This is an AI-assisted story as I wanted to see how close it could come to the storyline I wanted to write. Surprisingly, it came close but, as you can probably tell, it is not written in "my voice",
The Test Drive series will be the only one I will write with AI-assistance.
Created using NovelAI with a little bit of my own voice thrown in.

In the pulsating glow of the city's neon underbelly, Allie Jovankah had always thrived on the edge, her short blue hair whipping in the wind as she pushed her modified street racer to its limits. But tonight, the stakes had escalated beyond mere thrills, as she confronted Flash Anders and his Lightning Corp goons in a dimly lit warehouse lot, her heart pounding with a mix of fury and desperation over Juliette's disappearance.
Allie gripped the pistol tightly, its cold metal a stark contrast to the humid night air that clung to her skin like a bad omen. Flash Anders, his bald head gleaming under the flickering streetlights, stood flanked by his crew—tough, tattooed racers who mirrored his imposing build and swagger. He crossed his arms, trying to summon that gravelly authority he admired in old action flicks, but his voice cracked with genuine rage.

"You got some nerve showing up here, Jovankah," he snarled, his words laced with the kind of forced intensity that made him sound more like a parody than a threat. "After all the races we've run, you think you can just waltz in and take what's ours?"

She didn't respond immediately, her eyes scanning the group for any sign of weakness. The warehouse lot was a chaotic sprawl of souped-up cars, their engines still ticking from the night's illegal circuit. Allie's mind raced faster than any vehicle she'd ever driven; Juliette had vanished three years ago, snatched away by the shadowy Vipers gang, and every lead pointed back to these street kings. Flash and his cronies had been tight-lipped, but Allie knew they held pieces of the puzzle—maybe maps, contacts, or even ransom demands hidden in their winnings. She couldn't afford to back down, not when the gnawing guilt of that fateful night clawed at her insides. "Shut it, Flash," she shot back, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "You and your boys have been playing games with lives. Hand over the cash and whatever you know about Juliette, or this gets ugly."

The group erupted in laughter, a chorus of derision that only fueled Allie's resolve. Flash stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the path to his prized Ferrari, a sleek beast painted in electric blue with custom rims that gleamed like sharpened teeth.

"You think a little pop gun's gonna scare us? You're out of your league, girl."

But Allie was done talking. She raised the pistol, her finger curling around the trigger as she circled the group, forcing them to back away from their vehicles.

"Empty your pockets and step aside," she commanded, her tone as sharp as the city sirens wailing in the distance. One by one, they complied, tossing wallets and stacks of bills onto the asphalt, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

As the pile grew, Allie's thoughts spiraled to Juliette—the tall red-haired woman whose laughter had once lit up their shared apartment like a sunrise. She remembered the last time they'd raced together, Juliette's hand on the wheel, her eyes alive with the same adrenaline that now coursed through Allie's veins. How had she let her get taken? The guilt twisted in her gut, but she shoved it down, focusing on the task. With the money secured in a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, Allie made a beeline for the Ferrari, sliding into the driver's seat and firing up the engine. It roared to life, a thunderous beast eager for the chase.

Flash recovered quickly, barking orders to his crew. "Get in your rides! We're not letting this bitch get away!"

Tires squealed as several cars peeled out of the lot, their headlights cutting through the night like predatory eyes. Allie floored it, the Ferrari surging forward with a guttural growl that vibrated through her bones. She swerved onto the interstate, her heart hammering as she veered into the oncoming lane, a high-stakes gamble that sent her pulse skyrocketing.

The world blurred into a streak of lights—red taillights ahead, blinding high beams rushing toward her. Horns blared in a cacophony of fury, and Allie felt the rush, that intoxicating high of defying death, but it was tainted by a wave of nausea.

