Fic: The Fast and The Gleeful (7/7)
Title: The Fast and the Gleeful
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt
A/N: This was going to be two chapters, but I rolled them into one - and this isn't quite the end, there's still an epilogue coming, so don't panic if there's still some stuff unanswered! :) Sorry for the massive delay in getting this finished, it just didn't want to get written! I hope it's worth the long wait!
Rachel’s shorts were almost too short, her t-shirt (decorated with the name of a band she didn’t know) was almost too tight, and her hair seemed much too short to her - but it was all worth it for the look on Quinn’s face.
“Fuck,” Quinn whispered. “That haircut looks really good on you.”
“You were looking at my hair?”
“Well, no, but it sounded less crude than saying ‘that ass is fucking amazing.’”
Rachel laughed, embracing her. “You’re looking pretty good yourself. Now, let’s go - I want to be having sex on the beach as soon as possible.”
“You mean the drink, right?” Quinn teased. They emerged into the living room, and Santana threw a passport and a driver’s license at each of them.
“Papers,” she explained unnecessarily. “Now, everybody listen up. We can’t all use the same border crossing - way too suspicious. So, we need to divvy them up.” She gestured to Artie, and he called up a map on his laptop. “Quinn and Rachel, you’re going to this one,” she pointed. “Britt and me are going to this one,” she pointed again, “and the three boys are going this way. Now,” she turned away from the computer, “everyone knows the meeting point. Keep a low profile, and for god’s sake pay off the Mexican cops if you need to. Better that than ending up in some craphole prison. We’re all taking different routes, so we’ll arrive there at least a few days apart. But by Friday, whoever’s going to show will be there. Everyone’s on board?”
They all nodded.
“Good. Drive safe, everyone, and I’ll see you on the beach - save me a margarita!”
There was a quick group hug, and everyone headed for their vehicles. With Beth destroyed and the car Rachel had driven still in impound, she and Quinn had to settle for a substandard Civic and hope that they wouldn’t need to outrun anyone. Quinn offered the drivers’ seat, but Rachel demurred.
“You drive, I’ll navigate.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t stare at you if I’m driving.” Quinn’s hair had black streaks shot through it, and her clothes had been replaced by a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt tied under her breasts. “And I want to stare at you.”
Quinn winked and they climbed in, pealing away from the now-empty house. They talked about inconsequential things, grateful for once not to be rushing away from anyone. They talked about their plans for life in Mexico - Quinn wanted to live in a tiny house with just the two of them, and Rachel agreed with the provision that it be within walking distance of a beach. Neither of them wanted children, but both agreed that a dog would be nice. As they approached their designated border crossing, the easy banter disappeared and was replaced by a silent tension. When the border services agent took almost five minutes to return with their passports, they nearly got out of the car and ran for it. But when he finally returned, he handed their papers over with a smile.
“Have a nice time in Mexico, ladies,” he leered down at Quinn’s chest, and she almost didn’t wait for the barricade to rise before she drove away.
“Pig,” she rolled her eyes. “Screw it, though - we’re in Mexico!” they cheered, squeezing each other’s hands tightly until they reached their first stop - a gas station. As they filled the Civic, Rachel’s eyes found a black sedan parked at the side of the road a few hundred feet back.
“Quinn,” she approached the other girl at the pump, keeping her voice low, “that guy’s following us. I saw him in the mirror after we crossed the border, and he’s just sitting there. Black sedan, to your right.”
Quinn surreptitiously turned her head. “Can you see the driver?” she murmured.
“No. Do you think it’s the police?”
“No - they wouldn’t bother with the cloak and dagger. Whoever they are, we can’t meet up with the others until we lose them.”
“Can we lose them in this car?”
“We can’t outrun them, if that’s what you mean. We’ll have to improvise.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was the oldest plan in the book, but it worked all the same. They drove a few miles from the gas station and pulled over, propping the hood up to simulate distress. Quinn grabbed two guns from a hidden compartment in the trunk, handing one to Rachel. “Remember,” she cautioned, “don’t start shooting unless you have to. I’m hoping we can settle this without anybody dead.”
They stood beside the car and flagged down the sedan as it passed. Two men got out, burly and dressed in dark suits, the bulge of their guns obvious under their jackets. One of them opened the back door, and a more diminutive man got out to join them. He was older, about mid-50’s, and he walked with a limp. He approached Quinn and Rachel, waving his men back.
