#htcf

Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired. 

His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”

“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes. 

He knows they are all pissed at him. 

Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter. 

How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash… 

All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks. 

This is going to be long and torturous. 

Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”

You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”

He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following. 

“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up. 

As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer. 

“Someone is coming.”

“Get the boy somewhere safe.”

You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.” 

Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”

“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head  profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”

“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.

He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead. 

You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”

He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing. 

No one. 

You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it. 

You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.

“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either. 

“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went. 

Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it. 

Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.

Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.

“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them. 

Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again. 

He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him. 

“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him. 

Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket. 

Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”

It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”

Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue. 

A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”

When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”

Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.” 

Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth. 

Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”

“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”

Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”

Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all. 

Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels. 

Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”

Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”

“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.

Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs. 

Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.

You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.

You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it. 

You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground. 

Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this? 

You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”

Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out. 

You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”

You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”

“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”

You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening. 

You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people. 

You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way. 

Frankie was a hiccup. 

The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone? 

Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone. 

Frankie had said they were here for a payday. 

Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside. 

Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money. 

To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full. 

You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.

Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner. 

That son of a bitch was going to fire him. 

You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems. 

“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”

“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”

Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”

“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”

“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”

“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”

Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus. 

No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.

The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall. 

His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly? 

There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view. 

He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands. 

An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears. 

“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. 

You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”

Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs. 

Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”

You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.

You were fired, of course. 

Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”

Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…

You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position. 

He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.

You felt like a fuck up. 

His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail. 

Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”

“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip. 

He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”

You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”

“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions. 

“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie. 

Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”

Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”

He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”

“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was. 

It was mostly just complicated. 

Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission. 

You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him. 

He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours. 

They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”

He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”

Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”

“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls. 

He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest. 

You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand. 

It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully. 

He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work. 

The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him. 

He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.

It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face. 

“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple. 

You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”

He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”

Two weeks later

You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase. 

You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.

Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”

“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”

“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”

“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”

“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”

“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness. 

“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms. 

“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”

“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door. 

He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference. 

You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat. 

After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster. 

The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”

A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm. 

“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly. 

“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want. 

“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen. 

“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned. 

You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”

“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”

You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it. 

The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you. 

“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh. 

“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you. 

You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”

“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited. 

“Well, yeah I–”

“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts. 

You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided. 

“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm. 

You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words. 

As you arrive back at the home that Yovanna had set you up in for the week, you begin to panic.

Your hands begin to shake as the door shuts behind you, being able to breathe for the first time that day. How everything had already gone so sideways from what you thought, from what you anticipated, was setting you in a spiral. 

You find yourself at the kitchen sink, emptying the contents of your stomach and shutting your eyes in pain. Tears are welling up in your eyes at what you did that day, how you endured and convinced yourself everything was fine. 

How this…man...was waiting for you just beyond the door. 

You had this irksome thought in the back of your mind, telling you to just call Peña. It didn’t matter that the phone lines were probably bugged, you could convince yourself that you needed him if your stomach kept betraying you like it was. 

 Peña would get you out of here. He would tell you that you should have called him sooner. He would say this wasn’t worth it. 

But his nagging part of your brain kept repeating to yourself. 

You could do this.

You can do this. 

You will do this. 

You want to do this. 

You scoff out loud, wiping at your eyes before running the water and doing your best to clean the sink before walking toward the bathroom. You could do this; it had only been a day, and while things had not gone how you expected, there was clearly more going on. More than what Peña thought.  

The curiosity of how Santiago and this man in the jungle keeps you occupied as you raise the temperature of the water to practically boiling, scrubbing profusely at yourself. Your skin felt raw, but you continued to circle soap down the drain as you pondered. 

There were three men in that car that Santiago got into, and the driver was who stopped you. Covered in that much dirt tells you that he had been there a while, and likely had all of his friends close by. 

You can’t move past how his eyes traced over you; in a greedy way, but also assessing. He was curious about what your motive was long before he figured you out. And how quickly he figured it out…makes you question if you are actually any good at your job. 

You won’t be telling Peña about that. 

