"I'm handling the prep. I'm putting together the plan. All you guys have to do is show up and execute. Why the hell do you think you deserve that much of the cut?"
Lawson's voice was cool, but the message was clear.
Vince opened his mouth to argue, but Dom put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Vince. Did you forget we still owe Lawson our lives?"
That shut Vince up immediately. He clamped his mouth shut, staring at the table.
Lawson turned to Dom. "We good, Dominic?"
"Yeah. We're good."
Dom reached out his massive hand. Lawson took it. A firm shake. The deal was struck.
"So when do we hit it?" Dom asked.
"Not yet. I need more intel before I lock in the final plan."
That was exactly why Lawson had brought Donnie in. As a former undercover agent, Donnie was a master at intelligence gathering. He could handle the heavy lifting that Lawson didn't have time for.
As for Dom's crew—the Toretto gang—they were muscle and wheelmen. They were useless in the planning phase. Honestly, Brian would have been more help right now with his police training, but Lawson still couldn't reach him.
"I'm laying low anyway," Dom said. "I'll wait at the house for your call."
With the Bonannos out of cash, Dom's usual business had dried up. He had nothing but free time.
"I'll get things lined up fast. I'll be in touch. Donnie, let's go."
Lawson stood up, deliberately ignoring the pleading look Mia was shooting him. He had too much on his plate right now. This was not the time for romance. He'd barely even spoken to Blake in days.
Lawson and Donnie walked out of Toretto's Cafe and climbed into the Dodge Viper.
As soon as he sat down, Lawson pulled out his phone. The Payday app had pinged. A new job was up.
[New Contract: St. Martin's Bank]
[Difficulty: ☆☆☆]
[Primary Objective: Secure the assets transferred by Francis Ricci.]
[Bonus Objective 1: Successfully extract at least 80% of the target assets.]
[Bonus Objective 2: Complete the operation with zero crew casualties and zero arrests.]
[Bonus Objective 3: Locate and secure the hidden ledger Francis Ricci stashed inside the bank.]
[Current Status: Planning Phase]
[Purchasable Intel: 3 Available]
Right on schedule.
After using the Payday app for a while, Lawson had figured out how it generated contracts. This time, he had essentially triggered the job himself.
But that third bonus objective caught his eye. A hidden ledger? Did Francis hide something else in that vault besides the money?
Too bad Francis was in federal custody. Lawson couldn't exactly go ask him.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Donnie absentmindedly flicked on the radio. The news broadcast cut through the silence of the car.
"...breaking news this afternoon out of Mercy Hospital. Francis Ricci, the prime suspect in the murder of Little Martin Bonanno, was targeted in a brazen shooting inside the facility. Despite emergency surgery, Ricci was pronounced dead just moments ago. This marks the latest escalation in what authorities are calling..."
Lawson and Donnie froze.
"Lawson... is that the Francis Ricci you were just talking about?"
"Yeah. It is." Lawson narrowed his eyes. "Didn't think those bastards would move that fast."
The early morning raid on the Bonanno estate suddenly made a lot more sense. The hit squad hadn't been there for Sofia—she was just collateral damage. They were there for Francis.
Lawson had assumed handing Francis over to the FBI would buy the man a few more days of breathing room. He hadn't expected him to catch a bullet before the sun went down.
But Francis's death had been written the second he refused Lawson's deal. If Frank's crew hadn't killed him, Lawson would have done it himself eventually.
This changed the timeline, though. Lawson had no safety net left.
He had to get that gold and those bearer bonds out of St. Martin's Bank immediately, before the federal government swooped in and seized the assets.
The real headache was the five tons of gold. Without heavy machinery like a forklift, moving that kind of weight fast was damn near impossible. Even with an inside man, you couldn't just stuff five tons of gold into duffel bags and walk out.
Lawson looked back down at the Payday app. Maybe the purchasable intel would give him an angle.
Click. -$30,000.
[Intel 1: St. Martin's Bank was originally a historic museum. It was purchased and converted twenty years ago. The interior still features many architectural elements from its museum days.]
[Intel 2: The bank conducts a routine security sweep of the underground vault every week to check for structural or security vulnerabilities.]
[Intel 3: Years ago, an earthquake caused structural damage to the underground vault, leading to severe water leaks. The vault was patched and put back into use after emergency repairs.]
Three pieces of intel. All highly actionable.
