Chapter 17: She Is Fast And Furious!

Chapter 17: She Is Fast And Furious!

Sunday morning...

My nose, arms, and chest were instantly greeted with the warmth of Mary spooned tightly in my embrace. She was smiling, her fingers gently rubbing my arm where it was pinned directly under her breasts, refusing to let her go. She turned her head up toward me and kissed my lips softly, flashing her signature grin.

"Rick, I was so incredibly happy to wake up and realize yesterday actually happened," she whispered. "Good morning. Do you want me to go cook us some breakfast?"

"Nah," I replied, pulling her closer. "It'll take you a full hour just to get ready, so I'll handle the kitchen. How do omelets sound to you?"

She pouted, looking at me with a mix of affection and frustration. "In one single night, we confessed our love, got engaged, and already started making babies. And yet here we are, acting exactly like an old married couple that already knows every little thing about each other, sigh."

I leaned down, kissed her lips, and confidently slid out of the bed.

"Actually, it's great!" I laughed. "We already got all that awkward falling-in-love stuff out of the way. Now we can just focus entirely on lusting after one another and multiplying like rabbits. Sounds like a solid plan, right?"

She looked thoroughly amused, nodding her head as she reached for her clothes for the day. She watched me stretch before asking a question.

"You aren't picking up Hana until eight o'clock tonight, so what are your plans for the day? I still need to finish washing our laundry."

While I broke down my itinerary, I reached into my coat and pulled out my brand-new Bodyguard credentials to show her the paperwork.

"For the morning, I am going to start a serious workout routine. But last night I..."

I went ahead and explained the entire situation to Mary regarding my new professional protection job and the premium contract I signed with Tina Feng. The only thing I directly lied about was the exact financial payout. I told her that my new body armor and handguns were just standard equipment provided as part of my corporate contract.

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the living room, and Mary was staring down at my two brand-new HK P30s resting on the coffee table. A complicated, heavy look filled her eyes as she looked up at me.

"Rick, this entire lifestyle seems incredibly dangerous. Are you absolutely sure this is good for you? I am seriously worried about your safety."

I wrapped my arm firmly around Mary's shoulders, knowing her anxiety came from a place of pure love.

"What you are feeling right now is the exact same thing I have felt for four long years watching you follow directly in Father's footsteps," I explained gently. "Have I ever once ordered you to quit your dangerous job just because I am terrified of losing you? On the other hand, I only have to work occasionally for my clients, and I make ten times more money than your precinct pays you. I have a real family that I need to start saving up for now. Trust your new husband."

For a split second, Mary looked like she wanted to argue that she would just quit the force herself, but I knew she truly loved her detective work. She was inwardly annoyed at my smooth smile because my logic made way too much sense for her to push back.

"Just... promise me you won't die like Mother and Father did."

"Ditto," I said softly, kissing the top of her head. "Oh, and I am officially marrying you right after next week's standardized school tests are over. I have already locked in a reservation at the registry office to get our papers signed. I only want it to be the two of us there. But I do wonder sometimes... would Mom and Dad be genuinely happy for us, or would they be completely disappointed in the choices we're making?"

Mary pushed herself away from my chest and started walking toward the bathroom for her morning shower, looking back over her shoulder with a cheeky grin.

"They wanted the two of us to be safe, happy, and deeply in love!" she called out. "So Mom and Dad would absolutely support our relationship. We survived their passing, and that is the exact outcome they wanted for us. You and I are basically just a copy of Mom and Dad anyway. Now get into that kitchen and make my eggs your bitch, fufu!"

We shared a completely cozy, relaxed family breakfast together, and then I headed out to initiate a serious workout. It had taken me a full week since my awakening, but it was finally time to jump-start my body tempering.

Combining my Grandmaster-tier Kung-Fu muscle memory with my Advanced-tier medical knowledge made designing the absolute ideal recovery and conditioning workout simple. I knew exactly how to push my limits to clear my physical bottleneck without causing further strain to my bruised ribs.