The water began to run cold, turning it off and stepping out to look in the mirror. Your grandmother’s voice rings through your ears as you examine the red splotches on your skin from over scrubbing. A long day of things you didn’t want to do could be washed away easily with a strong enough sponge. 

Your trembling hand reaches for the front door, settling your nerves and putting up the mask as you push it open into the humid air. The sun blinds you briefly, squinting your eyes to look for the car that was supposed to be waiting for you. 

I would love to see you again. I know my men wouldn’t mind either.

You swallow around nothing, angrily stepping toward the truck that is parked across the street. You know you need to appear happy, appear willing, but it's difficult when what information you thought you would be getting at the end of this week is not even close to what you need. 

You remind yourself of everything you’ve observed and discovered so far. There are ten security guards on one side of the compound at all times. They rotate every four hours to prevent tiredness. The only shift that wants your entertainment (at the moment) resides on the backside of the compound every late afternoon. 

That man that wanted to see you again is lurking outside at the same time, watching the back door. 

The feeling in your stomach clenches as the man in the driver's seat gives you a small wave, the smile you give back forced. You slide into the passenger seat with a quiet “hello”, watching his hand rest on your exposed thigh. 

The flowing red dress, muted by sun exposure but giving you an air of innocence all the same, slides out of his way as his hand climbs higher, settling on your chilled skin.

 In the back of your mind you wondered briefly if you should break his fingers and ruin this whole thing to shove it in Peña’s face, or if you should wait it out. Maybe, he would forgive you. 

The man, dirty in the jungle, flashes through your memory again, and for a brief moment your stomach settles. At least someone was out there watching over you, even if he didn’t have the best intentions either. 

Frankie knows his plan is not all that sound, but he doesn’t know any other way to go about it. 

Your red dress just two days later has his jaw slack, laying next to a bush that definitely has ants in it. He can’t see you from the window today, but he can hear your laugh through the walls of the main house. 

How you were already past just the security house and into the main home, has him floored. There is no way that you were that impressive…right?

When it goes quiet, his thoughts stop, ears straining to listen for any indication of you. 

“What are we seeing, Fish?” Pope whispers over his ear piece. 

Frankie waits a few seconds, reaching up to his lapel and sighing. “Nothing. Can’t hear anything either with you yapping in my ear.”

Silent for a bit longer, and then-

“Don’t sass me just because I’m interrupting you commiting her to your spank bank memory.” Pope snides through the ear piece. Frankie swears he can hear Benny laughing off in the distance somewhere, but all he can do is shake his head. 

“You did see that dress on her today, right? She’s playing innocent.” Will chimes. 

“I wouldn’t say she’s innocent-” Frankie pulls out his ear piece before Benny can finish his sentence, annoyed with himself for getting worked up. 

Suddenly the door flies open, your wobbling ankles stepping down the two steps and leaning against the railing before looking around. 

He watches you shake, head turning to look down and stepping out of the house and on to the trail. You’re pulling down the hem of your skirt as far as it will go, straining against itself. His eyes trail down your legs, interest peaking in how you stumble, holding yourself up with a hand against the fence post again. 

You lift your head, searching beyond the trees before turning yourself to the door you just appeared out of. Frankie shifts from his spot behind the bush, eyes never leaving your figure. He feels crawling up his arm and brushes it away, hoping that it isn’t a fire ant. 

You take steps forward along the trail, eyes searching through the darkness as he whistles lowly. He pulls the earpiece back to his face, securing it in place to find the men have gone quiet. You don’t freeze, only tilting your head in his general direction before continuing on and Frankie smiles. 

“I know you’re there.” You say lowly, stepping farther away from him so that once he is on his feet he has to side step, parallel with the path to keep up with you. 

“What are you looking for in there, hm?” He laughs. You turn your head another time before stepping off the gravel and in his general direction, bumping into him with a quiet huff. 

“What are you looking for out here?” You snark back, shoving your shoulder against him as your eyes adjust to the darkness the jungle provides. “What is Santiago up to?”

Frankie bites the inside of his cheek, looking over you briefly. Your hair has been made a mess, the corner of your mouth donned with a fresh cut. Your eyes are searching over his shirt, clocking the lapel microphone. 

