"What've we got?" Agent Ackland Johnson said as he entered the Los Angeles branch of the US Marshals, an organization under the US Department of Justice. He placed his Starbucks down on his desk and looked at his men.

Agent Carolyn Manson came toward him and placed a folder in front of him. "Puerto Rican girl. About age twenty-six. She's been working as a double agent: driver for one, Arturo Braga, and a liason for the FBI. They've been cooperating with us on this one. They want us to set it up so we can get her a new identity and a new home if something happens to go sour."

Agent Johnson frowned as he looked at the pretty Latina girl in the picture. She was a little grungy but definitely a looker. She looked familiar actually. He dug through some more files and then frowned, deeply at what he found.

"Set it up, Manson. And keep this on the down-low. Only tell who you need to tell. If that includes FBI, fine. It not, then don't go there." He took a swig of his coffee and set it down on his desk.

Leticia Ortiz, he thought. What does fate have in store for you?


"She did it for you, Dom! She just wanted you to come home!" Brian growled at Dom after the bigger man had slugged him. The bigger man had just found out that Letty had been driving Braga's goods in cahoots with the FBI and that it had led to her death at the hands of Braga's man, Fenix Rise.

Later, when things had calmed down, Brian explained that she had made a deal: she'd drive for Braga, and feed the FBI with information on his operation, if they'd grant Dom clemency.

She'd died for Dom.

The guilt he felt was unbearable. He was going to fuck them up. All of them. For Letty and for himself.


"Tokyo, Japan?" Agent Johnson asked. He picked up the Ortiz file from one of the interns and frowned. "Why there?"

Agent Mason crossed her arms over her chest. "She's got a friend down there, I guess. A friend that no one up here knows is acquainted with her. She'd be able to stay with someone she's comfortable with and still be safer than she is here."

"And what reason have we got for her not being in the US anymore?"

"Well, when our agents showed up in Mexico to get her out, her car was in ruins and she had climbed halfway out of it. Fenix Rise was right there and he had a gun pointed at her. We were able to distract him long enough to get her out of there but we weren't able to apprehend him. With the entire set up of the accident and with Fenix wanting Braga to believe he hadn't messed the job up, we're going with the obvious: she's dead."

Johnson nodded. "And all the legal details behind that excuse have been fixed?"

"Yes, sir. We told her close friend, um…" She looked at the file. "Mia, that Rise killed her and then set the car ablaze, destroying any remains. A death certificate has been drawn up; a funeral was even had for her. Empty casket, of course."

"And has a new identity been assigned for her?"

"Um…" Mason looked at the file. "Anabella Gonzalez. She'll work as a mechanic in her friend's garage and go to classes at a small college in the city. They've already agreed to admit her based on her high school records."

"She graduated high school?" Johnson looked at the girl in the picture.

"Yep. And she got all As and Bs. She was really smart."

"Then why didn't she go to college in the first place?"

"She was good-looking."

"What does that have to do with any—oh…a man?"

"Yep. This girl had direct ties to Dominic Toretto. That Mia girl? Dominic's sister."

"Then maybe we're doing her a favor along with saving her life," Johnson said finally, putting her file down. "Get it done, and get it done fast."

"Yes, sir."


Six months after Letty's death, Dom, Brian and Mia were hiding out in the Bahamas, working on cars—as always—and Dom was finally starting to recover from his broken heart. Despite all he'd done to put her in danger in the past, Letty had been his whole world.

It was then that the shit hit the fan. Again.

Mia walked into the garage, holding the phone. "Dom, it's for you. Some guy with an accent. Said he knew some guy named Han."

Dom placed his wrench down and wiped the sweat from his brow, before he held out his hand and took the phone from her. "This is Dom."

You don't know me. But I knew Han and he told me a lot about you. Took me a while to track you down.

"Are you a cop? Is this someone calling to warn me I'm about to get picked up?"

No. I just called to tell you…listen, man, this isn't easy but…Han is dead.

The phone smashed against the wall before the man could say anymore.


Leticia Ortiz, now known as Anabella Gonzalez, had been out of town on a college trip when everything with DK, Sean and Han had gone down. When she returned, Han was dead and there was a new DK in town. She knocked over, smashed and threw every tool in Han's garage she could get her hands on when she found out. She was angry, sad and confused.

She didn't understand why every person important to her always left. Or was taken.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to go far away. Away from the pain, away from everything. But she had no where to go. No where that was safe.

Even if the rumors were true…even if Braga was behind bars…even if Fenix Rise was dead…

She was sure Braga had a second. And she was sure that second was keeping Braga's organization alive. She wasn't safe. She knew too much about the drugs. About everything. She could not leave.

But if Han wasn't around, how could she be safe?


"Anabella?" came a voice as the door slid open. The man had a Navy man's build, even if he was a little chubby around the gut. He had salt-and-pepper gray and white hair. Behind him was a younger man, eighteen, maybe nineteen, who was a little taller than him and had buzzed brown hair.

"Yeah, that's me," mumbled the girl, her own dark brown-black hair, which curled naturally at the ends, pulled back into a high ponytail, a few curly tendrils hanging around her tightly pulled lips. She wasn't happy with this arrangement at all.

"I'm Mr. Boswell. This here's my son, Sean."

Sean Boswell? The new Drift King? Anabella had to smirk at the irony, though it was a bitter expression since her eyes held nothing but anger and pain.

"Come on in. Um…there are only two bedrooms but you can sleep on the couch. I know it's cramped but I guess Han left a note. Said he had someone he was taking care of, someone he wanted Sean to look after if something happened to him. He really trusts my son, I guess. And, uh, I know what your situation is. The…people…who set you up with Han called me. We'll take care of you, okay? Right, Sean?"

Sean looked at the girl. She was beautiful. A little old for him, maybe. And he was quite happy with Neela. But maybe he'd bring her to the next drift races. He was sure Twinkie would enjoy trying to hit on her. And she looked like she needed to have some fun. Or at least get laid.

"Yeah. We'll take good care a'ya," replied the thick southern accent and Sean grinned, pleasantly at her.

Keep dreamin', chico. You ain't getting' none of this, thought the young woman as she dropped her stuff and sat down on the couch. So this was her life now?



Disclaimer: I own nothing.