Behind her, Flash's crew gave chase, their vehicles weaving through traffic like wolves on the hunt. A collision erupted in her wake as an SUV swerved to avoid her, slamming into a sedan and sending sparks flying across the asphalt. Allie glimpsed the chaos in her rearview mirror—metal crumpling, glass shattering—and her stomach lurched. She loved the speed, the raw power of outmaneuvering everyone, but the guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. How many people had she just hurt? Families in those cars, maybe, innocent bystanders caught in her web of crime.

She screamed into the night, her voice echoing in the cockpit, "Dammit, Allie, you coward! You should've fought harder for her back then!" The words tasted like bile, a self-loathing that mingled with the adrenaline. Juliette couldn't be gone, not leading the Vipers or worse; Allie refused to believe it, clinging to the hope that this money would fund her next lead, another race, another clue.

Allie pushed the Ferrari harder, the engine whining as she threaded through the oncoming traffic, narrowly dodging a truck that honked furiously. Flash's car was gaining, his headlights growing larger in the mirror, but Allie's reflexes were razor-sharp, honed from years of illicit races. She took a sharp exit, the tires screeching in protest, leaving the interstate behind and vanishing into the labyrinth of side streets. As the pursuit faded, Allie's breath came in ragged gasps, the guilt and excitement warring within her. She had the cash now, enough to keep searching, but the shadows of doubt lingered, whispering that time was running out. Pulling into a darkened alley, she killed the engine and slumped back, her hands trembling on the wheel, determined to press on despite the chaos she'd unleashed.

The neon glow of the diner sign flickered like a heartbeat against the night sky, casting a warm, inviting light that felt almost foreign to Allie. She parked the Ferrari a couple of blocks away, still shaken from her narrow escape, and stepped out into the cool air. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving her with a dull throb in her head and a gnawing anxiety in her gut. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself before confronting Marco.

As she entered the diner, the bell above the door jingled, announcing her arrival. The smell of greasy food and burnt coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the distant sounds of clattering dishes and murmured conversations. It was a far cry from the high-octane world of street racing she thrived in, but it was exactly what she needed—a moment of normalcy amid the chaos.

Marco was seated in a booth toward the back, his back to the wall, a strategic choice that spoke of old instincts despite his current state. He looked up as she approached, and for a fleeting moment, Allie saw a glimmer of the confident leader he used to be. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he wore a worn leather jacket that had seen better days. But it was the sight of his leg propped up on the seat across from him that struck her hardest; a heavy brace encased the limb, the remnants of a life altered by violence.

"Allie," he greeted, his voice gravelly but lacking the warmth it once held. He gestured toward the pancakes piled before him, syrup pooling like a small lake. "You look like you just crawled out of a wreck."

"Funny, coming from you," she shot back, trying to inject some levity into the heavy air between them as she slid into the booth. "How's the leg?"

"Shattered, thanks for asking," Marco replied dryly, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you doing, showing up here? You realize you’ve made enemies across half the country, right? How the hell are you still alive?"

Allie bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her as she remembered the chaos she had just left behind. "I had to, Marco. I thought I could get some answers about Juliette. I thought maybe—"

"Maybe what?" he interrupted, leaning in closer. "You thought you could just wave a gun around and get what you want? You’re playing with fire, Allie. You need to be careful; you’re not invincible."

She sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on her. "I know, I know. But I think I have a lead. I just need some cash to make it happen."
Marco’s expression hardened. "And what kind of lead are we talking about? Something that could get you killed?"

"I need to hire a hitman," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "To find Juliette."

He stared at her, disbelief etched across his features. "A hitman? You want to gamble with a killer? You think that’s a good idea? Where are you even going to find someone who won’t just kill you and take your money?"

Allie took a deep breath, the familiar weight of her past choices crashing down around her. "I know a guy," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

She grabbed Marco's coffee cup, taking a swig without waiting for an invitation. The bitter liquid burned her throat, but she welcomed the discomfort—it was a reminder that she was still alive and fighting.

