The first floor of El Coyote Cojo was packed; the second was a meat grinder. Jackie jostled his way up the staircase, clearing a path through the assortment of 'tinos smoking and drinking along the banister. A few recognized him and nodded, moving over to give him space. Most simply stared at the two of them as they reached the second floor.

By far the biggest clump of humanity was centered around a corner booth, one of the few hidden behind a curtain of beads. Jackie figured that was where the Padre was, so he made a beeline towards it with V in tow. Her cold, clammy hand offered only a token resistance as he approached the Valentino guarding the booth.

He turned as Jackie approached, the movement threatening to shred his gray, synthread tank-top. Angry veins bulged and popped along his massive biceps as he stared the two of them down. The guy was big. Not quite as big as Jackie, but big enough that V's grip on his hand tightened and she shifted to hide herself behind his protective bulk. A stern jaw and gray, piercing eyes followed her until Jackie stepped forward, offering his hand.

"Hey Mario. Here to see Padre about a gig."

A small hint of a smile cracked across Mario's grim features. He accepted the handshake before tilting his head. V pressed closer against Jackie's back.

"Don't know if you noticed Jack, but you've picked up a tail."

"Oh this?" He shifted to reveal more of the woman hiding behind him. "This is V."

"Only one person at a time, Jack. You know the rules."

Jackie rolled his eyes. "This is V. Remember? From Watson? She's living with me for a while."

"Don't care if that's a V or an X. One person only."

V, who'd been tugging on his sleeve the whole time the man's eyes were on her, was now yanking his arm away from the booth. He rolled his eyes, heaved a massive sigh, and allowed her to drag him to the railing. A couple of Valentinos saw him coming and gave them some space. He nodded his thanks before bracing for the inevitable attack.

"What the hell was that?" She snapped, arms crossed.

"What, Mario? Yeah it's a silly name but what can you do? Blame his parents."

She batted away his joke with a pointed look. "Not him. You said you were going to do the talking."

"And I will. Just thought you'd like to meet the Padre, that's all."

"Well I don't want to."

Jackie frowned and took a step forward, backing her up against the railing. Some of the anger faded out of her eyes, replaced by doubt.

"V, you're being stubborn." He growled, trying to sound the part of a disappointed father, something she'd never had to deal with growing up. It was wrong, manipulative. It made him sick in the stomach knowing he was going to scare her into doing this with him.

But she needed a purpose. Everyone did. Something to keep you looking up at the sky, keep swimming for the surface even as the city tried to swallow you whole. The Corpo V of the past five years was smug, arrogant and had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but she never would've settled for working a waitress job, fading into obscurity. She was confident, always moving with an unshakeable purpose he'd grown to envy.

The V in front of him was ready to leap over the railing if someone so much as sneezed in her direction. The incident with Maelstrom had rattled her, shaken her off the path. And if it took a few rough words to bring her back, better him than anyone else.

When V spoke again, her voice was softer, less intense. Violet eyes began darting around as they often did when she was nervous.

"You said…"

"I know what I said. I said you'd watch my back, right?"

"Yeah…"

He lowered his voice, moving even closer until V was trapped between him and the railing. Her warm breath came in short, halted gasps, tickling his neck.

"Look around you, V. Look at these guys. If I go in there to speak with the Padre, you'll be here alone."

Her eyes widened. She turned away from him to search the scarred faces of the gangsters surrounding them. He could feel her heart beating faster, chest pressed lightly against his.

"I want to go back." V whispered, so softly he barely caught it. "Please Jackie, I want to go back."

He got in close, setting off that pink blush she was still trying to hide for some reason. If she turned around now, she'd never come back. If he pushed her too hard, she'd never trust him again.

Jackie swallowed, steeling himself against her desperate gaze.

"Five minutes, V. Just go over there and talk to him for five minutes. If you don't like him, or if Mario gives you trouble, just come right back." He hesitated, then slowly, carefully, ran a hand through her turquoise hair. That seemed to calm her for a moment, easing the shivers just a little bit. She leaned into his touch, looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, reminding him just how much he'd lose if something went wrong.

"Five minutes? You promise?"

"I promise, V. I'll fight my way through the Padre, Mario, even Pepe if I have to."

