Thanks so much for reading. Please review. Seriously. It lets me get a read on what you guys want. Also, sorry this chapter took so long. I fractured my knuckle and typing is sheer torture, so others might as well. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Chapter 3:
Half way to the house, and Brittany thought better of it. She needed to get to Santana, but she had no doubt the blonde bitch had backup or Puck would've taken her out and radioed that the coast was clear. So, she needed her own backup. She skidded to a halt and bolted to her left, back towards the SUV. Her pace slowed as she reached the shrubs surrounding the lot. Crouching low to the ground, she peered through the thick, emerald leaves to the SUV; there were no signs of a lingering intruder, only the heads of Sam and Artie lolling in their seats. Immediately, she feared the worse. Reassured that she was alone in the lot, she resumed her sprint to the vehicle. She flung open the driver's side door.
"Oomph-" she grunted as Sam's muscular figure tumbled out at her. She caught him and righted him in his seat, her fingers immediately retrieving the small, metal dart from his neck, and then going to his pulse point. She sighed in relief and her heart resumed its beating when her fingertips were patted with the heavy beat of Sam's pulse; he was just unconscious. Making her way to the back door, she found Artie slumped in his wheelchair, an identical dart buried in the meat of his arm. She removed it and then unsnapped his fanny-pack, desperately milling about for the cylindrical pens. Finally, she found them and pulled them out, uncapping the first and slamming it into Artie's thigh. The shot of epinephrine did its work, surging through his veins and flushing out whatever chemical it was that had knocked him out. The boy's eyes blinked groggily only for a second, and then his training kicked in and he was sitting bolt upright, straightening the glasses back on his face and reaching for the pistol strapped to the bottom of his chair. Brittany halted his actions with a firm hand, and he took a deep, relieved breath when he saw her,
"Thank God, you heard." Brittany only nodded quickly at him before making her way around the SUV and injecting Sam. Artie knew that the normally bubbly blonde's shortness could only mean one thing; Santana was in trouble. Sam sat up, groaning and rubbing his neck, smiling a thank you to Brittany. Artie turned to her, and his suspicions were confirmed at the frosty look in her blue eyes.
"It's them, isn't it?" he questioned quietly, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah," she choked out, barely keeping the panic out of her voice. Sam and Artie grimaced at each other. "We need to move in." Brittany stated firmly, and the two boys nodded. Artie rebooted his tech gear that had an automatic lock down if he didn't use it for five minutes, while Sam hopped out of the SUV, snapped open the cargo box and pulled out two pistols and two ammo clips, loading one up himself and tossing the other set to Brittany; she couldn't use her rifle for close range work.
"I've got an image," Artie piped, and the other two stuck their heads in to listen. "Ok," he began, "there are four heat signatures, so that's Puck and Santana, and the bitch and her little helper. Puck and Santana are pinned, as far as I can see, and based off the fact that there is no heat register for what they're holding, assume it's metal, so guns or knives. Now, since both doors have been kicked off there is a clear line of sight from one entrance to the other so they will see you come in no matter what. So, my suggestion is to hit them with their own medicine. Stake it out, and on three you fill the doorways and do a sleeping dart to the neck."
Brittany and Sam nodded in unison and Sam held up his pistol, "Figured you'd say that. Already got the clips with the darts loaded up." Artie smiled, proud of his protégé.
"All right you two," he smiled, "be safe out there. Put your ear pieces in and feel free to communicate. I took Puck and Santana's off line just in case the bitch is listening in." The two nodded swiftly to him and were on their way.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Afternoon, Santana." Santana's entire body tensed with fury. Not again. Every failed job, every criminal that had gotten away, every target that had been poached was because of her.
"Can't you find your own job for once?" Santana barked.
"It's much more fun to steal from you, Santana. In fact…" the voice whispered, and Santana felt her lip curl in immediate distaste as she felt the hot breath in her ear, and she couldn't stop a small growl from escaping her throat, "after I'm done with you, I might steal that pretty blonde girlfriend of yours. Have some fun with her."
An animal snarl ripped from Santana's throat and she struck backward with her elbow, hearing a rewarding "oomph" from the woman behind her, as sharp bone connected with soft abdomen. However, she was soon greeted with a swift slash of the knife to her upper bicep, and her hair was fisted and yanked back and a foot kicked the back of her knee and she dropped to the ground, kneeling before the blonde.
