"Look out, everyone! Incoming!" called a buoyant voice from under the car. "Or rather, outcoming. Please step back."

Instinctively, I took another step backwards, and so did Elliot. We heard the scraping sound of cotton on smooth concrete, and a moment later, the dirt-smeared face of a young man appeared. I gave him a cautious onceover. He was probably a rather handsome young man, probably blonde and probably had white skin. But I would reserve final judgement on any of these points until he removed the thick film of dirt and oil stains that clung to every inch of him.

"Hello there!" His face split into a wide grin, and I revised my opinion of his looks. If the rest of him looked anything like that smile, he wouldn't be handsome. He would be beautiful. "Elliot! Hi! Hi, Mr. and Mrs. W.! Nice to see you again." He gave me a wink. "And very nice to see you for the first time, mysterious nameless beauty."

I felt my face turning red.

"I'd shake hands, but..." With an apologetic grin, the young man held up his oil-smeared fingers.

"Zack!" exclaimed Mrs. Winslow, rushing towards him and giving him a squeeze nearly as hard as the one I had gotten when I had arrived. If she noticed the fact that she got oil all over her dress, she didn't seem to care. "We didn't know you were here! What are you doing down here?"

"Oh, just fixing up the Range Rover. I promised Mr. W., remember?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Smiling, Mrs. Winslow turned to me. "This is Zack. He's Elliot's best friend."

My eyebrows shot up. I leaned over to Elliot. "You have a best friend?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.

"Yes."

"And you didn't mention this why...?"

"It never came up."

Men! I rolled my eyes.

"He's been a friend of the family for ages," Mrs. Winslow was saying. "My husband and Zack's great-uncle Rutherford started their first company together."

"And it went bankrupt about five minutes later," Zack added cheerily, which earned him a disapproving glance from Mr. Winslow. He didn't seem to mind at all, and after only a moment, the disapproving look vanished. From the way Mr. and Mrs. Winslow looked at Zack, I'd have ventured he got a lot of disapproving looks, and they were rarely, if ever, meant seriously.

"Zack." Elliot stepped forward, a rare full-blown smile on his lips. "Nice to see you. This is Cassidy. Cassidy, this is my best friend Zack."

"Elliot! That's no way to introduce the love of your life!"

Elliot's mouth dropped open. I felt my face heat with another rush of red.

"I should have mentioned," Elliot murmured, "that besides being my best friend, he's also a very enervating friend."

"This is how you do an introduction," proclaimed Zack, ignoring his friend completely. Wiping one of his dirty paws on his pants, he took hold of my left hand and, before I could do anything, had lifted it to his lips, leaving a black lipstick mark à la motor oil on the back of it. "Greetings, oh gracious lady. Zacharias Mahone, at your service. If you ever have need of a valiant screwdriver, do not hesitate to call upon me."

"Um... does he always talk like this?" I whispered at Elliot out of the corner of my mouth.

Apparently, though, Zack had better ears than I had reckoned with.

"No, he doesn't," he assured me. "Only on special occasions. Normally, I make much less sense."

He grinned and I felt an answering grin creep on my face. There was something about this guy that just made it impossible not to grin around him—even if he had just disfigured the back of your hand with a stain that would take hours to scrub off.

"True." Elliot nodded. "You should hear him going on when he doesn't think he has to behave himself."

Mrs. Winslow chose that moment to re-enter the conversation. "Zack, why didn't you come up?" she demanded. "Why did you stay down here all this time, tinkering away at this silly car?"

"Silly?" Mr. Winslow protested. "That is a vintage Range Rover of the first generation!"

His wife ignored him.

"Why didn't you come up for dinner," she repeated, looking up at Zack with those big, blue, motherly eyes of hers. "We would have loved to have you for dinner!"

Zack nodded, gravely. "I'm sure you would. People tell me I'm rather tasty, particularly if I'm well done and served with plenty of ketchup."

"Zack! I'm serious! Why didn't you come up?"

"And intrude on such a special, private moment? Elliot introducing the love of his life, the apple of his eye and center of his soul to his grandparents?" He smiled innocently at Elliot, an evil twinkle in his eye. "Nah. Why would I of all people be there?"

And Elliot, serious, controlled, cool and composed Elliot almost bit his tongue off and elbowed his friend in the ribs. The look on his face was priceless! A surge of warmth shot up inside me. The love of his life? He had said the love of his life! And to judge from the way Elliot had reacted...

Could it really be true?

I grinned. Whether or not it was, one thing I saw clearly: Zack was someone to keep around!

"Hi!" Holding out my hand, I stepped forward and grasped his right one, which was moderately clean. "Like Elliot said, I'm Cassidy. Cassy for my friends."

"Then I shall call you Cassy, and you may slap me if I presume too much. Enchanté."

"En what?"

"Enchanté. It's French. I'm not entirely sure whether it means 'I'm delighted to meet you', or 'I like singing rude songs'—but who cares!"

"Not me. Enchantée, Zack."

"A girl after my own heart!" Letting go of my hand, he gave Elliot a mighty slap on the back that probably left an irremovable handprint on his pristine made-to-order suit. "You actually didn't choose too badly," Zack informed his best friend. "She looks passable, seems to have a brain inside that head of hers and a sense of humor, too. I give you permission to keep her."