“Quinn Fabray,” he wheezed. “My name is Francis St. James.”
Rachel tensed, but Quinn put a hand on her arm. “Nice to meet you, Mister St. James. What can we do for you?”
“I just wanted a polite discussion, that’s all. You did steal from me, after all.”
“And I am sorry about that - it was an error in judgement on my part.”
“That it was. But then you did me a favour, by taking my idiot stepchild out of the family business.”
“Jessie?”
“Indeed. The little idiot had no sense, and I was going to have to have him killed at some point, which would have made his mother very unhappy. But you saved me the trouble. So, we find the scales somewhat balanced.”
“But obviously there’s something you want from me, or you wouldn’t have bothered following me all the way to Mexico.”
“Quite,” he coughed. “I have heard tales of the dark-haired one’s driving prowess, that it was her who caused my son’s accident.”
“It was,” Quinn agreed.
“And I would like to see such driving for myself. I would like for her to race my eldest daughter, Sunshine.”
“And what if we say no?”
Francis shrugged. “Then we all go about our business, and never see each other again. But if you say yes,” he snapped his fingers, and one of the guards approached with a suitcase. He laid it on the trunk of their Civic and opened it to reveal a staggering amount of money. “And you win, then I give you five hundred.”
“Thousand?” Rachel squeaked.
“We don’t have a car,” Quinn protested. “Mine was totalled.”
“This I know. I have a source in the police, he liberated the car the dark-haired one drove from their impound lot.”
“And what if I lose?” Rachel asked, still tense.
“Then we keep car as trophy. It’s a simple bet - I enjoy good driving, and my associates tell me yours is very good indeed. What do you say?”
“When would this happen?”
“Rach-“
“Quiet, Quinn. When?”
“In two weeks. Here are GPS coordinates,” he passed Rachel a folded piece of paper. “We have an arrangement?”
“We do,” Rachel spoke over Quinn’s protests. “And my name is Rachel.”
“A fitting name,” he nodded. “I will see you in a week.” He made his way back to the sedan and climbed inside, followed by his goons. The car sped away, leaving the two of them standing at the side of the road.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were still arguing days later when they arrived at the rendezvous point, a large beach house with enough space for everyone, and climbed out of the cramped Civic.
“Rachel, I’m telling you-“
“You’re telling me? Quinn, you’re not my keeper, okay? He wants to see a race, and I’m going to give him one.”
“You think he’s going to play fair? He’s a fucking mafia boss, Rachel! I know you think you’re a master criminal now, but you have no idea who you’re fucking with here!”
“What have we got to lose? So he takes the car - big deal! We’d lost it anyway!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Santana, who’d come running out of the house, got between them. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Rachel’s a moron, is what’s going on!”
“Five hundred grand, Quinn! Imagine what we could do with five hundred grand!”
“Rachel, he’s never going to-“
“HEY!” Santana shouted, drowning them both out. “Someone explain. NOW!”
“We got tailed by the St. James family,” Quinn exhaled, trying to defuse the tension she felt coursing through her. “Francis offered us a deal - if Rachel races his daughter and wins, he’ll give us five hundred g’s. If she loses, he keeps the car.”
“What car?”
“My sister’s. They rescued it from the cops.”
“So what’s your objection, Q?”
“We don’t know what they’re up to! Francis has obviously got something up his sleeve!”
“Where’s this going down?” Rachel handed her the coordinates and Santana scanned them with a practiced eye. “That’s about two days’ drive from here. There’s no way he could figure out where we’re staying from the way we drive in. And if he’s offering five hundred, I vote we go for it.”
“This isn’t a democracy!”
“Q, we’re all retired now, remember? You’re not in charge anymore, nobody is. If Rachel wants to do this, let’s put it to a vote and see what everyone thinks.”
The vote went Rachel’s way and Quinn stormed out, finding a seat on a flat rock near the water. It had started to rain, but she didn’t seem to mind. Rachel followed her out a few minutes later, handing her a Corona as she sat.
“Quinn, I’m sorry - I know you’re just looking out for me, and I’m sorry I was such a bitch on the drive down.”
“My sister died in a race, did you know that?”
“No,” Rachel put an arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “I didn’t know.”