"I swear to God I'll fucking kill you! Don't you touch her, Fabray!" Santana screamed, thrashing against the painful hold on her scalp. Quinn pulled tighter, and Santana ceased her movements, but her eyes narrowed and her mouth took on a sneer that was the incarnation of evil. A knowing Puck shook his head rapidly and mouthed "Don't. No." at her, but the words came out.
"You so much as lay a finger on Brittany, and I'll make sure I keep Berry over there alive just long enough for her to watch me hold her beating heart in front of her." Santana said, and spat in the direction of the woman holding a gun to the back of Puck's head.
Wrong move.
Santana felt the knife leave her throat only to feel a firm hand replace it. The hand gripped like a vice and propelled Santana towards the wall, slamming her back roughly into it, causing Santana to give a strangled cry. The fingers squeezed still tighter, and Santana took deep, searching breaths, trying to pull any amount of air into her lungs. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the knife come up and felt its cool skin be placed against her bottom lip.
"Do that again, and I will cut out your fucking tongue," the blonde hissed through perfectly straight teeth, eyes burning with a hazel fury. Santana couldn't respond, only continue to sloppily suck in air like a fish out of water, gaping and flailing. Her throat burned with the lack of reward at each unsuccessful breath, and she felt her vision begin to go hazy and her mind begin to fog, the oxygen deprivation was doing its work. The blonde was turning into spotty black patches and she felt her form begin to slump, when she heard simultaneous shrieks of pain and suddenly, miraculously, the flesh stone was lifted from her throat. Coughing and choking, she fell to her knees, breathing deeply, relishing in the warm, Jamaican air. She saw Quinn lying in a heap in front of her, and turned her head to see Rachel in a similar position on the floor near Puck, who was now being helped to his feet by Sam. Then, Santana only saw blue eyes swirling with worry as Brittany knelt in front of her.
"San, baby, are you ok?" she whispered, cupping Santana's face with her hands. Santana nodded, and croaked out through her still recovering throat,
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Are you ok?" Brittany smiled briefly and nodded, but the grin was wiped clean off of her face when she saw Santana's arm.
"Jesus, Santana! You're bleeding everywhere!" Brittany's hands immediately went to Santana's bicep, gripping it with a vengeance in order to stem the flow of blood that was still trickling through the blonde's thin fingers. Santana winced at the grip, not realizing until now, when the tide of adrenaline had finally stemmed, how much her arm throbbed.
"She needs stitches. Now!" Brittany yelled over her shoulder at Sam and Puck.
"Sam, you go get the med kit, and I'll take this moron to the car." Puck said, gesturing at a still unconscious Wood. Puck slung the limp man over his shoulder and made his way past Brittany and Santana. Brittany knew it wasn't because it was quicker to go out the front door, but simply because he wanted to have a look at Santana's wound, all though he would never admit it. Sam sprinted past him, his muscular legs carrying him swiftly to the car, and it was only moments before he was back with the red box. He immediately opened it and began searching for the necessary supplies. One of the many reasons Sam had been hired was that he had been a trained surgeon in the military for a brief period of time until he was discharged for taking a hostage situation into his own hands. Sam removed a needle from its sterile package and shoved the tip into a small vile of liquid. He set it aside and tied a tourniquet above Santana's gash, stemming the crimson flow slightly. He picked his needle back up and stuck her in several places around the cut. He waited a minute, sterilizing his suturing needle while the local anesthetic kicked in. Prodding Santana gently with his finger he asked,
"Can you feel that?"
"No. Go ahead." She replied. He raised the needle and thread to her skin,
"Hold still." She nodded and he began his work.
Twenty minutes later, the wound was neatly closed, cleaned and covered with gauze and bandages, and the three got to their feet and began to leave the house. Brittany paused,
"What should we do with them?" she gestured towards Quinn and Rachel, still unconscious on the floor.
"Leave them," Santana growled, and put her uninjured arm protectively around Brittany as she looked at Quinn, remembering her threat.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Santana lay in bed, much to her chagrin, as Brittany brought her a glass of ice water and some fresh pineapple slices.
"Britt Britt, I can get it myself. I'm fine I promise." Santana assured her girlfriend, but Brittany would have none of it.
"You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood today." Brittany said, setting the tray on the nightstand nearest Santana and crawling into the bed next to her. Santana sighed and rolled her eyes but Brittany only laughed at her.
