speed off in their respective directions. Walking away from his Challenger, Jim’s stern expression centered on the younger woman who was bent across the driver’s seat of her car to rummage for something in the glove compartment.

“What are we doing about the kid?”

She backed from the vehicle and straightened to meet the taller male’s gaze. For a moment, she was quiet. Her clouded blue orbs flitting to the stranger who was facing the blaze in a generally furious stance accompanied by some kicking of the asphalt. As she weighed her options, she found that leaving him there appeared to be a brilliant idea. He could walk his ass to the nearest Turbine Freight and find his own way home! That would knock his ego down a few notches! The mental image of the haughty and egotistical man having no other option than to walk miles to a Freight Station brought a rather malicious and sadistic smirk to her lips.

“He’s a big boy – he’ll find a way home.”

Jim chuckled and patted her shoulder.

“Right. See ya tomorrow night, Oh Malevolent Benefactor.”

She smiled cheerfully – an abrupt change of expression from the evil radiating off of her last.
“Later!”

While the Challenger rumbled into life and sped off, Skye slid into her own car and slammed the door closed. Her right hand dropped to and gripped the shifter and she purposely stepped on the gas to rev loudly in neutral. This elicited the desired response from Derek, who turned to watch the last car start casually down the road…

…away from him.

He stood there for a moment – dumbfounded. There was no way she was serious…she couldn’t have been. It was all just a ploy to make him panic. As an unnatural, powerful breeze kicked up from an unknown source behind him, he verbally groaned. He knew what that was a harbinger of even before the garishly bright spot lights descended down upon the pavement about a mile from the officer. Derek turned and shielded his eyes with his hands.

The guys at the office were never going to let him live that down.

Had Skye done anything but driven lackadaisically away, she might not have seen the bright lights that started to scope the road just behind the immobile man. As she glanced up in her rear-view mirror, she frowned. Guilt began to eat away at her conscience. If she ignored him and kept on her merry way, he would undoubtedly be caught and arrested, which only added salt to the fresh and open wound of his lost car…but going back for him meant risking her own capture. She didn’t know if she was willing to jeopardize losing everything for some cocky prick she had just met.

…and then she thought about what she would feel like if something were to happen to Keith…

She growled curses at the nagging fault before slamming on the break and sliding into a one hundred and eighty degree turn. Once she was facing the other direction, she her foot forced the gas pedal into the floor and recovered from a slight fish-tail to speed towards the otherwise helpless male…

It took a moment for Derek to hear the unmistakable rumble of the Mustang…and a moment more to realize it was getting louder. Astonished, he turned around and caught sight of the bright white headlights drawing ever-closer. A smirk started to reclaim his lips. She was going back for him; that was definitely a good thing. On top of it all was the fact that he would no-longer have to explain how he would inevitably ‘escape’ from prison…

The muscle car swerved at his right to come to a screeching halt with the passenger door on the opposite side.

“Get in the damn car!” she called through the open window. Even with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was granted a moment of insanity to cringe at her own words. She still couldn’t believe she was doing this…

Luckily for them both, he didn’t hesitate to throw the passenger door open and stumble into the seat just as the Duocopter’s search lights reached the car. The crisp sound of a voice warning the car to freeze via a large speaker could just barely be heard over the engine of the beast as it roared into gear, rear tires spinning before launching the vehicle down the road.

“I hope you realize that you just saved my ass.”

“Put your seatbelt on,” was her instantaneous response.

Derek was taken aback at the harshness of her tone. He – Derek Avery, famously egotistical cop – had basically thanked her and even tried to feed her own ego a little. He didn’t do that for anyone…and that was her response?

His own eyes hardened and became an acidic green. She couldn’t be serious.

“What?”

With most of her concentration on trying to outrun and outmaneuver their pursuers, she took only a slice of it to cast a sharp side-long glance at him.

“Put. Your. Fucking. Seatbelt. On.” She articulated slowly. “Or I swear to whatever god there is that I will kick your cocky-ass to the curb.”

His jaw clenched as he felt his temper spike. He had to stay calm. He couldn’t lash out…not yet, anyway. He’d have to save it for later when she was safely restrained in a pair of handcuffs. Instead, he snorted and grudgingly did as he was told, sneering all the while.

“Yeah, sure. I’d hate to be a fucking inconvenience.”

It took most of her will-power not to bring the car to a screeching hault and pummel Derek into the curb…but that would’ve gotten blood on her seats. She took a turn down a dark side-road that led towards a much-more heavily wooded area, very aware of the lights bearing down on them as she spoke.

“Well you are a ‘fucking inconvenience’, actually. So just shut the hell up, reach into the glove box and tie the rag around your eyes.” Someone with the inability to hear would have been able to discern the scathing tone of her voice. “I don’t trust or like you, but I gave in to my conscience and went back for your sorry-ass. Now,” she paused to shift up another gear. “Put on the damn blindfold so I can lose those idiots for good.”

