Heart Thief

0002 First Encounter

In a townhouse near the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, a kind-looking woman stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling at another woman lounging on the couch, watching Netflix and munching on organic fruit.

"Hey Skye, could you grab some sriracha sauce from Trader Joe's? We're out."

Skye raised an eyebrow. She'd rented this place for the view and fresh air, plus her Asian-American landlord Lily seemed easy to get along with. But Lily's enthusiasm was a bit much, treating her like a little sister whether she liked it or not. Seeing Lily's sweet smile, Skye couldn't refuse but bargained, "Only if you promise to make In-N-Out style burgers."

Lily laughed, "Deal. Hurry back or no burgers!" She shooed Skye away playfully.

Skye stood up, amused and exasperated. She wore a ripped t-shirt, faded jeans, and chunky silver jewelry – a rebellious look that somehow suited her perfectly.

Lily frowned at Skye's outfit, "Skye, why are you dressed like that again? That style..."

Skye bolted for the door before Lily could lecture her. Lily always tried to mother her, but Skye did her own thing, regardless.

Just as she reached the door, the bell rang. "Must be for you," Skye said, changing shoes.

Lily wiped her hands, approaching, "Why couldn't it be for you?"

Without looking up, Skye replied, "I don't have friends."

Lily froze, but Skye stood casually, as if she'd just commented on the weather, showing no sadness or loneliness.

Seeing Lily's caring gaze, Skye leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and teased, "What, you into me? If you like me, I wouldn't mind a little sapphic romance."

Lily's eyes widened. She glanced at the monitor, quickly buzzing in the visitor, and shoved Skye out the glass door, "Go get the sauce or no burgers!"

Skye shrugged. She didn't need pity, and "friends" was just a self-important label. She was fine on her own.

"Lily, long time no see," a magnetic male voice said, tinged with amusement.

"Jake, what brings you here?" Skye heard the teasing and slight annoyance in Lily's tone.

Skye glanced back, seeing a man and woman enter. The woman clung to him like a damsel in distress. The man, about 6 feet tall with captivating eyes, had sharp features unlike most Asian-Americans. His perpetual smile, unbuttoned shirt revealing tanned skin, and wind-tousled hair exuded s*x appeal.

Jake noticed Skye and flashed a charming smile. She gave him a fleeting look before heading to the garage, completely ignoring them. Playboys held no interest for her.

Jake had spotted Skye immediately. Seeing her brush him off, he raised an eyebrow, watching her go.

"Jake Turner, where are you looking?" Lily asked through gritted teeth.

Jake turned, asking, "Who's she?"

Lily's face darkened, "Don't even think about it. Eyes on your own plate, Turner. My people are off-limits." The nerve of him, she thought, asking so brazenly with that sulking beauty on his arm. Nothing but a walking Casanova.

As Jake opened his mouth to respond, a cherry-red Ferrari roared out of the garage. Skye waved to Lily from the driver's seat, completely ignoring Jake and his companion as she sped past. Jake's words died in his throat, eyebrows shooting up. In all his years, no woman had ever dared to disregard him so completely. This woman... was intriguing.

"Sriracha sauce, sriracha sauce, where the hell do they sell this stuff?" Skye muttered, having scoured nearly every supermarket in the area. Frustrated, she hit the gas, speeding along the coastal highway.

"Damn it, beat him to a pulp!" Angry shouts carried on the sea breeze. Skye glanced over to see a battered silver BMW, followed by a string of colorful sports cars. Two men were sprinting ahead, pursued by over a dozen others.

The chase was close, with the pursuers occasionally catching up to land a blow. The fleeing pair seemed to understand their predicament, ignoring the hits and running for their lives.

Skye chuckled, "Using cars as decoration?" The chasers had cars but chose to run on foot, either for the thrill or believing they could outrun vehicles.

She slowed down, amused by the spectacle. As some smartened up and got into their cars, Skye shook her head in disappointment. Just as she was about to speed off, her car glided past the two fleeing men. One, apparently desperate and agile, grabbed her door, swinging himself in and pulling his companion along.

Skye raised an eyebrow at the intrusion.

"Drive! Unless you want to get involved, drive now!" A stream of fluent Italian came at her, urgent but clear.

Skye continued her leisurely pace, observing her unexpected passengers in the rearview mirror. One, a dark-haired mixed-race man, had blood trickling from his forehead. The other, blond and blue-eyed, was in worse shape, his face covered in blood.

The blond man, seeing Skye's slow pace, anxiously told his companion, "You drive, I'll move her." It was the same voice that had spoken Italian. The mixed-race man frowned, glancing at Skye's back, then said in English, "Sorry, we need to lose these guys. If you can't speed up, let us drive. We'll compensate you later."

Skye smirked, replying coolly, "I don't like others driving my car."

"s**t! Then please hurry," the blond man switched to English, watching their pursuers gain on them.

Before Skye could respond, shouts came from behind:

"Stop the car, you b***h!" "You're dead meat for helping them, asshole!"

Skye's face darkened. She glanced coldly at the thugs and said, "Hold on tight." With that, she floored it, sending the Ferrari flying along the coast.

"Hairpin turn ahead, plus a detour. Be careful," the blond man warned, using professional racing terms.

"Nowhere to run now!" Their pursuers, clearly no amateurs, kept pace.

Skye's lips curled into an excited smile as she accelerated to 125 mph.

"Are you insane? Slow down! You want to feed the fish? Slow down!" the blond man screamed, wiping blood from his eyes. The mixed-race man, who had been quiet, pulled his companion back, shaking his head. But even he paled at the sight of the endless ocean ahead.

As they approached the hairpin turn, their pursuers, enraged by Skye's acceleration, sped up too. Skye's smile turned cold.

In a blur of shifting gears, accelerating, steering, and braking, the Ferrari, seemingly about to fly off the road, made a 180-degree spin with a deafening screech of tires, suddenly changing direction onto an opposing lane.

Simultaneously, violent crashes erupted beside them. The pursuing cars, caught off guard by Skye's unexpected maneuver, collided in a chain reaction as the lead car hesitated. Several high-end sports cars were totaled in seconds, though the drivers, apparently professionals, minimized injuries.

"Haha, good luck with that!" The blond man laughed, flipping off their battered pursuers as they crawled from their wrecked vehicles.

Skye resumed her leisurely pace, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door. Those who dared insult her paid the price. The wrecked custom sports cars would serve as their lesson.

"Incredible! I never expected such skill. You're almost as good as me. I'm Mike, by the way, and he's Will," the blond man, now identified as Mike, excitedly jumped into the passenger seat, seemingly forgetting the violent chase.

Skye raised an eyebrow lazily, saying, "Get out." She hit the brakes. She still needed to buy that sriracha sauce.

Mike's eyes widened in disbelief. They were miles from anywhere, with no sign of civilization. Was she really going to abandon them here, injured as they were?

As Mike was about to protest, Will pulled him back, exiting the car. He addressed Skye, "Thank you so much. Here's my card. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. We'll do our best to help." He placed a business card on her car.

Skye glanced at them both. Seeing their earnest expressions, she smirked. This guy was wordy but missing the point. She simply held out her hand, saying, "Money. A hundred bucks."

Will and Mike were dumbfounded. Someone with such an expensive car was asking for gas money? And wasn't their offer of future assistance worth more than a hundred dollars? Mike, scowling, pulled out his wallet and handed over all the cash he had.