"Roll your eyes all you want, Lopez. We both know who wears the pants in this relationship." She said with a knowing smirk. Santana's jaw dropped in mock astonishment,
"Oh do we now?" she pressed, poking Brittany lightly in the ribs with her good arm.
"Mmmhhhmmm," Brittany crooned. "You're so pussy whipped it's not even funny." Santana balked, but then a devilish grin came to her face.
"Well," she husked, getting to her knees and leaning in towards the blonde's lips. "We will just have to see about that." She angled her lips ever so slightly closer to Brittany's, millimeters away, but not quite touching, and locked eyes with the blonde.
"I dare you not to touch me." She breathed against the blonde's lips. She could feel Brittany's breath hitch and watched black consume blue as her pupils began to dilate. Lowering her mouth, she opened it slightly and took Brittany's chin between her teeth, giving a firm bite. She heard the blonde groan, and continued her assault. She brought her hands in front of her, her injured arm protesting but she didn't care, and grazed her fingertips from Brittany's knees to the hem of her barely-there booty shorts. Moving her lips now, she placed slow, chaste kisses along Brittany's jaw until she reached her neck, where she dove in with the hunger that was still burning from this morning's activities. She opened her mouth wide and flattened her tongue against Brittany's neck, tasting the sweet, supple flesh before closing her lips upon it and sucking deeply. Brittany moaned loudly and Santana saw her hand coming up to reach for her out of the corner of her eye. She reached up and slapped it away,
"Ah, ah. No touching." She cooed in a sing-song voice. Bringing her hands up, she swiftly pulled down Brittany's shorts and cupped her through the thin, white lace, applying firm pressure with the heal of her hand.
"Ooh!" Brittany gasped at the pleasant surprise, and she leaned back slightly, attempting to further push herself into Santana's hand. The Latina had predicted her movement and withdrew her hand, only to use it to strip Brittany of her shirt. As soon as she had rid the blonde of the article of clothing, she began kissing slowly downward over Brittany's prominent collar bone, over her chest, over the mound of each breast and down her taut abs. Reaching the base of Brittany's stomach, Santana straightened her tongue into a stiff point and ran the tip up to the intersection of Brittany's rib cage. She felt a shudder rack the blonde's body and a deep, throaty moan, thick in her throat and Santana knew that she had won.
"Fuck this," Brittany husked, and her hands immediately found Santana's hips, pulling her onto her lap so the Latina straddled her. "I'm whipped, and now I want some pussy."
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"You want us to do WHAT!" Puck bellowed into the phone. "This is bullshit! No way is this ever going to fly. Especially not with Santana. Especially after today."
"Figure it out!" was screamed at him from the other end of the phone and a resounding click rang in Puck's ears as the phone was slammed on the other end. Snapping his own phone closed, Puck rose from his desk chair and burst forth from his bungalow, walking first to Sam and Artie's shared building next to his, pounding on their door with a white-knuckled fist.
"Group meeting. Now." Puck growled into the shocked face of Sam. The toe-headed young man nodded bewilderedly and called to Artie. Puck continued his rampage across the grounds until he found Santana's bungalow and pounded furiously on the door. There was no answer. He jiggled the knob and found it unlocked so he let himself in. It was late and they were probably asleep so he headed towards the bedroom. However, mumbling and grumbling to himself, he did not hear the moans coming from the bedroom until it was too late.
"Britt, oooooh God! Yeeees, baby yes! Fuck me, B. Fu—uck, unh!" Santana mewled, her back arched, knees bent, sprawled width-ways across the bed, entirely naked, her bare breasts bouncing from her lustful writhing and her hands tangled in Brittany's hair whose face was buried between Santana's legs.
"Group mee-" Puck's words dropped off as he took in the scene before him.
"Yes, baby, yes! I'm coming, I'm-" Santana's word's halted in her throat as a strangled moan clawed its way out and her entire body tightened as Brittany's lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves and she sucked hungrily. When Santana came down, Brittany lifted her head and began crawling up the Latina's body to kiss her, when she noticed Puck standing slack jawed in the doorway. Shamelessly, the blonde wiped her glistening mouth with the back of her hand before lowering her body onto the Latina's, covering her lover's naked form from the hungry eyes of the flushed man in their doorway.
"At least you let us finish this time. What do you want Puckerman?"