She's up half the night, unable to turn her mind off long enough to let it rest, so she's understandably cranky when someone knocks on her door at some ungodly hour of the morning. Being as accustomed as she is to this kind of wakeup call (which happens all too often in a house of six federal agents with no concept of appropriate roommate etiquette), she relies on an old classic and uses silence to indicate that someone is still sleeping in here.
The knocking persists.
Paige groans and checks that her sleeves are still covering the ugly, purple splotches on her arms before reluctantly shouting her permission to enter.
"It's like, 10:30," Mike says pointedly, closing the door behind him with that infuriating smirk on his face. She glares and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. He's probably been up since six or some other equally ridiculous time, and screw him. She's an adult, she can sleep as late as she wants. Except, now that she thinks about it, she actually does have things to do today, so she should probably get up and get a move on.
Still, screw him.
The partial file she has on Enos is laying open on her desk, and Mike scoops it up as he walks past and sits down at the foot of her bed. Without permission, he starts to flip through it. Paige bristles. "Was there something you needed?"
He looks up and smiles. "Nope."
She sighs and waits.
He's been there and silent long enough for her to consider grabbing a few more minutes of shut eye, when he finally gets to the point. "I took the liberty-" "You always do." "-of asking around about your case."
When he inevitably starts to trail off, entranced by the case file, she whistles for his attention. "And?" she prompts.
"And I think I might have found something," he says. "The bureau cut ties with a CI that suddenly can't keep his head on straight. Started giving bad information, no showing for important meetings, that kind of thing. Says he's stuck on this new kind of dust that makes him, quote 'feel like a superhero and also kind of an elephant'."
Yeah, that sounds like her stuff. Which unfortunately means it's officially time to get up and work. "You think you can get him to flip on his dealer?" she asks groggily, carefully stretching without letting her sleeves ride up too high.
Mike shrugs. "He's worked with the feds before. Best he can give us is a street level dealer, though."
The DEA taskforce working this before her theorized that there were at least four degrees of separation between Enos and his buyers. Paige makes a face. Street dealers were a long way down. Still, it's something. More than she had ten minutes ago anyway.
"Thanks," she says reluctantly, not entirely willing to admit that he had a good reason for waking her. "Are you going to work it, or do you want me to call in a favor with someone at the DEA?"
"I'll take it," he offers looking at her oddly all of a sudden. This is one of the downsides to talking shop with a coworker while she's still in her pajamas, she thinks, sighing as she tries to figure out what sleep induced deformity he could be staring at. Bedhead, maybe?
"Your lip is still swollen," he points out, putting his hand up like he'd like to inspect it for himself before thinking better of it and putting it back down. "He really got you, huh?"
Oh. "No big deal," she says shaking her head as she runs a hand through her hair. "Earning my hazard pay for the week."
He still looks uncertain, and she decides that it's probably better to put an end to this conversation before he takes it somewhere she doesn't want to go. "I should get ready to leave," she hints, nodding towards the hall. "I'm running some surveillance on Enos today."
"Already?" Mike asks. "You aren't just going to wait for him to call?"
Snapping her fingers, Paige gestures for him to hand the file over and stores it in her nightstand. She's not entirely comfortable with how close he plans on getting to this. Being the only DEA agent in the house has its advantages, including a certain amount of independence with her cases. Briggs has some authority as head of the house, but he rarely exercises it if he doesn't have to. And the others tend to give her space to deal with DEA business unless she explicitly asks for help.
Apparently, no one told Mike.
"That would take too long," she explains. "A guy like Enos is going to want to see me dangling on the hook for as long as he can swing it."
Something about that piques his interest, she can tell by the way he tilts his head. "A guy like Enos? What's he like exactly?"
There isn't any part of her that even kind of wants to answer that, so she's glad when Johnny comes barging in, looking for his jacket and the wallet he left in the pocket. She directs him to where the jacket is hanging on the back of her desk chair and ignores Mike's curious eyes that can't seem to move off of her face.
Johnny retrieves his wallet before the scene on the bed catches his eye and he watches with what can only be described as glee. "Are you two having fun without me?" he asks, grin spreading slowly across his face. He takes a step towards them, and Paige knows what's going to happen before it does. "No!" she yells sternly, pointing at the door. "Everyone off the bed!"
Completely ignoring her warning, Johnny climbs up next to her, putting his sandy feet all over her clean bedclothes. Mike laughs. "Mind if I tag along today?"
She does, but she doesn't have a good reason/excuse for that, so instead she says, "Sure."