He chooses to ignore it, eyes flashing to yours. “I’m looking for you, of course.”

When you cross your arms and pop your hip out, giving him a look of disgust, something in him wants to laugh. Not a whore, most certainly; you’re too defiant to be like the ones he has come across while here. “I’m trying to make some money. Yovanna said they have a lot of it, seems like an easy pay day.”

“I’m trying to make some money too.” He shrugs, playfully reaching forward with a finger and pulling down the front of your dress. It’s tight here, unable to move but he smiles all the same when you bat his hand away. 

“I only accept payment, asshole.” Another huff, a healthy step taken away from him towards the sun the path provides.

Frankie reaches out, fingers wrapping around your forearm to pull you back. “How much does it cost to get you on your knees for me?” He says quietly, eyes flicking over your face again as he pulls you closer. 

You pause, flipping your hair and shaking your head. “More than you have.”

He releases your arm, watches as you stay put. “What? You don’t take information as payment?”

Your expression remains  neutral as you watch him. Frankie smiles again, reaching for the belt of his pants; he’s been given a yes as far as he can tell. “What kind of information?”

Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “You get on your knees for me and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

You shift your weight between your feet, swallowing roughly. He watches as you glance around, suddenly nervous. “Not here.”

Frankie is surprised, eyebrows raising before he smirks. It’s the first time he glances around, suddenly wondering if his friends were watching. 

A giddy feeling in his chest squirms, eyes locking back on yours. “You know the motel a couple miles from here?” 

You nod. When you look down to your shoes and kick a rock, he reaches back for you. His hand rests at your shoulder, fingers subconsciously rubbing at the back of your neck.  “Two hours. Meet me at the front desk.”

You don’t agree, only swallow and take a step away from him. 

He looks to the part of your chest that is exposed, smiling at the raised skin and shiver you try to hide. Maybe you were a whore after all. 

“Hey.” He reaches for you again, holding you in place by your wrist. You don’t pull away, and he wants to tell himself it’s because you want him to touch you. “It’s Frankie.”

You try to smother a gasp, finally yanking your wrist out of his grip and turning toward the pathway again. 

You’re three steps behind him, his back facing you as he knows that you won’t do anything to him. He’s broad, shoulders visible through the shirt that sticks to him from the humidity. A sweat stain rests at his lower back, darker than the rest of the fabric as the door swings open and he steps inside. 

Meeting him at the front desk of the motel that you hoped he was referring to made you feel exposed. You had changed, having the security guard drive you back to Yovanna’s crash house for you to wash away the day. You had put on a more comfortable dress, longer but just a flowing, fluttering sleeves brushing your shoulders. 

Frankie had looked for you immediately, taking only a couple steps into the lobby of this motel before tilting his head for you to follow. No words exchanged as he climbed the stairs to the third level, pulling out a key from his back pocket. 

He turns to hold the door for you, motioning with his head of what he wants from you. This is the easy part. 

When the door shuts behind you, the pressure in the air shifts to something looser, something calm. “You want a drink? Or are you on the job?” Frankie teases, smirking when you try your best to not give him any reaction. 

“What have you got?” You question, stepping further into the motel room and scanning the bedside tables. Nothing of note besides a box of tissues that is limply standing under a yellowing lamp. You reach forward to adjust the box, noticing the redness from how hard you had been scrubbing at your arm and retreat. 

“Whiskey or beer?” Frankie mumbles, leaning down to the mini fridge and pulling out both. 

You shrug, accepting the first thing he blindly hands you and reading the label. He assumes beer for you, and as you open the top he unscrews the cap of the whiskey and watches you. He brings the drink up to his lips, taking a swig before offering you some. 

You switch after taking your own sip of beer, giggling after a swish of the whiskey burns the back of your throat. “Both, I guess.”

He watches, a small smile appearing after you tap the glass of the bottle with your index finger. “Sometimes both is good after a long day.”

You nod, taking another swig before offering it back to him. You’re nervous, and you’re trying to shake the feeling. There’s a pause in the conversation, your eyes flicking over him before realizing he is doing the same to you. 