Intel 1: A twenty-year-old conversion meant old wiring, outdated structural supports, and potentially blind spots that modern banks wouldn't have. Plus, if he could track down the original museum blueprints, he'd have the full layout.
Intel 2: The weekly security sweep. That was an opening, but it required an inside man to tag along on the inspection. Lawson glanced at Donnie. Donnie was the obvious choice, but Lawson needed him working the streets for intel. He couldn't burn Donnie's time planting him in a bank job. He'd have to find someone else.
Intel 3: This was the golden ticket. If the vault leaked water, it meant there was either an underground river or a storm drain/sewer line running right up against it. Lawson bet heavily on the sewer. If that was true, it changed the whole game.
Mind racing, Lawson started handing out assignments.
"Donnie, I need two things."
"Talk to me."
"First. St. Martin's Bank used to be a museum. I need the original blueprints."
Donnie frowned. "How old are we talking?"
"Pre-1980s. It was converted twenty years ago. If you can find the renovation plans too, even better."
"Man... I'll see what I can dig up." Donnie knew it was a tall order, but that was the job.
"Second. I need a comprehensive map of the sewer and storm drain systems directly underneath and around the bank. As detailed as you can get it."
Donnie relaxed slightly. "That's easy. Back when I was deep undercover, I got tight with some street crews and tunnel-dwellers. They know those drains better than the city planners. I can pull a map through them."
Every rat knows its maze. During his time infiltrating the mob, Donnie had picked up plenty of street-level skills—lockpicking, fence networking, and navigating the underworld.
"Perfect. If you need cash to grease palms, let me know."
"I'm good for now. We'll square up when the job's done."
"Alright, let's roll—"
Lawson went to start the Viper but stopped. Mia was standing directly in front of the car.
He'd been so focused on analyzing the intel and giving Donnie orders that he hadn't even noticed her walk out of the cafe.
"Mia?"
Donnie, sensing the sudden shift in the air, didn't hesitate. He popped his door open.
"Lawson, I'm gonna start working my contacts. You handle... your business." With a quick nod to Mia, Donnie jogged off down the street.
Mia walked around the hood and slid into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut.
It was summer in Los Angeles. The days dragged on, the sun refusing to fully set until well past eight o'clock. Right now, Los Santos was bathed in a deep, hazy orange glow, giving the whole city a surreal, cinematic vibe.
Lawson pulled the Viper out onto the street. Mia didn't say a word. She just stared out the window as the city rolled by.
The silence held until they started winding up the roads into the Hollywood Hills.
"I told Dom about us," Mia said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.
Lawson's grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. He hadn't expected her to drop that bomb. But thinking back on Dom's reaction at the cafe... the big guy hadn't seemed angry. Just the opposite, actually.
That was the difference between Mia making the choice and Lawson playing games. If Lawson had lied to Mia back at the hospital, Dom would have probably tried to beat him to death with a wrench.
"He supports me," Mia continued, turning to look at him. "He said I should go after what I want."
There was a fierce, almost stubborn light in her eyes. She clearly thought she could tame him. That she could be the one to make Lawson settle down and be a one-woman man.
It was ridiculous. Lawson had literally crossed dimensions, possessed a body built for war, and had a system that let him rewrite reality. Why the hell would he tie himself down to one tree when he owned the whole forest?
"Look, Mia... I don't want whatever this is to screw up my relationship with your brother. Or your crew. Seriously."
Before he could finish the sentence, Mia lunged across the center console. She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, completely unbothered by the fact that he was navigating a cliffside road.
She didn't let up for five minutes.
When she finally pulled back, she was breathless but smiling. "I know exactly what you're thinking. But I'm not giving up. I'm going to change your mind."
She reached down, found the lever for the driver's seat, and yanked it. The seat dropped flat.
Suddenly, the Viper's tight cabin had a very different kind of stick shift to deal with.
Mia wasn't your average girl. She'd grown up in the garage with Dom, turning wrenches and driving stick since she could reach the pedals. She knew how to handle a transmission.
Her shifting technique? Flawless.
She wasn't on the same level as Dom, Brian, or Lawson behind the wheel, but she could definitely smoke Vince or Jesse in a quarter-mile. So when it came to manipulating a stick and steering, she had natural talent.
But having good technique doesn't mean you can handle a high-performance, heavily modified machine. And the Dodge Viper is an absolute beast.