After finishing up and taking a hot shower, I opened my laptop and hacked straight into the school's local grading server. I wrote a secure script to ensure that Scott Tang would achieve the exact number eleven spot on the school rankings, no matter how good or bad his actual answers turned out to be. We don't do our standardized tests on paper in this universe like I did in my first life; everything is submitted through our personal school laptops.

This meant that no matter what buttons his arrogant fingers pressed next week, the system would automatically alter the data lines the second he hit submit.

In fact, even if the idiot failed to answer a single question on the paper, the script would automatically force his final rank to number eleven no matter what. As a quick side note, I also adjusted the code so that both Nicole and especially Nadia would secure the number nine and number ten spots at a minimum. What can I say? I can't exactly go neglecting the two fine noble girls who just made me a man, can I?

With that digital business taken care of, Mary and I washed our laundry together, just chilling on the couch and watching classic shows on my laptop screen while we waited for the clothing cycles to finish.

As the sun finally began to dip below the horizon, I went into the kitchen to grill some fresh kabobs for Mary. Since I would be eating out for my date tonight, I wanted to make sure she was fully fed before she went to bed early to rest up for her upcoming late precinct shifts.

Once dinner was cleared, I tucked her into our queen bed, making sure she was completely comfortable. Then I walked back out to get dressed in my sharp new grey suit, ready to go pick up Dr. Hana Chang for our upcoming supper date.

I am wearing an outfit identical to the business casual style I wore yesterday, but this one is pure white. I seamlessly strapped on my custom shoulder holsters, secured the twin HK P30s, and then covered the entire tactical rig with a sharp white jacket.

I know for a fact that the single day I decide to leave my weapons at home, violence will find me exactly like it found my father. Now I completely understand why my mind is so deeply obsessed with being constantly armed. I definitely do not want to end up like Dad—caught entirely unprepared by a bunch of armed criminals.

Holding my smartphone, I sent a quick message to her line letting her know I was on my way to pick her up from the luxury condo she owns near the central hospital. A reply with her exact street address came back seconds later, along with the digital keypad code to enter her building. Sigh.

"Why the hell am I feeling so much guilt for going out with a woman I wasn't even actively pursuing in the first place?" I muttered, steering the car out of the lot. "No, it's fine. I will just execute the plan. I'll tell her the truth about Mary straight away, feed her some pasta, drop her back off at her door, and head straight home. I have my final week of school tomorrow morning, so it functions as the perfect operational excuse to cut the night short."

With my tactical game plan fully set, I climbed into my freshly detailed white BMW and headed straight over to the medical district. Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the security gates of an attractive condo complex. The automated scanners already registered my license plates from her visitor guest list, and the arm lifted to let me into the private sector.

I pulled the vehicle up to her specific residence on the seventh lot. The architecture was impressive, featuring a massive four-car garage with her actual living space built directly over the car park. Basically, it was an elevated second-floor home.

I punched her digital entry code into the exterior gate pad, and the security grid whined as it swung open, allowing my white sedan to slide inside.

Parking the car, I set the security alarm with my key fob and made my way up the steps. I was carrying a single, long-stemmed red rose in my hand. I might not be serious about pursuing her long-term, but I will at least follow some baseline dating basics to keep up appearances.

Knock! Knock!

I knocked twice on the heavy wooden door and stood back, waiting for her to open up. A moment later, the lock clicked, the door swung open, and I was genuinely left completely amazed at how entirely different she looked when she wasn't trapped under sterile hospital lighting. With her hair, makeup, and attractive casual clothing fully styled, she had somehow gotten significantly more beautiful, if that was mathematically possible. Her long blonde hair was completely down, framing her face unlike her messy bun at work. But the truly shocking variable was her choice of dress and shoes.

Her outfit was a single-piece, blood-red, form-fitting dress that barely covered the line of her panties. Yes, she was actively wearing a shoulderless red miniskirt dress. Her feet were slipped into a pair of matching red stiletto heels, and the entire aesthetic absolutely screamed high-end trophy wife or premium escort.

