It was dark again, cold but dark. I killed the daylight hours with wandering around, taking a small ting from this place, another thing from that place. The sunlight was uncomfortable, too bright, clear, hopeful. I liked the night better. My pocket vibrated.

I flipped the phone open. Stared at it a moment, remembering that stupid girl. The police found her body as planned and as planned didn't have any solid evidence. I should have done more. The phone vibrated again.

Meet @ graveyard.

Now.

The Graveyard. The old garage held more lies than any of it. It had been a mechanic shop, a bar, whorehouse, a mechanic shop again and finally fell into Fallen hands. Now packed with cars it was a modern day stable. For the Fallen, it was perfect for storing horsepower. Most of the cars were nothing special. A few black sedans, a couple small fast ones, a few beaters in case. At the back of the bar were the expensive horses. A Range Rover, Bentley, and my favorite, the Bull.

It had the body of an older Beamer, but had the heart of a car designed to go much faster. It was fast enough to out run anything. The sleek black machine wasn't just a car. It was a living-breathing animal. My fingers got twitchy just thinking about it. Axel had gotten it as a gift, more of a plea bargain than anything else. The family had been spared, just not the man.

The Colombian drug lord husband and father had lied too many times.

I'd heard it had been a nasty affair. The man had been ripped apart, tied to two cars moving in opposite directions. He hadn't begged for his life. One of the few who didn't. He had been in the wrong and knew it.

I started walking, didn't feel the need to reply to the text.

The video cameras focused on me when I reached the door, metal creaked as the gate slid open. Bright lights flooded into the yard, illuminating eight tarp covered objects and five other cars. Dark and silent. My hands started to twitch. I tried to hide it by shoving them in my pockets. Three men stood under a light, their voices muffled under the soft coating of snow.

I moved towards the small group. Axel looked up from the two other men. Freak and Coal stared at me.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Axel locked his phone screen and shoved it in his pocket, "So what took you so long, Twitch?"

"Ummm."

"Don't be late next time," I felt like a small child being scolded, "I need a driver."

"What?"

"Have a big job soon and I want a good driver," he lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew out the smoke, "I want to know what you can do."

"What?" That seemed to be all I could say.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? I'm looking for a driver. You've done jobs in the past. I want to see what you've got."

I stared at him. He didn't mean it. He knew I did jobs occasionally, but they were small, slow jobs.

"We need a driver. This is your test run."

"So don't fuck it up," Coal said, "Or do. There's better drivers out there anyways."

"I've never fucked a job."

"Let's hope you don't," Axel took a long drag and dropped the cigarette, mashing it into the ground with his thousand-dollar shoe.

"I never have."

"You'll start here, check point half way, finish here. Simple, clean. I want to know if you can drive."

"You already know I can. Time limit?"

"As fast as you can," he motioned to Cole, "Get the car uncovered."

"What?" I whispered as they uncovered the Bull, "No, you're fucking with me right?"

"Not at all. I want to see what you've got," Axel sighed, "So don't wreak her."

I nodded numbly. Freak got in and turned the key. It roared to life, the animal inside begging to be released. My hands shook harder. I pulled them out of my pockets, tried to make fists.

Axel glanced at my hands and laughed, "Nervous?"

"Excited."

He laughed again and took a step back as the car rolled forward. It gleamed in the streetlight, the black paint a dark hole. It was not a car you wanted to do good things with. This car begged for bad deeds. The chrome wheels glinted like a gun barrel, the engine not meant for the small car strained in its cage.

I touched its skin, my fingers trembling at the cold. Ran my hand along the body of the car, felt it breathing. It looked lean and seasoned, experienced but young enough to run hard. A red stripe lined the rear bumper a reminder that this was the car to follow. This car was meant to be first.

"You going to get in or just drool over it?" Cole shoved me towards the door.

I settled into the driver's seat, gripped wheel with one hand and wrapped my fingers around the stick shift with the other. In neutral, I pressed on the gas. The engine drowned out all other sounds.

Axel walked to the open door and slammed it shut. I rolled down the window.

"Start here, go to the old bank building on Cross and wait. You'll know when to turn back," he grinned, "We'll wait here."

"You fucking set me up didn't you?"

"You'll see."

Bastard thought it'd be funny to see someone outrun me. He'd never get that satisfaction. I wrapped my fingers tighter around the wheel and waited for the go signal.

#

The girl drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. They were fifteen seconds late and that was making her nervous. They were never this late. The cops would be here soon if they didn't hurry. She wanted to leave, start the engine and get the hell out, but Daddy always told her to never leave them behind. Even if that meant she got caught too.

She glanced out the windows and sighed in relief as two figures came running towards her, heavy bags in their hands. She was never told what they were doing, only that she needed to drive. She unlocked the car doors and turned the engine over, the men jumped into the car, screaming at her to get going.

It was second nature to her, she could drive anything. Daddy had taught her well. She knew when to accelerate, when to tap the brakes, how to shift for more power, how to escape cops. She'd been doing it since she was twelve.

"Get going, girl," the man in shotgun growled. Daddy.

She revved the engine and tore out away from the dark building. The wailing police sirens were still a ways in the distance, plenty of time to get away. They were silent as she drove, edging over the speed limit and asking the beat up car for more, no cops would be focused on them, they had at least another minute to get away at top speed.

The car slowed as they drove into the busier part of town, a speeding black and white passed them with out a second glance. They were safe.

"Not too bad kid," he said gruffly, "You'll get a treat when we get home."

"You were almost late," the girl replied her eyes glued to the road ahead, "And I'm not your kid."

He laughed and patted her on the shoulders, "But I am your Daddy."

She kept her eyes on the road. He may have taught her to drive, but he wasn't her father. Her real father had run off years ago; he was just the current man of the month. The girl's mother went through men faster than her daughter went through cars.