California's interstate system was the busiest in the country. Even the wildest biker gang couldn't just flip a U-turn in the middle of highway traffic to chase them down the exit ramp.
The midnight chase had ended as abruptly as it began.
"We're safe."
It took an extra fifteen miles of detour, but Hunter finally pulled up to Mia's house.
He silently thanked his past self for filling up the tank that afternoon. If he hadn't, that high-speed sprint would have left them stranded on the side of the highway, waiting for the wolves to catch up.
Mia knew they were safe, but she didn't let go. Her head remained resting against his back.
The adrenaline rush from the chase had left Hunter wired, but it had an even profounder effect on Mia.
Raised by Dom, she had gasoline in her veins. She was a skilled driver in her own right. But she had always been behind the wheel of a car, encased in steel.
Experiencing the raw, unfiltered speed of a motorcycle—the wind, the vulnerability, the trust—was something else entirely.
Even after the bike stopped, it took her a moment to come back down to earth.
"Thanks."
She hopped off the bike and handed the helmet back to him.
"You've got skills," she said, her eyes shining in the dim light.
She looked at him, smiling. Then, just as Hunter took the helmet, she made her move.
The mixed-race beauty stepped forward, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a soft, quick kiss on his cheek.
"Thanks for bringing me home."
"That was... exhilarating."
"Huh?"
Hunter was caught off guard. He blinked, stunned by the ambush.
When he looked back at her, he saw a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She met his gaze with a shy but daring look, then turned and walked quickly toward the house.
"I should go in. Remember to fix my car tomorrow and bring it to the shop!"
Hunter watched her retreat, waving until she disappeared inside. He reached up and touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.
The corners of his mouth curled up.
"What a fiery girl."
He hadn't expected her to be so proactive.
But who could complain? A sexy, charming girl showing clear interest in him after just a few interactions? It was every guy's dream.
Hunter wasn't made of stone. He admitted to himself that he was starting to fall for her too.
"Sorry, Brian O'Conner," he muttered to the empty street. "Looks like your future wife is off the market."
Over the last few days, he had confirmed that Mia wasn't just eye candy. She had personality. Initially, he debated whether to pursue her. Now? With her making the first move?
If he didn't reciprocate, he'd be wasting this second chance at life.
Hunter waved one last time at the empty doorway, turned the bike around, and roared off into the night.
The next morning, Hunter woke up early.
He was broke, which meant he had to drag himself back to the garage to earn a paycheck.
As for Mia's car...
He had checked it first thing in the morning. Just as he suspected, the battery terminal connection was loose. A few turns of a wrench and it was fixed.
But Hunter didn't drive it to the shop.
Are you kidding?
If he just returned the car, how would they meet again?
Did he expect Dom to just let him waltz into the Toretto house to see Mia? Dom might let Vince chase her, but he'd absolutely block a random mechanic from getting close.
And Hunter was just a regular employee right now. He needed Mia to come to him.
Returning to the garage after his "sick leave" was uneventful.
Aside from the manager—a slightly overweight white man named Lewis Parker, or "Old Parker"—asking how he was, nobody really talked to him.
Old Parker was in his fifties. Rumor had it he used to be a decent racer in the underground scene before a crash forced him into retirement. He opened this shop with his savings, and at some point, Dom bought in as a partner to have a secure place for his crew's cars.
The shop was small, with fewer than twenty employees, including Hunter. Three of them were apprentices like him, hired less than six months ago.
The pay wasn't great, but the barrier to entry was low. Most apprentices learned the basics in a month or two—oil changes, tire rotations, basic diagnostics—and then moved on to better-paying gigs.
Hunter had been here for four months. He was competent enough to handle routine issues and knew when to ask for help with the complex stuff.
Hunter was the only Asian in the shop and the youngest. He didn't have friends here before. Now, after the incident with Vince, the isolation was worse.
The other workers avoided him, likely afraid of getting on Vince's bad side by association.
Worse, they started dumping their workload on him.
"Hunter, handle this oil change."
"Hunter, verify the tire pressure on that lift."
Hunter didn't complain. He accepted every repair job with a hidden smile.
More EXP for me.
However, he completely ignored the grunt work—taking out trash, sweeping floors—that didn't yield skill points.
Old Parker noticed the bullying quickly. He wasn't a bad guy; he chewed out the lazy workers and, seeing Hunter diligently working on actual repairs, let him be.
Vince didn't show up. Neither did Mia.
She stayed away for four whole days. Maybe Dom had grounded her for coming home so late.
On the fourth day, just as Hunter was packing up his tools to leave, Old Parker called out to him.
"Hunter, hold up."
"I've got a side job. You interested?"