How Frankie looks at you, how his eyes rake over you like he knows; he knows that you’re not local, he knows you have ulterior motives, he knows you aren’t who you say you are. He knows that you’re attracted to him. 

You like that he doesn’t dwell on each individual bruise and cut, that he doesn’t bring attention to it. He just knows how to move around you to settle you, to get what he wants and give you something in return. 

Even if it is purely transactional for him, you can’t help but enjoy it. 

“Are you going to tell me why you hide in the jungle everyday?” You squeak out, clearing your throat before taking another sip of the drink in your hand. 

Frankie smirks, shrugging. “I suppose it’s the same reason you go into that house, isn’t it?” He pauses, and you know he’s trying to catch a slip up. When you don’t respond, he does. “For the money.” 

You ponder this, setting the beer on the table in front of you. “Who’s paying you?”

Frankie splutters, coughing as he attempts to swallow the whiskey that was in his mouth. He clears his throat, shaking his head. “That’s not your concern.”

“You said you would tell me.” You argue, a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to slow down, that this is dangerous to be this pushy. 

“I said I would tell you what I was doing out there.” He corrects, standing up and setting the bottle down. He pulls his shirt over his head, shocking you into silence. “And I did-for the money. I didn’t even force you to give me a blowjob to give you the information.”

You feel your stomach churn again, nervousness spreading through you. His eyes rake over you, fingers traveling down his stomach to the button at his pants and snapping them open. 

“Let’s shower.” He announces, setting your drink to the side and yanking on your arm roughly, pulling you towards the open door to the dimly lit bathroom. 

Your heart races, standing with your hands wringing behind your back as the door clicks shut. Alcohol buzzes through your system, eyes flicking up to the mirror to watch as he strips his pants from his legs. 

“Off.” He says harshly, leaning into the shower stall and starting the water. He turns back to you, hand reaching to the back of your dress where the zipper is. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, moving your hands from their position behind you to hold on to the sink. 

Frankie’s finger slides the zipper down, skimming his callouses over your bare shoulders and chuckling as you shiver uncontrollably. 

You ignore him, turning and stepping around him into the shower and getting your hair wet for a moment before moving to the empty space to make room for him. 

He crowds you as he steps in, eyes tracing over your body; assessing, controlled. Unconsciously you cover your chest with your arms, and he doesn’t stop you, only leans his head back into the stream of water.

He turns fully around, giving you a moment of faux privacy to look down to his ass. Your eyes widen as you realize what you are doing, unsure if you should actually be doing more. If you’re a whore, shouldn’t you be more eager? More willing to reach out and touch him. 

He turns back around, your eyes snapping up to his face before trailing back down when you see his eyes are still closed under the stream. He’s half hard, already wider than you were expecting with dark hair trailing up to his belly button. 

Over the tip of his nose water drips down onto his chest and swirls through his hair there. You swallow roughly, glancing up to his face again to see that he is now watching you. “Like what you see?” He asks calmly.

In spite of his voice being so calm, his breathing looks heavy, pupils blown wide as he reaches a soapy finger toward you. He trails from your shoulder, down your front to one breast, circling your nipple lightly. He flicks his eyes up momentarily, gauging your reaction before back down to look at you. 

You inhale, unable to hear yourself over the sound of the water, over the sound of the exhaust fan barely operating above you. The air is thick with the humidity of the shower, his touch burning hot in comparison. 

“Yes.” You admit, feeling yourself flush in embarrassment.

He licks his lip absentmindedly, pushing you back against the wall of the shower with one hand. “Let me feel.”

His fingers reach between your legs with no warning, gliding from clit to center and pushing the pad of his index in briefly. He sighs happily when he feels your own wetness, sticky and warm. “Knew you wanted me.”

You attempt to scoff, feeling this need to push back against him. This isn’t supposed to be happening; you wet before he even touches you, him coaxing you into a position that ultimately, you both want to be in. 

He pulls his hand away, wrapping a hand around your hip and twisting you around, his cock resting heavy on one cheek of your ass. 

