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In Los Angeles, a small shop called Toretto's Cafe sat across the street from another establishment called the Cheese Factory.
At the Cheese Factory, Ron ate absentmindedly at a window table, his attention focused entirely on the cafe across the street.
Just like the waitresses who occasionally pretended to pass by his table, they would linger near him, leaving small notes with phone numbers while wiping down tables—bold and obvious, as if they were ready to throw themselves at him any second.
This wasn't surprising.
Ron was exceptionally handsome, with strong but refined features. His perfectly tailored suit, clearly custom-made, emphasized his athletic build, making him look like a young Adonis stepped out of a magazine. The gold Rolex that casually peeked from his sleeve looked extremely expensive, giving him the air of old money sophistication.
At the entrance of the cafe across the street, a burly man in a red tank top was chasing out a handsome guy in a black T-shirt.
"From now on, you're eating burgers somewhere else! Mickey D's has a two-dollar special—go there, damn it!"
The handsome guy in the black T-shirt turned around. "I like the tuna sandwich here."
"Bullshit! Nobody likes that crap!"
"Well, I do!"
The guy retorted, heading for his truck. The burly man in the red tank top was livid. He rushed over, grabbed the guy around the waist, slammed him against the truck, and the two started throwing punches.
Typical LA hot-heads, Ron thought. They'll fight over anything.
Diners at the Cheese Factory whipped out their phones to record the action. Ron, who had been quietly eating by the window, suddenly found himself surrounded by gawkers pressing against the glass.
So much for Americans being more reserved than other cultures, he mused. Everyone loves a good show.
Fortunately, before any real damage was done, a large, bald man with commanding presence emerged from the cafe with his crew to break up the fight.
The handsome guy in black was pressed against the car. "He started it, Dom."
"No, I started it!" The bald man pointed at the burly guy in the red tank top. "Vince, quit showing off! You're embarrassing me in front of the whole neighborhood!"
As the fight ended, the spectators at the window dispersed, but Ron's eyes lit up. The man he'd been waiting for had finally appeared.
Yes, the bald man was his target.
Dominic Toretto.
Ron dabbed his mouth with his napkin and waved to a blonde waitress who was staring dreamily in his direction. "Excuse me, beautiful, could you hold my table? Keep an eye on my luggage? I just spotted someone I know and want to say hello. I'm not finished eating and need to come back."
Penny studied Ron, her mind working through the possibilities. Surely someone dressed like that wouldn't dine and dash, right?
Ron had thought the blonde waitress looked familiar from the start, and a glance at her name tag confirmed his suspicion.
"Your name is Penny, right? If you're worried about me skipping out on the check, I can pay now."
"No need, I trust you. Go ahead, come back and settle up later. But if you're talking about Toretto across the street, I'd be careful if I were you. He's got a reputation around here. All the street racers in LA answer to him."
Penny's protective instincts kicked in, and she found herself genuinely worried about this gorgeous stranger.
"Don't worry, we go way back."
Friends? Penny glanced at Ron's expensive tailored suit, then looked across the street at Toretto's five-dollar tank top from Walmart. How could two guys like that possibly know each other? He had to be joking.
As if to prove his point, Ron walked out under Penny's worried gaze and called out to the bald man across the street.
"Hey, Dom!" Ron waved cheerfully. "Long time no see, buddy. Haven't seen you since Lompoc."
The bald man turned, saw Ron, and his eyes instantly blazed with fury. He charged like an enraged bull, slamming Ron against a parked pickup truck and lifting him by the collar.
"Oh my God!" Penny screamed, fumbling for her phone to call 911, but Ron waved her off.
"Don't worry, we really are old friends. His greeting style is just a little... unique. Come on, Dom, you really want to rough me up in front of this beautiful lady? That's not very classy."
"I warned you," Toretto snarled, "stay away from my sister! The moment you broke Mia's heart, you stopped being family. Now you're my enemy."
Ron rubbed his nose sheepishly, letting Toretto hold him without showing any fear.
"Hey, Dom, you know Mia and I ended things on good terms. Hell, I even helped you out. If it wasn't for me, you'd have done at least two years in Lompoc."
At the mention of Lompoc, Toretto's grip loosened as memories flooded back—memories of being completely outmaneuvered by Ron.
"You tortured me..." Toretto's confidence wavered.