Marco raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing his tone. "You know a guy? And you trust him? That’s rich coming from you."

"Look, I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t think I had a shot," she replied, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You know how this world works. I’ve been in it long enough to know where to find the dark corners. This guy, he owes me a favor. I just need to convince him to help."

He studied her for a moment, weighing her words. "What kind of favor? Because if he’s anything like the rest of your contacts, I doubt he’ll be willing to help you without a steep price."

"Something that happened a while back," she responded, her gaze dropping to the table. "I saved his ass from a fire. He was about to get it and I stepped in. He said he’d help me if I ever needed it."

Marco shook his head, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Allie. This isn’t just about you anymore. If you get killed, who’s going to look for Juliette then? You think the Vipers are just going to sit back, let you waltz in and take her?"
"I don’t have a choice!" she shot back, her voice rising. "I can’t just sit here and wait. I need to do something. Juliette deserves that much."
His expression softened slightly, and he sighed, the fight ebbing from him. "I get it. But you need to be smart about this. If you go to him, you need a plan. You can’t just walk in there with a smile and expect him to jump at the chance to help you."

Allie nodded, biting her lip as she thought through her options. "I’ll talk to him. Maybe he can point me in the right direction or at least give me some intel on the Vipers. If I can find out where they’re hiding, I might be able to get close to Juliette."

"Just promise me you’ll be careful," Marco said, his tone serious. "You’ve already stirred the pot with Flash and his crew. The last thing you need is to add the Vipers to that list. They’re a different breed altogether."

"I promise," she replied, though she knew that promises often meant little in their world. "But I need to do this."

Marco stared into his coffee, lost in thought, before finally nodding. "Okay. But if you’re going to do this, you need to get your head straight. You have to be ready for anything. And if things go sideways, you call me, understood?"

"Yeah," Allie said, a flicker of gratitude warming her chest. "Thanks, Marco. I appreciate it."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air. The diner continued its bustle around them, the world outside indifferent to their struggles. Allie felt the familiar rush of determination surge within her, a fire ignited by the thought of Juliette. She would find the love of her love; she had to.

As they finished their conversation, Allie stood up, smoothing her jacket and preparing to leave. "I’ll keep you updated," she said, her voice steady. "Just… don’t wait up for me."

"Be careful, Allie," Marco warned again, his eyes serious. "You’re still my family. I don’t want to lose you too."

With a nod, Allie turned and stepped back into the night, the weight of the diner’s warmth fading as she plunged into the cool embrace of the streets. The city loomed around her, a maze of danger and possibility, and she was ready to navigate it. The search for Juliette was on, and this time, she wouldn’t back down.

Tim Jovankah stirred awake to the sensation of warm lips brushing against his skin. He blinked, the morning light filtering through the thin curtains of their cabin, illuminating the face of his boyfriend, Joey Andrews, who was perched on top of him, grinning like a mischievous child.
“He lives!” Joey declared, his voice playful, as he leaned down to press another kiss on Tim’s cheek.

Tim chuckled softly, the sound muffled as he attempted to push Joey off him gently. “Okay, okay, I’m awake. You don’t have to suffocate me with affection,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep.

Joey rolled off and landed beside him, still wearing his signature wrinkled suit, which clashed amusingly with the silk pajamas he had chosen for the morning. “You know I can’t help it. I just love waking up next to you,” he said, his tone light and affectionate.

Tim smiled, pushing himself up to a sitting position. The cabin was cozy, the scent of pine and fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen, mingling with the crisp morning air that drifted in through the open window. They had carved out a peaceful life here, far from the chaos of the city and the shadows of Tim’s past.

“Speaking of which,” Joey said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What is it?”

Joey stood up and stretched, his black hair falling messily over his forehead. “Today marks three years since we ditched the mob. I thought we should celebrate,” he announced, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Tim’s heart warmed at the reminder. It had been three years since they had made the decision to leave the life they had known behind—three years of freedom from the looming threat of the mafia that had once dictated their lives. “You’re right,” he said, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. “We should celebrate.”

