Chapter Text
The loud consistent thudding enriched its intensity. The soaking-wet moans transformed into guttural throaty grunts. The soft whimpers were now screams of encouragement and plead. Faint Spanish-spoken praises now evaporated and rained down in harsh orders. Three fingers were inside you while the thumb was making persistent circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to sync in with the raging sounds coming behind the paper-thin wall of the musty motel room in Bogota. The man fucking like a goddamn bull behind your wall had a husky velvety voice that had been licking your earlobes every night for the whole week you were staying in the rundown motel. Every night a different girl in his arms and wrapped around his cock but the deep velvet Spanish leaking through the practically non-existent wall were now a long-awaited high from the heat-soaked day of driving around the streets in your old second-hand bought pickup truck you got just as you landed in Bogota seven days ago. You had no need to know what this murmuring voice looked like but every night waited in anticipation to hear his groans and thrusts from behind the wall. A fantasy formed out of the pure need to escape a situation you had been thrown in out of the graciousness of the NYC DEA office.
Taking you off the case of your life and shipping you off to Columbia with the excuse that your unique skillset is desperately needed in the hunt for the biggest drug lord to date - Pablo Escobar. The transfer papers were sugar-coated and the party that was thrown in your honor back at your favorite bar in Brooklyn for your “promotion” were all a facade to cover some DC tracks in the higher-ups and keep your mouth shut. Rage couldn’t even begin to describe how you had felt when your bosses smiled down at you and patted you on the back.
‘This is what you always wanted, right? To work in surveillance? And hunt down that damn motherfucker at that. This is huge, chica!” your partner Jesse had slapped you on the shoulder.
Yeah, but that was before.
Ever since your dad had brought home a long-distance radio to keep in touch while on his long delivery trips. Him in his truck, you in your room laughing and bonding through the radio waves as if he were always there with you. Later on, when you joined the A.V. club at the Albuquerque high school your science teacher had suggested a degree in radio communication which your mother had protested against since you had “so many other unique qualities that can serve as a better career”. And you were right.
When your mother filed for divorce and shipped you to New York to get as far away from her husband as possible was the fuse that blew the lid. The rebellion that started all of this. While you missed New Mexico, New York was a playground to relish in and transform those unique skills your mother had spotted. The lawyer, they called you, the people you started to hang out with. The gangs and drug dealers. You didn’t use, not even once but you hung around them. Even back in Albuquerque when your father had started to punch in even more shifts the rebellion had started. Latinos like yourself were already branded by the gringos. But that was also a lie. You weren’t a Latina. you were somewhere down the middle and lost in translation. Your father with his Mexican heritage and your mother with her pale white skin and sparkling grey eyes had made you some sort of experiment from the day you were born. But you had to stick to what you knew and who you knew. And further away from your mother with whom you were stuck by the law of custody.
So you rebelled. Hung out with the wrong crowd. Made friends. And defended those friends with your lawyering skills which you were a natural at and acquired by paying attention to your surroundings. Made deals with rival gangs to not slaughter each other. Made friends and deals on both sides. Made a name for yourself.
And that’s how you got involved with the DEA. Busting you up, knowing perfectly well you had nothing to do with anything but also knowing perfectly well who you were in the New York underworld. So did everybody who mattered to the DEA. That was how you transformed from a data and technology graduate to a security and surveillance student at the Academy. Your mother was finally happy when you became Agent Belinda Verga of the DEA.
Billy, as you prefer, riding your high at the NYC DEA office on the verge of cracking down on the Cali cartel that was ruling the city. But not in the capacity of a surveillance specialist, oh no, the DEA wasn’t impressed with those skills, they needed your contacts. So naturally, you went undercover. But somebody didn’t like that back in DC. You getting in too deep, knowing too much on both sides of the fence. You figured that right away when you got the supposed promotion.