He squeezes your hip, trailing his hand up to a breast before tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder. His smile sends a chill down your spine, and you close your eyes to block it out. “You can admit it, baby. You wanted me, yeah?”

“No.” You say quietly, peeking your eyes open again to see his head is tilting to get a better look at your face. A satisfied smirk is on his face, water beating down against his shoulders and splashing on to your lower back. 

You moan lightly at the feeling of his fingers twisting your nipple around, his other hand spreading your cheeks apart. “Doesn’t matter, I paid for my time with you.”

It’s the last thing he says before he pushes himself forward, his cock hugged by your walls for only a brief moment before he pulls back again. He sets a fast pace, not bothering to take his time. 

He grunts in your ear, forgetting his fingers and what he was doing before to focus on the task at hand. You prop yourself up, hands sliding on the wall in front of you as you bite your lip to keep yourself together. You don’t want to let him know that you enjoy this; you can’t-

“Quit that.” He breathes heavily, hand reaching up the front of your neck to pull your lip from your teeth. “Tell me it feels good. I want to hear you.”

You try to control your voice again, but fail miserably as his hand slides back down and squeezes lightly around your neck. You moan, his pace picking up as his lower stomach slaps harshly against your ass. “Fuck-i-it does. It feels good.”

“I know baby.” He groans, leaning back away from you to watch himself disappear into your center. “How are you this tight for me? This pussy feels too fucking good for you to be a whore.”

You know he’s trying to catch you in your lie. You can’t think straight with his cock deep inside you, with his hand around your throat, but you know he’s trying to get you to slip up. 

Thankfully you don’t have to respond, feeling a tingling sensation travel down your neck and to the base of your spin. You reach down, circling your clit with wet fingers and breathe against the wall.

Without a warning to Frankie you come, moaning out his name over and over. You feel yourself squeeze rhythmically around him, his own thrusts pausing to feel it. He moans happily as your orgasm subsides, his pace picking back up at a speed he hadn’t been at before. 

He pulls out, holding you still with one hand at your hip and the other pumping himself to completion. He groans out, his warm spend on your ass and lower back. “Fuck.” He bites, loosening his grip and taking a step back from you and further into the water. 

You hold yourself up and stand, looking at him as he reaches for the soap and lathers it in his hands. He’s watching you, eyes heavy and blown out in lust still as his hands reach out to wash at where he finished on you. 

It’s silent for a moment, warm water now spraying your side and his as he moves you around and washes himself and then you. “Do they let you come?” He asks quietly, voice gravely and deep. 

You blink, thinking to yourself. It’s not a matter of whether or not they let you. “I can’t.” 

He hums, taking the information and filing it away somewhere in his brain. You want to comment further, not wanting his ego to be boosted to high. But you stop yourself, letting him finish what he is doing, letting him turn off the water and help you dry off. 

Sweat sticks in between your shoulder blades, walking down the now familiar path to the back of Lorea’s home. A smile comes to your lips, unable to hold it back as you recall that just moments ago he was in the car passing yours. His window rolled down during the checkpoint to let you through, and he nodded as he drove by. 

He nodded. 

He has no idea who you are. 

It gave you confidence to know that you were at least tricking the highest man of authority in this part of the jungle. Your ears perked at the sound of the otherwise still jungle rustling with movement. 

It reminded you that you couldn’t trick the man lurking in the trees, smirking at you when you made direct eye contact before entering the home. His brown eyes somehow shining in the darkness, the flutter of his eyelashes hitting his cheek as he winked at you.

He hadn’t done more than say he knew you weren’t a whore, but what else he knew was still a mystery. You had to remain careful, quiet and unassuming. 

Beat him at his own game. 

“Come here, bonita.” One of the guards calls, reclined in one of the living room seats with his friends surrounding him, laughing. You’re shaken out of your thoughts, turning to him with a sly little smile that you have perfected during your time here. “I’ll give you a stack of American money this time around if you do a good job.”

The term “American money” peaks your interest, the distinction between that and what you had been paid previously. Was this the money that everyone was talking about? You sink to your knees in front of him, tilting your head and giving him the biggest smile you can manage. “What do you mean?”