He got up and followed Joey downstairs, both of them still clad in their morning wear. The kitchen was bright and inviting, the sunlight spilling over the wooden table where two mugs of steaming coffee awaited them.

Tim poured himself a cup, savoring the rich aroma. As he took a sip, he gazed out the window at the serene lake that lay just beyond their property, the water glistening like a thousand diamonds under the sun. It was a stark contrast to the life they had escaped, where danger lurked around every corner and trust was a luxury neither of them could afford.

“And to think it all started with you wanting to drive a car.”

“I should have chosen the Ferrari…then nothing would have happen.”
Joey,shaking his head in disbelief added, “Yep, those were the good times.”

“Good times indeed,” Tim echoed, his smile fading slightly as he thought about how close they had come to being dragged back into that world. But here, in their little cabin, they had built something that felt safe, something that felt like home.

Just as he was lost in the thought, a loud knock echoed from the front door, jolting him from his reverie. Joey perked up, excitement dancing in his eyes. “I’ll get it!” he exclaimed, darting toward the door.

Tim followed him, curious about who could be visiting them this early in the day. As Joey swung the door open, Tim caught sight of their neighbor, Derek, standing on the porch with his usual stoic expression. He was a rugged man, always carrying his shotgun, a remnant of his past life as a
hunter.

“Morning, Derek,” Joey greeted, his voice brightening the otherwise serious atmosphere.

Derek’s eyes flickered over Joey’s silk pajamas, a brief moment of confusion crossing his face before he composed himself. “Morning, boys. Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying seriousness.
T
im stepped forward, sensing the weight of Derek’s presence. “What’s up, Derek? Everything okay?”

Derek nodded, though his gaze was piercing. “I’m planning to head out for the winter and not coming back,” he replied, his voice steady. “Before I go, I wanted to give you both something.”

Tim and Joey exchanged glances, intrigued. “What do you mean, not coming back?” Tim asked.

“I’m tired, boys…I’ve been good to land, but it’s time to leave my solitude. I…I’m going to stay with my brother in Colorado.”

“Denver?” Tom asked.

Derek shifted slightly, reaching behind him and pulling out a couple of large duffel bags. “I’ve got a lot of hunting gear, guns, and boats that I won’t be needing. Thought you two could use them,” he explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

Joey’s eyes widened, enthusiasm bubbling over. “That’s awesome! We can finally get that fishing trip going!” He rushed forward to inspect the bags, his excitement infectious.

Tim couldn’t help but smile at Joey’s enthusiasm, but he also felt a twinge of concern. “Are you sure about this, Derek? That’s a lot of gear to just give away,” he said, not wanting to take advantage of their neighbor’s generosity.

Derek shrugged, his expression softening slightly. “You two have been good neighbors. You deserve it. Better it goes to someone who will appreciate it.”

Joey stepped forward, throwing his arms around Derek in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is another reason to celebrate!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled against Derek’s shoulder.

Derek stiffened for a moment, clearly not used to such displays of affection, but he eventually patted Joey’s back with a small smile. “Just take care of it,” he said, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice.

Tim chuckled, watching the interaction. “We will, Derek. You can count on us to put it to good use.”

As they began to unpack the bags, Tim felt a renewed sense of purpose wash over him. They had escaped their past, and now they were building a future. With each piece of gear they pulled out, he felt the weight of the last three years lift a little more.

“Hey, maybe we should have a bonfire tonight to celebrate,” Tim suggested, glancing at Joey, who was now inspecting a fishing rod with wide eyes.
“Absolutely! We can roast marshmallows and tell spicy stories about our crazy lives!” Joey replied, his excitement palpable.

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You two are something else. Just don’t set the woods on fire,” he warned, but the hint of a smile lingered on his lips.