Coming a week early into Bogota to scope the city, how it ticked, how it sounded, how the surveillance grid would look like in your head, that was another rebellion. Shipping you off here to get you out of their hair was going to be their worst mistake. Because you were going to get that son of a bitch and go back after the Cali godfathers if it were the last thing you did.
And this night. Your raging orgasm came into a full-blown explosion while you listened to that voice of velvet was another rebellion of yours. Against all those men who stared at your ass and tits while on the job hunting down other disgusting men that would have loved to do more than stare at you. But all you wanted to do was stare back at them from above. Where you were now as the peak hit your whole body and you released your own grunts you had held back all week while masturbating to the most striking voice that didn’t have a face or eyes to lust over your body, or hands to grab without permission. Just a voice you would never meet. Just a fantasy.
—-
You moved off of the soaked sheets and put your black panties back on. You grabbed the cigarettes off the table and slid barefoot onto the balcony overlooking the city of Bogota. You had purposefully chosen this particular motel to clearly see all the power lines that had woven the city together. You had already mapped it all out. Figured where the most interferences would be, and where the best routes for a clear sound would be. You had a clear picture in your head now all you had to do is go down to Medellin and paint that same picture. You were eager. Your fingers were still trembling as you lit the nicotine pleasure in your mouth and inhaled the warmth of the night. Hoping for the slightest refreshing breeze you were left with more pearls of sweat sliding down your neck and into the pool of your cleavage that was barely covered by the olive green tank. The second inhale hit you right in the head and you closed your eyes to level it out. When suddenly there was a voice coming from the concrete divider between the motel room balconies.
‘¿Tienes un encendedor?’ the velvety liquid spilled through the air. Face and body hid behind the separating wall.
You took a sharp breath and moved back a step closer to the window. You wanted to melt into the night. Your hands were shaking now but you gasped to hold your breath and moved closer to the wall with fingers outstretched over the edge to hand him the lighter he asked for. A large man's hand with bulky but soft-skinned fingers took it cautiously brushing your own small thin fingers. A movement so insignificant and barely there but shot shockwaves through your entire body. You heard the light click and a sharp inhale. A moment later the hand was sliding over the wall handing you back the lighter. As you forced your fingers to take it and not touch his you noticed his wrist merging into his tan and well carver forearm. The powerful hand that only moments ago was slapping a girl's ass as you yourself were imagining your own ass being slapped by it. The mystery was beginning to shatter.
‘Gracias.’ the man said a bit louder after one more inhale.
‘De nada.’ you returned despite your hesitation to speak. As you moved back to your spot glued to the window you bumped your hip into the small metal patio table, ‘Fuck, son of a bitch!’ you hissed.
‘You okay, there?’ the voice spoke now in perfect English and the fantasy was completely destroyed.
‘Yeah, peachy.’ you didn’t even try to hide your annoyance. A moment passed filled with several more inhales of the sweet nicotine.
‘Hope we didn’t wake you?’ his tone was more of a question but the huskiness was still there dripping into your ears. No matter the language his voice was the sexiest thing you had ever pleasured yourself to. The fantasy was actually hanging by a thread.
‘Don’t worry, kept myself occupied with a book.’ you weren’t sure if you were laying or teasing. Trying to peace the fantasy all back together.
‘Yeah.” you heard him scoff with a hint of laughter. A little hidden present that made you almost soak your panties.
‘Well, good night.’ you said as you inhaled one last time, pressing your thighs together and putting out the bud in the ashtray on the table.
‘Buenas noches señorita.’ the voice teased with a lustful smile behind his words. You heard it. Sounds always painted pictures in your head that looked almost exactly like reality. Time, distance, weight it didn’t matter, the sound made it clear in your head. It was another one of your talents. You had tried very hard not to picture this voice. To let it be just that, a voice. But that moment’s brush of skin and a hidden sound of laughter at your joke were enough to break the paper-thin wall. Lips said those words to you and you alone. A tongue licked them to make them wet and lush so that the syllables could slip more smoothly. Lips belonging to a real man that could fuck all your problems away.