"Where are we going?" Johnny asks cheerfully, smiling at Mike and wrapping an arm tight around her shoulders. His fingers dig into the bruises through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, and Paige tries not to wince.
Mike doesn't answer, eyes still on her as he gets up off the bed. "I'll be ready in ten," he says, sparing Johnny half a glance before he goes back to studying her face.
"Me too!" Johnny announces. Mike shakes his head and closes the door behind him.
Paige groans, burying her face in her knees. She tilts her head to look at Johnny, who is cracking up at the tension he created. "I think I might actually hate you," she says dejectedly.
If possible, Johnny laughs harder. "You love me," he croons, slobbering kisses down her temple and cheek as she struggles to escape. When he doesn't release her after a few seconds, she licks the palm of her hand and holds it near his face, something that never fails to get him to back off.
It works, and he jumps back, grimacing in disgust. Paige smiles.
She's still got it
The idea behind today's surveillance was to scope out potential locations for where Enos's people actually do the cooking, but that isn't working out so well because they followed him from his home to this office complex two hours ago and he hasn't left since. So essentially, two hours crammed between Mike and Johnny in the bench seat of Mike's truck, which was definitely not made to fit three people, sitting half on top of their thighs because no one will move back like she told them to, in the scorching heat – all for nothing.
Well, that's not entirely true. They've been taking pictures of anyone entering the building, so somewhere in there, they might have caught some of Enos's associates on camera. And being stuck in the middle like this means that she has full control of the radio.
So, there's that.
"Yo, P," Johnny says, rubbing his eyes. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but are we sure this guy sells drugs?"
"Positive, Johnny," she growls because it seems like there's a lot of complaining coming from someone who invited himself on this little excursion.
On the other side of the parking lot, a man is getting out of his car, and she turns her attention to him, waiting to see if he's headed towards their building or the food truck next to it. He enters the office complex, and she snaps a picture.
"Oh, look! Some guy is going into your boyfriend's office!" Johnny cries, feigning excitement. "Or, you know, he could be going into one of the ten other freaking offices in that building!"
She scowls and reaches across him to open the door on his side. "So get out and go home! Be my guest."
Johnny slams the door closed and pouts, resting his head on his crossed arms and his arms on the steering wheel. To her right, she can hear Mike snickering at their squabble and thinks that she wouldn't mind if he got out and left too. She can't work properly when she's so irritated.
Logically, she knows she's in the right here, but Johnny heaves a sigh and she starts to feel a twinge of guilt.
"Why don't you go grab us something to eat?" She takes a folded twenty out of her pocket and tucks it between his head and the band of his hat. "We'll wrap up after lunch."
Johnny grins and twists to grab the bill out of his hat, then he's gone in a flash, running towards the food truck with renewed energy.
"That was strangely nice of you," Mike compliments.
Paige shrugs. "Not really. I took the twenty out of his wallet last night. He'll figure it out eventually."
With only two people in the car, the heat isn't as stifling, but she still wishes she could take her sweatshirt off and sit in just her tank top. Things between her and Mike are sort of uncomfortable since they were interrupted that morning, and without Johnny as a buffer, it's more noticeable. They sit in silence until finally Mike clears his throat.
"Something on your mind?" she asks, side-eyeing him from behind her sunglasses.
"What's he like?" He doesn't need to clarify that he's talking about Enos.
She bites her lip, pausing to take the time to choose her words carefully. "He's…controlling is the word, I guess. Manipulative. In his mind, men are men and women are like, playthings."
Snorting, she shakes her head. "Don't get me wrong, he thinks he's better than most men, too. But it's mostly women. So anyone that challenges that or doesn't give him the respect he thinks he deserves…he has to put them in their place. His pride won't let him do anything else."
Maybe she's said too much because Mike's looking at her like she's a case that he needs to solve, and that's the last thing she needs right now. She picks up the camera and takes a few unnecessary shots of the building's entrance, just for something to do with her hands.
"Doesn't seem like your type," he says quietly.
Paige swallows, looking down at her camera and flipping through the pictures she just took. "Yeah, well." She shrugs. "We're all young and stupid once."
That's still hanging in the air when Johnny hops back into the truck and distributes their sandwiches and drinks. "I…uh, told them to go easy on the mayo."
It's the closest thing to an apology she's going to get, so she takes it and knocks her shoulder into his. "Thanks."
She can tell that Mike's still spinning what she said around in that busy little blonde head of his and tries not to look at his expression, not sure she wants to know what it will tell her.
