Chapter Text
As the plane moves through the clouds, you stare blankly past them. It has been a year since the last operation you’ve been in. The DEA assigned you to Medellín, Colombia so you could change airs for your comeback. You don’t even know if you can hold a gun right, but the thoughts disappear as soon as the pilot’s voice comes up with the “Get ready for landing.”
The car is waiting for you in front of the small airport, and you board it quickly. The ride to headquarters is quiet and full of contemplation. The city is just a blur to you—bright colors, endless hills, and crowded streets that should feel alive, but all you see is static. It seems that all of a sudden those terrifying memories come flushing in all at once, drowning your brain in noise. PTSD, maybe? Even after all that therapy.
You step inside the building, and a tall, strong man is waiting for you at the front desk, leaning over the secretary’s table, probably pouring honey into her ears. You come close and he turns around. His dark hair is well-combed, matching his dark eyes and mustache. A grin shines on his face as he sees you.
“You must be the new girl…” He raises one eyebrow, looking very annoyed, like your mere existence ruined his day.
“I think I am!” you answer with your best smile.
“You can come with me. I’m Javier Peña, your new partner.” He reaches for your hand. Even though he clearly didn’t want to be here right now, he already knows a lot about your past. “It is a pleasure.”
“Thank you, SA Peña.” You shake hands.
Javier shows you the whole building, very distant, not welcoming at all. Walking ahead of you, not caring if you’re following him. You feel a lump in your chest—after a year out, that is definitely something you did not deserve. He is almost running from you. He takes you through a hallway lined with bulletin boards and yellow case files pinned to the walls.
The silence hangs thick in the air—nothing comfortable, nothing neutral. It feels so heavy that your body feels like it’s sinking. You feel observed. Judged. He only stops when he reaches an office, empty now. Two desks, almost glued to one another—one is empty and the other so full that a file is almost falling to the ground.
“This is yours,” he says, pointing to the empty desk—no warmth, no welcome, not even basic politeness.
You leave your bag on top of the desk. The rest of your luggage will arrive tomorrow, when you can finally enter your new house.
“It’ll do!” you say, trying to smile, but without knowing how.
“Yes.” Javier sits at his desk, crossing his arms. “You’ve worked worse.”
His comment—and the way he speaks those words—hits you harder than you expected. You knew people would know, and you tried to prepare with your therapist, but as it seems, it didn’t help. Your stomach tightens and your heart races. You turn your head to him slowly, the smile disappears.
“You read my file.”
“It’s my job to know who I’m working with. To know if I have to double-work watching someone’s back.” He shrugs, but his eyes stay fixated on yours.
“You don’t have to worry about this. And I don’t need anyone to watch my back.”
“Good.” He leans to the desk. “Because I don’t plan to.”
You don’t answer that—you wish you could just break down right there and then, but you don’t want him to pity you or think you are immature to this point. Your jaw clenches. You notice he is studying you too long, too perceptively. Every inch of your body. His gaze flickers to your hands, your posture, your shoulders. He is seeing you more than you wish he would.
“What happened…” he says so casually it sounds like he’s reading the headline of a gossip magazine “…in Texas.”
Now your body is frozen. Blood turns to ice inside your veins. Knees weaken, voice disappears, hands tremble. He shouldn’t know this, shouldn’t bring it up right here and now. You don’t even know him. And he definitely shouldn’t look at you like that—like he already made up his mind.
“I don’t owe you shit,” you say between your teeth. “Especially explanations about Texas.” You straighten your posture.
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“But you were the one who brought it up.”
“Just make sure you don’t do that to me.” He gives you that arrogant, lazy half-smile.
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see that in action.” He gets up and walks to the door. “For what it’s worth… they shouldn’t have put you back out here yet.”
His words slam straight into your ribs, puncturing your lungs, making it hard to breathe. But you gather the strength you still have and raise your chin.
“I will prove you wrong, Javier Peña.”
“I hope so, princesa.” He turns to leave. “I’m not cleaning up another agent’s fucking mess,” he adds quietly before disappearing down the hall.
A few minutes later you get up and walk through the gray corridors of the building, alone. Greeting people, and then a man approaches you—blonde, also tall—and you recognize him.
“Steve!” you call out.
“Hi, honey!” He comes to hug you. “Long time no see.”
“Yes, I heard you got back last year only to be sent to Medellín on another task force.” You nod. “I was away.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard…” He swallows hard. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, Steve.”
“Come with me, I have someone to introduce you to!” he says, his hand sliding to the small of your back to lead you. “How’s your first day going?”
“Well, not very nice, actually…” your lips curve down. “My new partner hates me and I don’t even know why.”
“Seriously? Who could hate you, hon?” he asks, entering an office. “Hey, man! My friend is here and I want to introduce you to her.”
You walk inside and Javier Peña is sitting on an armchair, relaxed—after beating the life out of you with words. And only now you notice how good-looking he is, and that makes you even angrier.
“Well…” you look at Steve.
“We’ve met.” Javier doesn’t look at you. “She is my new partner.”
“No way…” Steve’s eyes widen.
“Steve, I think I’ll go. I’m not feeling very comfortable right now.”
“Okay, honey.” He turns to you, his blue eyes trying to give you the comfort you wanted. “Want to go have a coffee?” His voice is low.
“No, that’s okay. I have to go to the hotel—my things are supposed to get here tomorrow and I have to solve some things.” You shake your head but don’t lower your voice; you actually keep your composure. “You can go out with him for a coffee, but try putting some sugar in it… to add some sweetness to that bitter heart.”