"Rick Lee," Hana said, leaning against the doorframe as her smoky blue eyes scanned my white suit. "I honestly expected you to show up at my door wearing baggy blue jeans and sneakers. It looks like I don't have to slam the door right in your face after all. Come inside and stop drooling. I always dress like this when I'm off the clock."

My Acting skill was a bit slow to activate under the sheer visual pressure of her legs, but I quickly forced my brain to pull off the charming university young master role. I extended my hand, presenting the flower.

"Seeing you dressed like this, Doctor," I said, letting out a dry sigh. "I think bringing a single rose looks incredibly cheap. I definitely should have gone with the full dozen."

She smiled sharply, taking the rose from my fingers before gesturing toward a sleek white leather couch in the center of her living room.

"I am normally never late to be ready for an appointment," she explained, walking toward her bedroom. "But with last night's massive turf war emergency down at the docks, all hands were on deck at the ER. I didn't get off my shift on time. Give me about ten minutes to finish up my styling."

I sat down on the leather cushions, pulling my smartphone out of my pocket to monitor the local networks. "Take your time. Our reservations aren't for a while anyway. Also, before we leave this apartment, we need to have a serious talk."

"Rick, I hope you're not about to tell me you are secretly gay, right?" her amused voice called out from the bedroom.

Fuck! I could honestly just say yes to that right now and completely get out of this entire date without any social blowback. But... that is arguably way worse for my reputation than the 'Little Dick Rick' nickname! No, I can't do that to myself, damn it.

"Next week, the exact day I graduate from Star High, I am officially marrying Mary," I stated clearly, keeping my voice entirely flat and honest. "So you absolutely need to know this piece of information before we do anything together tonight. I like to be completely transparent."

The bedroom went entirely quiet for a long moment. Then, her clinical voice filtered back through the doorway.

"Honest, huh? You've already lied straight to my face twice before during your hospital stay, Rick. So then, let me test your knowledge one last time... what is an Embolism?"

"An arterial blockage, often caused by a detached blood clot or foreign matter," I answered instantly, my advanced medical knowledge compiling the definition without a single trace of hesitation.

She immediately fired back, asking the exact same kind of rapid-fire diagnostic questions a few more times. Each topic got trickier and trickier, moving from baseline pathology into deep surgical logic. I just laughed out loud at her when she casually yelled from the room that she had just suffered a traumatic GSW to her hair structure while using her curling iron.

"My last question for the student," Hana said, her voice getting closer. "If my arm was deeply cut by a sharp kitchen knife, and you happened to have your surgical pack on hand, could you properly dress the wound after performing the stitches?"

She walked straight out of her bedroom, but this time she had added a half-length red jacket that covered her bare shoulders. Her smoky blue eyes were locked directly onto my pupils, scanning my micro-expressions for any sign of deception.

"Yeah," I said, matching her intense gaze with absolute confidence. "And I can even easily fix that stupid gunshot wound you just faked if the curling iron actually went straight through your shoulder."

She stopped directly in front of my seat, a knowing look crossing her features. "I was always teased by the other residents for being a young medical genius during my tracks. They used to call me Doogie Dowser MD. I absolutely hated that name."

"My high school bullies called me Little Dick Rick," I countered smoothly.

Hana's lips parted into a wide, brilliant smile. "You win the bad nickname contest, Rick. But from what I recall from your telemetry... there is absolutely nothing little about you."

A sudden realization violently slammed into my brain.

"That's right..." I stammered, my confidence cracking for a split second. "I was completely naked on the exam table last week when my system crashed. Wow... you actually looked, ha-ha!"

She didn't even bother to blush at the callout, keeping her posture completely dominant as she reached for her clutch purse.

"Why do you think I accepted your date in the first place, Rick? Now let's get moving already. And about your marriage to Mary? I don't care about that variable at all. She and I are actually pretty good friends. We talked on the phone late last night while she was processing the dock casualties."

My basic Acting skill completely failed to keep the stupid, paralyzed look of utter shock from landing right across my face. I stood up like a mindless robot, my head spinning as I followed her out the front door while she casually locked up the condo behind us.