Something catches Johnny's eye just after he takes an oversize bite of his lunch, and he grunts and points out the windshield.
"Johnny," she groans, wincing in disgust. "Swallow and use your words!"
He does. And for good measure, he grabs the top of her head to physically aim her eyes where he wants her to look. "Isn't that your boy?"
"Son of a bitch…"
It is. Standing in line at the food truck, looking completely out of place with his suit and tie.
"Johnny, come on," she orders, climbing over Mike's lap to get out the passenger door. "We're having a lunch date."
She hops down on the pavement and tugs her rumpled clothing into something less of a mess.
"What's the plan here?" Mike frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Forcing his hand." She grins and winks before slamming the door and running to claim a table that's smack dab in the middle of the route Enos will have to take to get back to his building.
Johnny sits across from her and hands her the sandwich and soda that she left in the car. "What's our game?"
She considers that, trying to decide how much anger she wants to incite. "Friends," she decides finally. "With some innocent flirting. Leave the possibility of something more on the table."
"You mean, uh…" He flashes her a wide grin and pulls his sunglasses down to his nose. "Exactly like us in real life?"
"No," she says sternly. "Not at all."
He puckers his lips and makes obnoxious kissy faces at her, kicking her under the table.
Scowling, she tries to make a serious face at him but can't maintain it and ends up masking an unladylike snort of laughter with her soda can.
A hand claps down firmly on her shoulder, too close to her neck to pass as casual or comfortable. Tension runs down her spine and out towards her shoulders, as she stiffens, watching Johnny do the same. As if summoned by the worst possible moment for him to appear, Luis Enos is standing at her side, looking decidedly pissed.
"Paige," he greets, smiling woodenly. "I was hoping to see you again, but I never thought it would be this soon."
She moves in her seat, twisting uncomfortably to meet his eyes. "Luis. I didn't expect to see you here."
He eyes Johnny pointedly before looking back at her. "Clearly."
"This is my friend Johnny." She puts some extra force behind friend, irritated by the conclusions he's jumping to even though she's the one who laid out the breadcrumbs to lead him there.
Johnny holds out his hand to shake, but Enos just nods. "I see." His hand slides higher up on her neck, and she may be imagining it but it seems like he's pressing harder. "Do you have a lot of friends?"
His nails are digging into her neck. She tries to hide a flinch, but Johnny must see it because he's instantly agitated. "Hey man, she doesn't want you grabbing at her like that."
She lightly kicks his leg under the table to tell him that she's got it under control. "A few good ones," she says vaguely, craning her neck to push his hand into a less restricting position on her collarbone. "And it's not like I can just sit around waiting for you to call. No matter how special and important you are."
Enos smirks. "Fair enough," he grants. "We'll have dinner tonight. My secretary will call you with the details."
She nods, though it wasn't really an offer as much as an order. "That sounds nice."
It doesn't. It really doesn't. An entire meal alone with Enos, when she's sure that she's not close enough to get anything useful out of him yet, sounds like the last way she want to spend on her evening. She likes her job better when she gets to shoot people.
But Enos doesn't need to know that. "I'll see you then," he says, leaning in to press his lips to hers.
The kiss is far too long to be appropriate in public. Enos is clearly sending a message. Whether he's telling Johnny to back off or Paige to behave herself, she doesn't know.
Paige rolls her neck, and he moves back a bit, resting his forehead on hers. "And Paige?"
He catches her chin in his palm and runs his thumb over her bottom lip, chuckling and pressing down when he gets to the mark left by his teeth. "Just know that I won't waste my time with a woman who has too many…" He smirks and cuts his eyes towards Johnny. "Friends."
When he's gone, he leaves her shoulder uncomfortably hot and the rest of her uncomfortably cold as she uses a napkin to scrub the feeling of his fingers off her lip.
Johnny looks stunned. "Did he just call you a-"
"Yeah." She cuts off Johnny's complaint, knowing that she can't afford to be too outraged on her own behalf until this is all over.
Her neck is sore, and she rolls it to get rid of some of the stiffness. Johnny is staring nervously at her, and she doesn't even want to know how much of this Mike picked up on from the truck. She smiles reassuringly and takes a long sip of her soda, quickly slamming the can back down when she sees her own tremors making it shudder.
They finish their lunch outside, in case Enos is watching from his office. When they climb back into the truck, Mike picks up on Johnny's irritation and Paige's stiffness and looks between them in confusion. "What the hell was that?"