"Thanks." She mumbled, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was still terrified, still looking for a way out.

But she'd do it. For him.

Step by shaky step, V moved towards the corner booth. Jackie began tapping his foot, trying to shake off the tension rising to his chest as V got closer. Tap tap tap and she was three steps closer, casting nervous glances at anyone within two feet. Tap tap tap and she was there, talking to Mario. On instinct, Jackie's hand slipped into his jacket, fingers wrapping around iron.

Tap tap tap and a woman with grass-green hair popped up in front of him, grinning.

"Hey!"

Jackie shifted, craning his neck to peek over her head. Red lips pressed together in a childish pout. The pale, beaming face reappeared to block his view.

"Do you mind? I'm busy." Jackie growled, trying to scare her off with a withering glare. The woman pulled back for a second, long enough for Jackie to confirm V had entered the booth without any trouble. He relaxed, pulled his hand out, and the woman returned, her hands sliding up his arm while mischievous blue eyes scanned his face. There was nowhere to retreat; she had him pinned.

"Big man, big problems." She whispered, giving him a conspiratorial smirk. "What're we looking at?"

"Nothing." He muttered, turning to give her his full attention. "What're you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes, still smirking. "I work here!"

"Then serve drinks. Wait tables. Don't bother me."

The smirk faded.

"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"I am happy. You have my drink?"

"No, I−" she took a deep breath. "I was busy. Big crowd tonight."

"I'm busy right now." He replied, gently pulling his arm out of her grasp.

"Is that her?"

"What?"

"The girl with the blue hair." She gave him a sour look. "Is that your input?"

"No!" The denial was more forceful than he'd intended. He could practically see the gears turning in her head. "What made you think that?"

"Oh I didn't believe it at first." She said with a shrug. "But the way you pressed her up against the railing…"

Jackie blushed, and the woman let out a small gasp of laughter.

"She's not your type, I know."

Don't encourage her. The rational part of him warned, right before curiosity took over. "What do you mean she's not my type?"

"You kidding? The way she was shaking and wobbling? Nah, you're looking for a girl who knows what she wants." There was a suggestive edge to her voice now, and she was giving him a look which could only mean one thing.

"She's not my input," he replied, nodding towards the corner booth, "and neither are you."

"Come now big guy." She dropped to a low whisper, leaning in closer. "I'm not looking for anything serious. Just a bit of company."

"Plenty of company around here."

"Yeah, quite the selection huh?" She tapped her chin, pretending to consider. "Thieves, murderers, rapists, gangsters. How's a girl supposed to settle for just one?"

"I've been three out of those four things you know."

"But you're still decent." Her fingers were on his wrist now, lips only a few inches away. "And warm."

"Try Jig-Jig street. Lots of big, warm and single guys over there. I have a girl."

She paused, took a deep breath. Her smile had decayed into something more vulnerable. His instincts told him it was an act. The kind girls in her line of work were famous for. A weak smile, a wobbling red lip, and even the toughest merc might let his guard down long enough for his pockets to be emptied.

"I'm sorry. Busy toni−"

She stopped him with a sudden, piercing look.

"My shift ends in thirty minutes, Jackie." She looked up, over his shoulder. "I'd really appreciate it if you could just walk me home."

Walk you home, walk you inside for a drink, walk into your bedroom for dessert… Despite the barely concealed hurt on her face, he knew better than to fall for a ploy that obvious.

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask." She whispered, giving him a reassuring pat on the bicep. "I'll be waiting."

"Don't wait too long. I might not show up."

"You will." She winked, walking away backwards. "I know you will."

The railing beside him wasn't unoccupied for long. V had returned, leaning over the edge and flicking at strands of blue hair. Her eyes followed the woman as she went down the stairs.

"Who was that?"

Jackie threw his hands up, gave her a casual smile.

"Girls, V. You give 'em one look and they're all over you." He prodded her with his elbow. "Something you might know a thing or two about eh?"

The glare she shot him with ended any follow-up jokes he could think of.

"He wants you to steal something. A briefcase."

"From who?"

"Doesn't matter. I told him you weren't doing it."

"You what?" Now he was the one glaring. "Why?"

"You're not a thief!" She cried, drawing eyes from around the room. "Is this what you've been doing? Is this what the big leagues are like?"

