✔ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ Splinter Cell [Fast and Furious 07]✔

04

Things didn't seem to be going so well between Deckard and Charlie in London, as Owen's older brother let her know. A bit of an understatement for her.

Charlie didn't let Deckard get much further than that because she didn't want to talk to him, let alone be seen with him. The guy was on several wanted lists, from various governments and agencies.

"Hobbs," Charlie was caught by Deckard, causing her to turn around, uncomprehending and because throwing any name, just in the room, gave him a 'what do you want from me' look, "he was the officer who was chasing Owen. Not alone, there were others. I'll see you out there."

No.

No. Why would Charlie follow him?

•

The sky was slightly cloudy, the air warm and, despite the late hour, still quite pleasant. A typical Los Angeles night.

Charlie walked past the parked cars until one of the passenger doors opened. What was she doing here?

Nice car. Very nice, no doubt, if the driver hadn't been Deckard Shaw. Trying to stay calm, Charlie took a deep breath and exhaled. Nothing bad is going to happen.

"I have to be back inside in an hour at the latest," Charlie slammed the door behind her angrily, although she had long since regretted it, "make it quick. Oh, I hope that didn't come off as too mean. Anything but a quickie, you don't know."

"Nice to see you again, too," Shaw pretended to put the car in first gear, glancing briefly at Charlie as he drove, who was looking out the window to see where the trip was going, "Art? You're not really in the art business."

Nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders was Charlie's response as he looked out the window. Yes and no. Of course she was, and she was more than well known in the business. Otherwise she wouldn't be planning and organizing gallery openings, running auctions, or dealing in art supplies. Other things in her life, on the other hand, were unimportant or not worth mentioning.

•

After a good quarter of an hour, they must have reached their destination, because Shaw stopped in front of a huge complex of buildings. He wasn't serious. This was just a joke. Charlie had reckoned with everything in the world, but not with this. This could only end badly.

"Do you realize where we are right now? Not even I can get in there unnoticed," Charlie leaned forward and pointed to the entrance, "The DSS quarters are one of the most secure buildings in L.A., plus the officers. The elite of Special Forces."

"I realize you won't be able to get in there," as a tall, muscular man exited the building to hand something to a blonde woman, Deckard quietly opened the door, "Unlike you, I can get in and out of anywhere unnoticed."

At that comment, Charlie's eyes narrowed and a barely audible snort escaped her. Yes, she was just Owen's no-good little girlfriend. Why she was here, then, had yet to be explained to her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Charlie sank into the seat and waited for Deckard to return. Arrogant, cocky, and never missing a situation to squeeze her. For what reason? Underfunded? He had no idea who she was. Not a clue, and yet he treated her like anything.

Oh shit, Charlie jumped up and put her hand on the faucet in front of her, because that switch was going back into the building. And from there it wasn't long before she spotted two shadows on the middle floor.

Uh, where did the blonde go now? Her car was still parked... No, not her too. Suddenly there was light, followed by a huge explosion. Something flew through the windows and landed with a thud on the roof of the car below.

It..... The two moved? Mouth agape, Charlie curled his fingers inside the car and stared out the window, stunned. Impossible. No one could survive a fall like that.

The next moment, Shaw followed. Immediately, Charlie slid over the gearshift and into the driver's seat. But without realizing it, he opened the passenger door and let himself fall in.

"Shit," Charlie turned to Deckard in horror, turning his face to the side, "You know what you're doing? Unnoticed, huh? Look at you. Looks pretty bad already."

"Just a few scratches," Deckard replied, taking Charlie by the wrist so she could remove her hand from his face, "just drive."

How could someone be so cocky? Ah, man, right. Was it her fault that he looked like that now? Charlie shook her head, looked over her shoulder and drove off. She kept squinting at Deckard, who had a flash drive in his fingers and was looking at it wordlessly. He got what he wanted, it seemed.