The WRX and Lancer pulled off at the next exit. Outside of Amsterdam, country roads and large fields replaced the condensed streets and tall buildings. The chase had continued far out of the city where streetlights were few and far between.

Headlights were left on as the doors were thrown open. The flick of a lighter sounded and its flame reflected in a pair of silver ski goggles. Puffs of smoke bellowed from the German's mouth before he took the cigarette between his fingers.

The man with a buzzcut trailed after Nathan, the Belgian stopping beside the smoking blonde. His gaze flickered to the two men that had stepped out of the WRX with the German but remained beside it's open doors. There was never a moment where he didn't see the blonde accompanied by the menacing faces dawned with frowns and arched brows.

Nathan pulled out his own cigarettes and didn't ask to share the lighter. Instead, he lit up his own and his driver stood awkwardly beside the Lancer.

'He's good,' the German commented, looking out to the fields. 'Really good.'

Nathan said nothing. He knew that he was referring to the man they had just lost along the motorway. Joost Klein was the best driver in The Netherlands, perhaps even in the whole of Western Europe. Tonight proved this despite Nathan's best attempts to try and take him out on the road. He was almost glad that Joost had made the WRX swerve, catching the Germans inside off-guard. It showed them that Nathan hadn't been dramatic in his struggle to complete the task he had been given.

Exhaling in a bitter relief, Nathan didn't turn his head when the German held his cigarette between his lips to free his hands. The gunshot rang out through the field and the drop of his driver's body made him want to groan aloud.

'But your man should've been able to ram him,' the German let the gun drop by his side as he spoke. 'Start again.'

'There is no one else. You've shot them all.'

The recruitment had been a grueling process and in a matter of two weeks, all of Nathan's amateurs were dead. Roan Colijn's termination had been out of necessity. The man had failed to follow through with the job he assured Nathan would be easy. All he had to do was hide the money in his girlfriend's apartment and when the German touched down, they would use the central location to finalise their deal.

Nathan should have known that when Joost Klein turned up that things would go wrong. And when they did, he had no choice but to get rid of the main fuck-up. Now, all of the men Nathan had recruited were gone, all because of the man smoking beside them.

'I shouldn't have to be doing all this for you. It shouldn't be this hard for you to do your fucking job. And yet, here we are, in the middle of a Dutch field with Joost Klein being a bodyguard for my fucking money.'

The German's sneakers kicked up dirt as he moved to stand in Nathan's space. He was so close that he could see his reflection in his goggles. His protected identity made him all the more intimidating, the accessory now notorious throughout Europe. Even Nathan was unnerved and it took everything in him not to break out in a sweat.

'I didn't let you live just so you could fuck around,' he lowered his voice into a sinister growl. His fingers holding the cigarette jabbed into Nathan's shoulder, making ash drop onto his tanktop.

'Get the girl and that'll get you the money. Might want to hurry it up because the Dutch police are on your case. But you'll be thankful for a Dutch cell if it means you won't be the next Belgian I dismember.'

Flicking his cigarette into Nathan's chest, the German turned away to get back into the WRX. His men retreated with him and set off back towards the city. Nathan was left with a tight jaw, a hole in his shirt and a corpse in the way of the Lancer.

---

'Pull over.'

'What?'

'I said pull over!'

Beside a canal, Joost slowed the car to a stop. He had barely pulled the handbrake up before Elke had thrown open her door and stumbled out.

She clutched her stomach and hunched over the bricked edge of the canal. Dropping to her knees, Elke emptied her insides. She coughed, spluttered and put a hand to the floor to stabilise herself. No barges were docked and the early Friday morning hour left the parallel paths deserted. Not that Elke would take notice as her nerves expelled all the undigested meals from the day before.

After a few dry heaves, Elke's senses returned. She watched her sick float on top of the murky water before it dispersed from the slow, uncrashing waves. She blinked in attempt to gather herself and wiped at her wet cheeks. The lurches of her stomach had made her eyes water and she soddened the back of her hand with tears.

Her knees trembled as she stood up straight and she became aware of the impending footsteps.

'Elke-'

'Don't,' she ripped her arm away from Joost's touch. Her throat burned from her stomach acid, her voice raw and cracking. Reeling around and stepping backwards, Elke looked up while sniffling.

Joost swallowed painfully. His hand remained outstretched and the sting in his chest teamed with his dry throat. Along the side of the canal, Joost watched as Elke recoiled away from him.

'What the fuck was that?' Elke put some distance between them. Her palm sat over her sweating forehead and she struggled to meet Joost's eye. She was glad that he didn't try to step closer, his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at her worriedly.