The two of us walked down the steps, and as I reached out to hold the complex door open for her, she smiled and hit a button on her key fob. With a motorized hum, one half of her massive four-car garage rolled upward to reveal two immaculate red sports cars.

The first vehicle was the red Mercedes-Benz C-Class coupe she had peeled off in back at the grocery store, but the second one completely froze me in my tracks.

"Holy Shiite!" I blurted out, my jaw nearly hitting the pavement. "That's the imported V-6 turbo Chevrolet Camaro SS, with full street-racing tires! Damn, woman!"

A completely surprised smile broke across Hana's lips when she heard me accurately nail the car's exact mechanical description, completely amazed that I could tell which of the two factory engine configurations it had under the hood just by looking at it.

"Do you do any real driving, Rick?" she asked, her smoky blue eyes locked on me with newfound curiosity. "You seem to really know your cars."

Schooling my facial expression, I quickly forced my voice into a casual, unbothered register to play it off. "Just a bit."

Without a word, she spun on her stiletto heel and threw the heavy key fob straight at my chest.

"I was fully planning to drive us tonight and impress you," Hana said, a challenging grin spreading across her face. "But now I really want to see exactly how you drive. Let's go. Just leave your car parked where it is."

I didn't even bother to pretend I didn't want to drive it. I immediately locked my white BMW with my own fob, walked over to the passenger side of the beast, and opened the door for her to climb in. The moment she was settled, I ran around to the driver's side like a little kid on Christmas morning, eager to slide my body down into the deep leather bucket seats.

She reached back and buckled herself into the heavy five-point racing harness meant for high-speed tracking, and I quickly did the exact same on my side. I ran my hands across the leather gear shifter, instantly getting a feel for the clutch tension and mapping the digital display telemetry before I twisted the ignition to fire up this amazing machine. The engine roared to life with a deep, aggressive mechanical purr.

Hana adjusted her dress, glancing sideways at me. "Rick, why exactly do you look significantly happier with my car than you do with me right now?"

I tapped the clutch, revving the engine to feel the throttle response as the Camaro moved forward with smooth, dangerous grace, like a hunting predator cutting through the shadows. I grinned, offering her the absolute truth.

"Because this baby will do absolutely anything I want it to do, and it will only ever say yes!"

And before her sharp mind could even construct a proper retort to my joke, I was off. In the blink of an eye, I navigated the parking grid and was smoothly waiting at the gate for the security guard to clear our vehicle. The second the arm lifted like a green light on an open race track, I slammed the clutch, shifted into first, and the sheer G-force sank both of us deep back into our seats as the car bolted forward into the night in a total blur.

The roaring scream of the turbocharged engine completely drowned out the ambient city sounds. Hana could only sit there and watch my smiling face as my advanced driving instincts took over, pushing the high-performance car through the tight, empty back streets of the medical district. She kept one hand firmly holding her designer clutch purse, while her other hand gripped the nylon strap of her racing harness for dear life.

"Have you ever drifted before, Hana?" I called out over the mechanical roar.

Hana would realistically only be at the level of an amateur driver, maybe hitting the baseline professional rules of a basic driver at most, so high-speed drifting was something her clinical life had never experienced. The second my words cut through the cabin, a flash of panic crossed her face, but she forced herself to answer.

"I've seen others do it!" she shouted back. "And in the movies!"

"It's a bit rough on these expensive tires," I grinned, shifting down to spike the RPM. "But do you want to fly for a second, Hana?"

Hana's heart started to pump rapidly at the sudden thought of me losing control, flipping the vehicle, or crashing us straight into a concrete barrier. But the moment her eyes locked onto the absolute, unyielding confidence in my smile, she gave a firm nod, giving me the green light to try.

Scanning the road ahead, my mind instantly mapped a perfect, wide bend with absolutely zero oncoming traffic or pedestrians in the sector. I decided to execute a high-speed left turn, which would break the rear traction and drift her passenger side forward into the apex, allowing her to get the absolute maximum sensory view out of the maneuver.

"Don't hold your breath, don't bite your tongue, and definitely don't scream!" I yelled. "Just trust me!"