He was at a complete loss for words: never in his life had a woman of any kind so strongly and blatantly rejected any of his advances. Outspoken, harsh and unforgiving, she was completely new territory to him. He was both livid…and intrigued. She was a challenge, and, at the risk of being cliché, it was a damn good thing he liked challenges.

So, in a fuming silence, he did as she instructed and opened the glove compartment before slamming it closed with the stained rag in hand. He ignored her angry muttering as he tied the cloth tightly around his face. He considered trying to discreetly make some sort of peep-hole…but quickly decided against it. He was going to have to ramp up the charm in order to gain her trust. The peep-hole could come later. Instead, he just tried to ignore the faint, oily smell of the cloth.

Skye seethed impatiently while the aggravating man in her passenger seat finally did as she told him to without question. Alas, not without some muttered comment, though. She had only one choice – she had to go home. It was the best way to lose the Duocopter that was probably scrambling for a way around the trees. Those hindrances also shielded any number of twists, intersections and turns of roads as well as the one particular route that eventually led back into the open and onto her own road.

Living on old farmland in the middle of nowhere had its perks.

After a solid twenty minutes of driving without sight of the oppressive spotlights and suspiciously strong winds trailing behind, Skye found herself relaxing at last. Without the constant concern the police brought, she sat back and enjoyed the drive along the meandering, hill-ridden and empty road. Keith was truly a work of mechanical art and it never ceased to appall her that the government had banned such incredible machines. Each shift in gear was smooth and effortless, the handling sublime. Apparently, people were too untrustworthy to have adrenaline-ridden fun.

C’est la vie.

The pair rode in silence even as the powerful vehicle began to coast to a noticeably slower speed, the engine revving high as the driver down-shifted occasionally. As the car began to jolt, shake and bounce unnaturally, Derek realized that they were no-longer on a paved road…perhaps not even on a road at all.

Unbeknownst to him, he was surprisingly accurate with the latter thought.

To help keep suspicion to a minimum, the Harrison family had underhandedly acquired and installed the highest quality and virtually undetectable synthetic grass throughout the entirety of their seven or so acres of land. It left no visible tracks no matter how often it was trampled or, in that particular case, driven over. Also, there was none of the standard upkeep that a normal lawn would need.

With a cautionary glance at the still-sightless male, her left hand discreetly brushed against a small button disguised as a bolt meant to hold the pieces of the dashboard together. The telltale hiss of a nearly silent hydraulic system broke through the lulling rumble of the engine as the car seemed to turn and then back down at a slight angle. The growl of the engine echoed and bounced around what was the underground and neatly-concealed garage. It took only a few minutes for the car to come to a halt on level ground, at which point Skye engaged the emergency break and let the engine die off into silence. She huffed an irritated sigh in the silence that followed.

Derek hesitated a moment and then reached for the cloth covering his face…only to have his hand slapped.

“What the-“

“You think that I blindfolded you all the way here just to let you see everything else? No. Keep it on.”

The lieutenant was finally getting fed up.

“Really? What the hell do you think I’m going to do? Tell the world where your precious hiding place is?” Well…it wasn’t the world. “I’m sure all your other racing buddies know it so what’s the big deal?”

The growl that emanated from the back of her throat was the least-feminine thing he had ever heard from an otherwise effeminate being. It actually more-closely resembled the growl of the engine she took such pride in.

“No, as a matter of fact, they don’t. We don’t know where any of us keep our secrets or where we work. That way, if one of us is caught, there is no personal information to spill.”
So…maybe they weren’t quite as naïve as he thought.

“And names?”

At that question, she smirked and, although he couldn’t see it, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear it in her voice.

“We don’t specify whether we give first names or nicknames. “

And it was her own arrogance that made her use her genuine first name…

…but he didn’t need to know that.

“Now, if you’re done trying to poke holes in my assorted ideas and instructions, you can get out of the car and shut the door all by yourself. I will lead you from there.”

He heard her own door open followed by the shift of her weight on the leather before the eventual slamming of her door. He smirked quietly to himself. Maybe they weren’t as stupid as he thought…but it was definitely time for him to turn on the charm if he hoped to make any progress. He started to grope for the door handle, only to have it click and the entire door slip out from under his grasping fingers. The rush of air that hit him smelled of a cocktail of gasoline, oil and other assorted fluids, exhaust and new tires. Quite the assault on the olfactory senses.

“Taking a bit long, there – need help?” the scornful tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed, so he snorted.

“I think I’ll be fine…” He paused, and a suave smirk wheedled its way across his lips. “…especially with you to guide me.”

She didn’t acknowledge the comment, only rolled her eyes and waited for him to stand. She took hold of his shirt and yanked him aside in order to close the door once he had risen.

“Now listen: I’m going to keep a hand on your shoulder to direct you. And do us both a favor: keep your mouth shut.”