“It was just a stupid race - for pinks. But she hit a wall doing a hundred fifty miles an hour. I’d just finished doing that car for her, and she never even got a chance to see it. I’m so scared, Rachel.”
“Of what?”
“That we’re taking one chance too many. We got lucky - we got out of the country, escaped the police, we’re all healthy and happy - and now there’s just this one last race, and I just can’t help this feeling that something awful is going to happen to you.”
“I can do this, Quinn. I just need you to believe in me. I’ll get us that money, and we’ll build ourselves a nice little house.”
“I love you, Rachel,” it was the first time she’d said the words aloud. “I love you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“I promise you, Quinn - you won’t lose me. Just believe in me, okay?”
Quinn swallowed hard, looking out at the sinking sun. “I believe in you, baby.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The spot Francis had given them was in the middle of nowhere - a long, flat empty stretch of land surrounded them in all directions. He was waiting for them, standing next to Rachel’s Skyline. At his side was a petite girl in a short skirt and a tight top, who just looked bored. Her own car, a Civic that looked to have had a few hundred thousand dollars worth of custom work done. Rachel and Quinn pulled up and stopped a few feet away, a car on each side of them - Santana was in one, Finn in the other.
“Rachel!” Francis greeted her warmly. “It’s good to see you - I did hope you were going to show up today.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Good. Here’s a GPS module,” he threw it to her, and she caught it one-handed. “That has your destination pre-programmed. First one there wins - we’re clear on the stakes, yes?”
“Five hundred grand up against my car.”
“My car soon,” Sunshine sneered.
“Be polite,” Francis slapped the back of her head. “This isn’t personal, it’s just a bet. Apologise.”
“Sorry,” Sunshine muttered.
“No problem - it’s nice to meet you, Sunshine.”
The girl nodded a wordless reply, putting on a pair of designer sunglasses. “We doing this?”
“We are,” Rachel accepted the keys to her car from Francis and turned back to Quinn. “I’ve got Santana’s cell, and the Bluetooth in the car should be working, so call me right after we get started. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Be safe, okay?” Quinn bit her lip. “I still don’t trust this fucker. I’d send Finn over to look at the car, but I think that would be taken the wrong way, and I don’t want to upset the apple cart.”
“Trust me,” Rachel winked, giving her a lingering kiss.
“Kick her ass, Rachel,” Santana clapped her on the back. “I just met her, and I already don’t like her.”
“Will do.” Rachel slid into the car, and it felt like coming home. The engine roared to life as she turned the key, and she plugged in the GPS module. It came to life with a soft glow, displaying a map. “Long race,” Rachel muttered, getting the car reset to her specifications. She threw it into reverse and backed up to sit parallel to Sunshine’s Civic.
“Ready?” Francis shouted. She nodded, and so did her opponent. “Go!” he waved his arm, and they both took off. Rachel sat back at first, letting Sunshine set the pace and weave back and forth in front of her.
“Incoming call. Say yes to-”
“Yes!”
“How’s it feel, Rach? Car okay?”
“Seems to be,” she nodded. “Looks like we’re heading south. It’s a good two hours’ drive from here. Lots of it’s going to be city driving, by the looks of it.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Just be careful. That car of hers looks to have a lot under the hood.”
“She can’t handle it, though,” Rachel watched the other car moving wildly in front of her. “She’ll lose control at some point, and I’ll win.”
“Keep the line open - I won’t keep talking, but I want to hear what’s going on, okay?”
“Absolutely. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Rachel stayed back for almost twenty minutes, watching Sunshine swerve and brake randomly. “What the hell,” she muttered. “She’s being super-aggressive, way too early. We’re still out in the open, why is she trying to cut me off already?” With a mental shrug, Rachel decided to test the other girl. She pulled wide and accelerated, pulling up alongside the Civic. Sunshine swung the car toward her, and Rachel jerked the wheel away. “Quinn,” she kept her tone neutral, “there’s something funny going on here.”
“Funny how?”
“I don’t think she can drive. I mean, not for real. She’s trying to take me out, put the car out of commission before we can get to the city.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“I’m going to get around her. I don’t think she can catch me.”
“Be careful - she might have something up her sleeve.”
“Will do,” Rachel hit the gas again, tagging the control for her NOS canisters to release a brief burst. She exploded forward, easily leaving the other girl in the dust. She saw the outline of the city on the horizon and headed toward it, as Sunshine struggled to catch up.