You see Javier opening his mouth, but you turn on your heels and leave the room, holding a smirk. That cocky-ass smile he had on his face the whole time—it’s crazy. He makes you crazy.
On your way to the small hotel room that afternoon, you consider heading back to Virginia. Maybe you were not ready. Maybe he is right—you are not in your right senses yet. You could put his life in danger. Just like you did to Tom’s.
You throw your bag to the side of the room and let your body fall onto the bed, wishing you could just go to your mother’s house and cry into her arms just like when you were a kid and someone from your class was mean to you. Except you are not a kid—and you can do something about it. That is when you decide: you will not allow that unbelievably hot man to talk shit to you again.
Javier leads you through another hallway, slower this time. You don’t have to race behind him like a fucking dog. He stops right in front of the weapons room door, crossing his arms and blocking the entrance with his body, daring you to squeeze past him.
“How mature…” you roll your eyes, and he laughs.
“This is where we keep our toys.” His voice is emotionless. “I hope you still remember how to use yours.”
You stiffen, thinking of how you actually haven’t touched yours ever since that day. It is subtle, but he notices it. Eyes narrowing, your shoulders shrinking.
“How can one forget how to use a firearm, SA?” You tilt your head, trying to pass through him.
But he doesn’t move—not a fucking inch. You roll your eyes. Both your gazes lock. The air feels thick.
“Excuse me,” you mutter.
You look up at Javier, your hands on your waist, fucking pissed. Javier smirks, a slow and infuriating curve of his lips, and finally steps an inch aside—just enough for you to slip by. His body brushing yours, on purpose. You look to the desk, hesitantly picking up a Glock. It feels so heavy, so much more than you remember. But you know the weight is not from the object itself—it’s about what it has done. Your hands and shoulders tense, just a twitch, but Javier notices that too. He is observing every breath you take.
“You are fucking shaking,” he says really close to you, close enough that you can smell the cigarettes on his breath.
“No, I am not!”
“You are.”
“Fuck you, Peña! It is my second day. After a fucking year! After a fucking trauma. I can’t operate on miracles, I ain’t Jesus!”
He steps closer—too close. Now you might be scenting every cigarette he has had since last month. His chest almost brushes your hair.
“If you tremble out there, princesa…” he says that last word like it tastes like acid in his mouth, “…it won’t matter how many days you’ve had off. You’ll be dead. Or it’ll be me.”
“What a fucking asshole!” you exhale sharply, turning to face him, almost bumping your head into his shoulder. “I am still your partner… And believe me, if I could, I would choose to leave right now. But I can’t.”
“Me too, princesa.” his nostrils flare.
“So you’ll have to swallow me…” you say slowly, daringly.
His eyes drop to your mouth for half a second before he snaps his gaze away, licking his lower lip.
“Let’s hope you don’t slow me down out there.” He turns to leave the room.
“You don’t know me, pretty boy. Let’s hope you can keep up with me" you fire back as he reaches the door.
He stops walking, turns his head just enough to look at you, and his lips curve into a side smile. You bite your lip. This is not a charming smile, this is an I like a challenge smile. And you thank God, because you love one yourself.
“Careful, princesa,” he says. “I can bite.”
“Good thing I’m not scared of dogs. I can always make them obey.” You raise one eyebrow and smile.
His laughter fills the air, a dark, amused, impressed sound. Like he can’t believe you are the same woman he met the day before. And right now, he felt something. You had an effect on him, and he didn’t like that.
“This way, princesa” he gestures down the hallway. “I have to see if you are really good with that gun.”
You walk past him, having no idea where to go, gun in holster, and you make sure to keep your nose up and your hips swaying, just like the badass motherfucker you have always been.
The shooting training grounds are just fifteen fucking minutes from the base, and you’re honestly relieved to walk there beside him. No words, just sighs and heavy breathing. The targets are scattered everywhere.
“Well, I think you know the drill, princesa.”
“I do.”
You raise the Glock, carefully unlocking it, both hands gripping it tight. You aim, take a deep breat. And before you can pull the trigger, bile rises to your throat. You drop the gun and turn to the side, throwing up. Instead of laughing or being an asshole, Javier rushes to you, grabbing your waist so you don’t collapse.
You slap his hands off you.
“What the fuck?” he yells.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” you scream even louder “I don’t need your help. Just let me breathe, please.”
You sink to your knees, breathing hard, trying to focus. Your heart is racing. Remember: look at your surroundings. What do you see? Make a mental list. Describe everything. You start doing it. Javier watches you, arms crossed, impatience radiating off him.
“I’m ready” you say after a few minutes, pushing yourself back up.
“I’m waiting, but I don’t have the whole day.”
You look back at him and flip him off with a smile. Then you pick up your gun again. Breathe. Raise it. The whole process, all over.
The target is right there. You aim and boom. A clean shot, right in the middle of the fucking head. You scream in triumph and turn toward him. His face falls.
“I need no training, pretty boy. I just need time.”
“We don’t have time. We have a meeting about the case in a few minutes.”
“Okay then. Let’s go.”
The head of the DEA in Medellín is there, standing in the middle of the room, waiting for you. You and Javier stand in front of him. The whole operation is meant to put an end to the Cartel de Los Halcones, a criminal organization that distributes cocaine and guns. The usual — nothing you can’t handle.
But what comes next makes your whole body shiver, your stomach drop, and your eyes shut for a second.
“They operate inside a cartel member’s private nightclub, so the two of you will have to pretend to be a couple in order to get in. If she goes alone, they might try something. And they won’t accept a man without a woman. Understand?”
Both of you nod.
“Fuck no…” you whisper, barely audible.
“Yes, fuck no…” Javier mutters back after hearing you, just as annoyed.