"Paige's new boyfriend and I are gonna rumble, that's what that was," Johnny mutters, pulling out of the parking lot.
"He's not my boyfriend." She feels the need to correct him. Though, for the time being, it looks like he is.
In her room, she pulls a flannel shirt on over her ridiculously uncomfortable dress after dinner with Enos. The dress was strapless and her bruises from the night before were on full display. Enos knew what caused them immediately, but instead of apologizing, he smirked and told her that she must bruise easy. Had the nerve to call her fragile.
Paige really hopes she gets to hit him when this is all over.
As expected, he didn't bring up his business while they ate. At least he still wants to see her again, so her cover is still strong. And she stopped in at headquarters on her way home, and the DEA had his complete file ready, so that's another one for the win column.
She drops heavily onto her desk chair and rubs her eyes as she opens the case file. She's so tired, but if there's something in there that will help her start pounding nails into his coffin, she needs to see it now.
The photo on top startles her awake. She's completely alert now and thinks she might be sick. With her folded hands pressed against her mouth, she stares at the crime scene photo of a murder victim on the east coast, placed in the file because Enos was a person of interest in the case.
One of her fingers runs over what's left of the girl's face, and she feels the fancy dinner Enos bought rolling in her stomach.
Inconsistencies with the evidence and two false confessions from suspects that she knows she saw surrounding Enos at the club the night before completely ruined any case they had against Enos, but Paige knows it in her gut that this was his doing.
She forces herself to move past the photo and look through the rest of the file. Minor drug charges back when he was still perfecting his business model. Before he became bulletproof, with employees that would confess to murder to protect him. Nothing that stuck.
Three domestic violence charges, which isn't as surprising as she'd like to say it is. The first two victims recanted, and the third…
She flips back to the photo of the murder victim and compares the names, knowing they'll match even before she sees the words printed in black and white. Holly Preston was his girlfriend, and he killed her. Brutally if the pictures are anything to go by.
What is she getting herself into?
Someone knocks, and she startles and slams the file closed. "Come in!"
Briggs lets himself in and sits on the bed. "Nice dress," he whistles. "I would have skipped the flannel, but that's just me."
She laughs without meaning it, and pulls the shirt tighter across her chest, needing to feel the warmth right now. "I'll keep that in mind next time."
"How was dinner?" he asks casually, but Paige knows that Paul rarely makes casual midnight visits.
She shrugs. "Expensive."
"Atta girl, make him pay." Something in his face changes, and Paige can pinpoint the exact moment that he decides to get to the point. "So, Johnny told me about your run in with Enos today."
Damnit, Johnny. Paige sighs and rubs her hands over her face. "Johnny tells fish stories."
Paul nods. "That's what I was hoping. Because the way he tells it, he was strangling you in broad daylight."
He tilts his head towards her neck, and she brushes her hair back so he can see that there's no mark. She'd checked earlier, but apparently she's not as fragile as Enos thinks she is because there isn't any trace of his fingers digging into the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
This is apparently enough for Paul, because he groans and stands, patting her back on the way out.
"You finally get the full brief on Enos?" he asks when he spots the file.
"Yeah," she admits, but because she doesn't feel up to walking him through it right now, she says, "Didn't get a chance to look at it yet, though."
"Got a spare?"
"Um…yeah," she says frowning, looking anywhere but his face. "They gave me a copy to file with you. I'll slide it under the door as soon as I find it under all this crap."
She gestures towards her messy desk, and Briggs laughs sympathetically.
When he's gone, she pulls his copy out the drawer and flips it open to the picture that made her heart stop earlier. No way Paul sees what Enos did to Holly Preston and doesn't pull this case out from under her. Paige sighs. Even though they all fudge it sometimes, omitting information from a brief submitted to a supervising agent is definitely frowned upon.
But still, he's already so close shutting her down. And damnit, she really wants this guy.
Decision made, she pulls the paperwork and crime scene photos on the Preston murder from Paul's copy and tosses them in the trash can next to her desk. Further consideration has her tearing the domestic violence complaints out too, leaving the file pretty scarce.
Paige breathes. It's fine. She can handle this.
Everything's fine.
Later, after delivering the pruned file to Paul's room, Paige turns out the lights and lays in her bed, fully clothed because she doesn't have the energy to take anything off. She tosses and turns and can't get the image of Holly's Preston's face laying at the bottom of her trashcan out of her head. So she gets up and retrieves it, keeping it grasped tightly in her hand as she drifts off to sleep.