His breathing has picked up, chest rising and falling in anticipation as his fingers are trying to undo his pants as quickly as possible. “I’ll get you a stack from the safe.”

Bingo. 

You nod, lowering your eyes to the bulge in his jeans, thinking over how you will follow him to the safe itself. “Only if you’re allowed?” You ask quietly, trying to remain as innocent looking as possible. You don’t want him to get in trouble, afterall; he’s your most frequent customer. You can’t for the life of you remember his name. 

He nods so quickly and aggressively you think that his head will fly off his neck. “Boss won’t mind.”

Frankie feels much calmer than usual, watching you walk into the house this time. A silent understanding that what you’re doing won’t affect him, and if anything you’ll be giving him information too. At least, that’s the impression he is under after you sucked him off again in the shower the other day. 

He thinks it is sound reasoning. 

He sits back against the tree, listening to Santiago over his ear piece. “Was worried she wasn’t going to last.” He grumbles, clicking off the microphone after a sigh. 

It’s silent for another moment before he hears Redfly question, “Got scared of the security guards?”

“Not sure…was told she ditched early a few weeks ago, but she seems to have figured it out.” Frankie can hear Santiago’s shrug through the ear piece. He thinks of Yovanna whispering in Santiago’s ear most nights, likely in his bed or hers, and he rolls his eyes. 

Then, Benny’s voice. “‘Saw she had a bloody lip the first week. I would have left early too.”

Frankie’s stomach clenches, remembering the first couple days that you had stumbled out of the back of the house with that fresh cut. He remembers how he saw it and didn’t say anything, because at the time it didn’t seem worth it to mention. Not worth bringing attention to something that wouldn’t matter in the long run. But now, suddenly–

“Fish, you got eyes on her?” Santiago rings in his ear again, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. He looks to the door, your figure shadowed but prominent near the back entry. 

“She’s still inside.” He says quietly, squinting to try and see better when you twirl and your laughter reaches his ears. “Talking them up.”

“I’m gettin’ real tired of waiting. When are we raidin’ this place?” Will chimes in. 

“When we have some actual information.” Santiago spits.

You step out of the house, your purse over your shoulder and a large smile on your face. You’re holding a paper bag with both of your hands, looking in the trees briefly before stepping into the path. 

“Boys, she’s got a bag.” Frankie whispers, hoping you don’t call for him before he can send the information out. “Paper–can’t see in it.” You step down the path out of Frankie’s sight. You’re not stopping for him today, disappointment roiling through his blood. He shakes his head at himself, thinking he should have known better than to get too attached. “Anyone got eyes on her?”

“Yeah I’ve got–” Will says quietly through the ear piece, cut off before he rushes. “She tripped, paper bag is full of money boys. Hundred dollar bills.”

“She trafficking?” Redfly whispers. 

Frankie rolls his eyes again; Redfly always assumes the worst. Understandably, of course, but not with the context that Frankie has, and with the knowledge that Yovanna is the one in charge of the money, he shouldn’t think that. He goes to correct him, but Benny beats him to it. “She must have given them a show. Proves the money is there, boys.”

“Meeting tonight. All done for the day.” Santiago says, clicking off without another word. 

Frankie sighs, wondering what it was that you did for the money. His chest tightens at the thought, pushing it away in the hopes that you would be at his door when he returned. 

The steam off your coffee rolls up to your face, watching the motel quietly in the corner of the cafe. Calculations in your head tell you that you have 52 hours until you have to return to your post back with Javi. He’s been calling you nonstop, not leaving messages or text but calling twice a day. 

You roll your eyes when you feel the tell tale vibrations coming from your pocket. The idea that he would be calling you more now was almost laughable, but after the last conversation you had with him, you're not surprised. Begrudgingly, you pull out your phone, surprised to see Yovanna’s name on the caller ID. You scan the road in front of you, pressing the receiver to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey!” She chirps over the speaker. 

Your eyes remain on the building in front of you, watching the cars. “Hey Yovanna, what’s going on?”

“Just wanted to tell you that you are absolutely loved by the guys. Andres can’t get enough of you.” She sounds happy, suggestive in how she uses the man’s name. That must be who you sucked off this morning. 