That year, he'd been arrested for assault and sent to prison, only to be unexpectedly recruited by Ron, who had just been promoted to lead a special task force for the IRS. Ron had offered him a deal.
Of course, Toretto had refused to cooperate, which led to the most psychologically grueling week of his life.
He suffered no physical harm, but Ron—with that unsettling smile of his—had employed psychological tactics that broke him down completely. When he was hungry, he got nothing but stale prison food. When he was thirsty, lukewarm tap water. Worse than the deprivation was the constant mental pressure, the way Ron could get inside his head and twist his thoughts until he didn't know which way was up.
By the fifth day, he'd surrendered. Although they'd developed an unlikely friendship during their subsequent operations together, the experience had left deep scars on Toretto's psyche.
Ron wasn't just a man—he was a force of nature.
"I helped you that time too!" Toretto's tone finally softened, and he set Ron down. "Alright, we're even. Just stay away from my sister, that's all. So tell me, what do you need me to do this time?"
"Don't worry, our target isn't you this time. We're after a drug dealer who goes by 'Heisenberg.'"
"Since when does the IRS investigate drug trafficking? Isn't that the DEA's territory?"
IRS? Penny couldn't believe this elegant, handsome man worked for the most feared agency in America. She couldn't help but shudder.
Wait, I'm not behind on my taxes, am I?
"What do we care about drug dealing?" Ron brushed off his now-wrinkled suit jacket with disgust. "Whether a business is legal or not is the FBI's problem. I'm here for one reason only—this guy isn't paying his taxes!"
"By the way, Dom..."
The bald man tensed again at being addressed.
"You haven't been skipping out on your taxes lately, have you?"
Toretto shook his head frantically.
"No, absolutely not! I've even been filing returns on some of my... off-the-books income! You're not going to bust me for that, are you?"
"That's what I like to hear! Don't worry, whether your transactions are legal isn't my concern. I won't hassle you over small potatoes like that. In fact, if any other agencies give you trouble, you can call me for backup. Remember, anyone who pays taxes is a taxpayer, and we're a capitalist country first and foremost. If those drug dealers were smart enough to pay their full share, we could probably get the laws changed to make their business legitimate."
Ron patted Toretto's bald head affectionately. "If you hear anything useful, let me know. Our new IRS policy gives informants 30% of recovered taxes. We'll split it 70-30."
Toretto didn't need to ask who got the 70%.
Part of him wanted to deck Ron right there for how he'd treated Mia, but like Ron said, they'd parted on good terms, and Ron really had helped his family out of several tight spots.
A government agent doing side deals? Toretto shook his head and decided to keep his distance from this complicated guy as much as possible.
Ron always said it felt great to stick it to tax cheats.
After returning to the restaurant and finishing his meal, he called the star-struck Penny over to settle the bill, even leaving her an extra ten on top of the tip.
Penny looked at him flirtatiously. "Come back and see us again soon~ I'd love to see you around more often."
"Trust me, your wish is about to come true." Ron nodded.
Penny was surprised. Was this gorgeous guy really that easy to hook?
"Are you asking me out? I get off work in half an hour. Maybe you could wait at your friend's cafe..."
"Would that be inconvenient? If I remember correctly, you're moving after work today, right?"
Penny looked suspicious. "How do you know that? Did you investigate me? Look, I filed my tax return, but I might need a few more days to get the money together..."
Ron quickly reassured her. "Don't worry, I haven't been investigating you. Of course, paying taxes is every citizen's duty."
Penny relaxed slightly. "Then how did you know I was moving?"
"Well, if you happen to be looking for someone to split the rent, and the previous tenant was a 200-pound cop who liked to cross-dress in his spare time, then I'm your new roommate. The landlord said I could find you here. Actually, I came here specifically looking for you."
Living with a guy this hot? Is this really happening?
Penny, practically purring, reached out her hand with a dazzling smile. "You didn't come here just for me, did you?"
"Of course not. To be more accurate, I'm here because of your neighbors."
"Neighbors?" Penny's interest deflated. "Are they like, famous or something?"
"Just a couple of nerds. My mom heard I was coming to LA for work and asked me to look out for my hopeless little brother. Let me properly introduce myself—Ron Cooper. Nice to meet you. Mind helping me get my luggage? Thanks."
Ron handed his heavy suitcase directly to Penny's outstretched hand. The unexpected weight nearly pulled her off balance.
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