You shook your head as you closed the door to the balcony and returned to your still sweat-soaked sheets. This was it. This was all the fun you were going to have. Tomorrow was time to get to work and this fantasy will stay here, behind the paper-thin wall.
—-
You weren’t one to dress to impress. You were a field agent despite the qualifications that had brought you to Bogota. The surveillance job was a stunt they had pulled on you but you intended to do it your way. That’s why you slipped on tight flared jeans and a black t-shirt over a lace bra with no padding, as it was way too hot for that, tied your long, full dark brown wavy hair in a messy bun with a few strands hanging on both sides of your face and down the neck. Your unimpressive light brown features were already grabbing the Columbian sun, making your face plump and shiny. Your big round lips took only a hint of red tint to them to look ready for spitting venom and your big round glassy grey eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror confidently. You liked your sunkissed skin now but could spit into your eyes if it would make them change color. Your mother's eyes.
You were ready to fight all the battles they were going to throw you into at the embassy. You took one last look at the wall behind the bed and sighed in a lonely goodbye to the velvety voice with strong bulky fingers that sparked a fire and a smile you suppressed to imagine. The rusty red pickup truck roared to life when you finally vacated your lustful sanctuary and headed into the just now rising sun.
The drive to the embassy wasn’t long since the lack of traffic at this early hour. You needed coffee and lots of it. You parked the car in the almost empty parking lot and headed in the direction of a cafe you had spotted pulling in. Luckily it had just opened and you got yourself the biggest cup of coffee they had. Walking around the embassy and getting familiar with the neighborhood you smoked a few lovely cigarettes that sparked your courage and made your feet move back to the building.
You presented yourself to the receptionist and explained coldly your reason for being there and who you were supposed to meet. Despite the early hour the receptionist, whose name you made a point to remember as Anne led you to the office of Ambassador Crosby. The stern-looking politician was just settling behind his desk when You walked in led by another receptionist by the name of Elaine.
‘Punctual.’ Crosby assessed even though it was a lie. You were there fifteen minutes earlier eager to get as much of this man’s time as possible. And Crosby felt that.
As you sat in front of the desk in a comfortable leather chair you noticed your file wide open in front of the older man who was now pretending to look over it. You knew he had digested it inside and out already.
‘Agent Verga it’s a privilege to have you working with us here.’ the lies were painted all over his face and he didn’t miss your tightly pressed lips into a cordial smile that didn’t even remotely reach your eyes.
‘It’s an honor being here.’ you returned the gesture with the fake smile still fixed on your face.
‘Your work and background are quite impressive I must say.’ the lies continued to spill from Crosby’s mouth as you tested.
‘Eager to put them to work.’ you didn’t give in, ‘Eager to head to Medellin.’ you pressed as you wanted a date of departure as soon as possible.
‘Yes, about that. I’m sure it has been explained to you what your role will be in this operation but we’re not sending out agents on location permanently out there at the moment. Things are a little up in the air right now as you might have guessed.’ you had guessed. The DEA was trying with all their might to keep afloat after all that had happened at La Catedral, a shit show to put it plainly. You pushed the thought away. Things were definitely up in the air after that fiasco and you knew what was the cost.
‘So then what exactly will my role be in this case?’ you were ready for this, you knew they will never give you the key to the safe for free.
‘The thing is Agent, we need our own eyes in Centra Spike and Delta Force communicating with the Search Bloc without making it too intruding. We need someone who knows how this works without making anyone nervous.’ you knew exactly what he was telling you.
‘You need a mediator for the government with the proper skills and a babysitter for your men.’ you spat with gritted teeth. This was a nightmare.
‘I wouldn’t put it that way. My men can handle themselves but they’re…’ he trailed off just enough.
‘Gringos.’ You finished with the same smile you bore earlier, ‘And what does that make me?’ you continued without even waiting for an answer, ‘The next best thing?’ again with a spiteful smile.