She hit the city limits doing just a little over the speed limit, not wanting to draw attention to herself unless she had to. With Sunshine still trailing well behind, there was no reason to - “what in the fuck?”
“Rach?”
“The car’s accelerating, Quinn, without me doing it. Fuck - the brakes aren’t working! Son of a bitch - the emergency brake’s dead too!”
“Rach, bail out!”
“I’m already doing ninety! If I jump out now, this car’s going to kill someone!”
Back at the starting line, Quinn approached Francis with a raised fist, only to be pushed back by his guards. “What did you do?” she shouted, and he grinned.
“You take from me, I take from you. Your brown-haired girl may be a good driver, but she’s not good enough. She’ll hit something eventually at that speed. Jessie might be an idiot, but his mother wanted revenge.”
“You son of a bitch!” Quinn pushed forward, only to be repelled again.
“Now, now - be civil. It’s just business. Might want to get back on the phone with her, say goodbye.” Quinn reached for her waistband, but Santana stilled her hand.
“I’m on top of it, Q. There’s a plan in place. Just talk your girl through this.”
“Rachel?”
“Quinn!” the response was frantic. “I’m doing a hundred twenty and rising! Get out of the way!” there was the sound of a honking horn. “What do I do?”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown, or the closest thing to it! There are people everywhere!”
“Stay calm, okay? I know that’s hard, but you have to stay calm. You need to get out of town and head for the ocean, can you do that?”
The line went dead. “Rachel? Rach?”
Francis smirked. “Oops. Hope you said your goodbyes before phones cut off.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Quinn? Quinn! Fuck!” Rachel slammed her hand down on the steering wheel. The car’s speed had topped out, but she was doing a hundred and thirty miles per hour through a crowded city street with no brakes. She skidded around a corner, searching desperately for a way out of town. Suddenly she saw a small child stepping off the curb in front of her and turned sharply. The car scratched down the brick wall of a bank, leaving a long paint trail down the side and showering passers-by in sparks. The turn had left her in a worse position, however, headed down a one-way street with only a tight left at the end of it to escape. Wincing, she made the turn, but still slammed the wall hard with the side of the car.
The road she was on led out of town, which was an improvement, but there was one major problem - a cargo truck blocking a significant portion of the road. She saw only one option - a way to use a marketplace stall in a way that it had never been intended to be used. Saying a quick prayer to every deity she could think of, ending with Buddha, she hit the stall and allowed the momentum to lift her left wheels off the ground. They hit the side of the truck and the car tilted almost completely on its side, the left wheels dragging along the side of the truck and the right pulling her down the alley. It slammed back down on its wheels, bouncing hard on the shocks, as she cleared the truck with a whoop. She was homefree - but for the fact that she still had no way of stopping the car.
She thought back to Quinn’s final words before the phone had disconnected - head for the ocean. She did, heading straight for the pier closest to the city. She was out of options, out of time - and had only one idea left. She aimed the car at the middle of the pier and unlocked the doors.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The roar of multiple truck engines took everyone by surprise - except for Santana, who only grinned. Four pickup trucks surrounded the group, and a dozen heavily armed men jumped out. They didn’t spare Quinn, Santana or Finn a single word, heading straight for Francis instead.
“Hey, ese,” the leader shouted. “What’s up today?”
“Gentlemen, we’re having a sort of private function, yes? Could you please move on?”
“Uh, actually, gringo, no. We can’t just move on. See, we know who you are. A little birdie told us that you’re Francis St. James, of the St. James family. Is that how it is?”
“Yes, I am - now, could you please-“ he was interrupted by a burst of bullets at his feet from one of the armed men’s AK-47’s. His bodyguards attempted to raise their own weapons, but the sheer volume of guns pointed at them made them stop.
“No, we can’t just please. You see, you’re on our turf now. You’re doing business on our turf. And that just can’t be permitted. Do you understand?”
“Very well - we’ll just move on, then, shall we?”
“No, you shall not. We’re going to have a nice long talk, you and us, about the ethics of doing business on someone else’s turf.” He looked at over at Quinn. “Why don’t you ladies go for a drive. We have some business to conclude. Oh, and take this man's suitcase - he won't be needing it any further."
“Did you do this?” Quinn whispered to Santana as they returned to their cars.