Derek puffed and gave a sarcastic and exaggerated sigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was her turn to smirk. My – wasn’t he suddenly being the obedient little rat? For a moment, she questioned his motives…but was so thoroughly pleased with his silence that she didn’t care. She simply enjoyed the silence they walked in, only broken by the shuffling of steps and her occasional warning to step up. What Derek didn’t realize, was that the darkness that encompassed his sight, also encompassed hers. Luckily for him, she knew the shadowy path like she knew her car: forwards, backwards, and all the little side-pockets in between. As they started an ascent of stairs, it wasn’t long until he was exposed to a rush of cool night air smelling of grass and other assorted flora.

It was bizarre: he realized just how far out of his environment he was. He had grown up and lived in cities all his life. A night without the miscellaneous backdrop of whirring and murmuring urban life was entirely foreign to him. The rustic hush had successfully made him uncomfortable. Even the gentle brush of blades of grass against his jeans was akin to the grating of nails against an archaic chalkboard.

…or what old movies had shown it to be like.

And Skye, being the perceptive woman she could be, sensed his abrupt tension and further relaxed. He was in her domain, and he stood no chance as far as she was concerned. She held the silence until her modest home came into view. At that point, she gave a notable tug on his shirt to stop his progression and brusquely tore the blindfold from his face. He flinched and his pupils abruptly dilated in their abruptly-regained sight before readjusting.

He took an instant to gauge the surroundings. The grass he had heard brushing against his knees had not quite recovered from the winter’s snowfall and still showed some tints of brown. Trees were scattered throughout the property in different stages of growth and clustered particularly around the otherwise unremarkable, two-story and fairly old-fashioned home.

He was dragged from his pointed scrutiny by the abrupt reentry and sashay of hips into his line of sight.

Eyes. Up.

“Follow me, Mr. Pretty Boy,” she instructed and cast a glance over her shoulder. He just faintly caught a glimpse of her much more composed and lucid blue eyes rimmed in thick, dark lashes.

He hoped his patience lasted…he was well-matched and keeping his calm just long enough could prove any number of positives…

As they approached the house, he decided to take a chance with conversation.

“So…you live here alone?”

He would admit that he had thought of more debonair conversation starters…but that would do for the time being. Especially considering she actually answered him.

“Yes, I do.”

Short and clipped, but an answer none-the-less. An answer she wasn’t certain as to why she even bothered to entertain. Naturally, one response gave him the self-assurance to probe deeper.

“All alone way out here?” his enigmatically mischievous smirk returned as, in a few long strides, he fell into step at her left. “Don’t you get scared when things go ‘bump’ in the night?” he leaned a bit closer for emphasis…and she brushed right past him.

“The closest neighbor isn’t’ for miles. You think thieves of any sort would really be interested in coming all the way out here for some outdated house?” she scoffed.

He didn’t let her dismissal deter him even slightly. Instead, he continued to ease into a more determined dialogue. Well, it could be more easily defined as a ‘Q&A’ session, but it was better than nothing.

“Well…if you ever need a big, strong roommate…”

“I have an arsenal to protect myself with. I’ll be fine.”

He put his hands up in defense as she withdrew the card key from her pocket and fed it into the scanner beside her door handle.

“I’m just looking to return the favor.”

At that, she found that her eyes rolled yet again before she glanced back at him and punched a code into the touch screen that materialized above the scanner.

“Consider my saving your ass compensation for letting your car explode.”

He faltered as the scanner returned her key and the door slid open inward. Was that the real reason she went back for him? She felt guilty about the car?

He didn’t get the chance to ask.

She slipped into the house and immediately disappeared up the stairs, leaving his curiosity to wander around the bottom floor of the house.

Skye was becoming uncomfortable again. She wasn’t used to having or entertaining guests…particularly male ones. Making her living space known made her that much more vulnerable, so whatever trysts she allowed took place far from her own home. How was she supposed to unwind with someone else in the house?

She hastily quelled the complaints her mind dredged up. She had made the decision to go back for him, knowing full-well that he would have to stay with her. Protests would not make her feel any better. So, instead, she resigned herself to scrounge up some extra blankets and sheets and returned to the first floor to find her invader peering curiously at the pictures she had placed so neatly upon the mantel of the fireplace.

Pictures of her and her father.

The geneticist’s expression hardened and she forcefully cleared her throat to successfully draw his attention away. She extended the folded blankets at arm’s length.

“Here. The room’s back there,” she jutted her thumb behind her. “In the morning, I’ll take you to the nearest Freight Station and you can get to wherever it is you need to go.”

Derek took the blankets from her hands, a smirk still playing across his lips. “And if I get scared…?” He stepped closer and leaned towards her face to bring his lips mere inches from hers. “Can I come sleep with you?”

Although taken aback by the abrupt lack of personal space, Skye didn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching away. Instead, she kept an impassive expression and cast a disinterested glance at the well-shaped lips suspended inches from hers only to meet his gaze again.

“Climb under your own covers and deal with it. Goodnight.” She turned and re-ascended the stairs to her bedroom, unaware of the amused green eyes that followed her until she disappeared into a door.

Derek was really going to enjoy that case.