‘The only thing we can afford right now.’ Crosby spoke with a heavy heart. He was now very transparent. He answered to someone as well after all. You knew this. Your anger wasn’t directed at the man in front of you although you could tell what he was about, a politician before everything else. You knew how it worked, ‘You’ll get acquainted with the surveillance team we have here for the next few weeks and what the priorities are, right now I’ll introduce you to my agents that you’ll be reporting to.’ and with that right on cue as like some theatrical performance they had practiced for weeks the door swung open and the two agents walked right in owning the place.
—
The blond and lanky one with the Miami Vice expression introduced himself as Murphy, Steve Murphy. And you clocked his posture and the tapping on the thighs. He wanted this to be over with because he had work to do and lots of it and you really appreciated that. You decided then and there that you liked Murphy and that you were going to work with him very well.
‘Agent Belinda Verga, let me introduce you to Agent Javier Peña as well.’ Crosby announced next.
Peña was a whole different breed. One you knew as the back of your hand and had slapped a few smug faces with the same hands as well. With his tight-ass jeans that clung to his thighs like they were molded over him and his unbuttoned shirt that showed just a patch of golden skin underneath, the chocolate leather jacket that played well with his broad shoulders and aviators hanging lose where the buttons were still holding on to each other. The smug smile that his mustache and plump lower lip formed didn’t do justice to his features, not like it would have done without it. But the smile did reach his big deep brown eyes that crinkled honestly at the sides. And that right there threw you off. There were a game and a mask he was hiding behind but not doing a great job at it. At least in your book. There was something you could quite put your finger around at that moment but nonetheless, there was a game and you had no interest in playing it.
‘Very eager to be working with you. Agent Murphy. Agent Peña.’ you decided to make your intentions well known and Murphy’s grip approved your attitude immediately.
‘Good to have you on board Verga.’ He cracked that Miami Vice smile you were waiting for.
‘Please, call me Billy.’ it would be easier for you to get the formalities out of the way with these men.
As soon as you went for the other outstretched hand though your previous assessment changed completely. Peña’s expression stiffened and melted into some realization or deduction he had come to just now. Then his eyes hardened and he kept his distance with his stare and just a small nod. His grip was light and distant not firm and touchy, both-handed even like you expected. You looked down at his hand to make sure it was actually there and your brows furrowed. There was something familiar about his hands but you couldn’t quite place it. But as soon as he noticed your gaze he slipped it back into his pocket. You shot back your eyes at him and he quickly looked at the floor rubbing his shiny brown hair that swept at his forehead and brushed the now sweaty lines. You pressed your lips and hardened your expression.
Agent Peña was going to be a problem.
—
The day got away with you. Introductions, a tour of the embassy, offices, desk space, and the radio room as they called it. Papers to fill out, transcripts, old recordings of sicarios voices, their files. By the end of it, you were swamped. And you liked it. There was a lot but that meant shit was getting done right. At least on paper. But it was a start. You had almost forgotten about Murphy’s offer to grab bears after work when Diego tapped you on the shoulder to get the headphones off. He was a younger cadet from Search Bloc that would be attached to your hip for the next few weeks taking you through all of the looming over on the desk.
‘¿Vienes, agente?’ he urged as you remembered your promise to Murphy from just after your meeting with Noonan. The one from which Peña stormed off too quickly.
‘Call me Billy or Verga if you feel more comfortable, we’ll be working close Diego better get rid of all the formalities quicker, gets the job done faster.’ you smiled and slapped his shoulder teasingly seeing his tense posture. Diego smiled back and his shoulders relaxed completely. Yes, he was going to be easy to work with. He was going to be eager to do whatever you wanted him to and that was all you needed. Although, you had to admit he was cute. If you were into younger guys you’d show him a different smile at that precise moment.