"What was the job, V?"

"I told him you were done with this shit." She muttered, still watching the woman weave her way over to the bar. "Told him you were done taking gigs."

"You had no right." He growled, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to face him. She looked at him, finally, meeting him eye-to-eye for a moment before dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Then you should have gone yourself." She mumbled, her voice flat.

That made him pause, as a wave of guilt washed over him. Some of it must have leaked to his face, since V pounced on his hesitation, clasping his arm in a surprisingly tight grip.

"You don't need this job, Jackie." V whispered, clutching his jacket. "Let's go home."

Jackie paused again, this time studying her face. There was fear there, plenty of it. She was breathing hard, looking nervous enough to fall over. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch her. Hug her close. Do something to stop the shivers rattling down from her shoulders to his arm.

But there was something else in those violet eyes, something he hadn't expected. And as he slowly unhooked his arm from her grasp and she turned away, he knew.

"You're a bad liar, V." He muttered, reaching out to touch her cheek. A blush grew hot under his thumb, spreading quickly. "Tell me the truth."

V went silent. Glassware clinked together. Tables clattered and chairs scraped the floor. Someone at the bar burst into laughter over an unheard joke. A patron bumped into him from behind, mumbling an apology in Spanish. And through it all, Jackie kept his eyes fixed on her, waiting.

"He asked you to rob someone." She said finally, shaking her head. "Jack, you said you were past all this. Said you were going for the big jobs."

"This might be a big job. Depends on who we're stealing from."

She hesitated.

"V. I told you I've got your back. I need to know you've got mine." He softened his tone. "Don't lie to me, please."

"It's a man. Thirty-two."

"And?"

"And he's a suit. Militech. Someone's paying ten thousand for that case."

"Ten grand?" Jackie let out a low whistle. "That is a big job."

"It is. Too big." She moved closer, her voice taking on a note of urgency. "How did Padre find out about the case in the first place?"

Jackie shrugged. "He's a fixer. It's what he does."

"Your average netrunner sitting in his mama's basement isn't cracking Militech ICE. Someone leaked the info."

"So?"

"So it's a trap!" V cried, eyes growing wild. "Padre's set you up."

"Did he tell you anything else? Where he's going to be?"

She stared at him. "You're being set up, Jack."

"You're not the only one allowed to walk into traps, V." Jackie winced when she shrank back, hurt. "I'll be prepared, just give me the detes."

V chewed on her lip, glancing back at the curtained booth.

"I've done this kind of stuff before. Trust me, the guy's a roach-trap and you're the roach."

Jackie snorted, shaking his head. "Lovely bunch, you counter-intel people."

"Corpo marks are never this easy. If someone's sitting in a bar carrying sensitive info, you can be damn sure Militech wanted it that way." V tilted her head towards the nearest clump of Valentinos. "Why do you think Padre didn't give them the job?"

"He wants this done right. Clean. I can do that."

"Militech's counting on it. And when you show up, they'll get rid of you. Clean."

"I've hit Corpos before, V. I know how to spot a tail."

Her brow furrowed once, twice. "I-" She stopped. Frowned. Her hand slipped into her pocket. It came back out holding a datashard.

"He gave me this." She said, offering it to him.

Jackie smiled. He could tell from her face she hadn't forgotten what happened the last time she'd handed him a shard in a loud, dimly-lit bar. He reached for it, only inches away when V's hand suddenly jerked away.

She gave him a strange smile. All sweet and innocent, but too rigid not to be forced. He had a sinking feeling he'd just walked into a trap.

"You said you trust me, right?" She asked, curling her fingers into a ball.

"Yeah…"

"Trust me with your life, you said." V's smile grew wider. There was triumph in her eyes. "So let me keep this."

"V…" He began, then stopped. His eyes never left the shard.

"You win. Whaddya want?"

V held out her fist, close to his chest.

"Nothing." She promised, unclenching her hand. The blue-black shard sat centered on her palm. "Take it."

Ten thousand eddies. More money than he'd made on his last ten gigs combined. Enough for a deposit on the apartment he'd been eying in Watson, with enough left over for a down payment on a new car. He reached for it on instinct, fingers scraping across V's skin. Her smile wavered. His hand stopped.