“I did. Now go find your girl. We’ll see you at the beach house.”
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt
A/N: This was going to be two chapters, but I rolled them into one - and this isn't quite the end, there's still an epilogue coming, so don't panic if there's still some stuff unanswered! :) Sorry for the massive delay in getting this finished, it just didn't want to get written! I hope it's worth the long wait!
Rachel’s shorts were almost too short, her t-shirt (decorated with the name of a band she didn’t know) was almost too tight, and her hair seemed much too short to her - but it was all worth it for the look on Quinn’s face.
“Fuck,” Quinn whispered. “That haircut looks really good on you.”
“You were looking at my hair?”
“Well, no, but it sounded less crude than saying ‘that ass is fucking amazing.’”
Rachel laughed, embracing her. “You’re looking pretty good yourself. Now, let’s go - I want to be having sex on the beach as soon as possible.”
“You mean the drink, right?” Quinn teased. They emerged into the living room, and Santana threw a passport and a driver’s license at each of them.
“Papers,” she explained unnecessarily. “Now, everybody listen up. We can’t all use the same border crossing - way too suspicious. So, we need to divvy them up.” She gestured to Artie, and he called up a map on his laptop. “Quinn and Rachel, you’re going to this one,” she pointed. “Britt and me are going to this one,” she pointed again, “and the three boys are going this way. Now,” she turned away from the computer, “everyone knows the meeting point. Keep a low profile, and for god’s sake pay off the Mexican cops if you need to. Better that than ending up in some craphole prison. We’re all taking different routes, so we’ll arrive there at least a few days apart. But by Friday, whoever’s going to show will be there. Everyone’s on board?”
They all nodded.
“Good. Drive safe, everyone, and I’ll see you on the beach - save me a margarita!”
There was a quick group hug, and everyone headed for their vehicles. With Beth destroyed and the car Rachel had driven still in impound, she and Quinn had to settle for a substandard Civic and hope that they wouldn’t need to outrun anyone. Quinn offered the drivers’ seat, but Rachel demurred.
“You drive, I’ll navigate.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t stare at you if I’m driving.” Quinn’s hair had black streaks shot through it, and her clothes had been replaced by a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt tied under her breasts. “And I want to stare at you.”
Quinn winked and they climbed in, pealing away from the now-empty house. They talked about inconsequential things, grateful for once not to be rushing away from anyone. They talked about their plans for life in Mexico - Quinn wanted to live in a tiny house with just the two of them, and Rachel agreed with the provision that it be within walking distance of a beach. Neither of them wanted children, but both agreed that a dog would be nice. As they approached their designated border crossing, the easy banter disappeared and was replaced by a silent tension. When the border services agent took almost five minutes to return with their passports, they nearly got out of the car and ran for it. But when he finally returned, he handed their papers over with a smile.
“Have a nice time in Mexico, ladies,” he leered down at Quinn’s chest, and she almost didn’t wait for the barricade to rise before she drove away.
“Pig,” she rolled her eyes. “Screw it, though - we’re in Mexico!” they cheered, squeezing each other’s hands tightly until they reached their first stop - a gas station. As they filled the Civic, Rachel’s eyes found a black sedan parked at the side of the road a few hundred feet back.
“Quinn,” she approached the other girl at the pump, keeping her voice low, “that guy’s following us. I saw him in the mirror after we crossed the border, and he’s just sitting there. Black sedan, to your right.”
Quinn surreptitiously turned her head. “Can you see the driver?” she murmured.
“No. Do you think it’s the police?”
“No - they wouldn’t bother with the cloak and dagger. Whoever they are, we can’t meet up with the others until we lose them.”
“Can we lose them in this car?”
“We can’t outrun them, if that’s what you mean. We’ll have to improvise.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was the oldest plan in the book, but it worked all the same. They drove a few miles from the gas station and pulled over, propping the hood up to simulate distress. Quinn grabbed two guns from a hidden compartment in the trunk, handing one to Rachel. “Remember,” she cautioned, “don’t start shooting unless you have to. I’m hoping we can settle this without anybody dead.”
They stood beside the car and flagged down the sedan as it passed. Two men got out, burly and dressed in dark suits, the bulge of their guns obvious under their jackets. One of them opened the back door, and a more diminutive man got out to join them. He was older, about mid-50’s, and he walked with a limp. He approached Quinn and Rachel, waving his men back.