Parked at a scenic overlook in the hills, the Viper began to rock violently. The suspension and chassis were being pushed to their absolute limits.
If Lawson hadn't recently reinforced the frame and tuned the suspension, the car might not have survived a driver pushing it this aggressively.
But biology is biology. Women naturally have lower stamina and explosive strength than men. That's why you don't see female drivers dominating F1 or Group B Rally—it's not just about turning a wheel; it's about enduring massive physical and psychological stress for extended periods.
"Ah—!"
With a sharp cry, Mia's stamina gave out. The driver became the passenger.
Lawson decided he needed to set the record straight. He had to show Mia that she couldn't beat him in a battle of attrition. Never.
He took the wheel, dropping the same brutal, relentless intensity that had once put Svafa out of commission.
But Mia wasn't Svafa. She didn't have the same curves, the same natural "shock absorbers" that the Russian assassin had. Mia was lean, athletic, but fragile by comparison. On a rough, off-road track like this, the ride was unforgiving.
"I can't... I'm dying!"
With one final, breathless plea, the Viper's engine flooded.
Mia collapsed into the passenger seat, totally boneless, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Lawson immediately felt a flash of guilt. He might have gone too hard.
The Iron Man Trump Card gave him absurd durability and stamina. Even a massive brawler like Ray Gaines couldn't dent him. Only someone superhuman could actually go toe-to-toe with Lawson in a physical fight.
It made his personal life... complicated. So far, the only woman who had even come close to matching his pace was Svafa.
"Mia? You okay?"
Mia struggled to lift her head. Her eyes were glassy, completely wrecked but entirely devoid of regret. She had thought if she just pushed hard enough, she could conquer him. Total defeat.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Lawson asked, genuinely worried he'd pushed too far.
Mia smiled weakly, misinterpreting his concern for bragging. She answered honestly anyway.
"It was... amazing."
Lawson exhaled, relieved.
"I'll take you home."
The Viper's cabin smelled like sex and sweat, and the leather seats were a mess. The mood for a scenic drive was dead. Lawson fired up the engine and headed back down the hill toward Toretto's Cafe.
He dropped her off at the curb, watching her limp slightly as she walked to the door, before peeling out.
He desperately needed to find a car wash. Whoever said car sex was romantic was a liar. The Viper was a two-seater. Lawson was six-foot-three. It was cramped, awkward, and the cleanup was going to be a nightmare.
Inside the cafe, Mia flipped on the lights to find Dom sitting quietly in the dark, waiting.
"You're back. Did you lock him down?"
Mia jumped slightly. "Dom? Have you been sitting here the whole time?"
"Yeah. I'm your brother. Am I not allowed to care about your love life?"
Mia smiled warmly. She and Dom had practically raised each other; they were incredibly close.
But the smile quickly faded into a self-deprecating smirk.
"No. I didn't conquer him."
Dom frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "What? Did he try to hit it and quit it?"
If Lawson was playing games with his sister, Dom was ready to go to war, gratitude be damned.
Mia quickly waved her hands, realizing Dom was jumping to conclusions. "No, no! It's not like that! It's just... his stamina. It's insane. I couldn't keep up."
Dom blinked. The anger vanished, replaced by a very weird, awkward expression.
"Are you serious? It's like that?"
Mia blushed deeply and nodded.
Dom cleared his throat, suddenly highly uncomfortable. He was a big guy, built like a tank, but even he couldn't relate to what Mia was implying.
"Right. Well. Uh... if that's the case, maybe you need to approach this from a different angle. Make yourself indispensable to his business. Make him rely on you. That's how your sister-in-law handles things."
Mia's eyes suddenly lit up. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating look.
"Dom... what if I got a job at St. Martin's Bank?"
Dom frowned, crossing his arms.
"You want to be the inside man?"
"Yes! I can get him the intel he needs. I can help him, and I can help the crew!"
Dom thought about it. The logic tracked. Whether it was America or anywhere else, people always dropped their guard around young, beautiful women. Mia slipping into the bank as an employee could give them the exact edge they needed.
He didn't love the idea of putting his little sister in the line of fire. But he also knew that once Mia set her mind to something, nobody on earth could talk her out of it.
Dom sighed, a heavy, resigned sound.
"If this is what you want to do, Mia... do it. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise, Dom. Thank you."