She prattles on, saying they are going to give you an advance of money in the hopes that you will stay for a few more days. “Oh, I can’t stay, I have to go back for a little while. But I’ll be back in a week or so?” You say calmly, continuing to survey the road in front of you. 

It goes silent on the phone, and your focus comes back to the phone in your hand. Yovanna takes a deep breath, “The uh…the lease is up at the end of this week and...you won’t need to come back next week.”

You frown, confusion racing through your brain and how to ask what exactly is going on. “The lease? I would stay an extra day if I could–”

“It’s not you!” She says quickly, a faux laugh reaching your ears. “Just, I’m not going to be around next week, with the lease ending. I don’t want you here if I’m not here…I’ll have to find a new place for you to stay!”

You watch a car filled with men-Frankie in the passenger seat-pull into the parking lot across the street and you shake your head. “You don’t have to find a place for me, you gave me the job.” Something feels off in the pit of your stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me the lease was going to be done so soon?” 

Through the speaker you hear a car door slam just as Santiago gets out of the car. You freeze, straining to listen. “Just don’t come back, okay?” She says quickly, waiting for your quiet reply of of course, sorry Yovanna before she says “Don’t apologize. Thank you…for all your help.” and hangs up the phone. 

As you hang up and watch the men pile out of the vehicle, each nodding to each other and glancing at their watches as if they have agreed on a time, the gears in your head begin to turn, and you look down to your phone again to call Javi. 

“Tonight, Fish. No staying in and avoiding us.” Benny calls from his door, looking through the openings of the metal stairs up to Frankie. 

Frankie grunts in acknowledgement, ignoring any other comments being thrown at him and unlocking his room door to slide inside. He glances around briefly, all items still where they were left the night before, taking off his hat and setting it on the coffee table. 

He’s conflicted, desperately wanting to see you again before the inevitable raid and fleeing they will be doing. He also doesn’t want to disappoint himself, knowing that nothing can continue with whatever is happening between the two of you. 

Lying, fucking, pretending; all things he’s experiencing with you. Craves with you. 

He could just leave you to whatever it was that you were doing–he didn’t actually have to know, did he? You dropping that bag of money in front of his team proves that what you’re doing doesn’t affect them. 

Lost in his thoughts, he’s letting his boots slide off and a sigh leave his lips, before he hears a soft knock at his door. He’s too quick to open it, holding his breath when he sees you in front of him. He inhales as subtly as he possibly can when you slip past him into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“‘You have a habit of falling?” He asks, watching as you take off your own shoes like you plan on getting comfortable–plan on staying. 

“Nice trick, wasn’t it?” You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him. “I figured someone would be watching.”

“How did you get paid that much?” He grinds out, trying to hold himself back. He doesn’t want to focus on this nagging thing in his chest, something he could potentially identify as jealousy. No–he wants to focus on the mission he was sent here for. 

You smirk, shrugging. “I have my ways. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” You call him out, tilting your head as he runs his hands through his hair, huffing out a heavy breath. 

“Where was he keeping it?” Frankie presses, fingers tapping anxiously against his scalp. Maybe if he focuses on the facts, on the mission, he can stop this feeling in his stomach bubbling up into whatever he was afraid of it being. 

You watch him, curious. “What do I get if I tell you?”

He freezes, watching for a second longer before a switch flips. Frankie can’t help himself–like his body is working with a separate mind, watching himself from overhead as he kneels in front of you. His knees crack, thudding on to the carpet and looking up at your body. He hears your gasp, watches how your eyes widen and darken, watching him before you. 

Frankie licks his lips, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. “My mouth. My hands–whatever you want.”

You stand silent, mouth slightly opened as you breathe deeply. 

His hands reach forward, pulling you by the hips closer to him. His mouth waters, at eye level with your belly button and he swears he can smell you. The want that is in his own pants, reflected in yours. “If I feel you right now, will you be wet?”

When he looks up again you’re already staring back at him, nodding silently. He moves the skirt of your dress out of the way-changed from what you wore into the jungle, and moves the palm of his hand over the front of your panties. 