—
Beers were clanking and spilling over the table. Unforced laughs were filling the air mixing in with the cigarette smoke. The tension of the day’s work evaporated from all shoulders. “War stories” and jokes were flying left and right. You were very used to this side of the job as well. Being one of the guys instead of the chica with the perfect ass was your biggest battle in life. And by this stage in your career you worked extra hard to become one of the guys as fast as possible. This night was the embodiment of that. All the men at the bar were eating from the palm of your hand. You had kicked in all your secret weapons. Directing the precise energy towards whoever was asking for it. Smiling the exact amount at whoever around needed it and joking with anybody who took on jokes well. It wasn’t a game or a mask it was a pure defense mechanism. It was exhausting but it was also fulfilling because tomorrow you would rip the rewards of not being stared at only slapped on the shoulders and called on buying the next rounds. And that is exactly what you got up to do for you and Murphy when you drowned your third beer. You would feel in tomorrow but it will be worth it.
Leaning on the bar and lighting your cigarette a familiar feeling crept up your sweating neck.
‘¿Tienes un encendedor?’ the words shot needles in your back and swept down your whole body drowning in a cold sweat. Your vision even got a little blurry for a second. The velvety huskiness of the too-familiar voice made your knees weaker than jelly and burned in between your thighs like wildfire. You hesitated to turn around for a moment longer than you should have and the familiar large hand with bulky but tender fingers swept slowly across the bar to take the lighter from your hand. The same brush you had felt the night before now even more vivid in the dim lighting of the bar sent the same shockwaves down your spine but a thousand times amplified at the prospect of putting a face to the voice. Yeah, you wanted to keep that voice in your fantasy. Keep it a mystery to which to return sometimes after a particularly hard day. But the beer and your exhaustion from playing one of the guys for the past couple of hours had dimmed your judgment way too much.
As the figure lingered just above your shoulder handing you back the lighter you decided to act on it and turned around.
‘Gracia…’ you began in a low voice when your big grey eyes met Agent Peña’s equally big dark but hooded ones. Your jaw dropped a little bit and your full pink lips felt numb. He in return to your surprise raised an eyebrow as he sucked on his cigarette with his full lower lip. His big fingers dragged it away from his mouth as he exhaled somewhere in the space between. You couldn’t bring yourself to blink or close your mouth. Composing yourself was the hardest thing you could imagine doing at that very moment. Your one and only fantasy that had magically appeared in your life to ease your already drowning prospects in this new country and a new job were hit and dragged on for miles by a freight train called Javier Peña. Destruction was not even close to covering it. This was an absolute cataclysmic disaster.
Peña swiftly swept your whole body in his measuring gaze and a slight pull of his lips snapped you right back into reality. He knew exactly what he was doing. He heard your voice on the balcony and heard your voice this morning. In return, he did not say a single word to give it all away. And now he had repeated the same first questions he had asked you last night with that same exact post-unbelievably-hot-sex tone watering his lips with his velvety tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing.
‘Shit.’ you involuntarily let slip in a whisper. But your eyes stayed fixated on him.
‘That’s about right.’ he again lifted his brows accompanied by a smile that heated your neck and pearls started rolling down its side. His eyes darted to the droplets in a split second and back on you with a very different expression that in your flustered state you could only read as anger but wasn’t.
‘Well, this is awkward.’ you retreated to your most well-known defense mechanism - humor.
‘I’ll say.’ that glint of anger was gone now. But he spotted your shift from one leg to the other in uncomfortable stiffness, ‘Hey, I’m okay to pretend like it never happened if you are?’ his proposal was followed by a suck on the nicotine bliss. The same in your hand, burning away and you had no muscle power to bring it in to ease your nerves. ‘Or… we could just see what it’s like and then decide…?’ he slyly suggested and your eyes darted at him like flying daggers witnessing the smug smile from this morning. That was the drop that spilled the ocean. Your jaw was now clenched so hard it hurt and your eyes were dark as a summer storm. You grabbed the two beers now standing at the bar, sweating so hard that you spilled a little on your trainers and turned sharply on your heels and back at the table where laughter was still filling the air. This guy knew exactly what he was doing.
