Los Angeles Airport.
This time, it wasn't Brian or the L.A. family picking Luca up—it was Giselle. She leaned casually against a white sports car, dressed in a sleek black leather vest, effortlessly turning heads as people passed by. Honestly, if there were an award for "most distracting airport pickup," she'd win it without competition.
Luca stepped out through the gate and walked straight over, pulling her into a brief embrace.
"I thought once you left, you weren't coming back to Los Angeles," Giselle said, a faint hint of complaint in her voice.
Luca met her deep blue eyes and smiled. "A direct flight from New York to L.A. is six hours. Grab a meal, do a little shopping, maybe catch a movie, and boom—time's up. Besides…" his gaze lingered just a little longer than necessary, "there are things in Los Angeles worth coming back for."
Giselle caught that look immediately, the corner of her lips lifting. "If you don't show up often, the things you 'care about' might just disappear."
"Disappear?" Luca frowned slightly, playing along. "My GTR is locked in the garage. No one's driving that anywhere without the key."
She blinked—then realized she'd been baited. Rolling her eyes, she pushed off the car. "Get in. Let's go see your precious GTR."
Luca slid into the passenger seat, and the car sped off toward Beverly Hills.
On the way, Giselle circled back to the real question. She wasn't naive—no one like Luca flew across the country just for a casual date.
"So, what's the real reason you came to Los Angeles?" she asked.
They both understood the situation perfectly. This whole dynamic? Flirting, tension, mutual curiosity—but no labels. And Giselle wasn't under any illusion that someone like Luca would tie himself down easily. For men at his level, women and romance were more like… optional side dishes, not the main course.
"Business," Luca said simply.
"How long are you staying?"
He glanced at her. "You could always come back to New York with me. My club happens to need a treasurer."
Giselle let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "If I leave L.A., Braga will hunt me to the ends of the earth. You know how this life works better than anyone. Once you're in, you don't just walk away. Look at your own Mafia—people don't retire, they either serve for life or… don't."
"The Mafia's one thing. Mexican cartels play by the same rules?"
"I don't exactly have a choice."
"What if I gave you one?"
That made her grip the steering wheel just a little tighter. She kept her eyes on the road, but she could feel his gaze.
For a split second, her heart skipped.
Could he actually do it? Force Braga to let her go?
Then reality hit—Braga wasn't the type you pressured. He was the type who erased problems. Permanently.
"You think you can convince Braga to let me walk?" she said, half-laughing. "You're not even interested in meeting him, and you don't deal drugs. You wouldn't accept his terms anyway."
"What if I don't need to?"
"…Then what's your plan?"
Luca tilted his head slightly. "Before that—what happens if I pull it off?"
Giselle smiled, eyes glinting. "Are there any fun places on the East Coast? If you take me, I might consider going with you."
Luca nodded once. "If you want freedom, I'll take you to see the Statue of Liberty."
"It's a deal?"
"It's a deal."
Then his tone shifted, just a touch. "Now tell me—everything you know about Ramon. The time, the route, tonight's delivery."
Giselle's eyes widened instantly. "How do you know we're moving goods tonight?"
"In New York, there's not much thing that I don't hear about."
"This is Los Angeles."
"And that's why I'm here."
That faint, unreadable smile returned—the kind that made people question how much he really knew.
"Not only do I know about tonight," Luca continued, "I know who Braga is."
Now she was genuinely shaken.
"You… know?"
"I'd still rather hear it from you."
Silence filled the car.
This was a test. A very deliberate one.
If he truly knew—and she lied—then whatever this… thing between them was? It would end right here.
But how much did he actually know? He'd revealed just enough to corner her, not enough to show his full hand.
Lie… or tell the truth?
New York. Freedom. The Statue of Liberty.
The answer became obvious.
"Braga…" Giselle took a slow breath. "It's Ramon."
[Bond: Friends]
Watching the bond meter jump, Luca smiled faintly. Turns out, charm still had its uses.
After that, things flowed naturally. By the time they reached Beverly Hills, Giselle had already laid out nearly everything—and it matched Luca's intel almost perfectly.
The delivery was scheduled for 10 PM.
Drivers would gather at an abandoned factory first, then their cars would be loaded onto transport trucks and driven toward the U.S.–Mexico border to avoid unnecessary attention. Delivery trucks made excellent camouflage.
After that, the real show began.
The drivers would take the cars through mountain passes into Mexico, pick up the drugs, and bring them back.
By revealing all this, Giselle had already made her choice.
"Luca… what are you planning to do?" she asked quietly as they stepped out of the car and walked into the villa.
"Will Ramon show up tonight?"
"No," she said immediately. "He hides behind that identity for a reason. He won't risk appearing in person. His people handle everything. Once we cross the border, it's all his territory. Every last one of them works for him."
Luca thought for a moment. No Ramon meant no clean way to take him down tonight. Arresting a few disposable runners wouldn't accomplish much.
"You'll follow my lead," he said finally. "Stay in contact. I need real-time updates on every move your convoy makes. And I promise—you'll get your freedom."
Giselle stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him.
"Luca… you're not going to let me down, right?"
"Not a chance."
"Kiss me."
Her long legs hooked around him as the tension between them snapped.
Night fell.
Brian and Dominic Toretto drove their respective cars to the designated meeting point, then followed the convoy all the way to the border, where they regrouped with Giselle and the other drivers.
Giselle shot them both a meaningful glance before stepping aside to make a call.
"The drivers are ready. We can move anytime."
"Good. The buyers are already in place. Move out."
After giving the order, Ramon paused. "Where were you this afternoon? I couldn't find you."
"Shopping."
"…Shopping?"
"What, I'm not allowed? Can't I buy clothes and cosmetics?"
"…Fine. Just let me know next time. I don't like not knowing where my people are."
Then his tone turned cold.
"Once the delivery's done, eliminate all unnecessary drivers."
Giselle's grip on the phone tightened. "Tonight? Shouldn't we use them a few more times?"
"The sooner, the better. The police and FBI are closing in. They're already investigating 'Braga.' I don't know how long this identity will hold. Clean up all the new drivers—no leaks."
"…Understood."
The call ended.
Giselle lowered the phone slowly, a flicker of unease crossing her eyes.
Once they crossed the border, they'd be deep in Braga's territory.
And if Ramon wanted people dead… they'd be dead.
The question was—
Could Luca really stop that?
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