Chapter 103 – The Car Bombing Incident
The epic showdown between the three nerds ended with the slightly more athletic of the trio—Raj—emerging victorious over the other two combat-inept weaklings.
"Praise be to Shiva! I did it! I'm finally going to marry a Cooper woman!" Raj cheered as he leapt into the air, pumping his fists in triumph. Ron patted him on the shoulder, looking pleased.
"Congratulations, lucky guy."
"So I can marry Missy now? Can we have the wedding in India? I'll pay for your family's plane tickets, book everyone into the most luxurious hotel in New Delhi, and even assign three Dalit servants per guest…"
Raj rattled on, completely immersed in his fantasy of a future life with Missy. He unknowingly spilled every secret about his finances and assets, while the other two nerds remained too busy sulking over their crushing defeat to pay him any attention.
"Of course you can," Ron nodded with a sly grin. "Just as long as…"
"As long as what?" Raj blinked, suddenly nervous.
Ron opened his phone and showed Raj a photo from his album, holding it right up to his face. "As long as you can beat this guy next. Then I'll guarantee Missy is yours."
Raj's voice trembled. "Wh-Who is that…?"
On the screen was a man holding a heavy machine gun, staring into the camera with an emotionless—okay, more vacant—expression, like a soulless hitman inspecting his next target. The sight made Raj freeze.
And then… it happened.
A sudden, unmistakable warmth spread across his crotch.
He had literally wet himself.
Ron clapped Sheldon on the head playfully. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Silly me."
Sheldon seethed silently, making a mental note to report this offense to their mother next time they spoke.
"This is Forrest Gump. He's my neighbor. Also Missy's fiancé. Oh—and a Navy SEAL. One of the deadliest killing machines alive. The guy can run a five-kilometer cross-country course while carrying a squad machine gun."
Ron put a hand to his chest, mock-sincerely. "Really sorry I forgot to bring that up earlier."
He wasn't sorry at all. His smug face screamed punch me, but unfortunately, even all three nerds combined couldn't land a hit on him.
Just as the teasing continued, Ron's phone suddenly rang. A call from an unknown number. He was going to ignore it, but the caller ID made him pause.
Dominican Republic?
Isn't that where Toretto's hiding out? Ron remembered last hearing from Dom when he was escaping Cuba and headed there.
He'd even asked Yuri to give him a lift on the transport ship—and sent over a few "toys" along the way.
Curious, Ron answered.
A deep, gravelly voice came through the line.
"Ron. It's me. Toretto. Has Letty been in contact with you these past couple of days?"
"No, I haven't heard from her. What's wrong?" Ron immediately picked up on the tension in Toretto's voice.
"Letty's already back in Los Angeles. Mia said she saw her yesterday. She was going to let her stay at the house, but Letty said she had something to take care of and left. I thought she might be going to see you—to talk about the amnesty deal."
"She didn't come to me," Ron replied, brows furrowed. "If she had, I would've let you know right away. What happened?"
Toretto's voice turned grim—more serious than Ron had ever heard it.
"Letty's in trouble. Check the car bombing incident from yesterday. That car… it was hers."
Car bombing?
A bad feeling sank into Ron's gut like lead. No way… He had already settled the amnesty deal with Toretto. Could it really all be unraveling again, as if history were repeating itself?
"Where are you now?" Ron asked urgently, shoving Sheldon aside to take over the computer and search for news on the bombing. As the articles and images loaded, a chill ran down his spine—it was exactly like the scene from the movie in his memory.
Letty had been killed.
"I'm at the port, trying to find a cargo ship back," Toretto said, his voice like steel. "This is family. I'm going to settle this myself—no one is going to stop me."
"You don't have to worry about me getting in your way," Ron replied calmly. "Letty was my family too."
For once, Toretto didn't argue.
"But charging back now won't help. You'll be caught by the FBI before you even get close to revenge. Listen—"
Ron spoke fast and firm.
"I'll send you a number. One of Orlov's men. Use my name, and he'll get you on the ship. It'll take you straight to the Port of Los Angeles. I'll be waiting when you get here."
There was a long silence on the line. Then, finally, Toretto's voice returned, softer this time.
"Thank you, Ron."
"We're family, aren't we?"
"Yeah."
Ron ended the call and stood up. Sheldon instantly reclaimed his spot at the computer and began disinfecting the mouse and keyboard with a wet wipe, grumbling under his breath.
Ron's eye twitched, barely resisting the urge to slam Sheldon's head into the desk.
"Sheldon," he said through clenched teeth. "Tomorrow, take Missy to the airport. Make sure she gets there safely. Got it?"
Sheldon looked up. "Why me? She's the one who came here to see me."
"Because you're the big brother. And because I have business to take care of," Ron said firmly. "Leonard, tell Penny I won't be back tonight. Missy can sleep in my room."
With that, Ron turned and left the apartment.
On the way downstairs, he sent out four text messages from his phone:
One to Hank
One to Arthur
One with the contact info for Orlov's man to Toretto
And the last one… to a very unexpected recipient.
> "Meet me at your chicken joint in one hour."
To: Gustavo Fring
(a.k.a. "Uncle Fried Chicken"—the notorious drug lord Ron had given the nickname to)
If Ron remembered correctly, the man behind the hit on Letty was one of Braga's men—a small-time dealer. And if anyone knew the inner workings of LA's drug underworld, it was the kingpin himself.
Rivals or not, Ron had more than enough leverage to motivate Gustavo into cooperation.
---
One hour later.
Ron pushed open the door to the fried chicken restaurant, completely ignoring the "Closed for Business" sign. Sure enough, Gustavo was already there, seated at the same booth as last time. The entire shop was eerily empty—no staff, no customers. Just him.
As Ron walked in, Gustavo stood and greeted him with a smile that was all too fake—like a waiter ready to serve.
"Welcome, sir. What can I get for you today?"
Ron didn't even flinch.
"Cut the crap. I'm not in the mood for your waiter roleplay."
He dropped into the seat across from him, eyes cold.
"I'm only here for one thing: Braga. What do you know? I want everything."
Gustavo widened his eyes, feigning innocence.
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand what you're talking about."
He smiled and picked up a tray, playing the part of a clueless restaurant worker. That was enough to piss Ron off.
Without hesitation, Ron pulled a weapon from his waistband and pressed it to Gustavo's forehead.
M1911 – Rock Island Armory Collector's Edition.
"Do you understand me now?" Ron's tone was ice. "If your answers don't satisfy me, you won't be leaving this place in peace."
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