I slammed my boot down on the throttle to increase our entry speed—faster is always better for initiating a clean break, and this turbocharged V-6 was balanced perfectly for weight-distribution drifting. A heavier V-8 engine would obviously be better for raw straightaways, but this setup was built for corners.

As we neared the sharp turn, I flicked the steering wheel, made sure the automated anti-lock braking sensors were completely overridden, and aggressively slammed on the brakes. The sudden deceleration instantly shifted the entire physical weight of the chassis forward onto the front suspension, lightening the load on the rear tires and breaking their grip on the asphalt.

Screeech!

At that exact microsecond, the rear end of the Camaro swung around in a screaming, smoky charge. The car was now traveling completely sideways down the street. From her side window, Hana had a front-row view of the oncoming road rushing toward her, making it feel like she was sitting right in front of my line of sight. I subtly adjusted the throttle, keeping the tires spinning at the exact rate needed to maintain the slide. The look of sheer, unadulterated horror painted across Hana's beautiful face as she realized we were traveling sideways at sixty miles an hour was absolutely priceless.

"Look, Hana! No hands!" I shouted.

Right as I yelled it, she watched me completely let go of the steering wheel as the column rotated quickly in a violent blur. Her heart almost stopped, her brain thoroughly convinced that I was an absolute insane maniac.

Amateur drivers have no idea that during a counter-steer phase of a drift, you have to let the front wheels automatically track the momentum, and holding the wheel steady will completely ruin the alignment. Really, an actual professional only keeps their palms about an inch off the leather to catch it, but I was aggressively messing with Hana's head for pure theatrical effect.

Before the car could spin out, my advanced driving skills triggered the exact millisecond to act. I clamped my hands back down onto the wheel, pinned the throttle, and cleanly brought the Camaro straight out of the slide, powering down the lane as our drift finally ended.

Describing the technical mechanics of the maneuver makes it seem like a ton of time passed, but in reality, the entire sequence lasted less than four seconds. I immediately let off the gas, dropping the car back down into legal, local driving speeds. I glanced over at the slightly pale, wide-eyed doctor sitting in the passenger harness.

"So," I chuckled, tapping the steering wheel. "Do you officially regret agreeing to a drift now, ha-ha?"

"Pull over right there," she breathed, her voice tight.

Oh? I thought to myself, my smile faltering slightly. Does she actually have to vomit from the motion sickness or something?

I quickly guided the car to the side of the dark street, bringing it to a halt and clicking the shifter into park. The second the car was stationary, Hana unbuckled her racing harness, tossed her purse straight onto the dashboard, and aggressively leaned across the center console. She wrapped her hands around the collar of my jacket and roughly captured my lips in a fierce, intense kiss.

For about two full minutes, Dr. Chang completely turned into a dentist, her tongue forcefully trading saliva with mine as she explored my mouth with a wild, hungry energy. When she finally broke the kiss, she was breathing heavily, her chest heaving against the tight red fabric of her dress. She bit her lower lip, staring at me with a flushed face as she made a shameless confession.

"I think... I think I literally just had a small orgasm from that drift," she admitted, her voice dropping into a breathless whisper. "I can't even describe what my body is feeling right now, Rick. How the hell are you so incredibly good at driving?!"

Even with her high-level intellect, she was street-smart enough to not question the hard things. She didn't try to logically calculate where a bruised high school kid suddenly acquired veteran racing instincts.

"I can flawlessly stitch up a trauma patient and you aren't amazed at all," I teased, giving her a wry smile as I adjusted my jacket. "But I slide a car around a corner and you turn into a complete mess?"

She blushed deep red, quickly reaching for her purse and buckling her racing harness back over her chest to hide her vulnerability.

"Stitching up a wound is easy for me," she muttered, smoothing down her red miniskirt. "But driving like a stunt driver is not. That's why. Now let's just get to the restaurant already. I am starving."

I just smiled, putting the roaring Camaro back into gear. I decided to completely ignore the passionate, tongue-filled kiss she had just thrown at me out of nowhere. I steered the vehicle back onto the main road, heading straight toward the high-end pasta restaurant.