"Thanks so much," Elliot said with a wry smile. "I couldn't date anyone without your permission, of course."

"Exactly."

Clapping his hands, Zack turned back to me again. His eyes flicked between me and Mr. Winslow. "So, Cassy... has the esteemed patriarch of the Winslow family been showing you his cabinet of metal horrors?"

I nodded. "If by that you mean have we been looking at the car collection, yes."

"And what is your favorite so far?" he wanted to know.

I opened my mouth, not having a clue what I could possibly say. Fortunately, Mr. Winslow was quicker than I.

"She was particularly fascinated by the Mercedes Silberpfeil, and the TranStar Dagger GT," he proclaimed, proudly.

Was I? I hadn't been aware of that. Perhaps I had uttered one more "Wonderful" or "Very nice" while passing them than with the others.

"The Dagger GT, eh?" Zack's eyes sparkled. "Would you like to take a little spin?"

I looked around at the others. Was he serious? Well, it was a car, after all, not just a collectable object. So it could probably be driven. But I wasn't really that into cars, so maybe....

That was when I saw Mr. Winslow's face. He was watching me with an odd light in his old eyes. It looked something like... longing?

"Yes, please!" I said on impulse. "I'd love to!"

And when I saw the grin spread over the old gentleman's face, I knew I had given the right answer.

"Cassidy, are you crazy?" Elliot leaned down towards me, blue fire burning in his dark eyes. "You're not going to set one foot in that monster machine!"

"Relax, Elliot!" I whispered back. "What's the big deal? It's just a car."

"Just a car? Oh yes. It just so happens to be the fastest damn car in the world!"

What?

I felt the floor sway under my feet.

"The f-fastest..."

"Yes!"

"The fastest car in the..."

"Yes, Cassidy."

Once again I caught sight of Mr. Winslow's face—then I looked over to the innocent angel face of Zack. Quickly, I took deep breath, and straightened my shoulders.

Keep your cool, Cassy! I told myself. Keep your cool! You're a bloodthirsty serial killer! A ruthless little monster! You have killed four people, and beaten countless others into a pulp! What's driving a car to that?

Shit, shit, shit! I was so dead!

I shrugged. "So what. One car is pretty much like another."

And I am the biggest liar in the world.

Elliot's eyes narrowed into slits. "One car is pretty much like—Cassidy, are you drunk?"

"Fortunately not. I still have to drive tonight."

Stepping around Elliot, I held out my open hand towards Mr. Winslow, somehow managing to keep a smile on my face. "The key, if you're all right with this, Sir?"

"I most certainly am." There was an answering smile on his face, and if I saw right, a hint of approval. Yay! I had calculated correctly! Slipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled out an electronic key. "This opens and starts any car in the garage. Have fun. And... young lady?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't leave any scratches."

"No, Sir."

Taking the key, I marched off in the direction of the TranStar Dagger GT. Before I had made two steps, Elliot was in front of me, radiating dark fury.

"Are you insane?" he growled. "The Dagger GT? That thing has 3,000 horsepower, goes from zero to sixty in one second and reaches a top speed of 350 mph!"

"Which means...?"

"You might as well try to pilot a space shuttle!"

I raised my chin. "Sounds interesting. I'll have to try that sometime."

"I'm serious, Cassy!"

"So am I! I'm going to do this. Now step aside!"

"No!"

"Excuse me? What did you just say?"

He leaned forward, his midnight-blue eyes hard as sapphires. "I said no. I'm not going to let you do this."

My eyes narrowed. "I don't remember asking you for permission!"

"I don't care! I..." Suddenly, the hard mask of his face broke apart, and he raised one hand to cup my cheek. "I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

The moment I heard the warmth and the strain in his voice, I softened into his touch. "I know that," I whispered. "But I've got to do this. If there's anything I can do to defrost your grandfather, I have to try. "

"That senile old dried cod?" Elliot shook his head. "He's not worth risking your life over!"

"I won't be. Trust me. I'll just drive up and down the road at twenty miles per hour for a bit, then I'll come back to you."

At that, the worry in his eyes was suddenly replaced by a sparkle of amusement. "You, Cassidy, are a devious woman."

"Indeed I am."

Bending down, he placed a lingering kiss on my forehead. "Bring that devious head of yours back to me undamaged, will you? There's still much I want to do with it—and with the rest of you."

"Yessir!" I saluted, key in hand, and a broad grin on my face.

"Off with you." Laughing, he gestured towards the car. "And have fun!"

With a spring in my step, I approached my vehicle for the night. However, the closer I got to the Dagger GT, the more worn out the spring became. To be honest, I hadn't really looked at the thing before. It was just a car, right?

Wrong.

This was the kind of car James Bond would dream of having, but couldn't afford. The kind of car that could leave a Ferrari behind without straining itself. It was sleek, and black, the headlights twinkling like the eyes of a snake ready to strike, the massive racing tires nearly as high as the car itself. I pressed a button on the remote Mr. Winslow had given me, and with a hiss, the doors opened upwards.