As Derek departed, Tim and Joey continued to sort through the gear, laughter and lightness filling the cabin. They were free, and for the first time in a long while, they felt like they could breathe without the shadows of their past looming over them.

Today was a day of celebration, a day to reflect on how far they had come. And as the sun began to rise higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake, Tim knew they were ready for whatever came next.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the small clearing where Tim and Joey had set up their bonfire. The scent of roasted marshmallows mingled with the smoky aroma of hotdogs sizzling over the flames, creating a cozy atmosphere that felt like a world away from their tumultuous past.

Tim sat cross-legged on the ground, a stick in hand, expertly rotating his marshmallow until it reached the perfect golden-brown hue. He looked up at Joey, who was leaning back against a tree, his dark hair tousled and a playful smile dancing on his lips. They had spent the last few hours reminiscing about their lives before the mob, laughing at the absurdity of their old ways while dreaming about their future.

“I was thinking,” Tim started, his voice steady, though his heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation, “maybe we should add onto the cabin. You know, build a little nursery.”

Joey’s eyes lit up, a spark of mischief igniting within them. “A nursery? Are we talking about adopting a baby? Like a little mini-you running around?” He chuckled, tossing a marshmallow into the air and catching it in his mouth.

Tim felt his cheeks flush at the thought. “I mean, it could be nice. A family of our own, away from all the chaos…” He trailed off, lost in the vision of a life filled with laughter and love, devoid of the shadows of their past.

Joey moved closer, his expression softening. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against Tim’s in a sweet, lingering kiss that sent warmth coursing through Tim’s veins. Just as he deepened the kiss, a sudden screech of tires sliced through the tranquility of the evening, jolting them apart.

“What the hell was that?” Tim asked, his heart pounding now for a different reason. The sound echoed ominously through the woods, sending a chill down his spine.

“Sounds like trouble,” Joey replied, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. He moved swiftly to the cabin, the adrenaline surging through him as he grabbed the shotgun they had stashed for emergencies.

Tim followed closely, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. They had left that life behind, but the past had a way of creeping back in when least expected. As he retrieved his own weapon, he felt the weight of their history pressing down on him.

“Let’s check it out,” Tim said, his voice steady despite the rising tension. He moved to the side of the cabin, using the wall for cover as he peered out into the dimming light. Joey positioned himself nearby, ready to back Tim up.

The sound of the car came to a halt outside, the engine idling menacingly. Tim’s heart raced as he caught a glimpse of headlights cutting through the trees. It wasn’t long before a figure emerged, stumbling out of the vehicle.

“Tim!” a voice shouted, breaking through the night air. “I know you’re here. I need help!”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat as recognition hit him like a punch to the gut. It was Allie.

“Your sister?” Joey asked, glancing at Tim with a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yeah,” Tim replied, his mind racing as he recalled the last time he saw her, on the day he joined Nick’s association.

He motioned for Joey to stand ready, then moved to the front door, heart pounding as he opened it. Allie stood there, her blue hair tousled and her eyes wide with fear. She looked disheveled, as if she had been running for miles.

“I’m in trouble,” she lamented, her voice shaky as she took a step inside.

Tim’s protective instincts kicked in. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He scanned her for any visible signs of injury, but she seemed intact, albeit shaken.

“I need help, Tim.”

“Come on, come in,” Tim said in a calm voice, but his eyes shifted to see if anything was hiding in the dark.

Joey lead Allie to the kitchen table and she collapsed in a chair.

“I need a favor from you.”

“What kind of favor, Allie?” Tim asked as he walked to the table and stood next to Joey.

“I need you to find someone for me. Maybe take him out in the process. I’ll pay you.”

Tim’s expression turned hard and cold at the thought of going back to that life.

“You owe me, Tim! When you crashed the car into the kitchen, I took the blame from mom and saved your ass.”

Tim looked at Joey.

“It could pay for the nursery,” Joey replied.