“Quinn Fabray,” he wheezed. “My name is Francis St. James.”
Rachel tensed, but Quinn put a hand on her arm. “Nice to meet you, Mister St. James. What can we do for you?”
“I just wanted a polite discussion, that’s all. You did steal from me, after all.”
“And I am sorry about that - it was an error in judgement on my part.”
“That it was. But then you did me a favour, by taking my idiot stepchild out of the family business.”
“Jessie?”
“Indeed. The little idiot had no sense, and I was going to have to have him killed at some point, which would have made his mother very unhappy. But you saved me the trouble. So, we find the scales somewhat balanced.”
“But obviously there’s something you want from me, or you wouldn’t have bothered following me all the way to Mexico.”
“Quite,” he coughed. “I have heard tales of the dark-haired one’s driving prowess, that it was her who caused my son’s accident.”
“It was,” Quinn agreed.
“And I would like to see such driving for myself. I would like for her to race my eldest daughter, Sunshine.”
“And what if we say no?”
Francis shrugged. “Then we all go about our business, and never see each other again. But if you say yes,” he snapped his fingers, and one of the guards approached with a suitcase. He laid it on the trunk of their Civic and opened it to reveal a staggering amount of money. “And you win, then I give you five hundred.”
“Thousand?” Rachel squeaked.
“We don’t have a car,” Quinn protested. “Mine was totalled.”
“This I know. I have a source in the police, he liberated the car the dark-haired one drove from their impound lot.”
“And what if I lose?” Rachel asked, still tense.
“Then we keep car as trophy. It’s a simple bet - I enjoy good driving, and my associates tell me yours is very good indeed. What do you say?”
“When would this happen?”
“Rach-“
“Quiet, Quinn. When?”
“In two weeks. Here are GPS coordinates,” he passed Rachel a folded piece of paper. “We have an arrangement?”
“We do,” Rachel spoke over Quinn’s protests. “And my name is Rachel.”
“A fitting name,” he nodded. “I will see you in a week.” He made his way back to the sedan and climbed inside, followed by his goons. The car sped away, leaving the two of them standing at the side of the road.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were still arguing days later when they arrived at the rendezvous point, a large beach house with enough space for everyone, and climbed out of the cramped Civic.
“Rachel, I’m telling you-“
“You’re telling me? Quinn, you’re not my keeper, okay? He wants to see a race, and I’m going to give him one.”
“You think he’s going to play fair? He’s a fucking mafia boss, Rachel! I know you think you’re a master criminal now, but you have no idea who you’re fucking with here!”
“What have we got to lose? So he takes the car - big deal! We’d lost it anyway!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Santana, who’d come running out of the house, got between them. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Rachel’s a moron, is what’s going on!”
“Five hundred grand, Quinn! Imagine what we could do with five hundred grand!”
“Rachel, he’s never going to-“
“HEY!” Santana shouted, drowning them both out. “Someone explain. NOW!”
“We got tailed by the St. James family,” Quinn exhaled, trying to defuse the tension she felt coursing through her. “Francis offered us a deal - if Rachel races his daughter and wins, he’ll give us five hundred g’s. If she loses, he keeps the car.”
“What car?”
“My sister’s. They rescued it from the cops.”
“So what’s your objection, Q?”
“We don’t know what they’re up to! Francis has obviously got something up his sleeve!”
“Where’s this going down?” Rachel handed her the coordinates and Santana scanned them with a practiced eye. “That’s about two days’ drive from here. There’s no way he could figure out where we’re staying from the way we drive in. And if he’s offering five hundred, I vote we go for it.”
“This isn’t a democracy!”
“Q, we’re all retired now, remember? You’re not in charge anymore, nobody is. If Rachel wants to do this, let’s put it to a vote and see what everyone thinks.”
The vote went Rachel’s way and Quinn stormed out, finding a seat on a flat rock near the water. It had started to rain, but she didn’t seem to mind. Rachel followed her out a few minutes later, handing her a Corona as she sat.
“Quinn, I’m sorry - I know you’re just looking out for me, and I’m sorry I was such a bitch on the drive down.”
“My sister died in a race, did you know that?”
“No,” Rachel put an arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “I didn’t know.”
“It was just a stupid race - for pinks. But she hit a wall doing a hundred fifty miles an hour. I’d just finished doing that car for her, and she never even got a chance to see it. I’m so scared, Rachel.”