Maybe Elliot hadn't been so wrong with his comparison to a space shuttle after all. My heart started beating faster.

"Well?" I heard Zack's teasing voice from behind me. "What are you waiting for?"

Gathering all my courage, I half-turned to throw all of them a sly grin. "Oh, just admiring the artwork. Bye, bye!"

And I got inside. With another hiss, the doors closed behind me. Lights sprang on all around, illuminating a gleaming black interior flowing over with controls, buttons and glowing screens.

"Now," I murmured, licking my lips and looking around. "Where's the ignition...?"

Five minutes later, I heard a knock against the side window.

Resurfacing from somewhere under the passenger seat—an unlikely place, I grant you, but who knew what these modern car developers got into their heads—I pressed my face against the window. Outside, I could see Zack's grinning face, and behind him Elliot who was doing his best not to smile.

"What?" I demanded.

"It's there!" Zack called, and pointed. "Right there. Just press the button!"

I looked where he pointed, then turned back to the window. "I knew that!" I shouted. "Of course I knew that! I was just getting comfy in here!"

Zack nodded, earnestly. "Of course."

Then he burst out laughing.

Oh, to hell with all men! Well, maybe not Elliot. He really was doing his best not to grin, you had to give him props for that.

I pressed the button—and gave a start as a noise that sounded like the roar of ten thousand lions flooded through the car's interior.

"Everybody who does not wish to be maimed for life, stand back!" I heard Zack call from outside.

"Idiots!" I muttered. Taking hold of the wheel, I glanced over my shoulder at the narrow driveway that lead out of the garage to the archway labeled Exit. I put the car in reverse.

"All right... nice and easy."

I stepped on the gas pedal.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"

That is the best written approximation I can offer of the scream I uttered when I shot backwards, only by a hair's breadth avoiding crashing into a gleaming Rolls Royce. My other foot came down on the brakes, and for a moment the car gave a tortured groan, until I remembered to take my right foot off the throttle.

Taking a deep breath, I let my head slump back against the headrest. From outside I heard Zack clapping and whooping, probably in honor of me not crashing the car within the first five seconds. Also, I heard a voice that sounded very much like Elliot, only a lot more angry: "Cassidy! Get out of that car at once! Do you hear me? That is an order!"

My lips twitched. He was in for a surprise. Changing the gears, I turned the steering wheel to the left, carefully pressed my foot on the accelerator again, and the car slid forward, gliding past the other vehicles at a considerable, but manageable pace. As soon as I reached the exit, the driveway widened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Outside, I was greeted by the twinkle of the stars and the crunch of gravel under the tires. At a speed of about twenty miles per hour I drove along, leisurely gazing out of the windows. This car wasn't so bad, after all. A bit sensitive in the pedal-department, perhaps, but on the whole, nice and comfy. If it had a bit more storage-room I could imagine driving it to the grocery store and back.

"Good evening," came an über-polite female voice out of the speakers. A map of the area appeared on the screen set into the dashboard. "This is your automatic navigation help system. Do you wish to choose a destination?"

I considered for a moment. Originally, I had just intended to drive around on the gravel driveway for a while. But the leather seats were nice and comfortable, the smell of the interior was pleasing, and the break from the stress of trying to impress my boyfriend's grandparents was more than welcome. Suddenly, I felt like a little cruising.

"Yes, I certainly do! Set course for Kykuit!"

"Searching... searching... One search result found: Kykuit, also known as the John D. Rockefeller Estate, in Westchester County, New York."

"That's the one! Full warp speed ahead, Scotty!"

There was a beep, and a blue line appeared on the screen, leading in zigzag across the map. I smiled. Time to have a little fun.

Only minutes later, I reached the gates of the estate.

"Hello, hello?" The guard blinked at me sleepily. "Who do we have here? Hey, is that a car from Mr. Winslow's collection?"

"Yes. Mr. Winslow very kindly gave me permission to take a short spin in it."

"I see. I'll have to check that, Miss. Please wait a moment."

He spoke into his headset and waited. Whatever crackly answer he got seemed to satisfy him. He nodded at me.

"Sorry for the delay, Miss. You may go through. Have fun."

"I intend to."

I rolled out onto the road.

"Please turn left at the next opportunity and then continue to drive straight on for half a mile."

With the help of my friendly GPS I reached the highway in just a few minutes. The black road stretched out endlessly in front of me, the lights of New York glittering to my left, the stars shining on the night sky to my right. I sped up just a tiny little bit, and nothing horrible happened.

Leaning back, I relaxed a little.

The night is really looking up, I thought. No butlers to snatch my coat away, no Mr. Winslow to bombard me with too many questions—it's just me out here now, a harmless little wanted serial killer having some fun cruising.

As long as the cops didn't try to stop me for a roadside breath control and saw my face, everything would be fine.

That was the moment when the siren started wailing behind me, and I caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the rearview mirror.

Oh crap...!

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My dear Homicidal Maniacs,

Now things are getting interesting! Our Favorite Black Widow against the Highway Patrol! Who do you think shall win the race? ;)

Cheers

Sir Rob