'You're bleeding.'

His words made Elke pull her hand from her forehead to see her fingers. Her skin was covered in fine cuts and shards of glass hid in the curls of her hair and the creases of her clothes. As she moved, the moonlight caught the reflecting fragments of Joost's passenger window.

While Elke stared at her reddened skin, Joost slowly closed the space between them. He was cautious as he stopped in front of her and looked down at the crown of her lowered head. Lifting his arms, Joost hesitated before he took Elke's small hands into his.

Relief smoothened the ache in Joost's chest when she didn't react to his touch. Bringing her hands up to see closer, Joost's thumb unconsciously ran over an inch-long inflamed line. A hiss made him look up and see Elke's features churned into a grimace.

'I'm sorry...' he said. He didn't just mean for her torn up hands.

Elke's watery eyes flickered up from Joost's chest. Her heart was yet to cease in its pounding and her knees struggled to hold her weight. Elke's first reaction was to avoid any attempt to be touched by Joost. The idea of being anywhere near him scared her. His driving had been unlike anything she had ever seen and all she could see was the stoic, unspeaking person Joost became. Elke could still hear the sound of bullets denting metals and feel glass raining over her head.

But as Joost let go of her hands, cupped her face and brought her forehead to his lips, Elke crumbled.

Throwing her hands around his middle, her trembling fingers clutched at the back of Joost's bomber jacket. She didn't know what to think, but Elke just wanted to be held by the person she usually found comfort in. Her face buried Joost's chest and she felt his arm squeeze her shoulders. His large hand that had moved to the back of her head somehow drew out the scramble of thoughts that clouded her mind.

'I will explain,' she felt Joost's chest hum with his words. 'But not right now...'

'When?' she mumbled.

'When I know how I can keep you out of it.'

A dread lingered in her mind and the old Elke would have stepped out of his hold. She had broken up with Roan weeks before he turned up dead and now, she was trembling in the arms of a man who she thought she knew. Elke's ears were teeming with Arabella's voice saying,

'You sure can pick them, El. You've gone two for two with dangerous men. Where do you even find these guys?'

'Across from the bar,' Elke would say. 'And after nearly being run over by his Suburu Impreza.'

But Joost was different from Roan. His kindness was unmatched and his smile was contagious. His apartment was a mess, he didn't know how to cook anything but pasta and sauce from a jar, and he held her so tightly all the time. If bullets were to be fired at her again, while standing next to the canal, Elke was confident that Joost would continue to hold her.

'Do you still trust me?' Joost asked, praying for a miracle. He held his breath and tilted his head to lean against Elke's. If she rejected him now, Joost was convinced that he would take Donnie's advice and plan a suicide mission to take down Nathan for good.

'I-I do...'

It was no word of a lie. Elke trusted Joost despite not knowing what he was involved in or what he really did for work. She was ludicrous, driven to willful naivity from love. There was no other way to explain it. Elke loved Joost.

'I promise that I won't let anyone hurt you, liefje,' Joost pulled back to meet her eyes. The pools lining the brown spilled and the front of his jacket had a wet patch. He hated to see her upset and he had seen her in the state too much.

'W-What do I do? Is it the money?' her voice trembled. 'Just give it to them. I-I don't care if it's wrong. I don't care if-'

'I'm going to get rid of it. I've been trying to be smart about it but I can't stand seeing you like this anymore. It'll be gone and this will all be over. I promise,' Joost leaned down to kiss her nose while stroking her hair.

After getting home and tucking Elke into his bed, Joost opened his window in his living room. He made sure that Elke was dozing off and that his bedroom was dark and quiet. Pulling out his phone, he pressed Donnie's name in his contacts and smoked his cigarette into the night.

'Joost? What happened?' Donnie immediately asked. It had been hours since they last heard from the blonde who left the car meet in chaos. His homescreen held a variety of notifications that he hadn't had the time to check.

There was a missed call from Enzo, who was letting him know that they hadn't been followed. There was a text from Apson, who found a ride with Alanis and had gotten home safely. And there was a text from Donnie, the only one who knew that something had gone wrong when no one heard from the blonde.

'You win,' Joost said plainly. 'You were right. I'm done with sneaking around.'

'I'm always right. It's a curse.'

'Be at the shop tomorrow. I'll get Teun to sort out the money.'

'Remember my condition, Joost,' Donnie reminded. 'I want him dead and I'm going to be the one to do it.'

'You'll be doing me a favour. I'll at least know it'll be done right.'