‘You’re getting the next round tomorrow, Murphy. Have a good one.’ you patted his shoulder and waved to the rest noticing Diego’s distinct frown at you leaving.
Storming out of the bar you clearly heard Murphy getting up and going over to Peña with a harsh question ‘What the fuck did you say to her, asshole?’ but not with enough force to think it was actually anger, simply familiar disappointment. You were now sure this is exactly how Javier Peña is and it is known for it. He was exactly what you had clocked him to be. A man slut, wanting to lust over every woman that crossed his path. Heat blasted through your whole body while driving in your car to the new apartment. This heat you perfectly well knew was rage and not your own lust. No. It was definitely not lust. The fantasy was now grains of sand scattered in the wind. That voice now with a face was just another guy that wanted to fuck you… just like all the rest. And he had even suggested it. Getting lost through the Bogota streets looking for your new apartment building you decided you were not going to hide anymore. You were not going to try and become one of the guys with him. You were going to beat him at his own game.
Javi's POV:
‘Very eager to be working with you. Agent Murphy. Agent Peña.’ the familiar caramel timber of her voice slipped into his ears and flashes of his past week in the usual sleazy motel ran as a film tape in front of his blurred eyes. His CIs came in and out, delivering their usual information in return for a night of wild sex… for them, it was different with him, he took care of them and they appreciated it. But those weren’t the flashbacks that ran cold sweat all over his body. It was the sweet ghostly moans from behind the paper-thin wall. The girl in the other room. The girl with no face just a voice made out of faint muffled sounds, trying to hide herself away in her soaked sheets. But he knew. He had heard her the first night and throughout the whole week. The last night was the loudest. She didn't hold back, she didn’t hide her pleasure, the pleasure she was experiencing while listening to him fucking other women. From that first night, he had heard her all he could think was that he was fucking her, the girl without a face. He made a point to meet with all his CIs that week in that same room in hopes to hear her again and again.
And on that last night he heard her real voice finally. She was on the balcony. He made sure the girl he was pleasuring that night leave as quickly as possible. He wanted to engage the faceless girl in conversation. To get closer to her. See her if possible. A simple question, a need for a lighter and he heard that caramel spill from the puffy peachy lips he imagined. Her Spanish was distant. He thought maybe she wasn’t from Colombia but what would a tourist be doing in this part of Bogota? And he guessed it, she was American. A tightness appeared in his chest, a weary feeling, something wrong yet he wanted more. He teased but she didn’t give in, instead, she was gone. Back behind the paper-thin wall. And he listened all night trying to catch a hint of her calm sleepy breathing. And he thought he almost did. The soft mumbles seeped through the wall and embedded themselves into his consciousness like flies on honey. He held his breath at every tiny sound she made in her deep sweet sleep.
This soft milky voice haunted his mind into the early hours of the morning and into the delightful sips of coffee on his way to the embassy. And on his way to his meeting with Crosby and the new agent that was going to be their main point of work with Centra Spike and Delta Force. Javi had no time to check the agent's dossier but he didn’t want to, all he wanted from them was to do their fucking job and maybe even a little more on top for him and Murphy behind Pinzon’s back if they were whiling.
But he was not prepared for what he witnessed when he and Murphy walked into Crosby's office. She was small and her ass hung tight in her perfectly molded jeans. The black simple t-shirt did nothing to hide away her perky nipples and he completely forgot where he was at the sight that was thoroughly inappropriate but it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest as if she was making a point. She actually was, he saw it. She was a woman in a brutal men’s world. She was there to work and work hard and put her skills to the test, not to impress. She was a field agent and not there to jump through the bureaucracy hoops but then again that’s exactly what her position was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Her sunkissed tan glowed like honey and her peach-shaped lips sparkled as her tongue wet them in preparation to speak to him and Murphy.