Warm and humid under his fingers, sliding down to where the fabric thins and becomes wet, he smiles. “Where was the money, hermosa?”

You swallow roughly, hands on his shoulders and digging your nails in. “A-A safe.” You close your eyes as his fingers move your underwear to the side. He notices how you shuffle your legs apart as slowly as possible, as if to not scare him away. 

He lightly runs his first and second finger over your slit, exposing your clit and letting the wetness he had gathered on his fingers to circle around you. “Where was the safe?” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, feels like he is looking at himself from the ceiling instead of being in front of you. An out of body experience that he can relive over and over again.

The bite of your fingers at his shoulders has him suddenly back in his body, listening to your moan. “The master bedroom.” You close your eyes, throwing your head back to expose the column of your throat to him. He wants to plant a kiss there, bite down on your collarbone, but he remains on his knees. “There’s a cabinet in the way. I-It was like a secret door.”

Frankie hums happily, letting his other hand wrap around the back of your thighs and squeeze to maneuver that leg over his shoulder. “What a good girl, telling me that.” He growls out, leaning his mouth forward and suctioning around your clit. 

It’s quick, how you wrap his hair around your fingers and tug. How you sigh happily and do your best to not lose your balance, but have to reach behind you to hold yourself up against the back of the couch. 

Frankie devours you; he feels dizzy with how hard he is pushing his face into your heat and consuming your scent and taste. He closes his eyes, blissfully letting himself get lost in the addiction of you.

The only thing that may be better is that now he is convinced he will have a full bank account when he leaves Colombia. 

When you come, Frankie doesn’t even realize you had been warning him. Your calls of “Frankie, honey–” And “Oh fuck–” hadn’t penetrated his concentration, his dedication to tasting you. 

When he pulls away, looking up to your heaving chest and half glazed over eyes, he realized why he had devoted the time to you. Looking up at you he’s not sure he can go without you. He stands, still close to you but rests his hands on either side of the couch behind you. “When can I see you again?”

You huff, blinking until your eyes go wide and you laugh. “I am only here for a couple more days–”

Frankie shakes his head, knowing Santiago. The next two days will be full recon work, not just observing but notating down times that the family leaves. “Let me see you in three days.” 

You pause, pushing the skirt of your dress down and frowning. “I have to get back to–”

“Please.” He breathes, bringing his lips close to yours. He knows you can smell yourself on him, but you don’t seem to care as your bottom lip brushes against yours. Frankie thinks he will never see you again. 

He takes the chance, pressing himself against you and letting his mouth engulf your own. His tongue peeks out, dancing with yours briefly before he groans. 

You pull away quickly, confusion threading through your features. You shake your head, putting a hand on his chest to push him away. He wants to push back against you, but he obliges, taking a step back. 

Frankie thinks he’s fucked up now, sure that you’re going to leave without saying another word. But you don’t move, looking at the ground and thinking through something. You finally nod, stepping around him to the notepad that sits on the bedside table. 

You write an address, setting it down gently and looking back at him. “I’ll only be there for a couple more days.”

Frankie shakes his head. “I’m telling you the truth, I can only be there on the third day. Santiago will–” He stops himself, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He smells you again and feels himself twitch in his pants. “I have to tie up loose ends. I want to see you again.”

You watch him, eyes wide and unmoving. “I don’t know that I can stay that long.”

Frankie feels like he might have to get on his knees again. He doesn’t reach for you, holding his hands wide, pleading. “Just one more time.”

You swallow, furrowing your brow and looking away. He can see how your eyes get glassy, confusion clear in your expression. When you shake your head, it's like you’ve cleared your thoughts and put up a wall. “You can come by and see if I am still there.”

Frankie nods, heat rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment. The fact that he begged you, makes him question if he should even bother showing up. 

But when you head for the door and he follows to open it, you turn around and lunge yourself at him, kissing him and pulling him by the shirt closer to you. His arm wraps around your back, keeping you close to him. 

His lips pull from yours, a smirk unable to stay down as his other hand reaches up to rub softly at your cheekbone. No words are further exchanged, you slipping out the room and across the street while he holds the door open to watch you.