“Of what?”
“That we’re taking one chance too many. We got lucky - we got out of the country, escaped the police, we’re all healthy and happy - and now there’s just this one last race, and I just can’t help this feeling that something awful is going to happen to you.”
“I can do this, Quinn. I just need you to believe in me. I’ll get us that money, and we’ll build ourselves a nice little house.”
“I love you, Rachel,” it was the first time she’d said the words aloud. “I love you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“I promise you, Quinn - you won’t lose me. Just believe in me, okay?”
Quinn swallowed hard, looking out at the sinking sun. “I believe in you, baby.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The spot Francis had given them was in the middle of nowhere - a long, flat empty stretch of land surrounded them in all directions. He was waiting for them, standing next to Rachel’s Skyline. At his side was a petite girl in a short skirt and a tight top, who just looked bored. Her own car, a Civic that looked to have had a few hundred thousand dollars worth of custom work done. Rachel and Quinn pulled up and stopped a few feet away, a car on each side of them - Santana was in one, Finn in the other.
“Rachel!” Francis greeted her warmly. “It’s good to see you - I did hope you were going to show up today.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Good. Here’s a GPS module,” he threw it to her, and she caught it one-handed. “That has your destination pre-programmed. First one there wins - we’re clear on the stakes, yes?”
“Five hundred grand up against my car.”
“My car soon,” Sunshine sneered.
“Be polite,” Francis slapped the back of her head. “This isn’t personal, it’s just a bet. Apologise.”
“Sorry,” Sunshine muttered.
“No problem - it’s nice to meet you, Sunshine.”
The girl nodded a wordless reply, putting on a pair of designer sunglasses. “We doing this?”
“We are,” Rachel accepted the keys to her car from Francis and turned back to Quinn. “I’ve got Santana’s cell, and the Bluetooth in the car should be working, so call me right after we get started. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Be safe, okay?” Quinn bit her lip. “I still don’t trust this fucker. I’d send Finn over to look at the car, but I think that would be taken the wrong way, and I don’t want to upset the apple cart.”
“Trust me,” Rachel winked, giving her a lingering kiss.
“Kick her ass, Rachel,” Santana clapped her on the back. “I just met her, and I already don’t like her.”
“Will do.” Rachel slid into the car, and it felt like coming home. The engine roared to life as she turned the key, and she plugged in the GPS module. It came to life with a soft glow, displaying a map. “Long race,” Rachel muttered, getting the car reset to her specifications. She threw it into reverse and backed up to sit parallel to Sunshine’s Civic.
“Ready?” Francis shouted. She nodded, and so did her opponent. “Go!” he waved his arm, and they both took off. Rachel sat back at first, letting Sunshine set the pace and weave back and forth in front of her.
“Incoming call. Say yes to-”
“Yes!”
“How’s it feel, Rach? Car okay?”
“Seems to be,” she nodded. “Looks like we’re heading south. It’s a good two hours’ drive from here. Lots of it’s going to be city driving, by the looks of it.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Just be careful. That car of hers looks to have a lot under the hood.”
“She can’t handle it, though,” Rachel watched the other car moving wildly in front of her. “She’ll lose control at some point, and I’ll win.”
“Keep the line open - I won’t keep talking, but I want to hear what’s going on, okay?”
“Absolutely. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Rachel stayed back for almost twenty minutes, watching Sunshine swerve and brake randomly. “What the hell,” she muttered. “She’s being super-aggressive, way too early. We’re still out in the open, why is she trying to cut me off already?” With a mental shrug, Rachel decided to test the other girl. She pulled wide and accelerated, pulling up alongside the Civic. Sunshine swung the car toward her, and Rachel jerked the wheel away. “Quinn,” she kept her tone neutral, “there’s something funny going on here.”
“Funny how?”
“I don’t think she can drive. I mean, not for real. She’s trying to take me out, put the car out of commission before we can get to the city.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“I’m going to get around her. I don’t think she can catch me.”
“Be careful - she might have something up her sleeve.”
“Will do,” Rachel hit the gas again, tagging the control for her NOS canisters to release a brief burst. She exploded forward, easily leaving the other girl in the dust. She saw the outline of the city on the horizon and headed toward it, as Sunshine struggled to catch up.