But when she did his jaw hit the floor. The familiar caramel timber punched him straight in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t have heard wrong. No. He was sure. Her voice was swirling in his head all through the night and it was fresh on his mind. To only hear it now was enough to know that it was absolutely the same one as the one of that girl that lit his skin on fire when their fingers touched as she had handed him her lighter behind the concrete wall of that motel room. And now he was standing in front of her and grasping at her entire hand that spread a whole wildfire through his pants. And she saw it. She saw through him. She’d know if he spoke back. She can’t know. Not now when she was measuring him in a sippy cup. Not when he saw the daggers forming behind her glistening grey eyes. She reads people like child’s books. She was reading every line on his face and she didn’t like what she was seeing. And he had no idea why. He wasn’t ready to find out. He needed air as his lungs were screaming at him to run far away from Agent Belinda Verga. Billy.
Shit. Javi was in big trouble. He needed to know everything. Her file was still sitting on top of his desk where he had left it a couple of days ago. Only now realizing how hefty it was when grabbing it and calling out to Murphy that he was going out.
‘What the fuck, Javi, we need to show the new girl around in a few?’ the man yelled at his back as Javi waved him off without a word, pulled out a cigarette with his teeth from his pack, and tugged her file under his arm as he stormed off and to his car at the back of the parking lot.
His head was pounding. His chest was tight. Javi had no idea why he was feeling as if a panic attack was washing over him. He had never felt this way. And about a woman at that. The toll of the job had its way with him on many occasions even more so now but this was different. She was just a fucking woman. A woman he didn’t know. A woman that had him by the throat from the moment he heard her moan. Why? She was a fantasy, a ghost that had now materialized before him to torture his simple animal needs. Yes, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted that from that first night in the motel he heard her faint squirming noises. But it was more than that. There was a spell at work here. Something he didn’t understand because women were all that to him - a blissful escape from the purgatory of the Escobar jail his career was in, his life. Escobar was all he breathed. All he thought about. But not since last week. Those sweet caramel moans were seeping through his methodically arranged work thoughts that flowed through his mind every waking second. And those moans were all he heard in his dreams now.
But as he was skimming through the heavy file on his lap this woman was becoming more than a fantasy. She was becoming a threat. A means to ruin his sanity. Because she was one hell of an agent. Her background was more than what he had ever expected from a woman, maybe from a man yes, but not from such a small creature. He hated that chauvinistic thought. But that was what this line of work dictated and when you came across a woman with such impressive skills it struck a cord. At least for him, it did. Or it was this particular woman. She was transferred here from New York. This simple fact stuck to his throat like a ball of raw dough. Cali. She almost had their lab. That was what he managed to gather through the sugar-coated paraphrased information. She definitely wasn’t promoted on the contrary. She was a pawn. The wheels in his head turned. A pawn in which hand exactly? Definitely not in the American government. No. Not even the Columbian government. CIA? Or maybe even Cali? Could it be possible? They could have known she was hot on their tale. They could have snapped their fingers and turned their problem into Escobar’s problem. Fuck. He had to admit that was genius. But if she knew. Did she know? How could she? She had no idea. No one knew about Los Pepes not yet anyway. Don Berna had contacted him just a couple of days ago. This was falling into place. But Javi knew she was smart. If she was going to work closely with him and Murphy and Centra Spike she would soon find out.
Javi rubbed his face and wanted nothing less than to disappear. Why should he care? It was way too obvious, wasn’t it? Berna. Pacho. Him. Murphy. She was surrounded by the Cali cartel whether or not it was indirectly. That’s how they played the game. And she would lose. And so will he. He had to keep her close. For who’s sake though? Hers? Javi could pretend he was an honest man. One that truly and deeply wanted to help women as he often deceived himself while he was fucking them. And how many of them had suffered because of this lie he told himself over and over again. His hand hit the dashboard violently. He was a coward. He was a fraud. That was what Escobar did to people. He turned them into monsters. And Javi was just one of his many victims.
And that is what he decided as he entered the bar that same evening. To be the monster. The keep her close, as close as he could. To make her trust him. Share with him. To try and keep her safe. But most of all keep his secrets safe.