She hit the city limits doing just a little over the speed limit, not wanting to draw attention to herself unless she had to. With Sunshine still trailing well behind, there was no reason to - “what in the fuck?”
“Rach?”
“The car’s accelerating, Quinn, without me doing it. Fuck - the brakes aren’t working! Son of a bitch - the emergency brake’s dead too!”
“Rach, bail out!”
“I’m already doing ninety! If I jump out now, this car’s going to kill someone!”
Back at the starting line, Quinn approached Francis with a raised fist, only to be pushed back by his guards. “What did you do?” she shouted, and he grinned.
“You take from me, I take from you. Your brown-haired girl may be a good driver, but she’s not good enough. She’ll hit something eventually at that speed. Jessie might be an idiot, but his mother wanted revenge.”
“You son of a bitch!” Quinn pushed forward, only to be repelled again.
“Now, now - be civil. It’s just business. Might want to get back on the phone with her, say goodbye.” Quinn reached for her waistband, but Santana stilled her hand.
“I’m on top of it, Q. There’s a plan in place. Just talk your girl through this.”
“Rachel?”
“Quinn!” the response was frantic. “I’m doing a hundred twenty and rising! Get out of the way!” there was the sound of a honking horn. “What do I do?”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown, or the closest thing to it! There are people everywhere!”
“Stay calm, okay? I know that’s hard, but you have to stay calm. You need to get out of town and head for the ocean, can you do that?”
The line went dead. “Rachel? Rach?”
Francis smirked. “Oops. Hope you said your goodbyes before phones cut off.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Quinn? Quinn! Fuck!” Rachel slammed her hand down on the steering wheel. The car’s speed had topped out, but she was doing a hundred and thirty miles per hour through a crowded city street with no brakes. She skidded around a corner, searching desperately for a way out of town. Suddenly she saw a small child stepping off the curb in front of her and turned sharply. The car scratched down the brick wall of a bank, leaving a long paint trail down the side and showering passers-by in sparks. The turn had left her in a worse position, however, headed down a one-way street with only a tight left at the end of it to escape. Wincing, she made the turn, but still slammed the wall hard with the side of the car.
The road she was on led out of town, which was an improvement, but there was one major problem - a cargo truck blocking a significant portion of the road. She saw only one option - a way to use a marketplace stall in a way that it had never been intended to be used. Saying a quick prayer to every deity she could think of, ending with Buddha, she hit the stall and allowed the momentum to lift her left wheels off the ground. They hit the side of the truck and the car tilted almost completely on its side, the left wheels dragging along the side of the truck and the right pulling her down the alley. It slammed back down on its wheels, bouncing hard on the shocks, as she cleared the truck with a whoop. She was homefree - but for the fact that she still had no way of stopping the car.
She thought back to Quinn’s final words before the phone had disconnected - head for the ocean. She did, heading straight for the pier closest to the city. She was out of options, out of time - and had only one idea left. She aimed the car at the middle of the pier and unlocked the doors.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The roar of multiple truck engines took everyone by surprise - except for Santana, who only grinned. Four pickup trucks surrounded the group, and a dozen heavily armed men jumped out. They didn’t spare Quinn, Santana or Finn a single word, heading straight for Francis instead.
“Hey, ese,” the leader shouted. “What’s up today?”
“Gentlemen, we’re having a sort of private function, yes? Could you please move on?”
“Uh, actually, gringo, no. We can’t just move on. See, we know who you are. A little birdie told us that you’re Francis St. James, of the St. James family. Is that how it is?”
“Yes, I am - now, could you please-“ he was interrupted by a burst of bullets at his feet from one of the armed men’s AK-47’s. His bodyguards attempted to raise their own weapons, but the sheer volume of guns pointed at them made them stop.
“No, we can’t just please. You see, you’re on our turf now. You’re doing business on our turf. And that just can’t be permitted. Do you understand?”
“Very well - we’ll just move on, then, shall we?”
“No, you shall not. We’re going to have a nice long talk, you and us, about the ethics of doing business on someone else’s turf.” He looked at over at Quinn. “Why don’t you ladies go for a drive. We have some business to conclude. Oh, and take this man's suitcase - he won't be needing it any further."
“Did you do this?” Quinn whispered to Santana as they returned to their cars.
“I did. Now go find your girl. We’ll see you at the beach house.”