"Keep it, V. I trust you." He said with a sigh, pushing her hand away. She relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief as the shard disappeared into her pocket.

"Thank you." She whispered, smiling widely as she patted his arm. "It wasn't worth it, Jack."

"Sure hope so." Jackie grunted, leaning over the railing. V joined him, watching silently by his side as a group of four Valentinos hoisted a fifth on their shoulders, chanting with drunken brazenness as they marched him out the doors. A motley procession formed behind them, singing along. In a few minutes, the bar was nearly empty. A few stragglers hung out in their lonely corner tables, tenderly nursing their last few shots.

Jackie abandoned the railing and straightened himself up.

"Time to go?" V asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jackie nodded. "I can walk you home hermana."

She shook her head.

"I should get back to work Jack." She frowned towards a cluster of tables littered with half-finished drinks and still-smoking cigarettes. "The mess your chooms are leaving behind isn't going to clean itself."

"I could help y'know."

"Really?"

"Sure." He swiped a bottle of tequila off the nearest table and held it up to show her how serious he was. "Just get me a trash bag and point me in the right direction."

V scanned him from head-to-toe, still skeptical.

"I've got nothing better to do, V. Besides, you should be resting that arm."

She smirked. He'd been around her long enough to know what was coming next. Her right hand jerked forward, grazing his shoulder. He winced, and she looked concerned for a second. Then he dropped to his knees clutching his arm and she rolled her eyes.

"Ah fuck V, you broke it! You broke my fucking arm!" He cried, putting on a performance worthy of the Stanley show. "Who needs a left when you've got a killer right?"

V grinned, offering him a hand. Her left hand. Jackie only hesitated for a second before reaching for it and letting her drag him back to his feet.

"See? I can take care of myself, Jack." She nudged him in the chest, tilting her head towards the nearest table. "Now get cleaning, Mr. Welles."

The night was cold. Colder than it would have been if she'd taken the time to change out of her shorts and crop-top. Colder still because she'd been waiting in the alley behind El Coyote Cojo for a half-hour and had finished off her last cigarette ten minutes ago.

She rubbed her trembling fingers together, trying to generate a bit of heat before covering her bare midriff. The wind picked up, forcing her to burrow deeper into the alcove she'd taken shelter in. Not for the first time, she considered cutting her losses and heading home.

He's not coming said the part of her that was tired of shivering and rubbing warmth into her skin. It was way past closing time and rapidly approaching that hour of the night when even Night City yawned and rested its eyes. What's so special about him anyways?

It bothered her that she couldn't answer her own question. She could try; there wasn't much else to do in the chilly back alley. He was handsome, generous, polite. Had a good sense of humor. Loyal. A little blunt, but nothing she couldn't fix.

She sighed. Those were good reasons to talk to him. Drink with him. Fuck him, even. But none of them came close to explaining why she was standing half-naked and alone outside El Coyote Cojo.

Maybe it was the way he'd talked to her. He'd seen the outfit, he knew exactly what kind of life she'd lived. Most guys wouldn't share a booth with her unless she was naked and sitting in their lap. But he'd scooted over, sat her down. Asked about her family, told her about his. Treated her like a person, just like his mother.

Jackie Welles was a gentleman, she realized. A rare, dying breed of man she'd never seen before and would probably never see again. And as a trickle of warmth began to spread outward from her core, she knew he was worth the wait.

The next gust of chilly air brought with it the sound of distorted voices. She strained her ears and peeked out of the alcove. The alley was cloaked in shadow, empty as far as she could see. But there was definitely someone out there, their voices growing louder as they drew closer.

"–going to have your fucking head you gonk mother–"

"He doesn't have to know. She wasn't here."

"Blue fucking hair. How did you lose her?"

"She went inside!" Her heart jackhammered in her chest as she pressed closer to the brick wall. One hand slipped into her purse, where she kept a Unity pistol one of her clients had pawned off to her. She would have recognized those harsh, robotic tones anywhere, even if they weren't supposed to be heard this far into Heywood.

"I'm not hanging around Valentino turf anymore, Dum-Dum. You tell Royce we finish–"

"Hold on. Got something."

She slid the gun out of her purse, forcing her trembling fingers to tighten around the grip. Two shots. There wouldn't be time for more.

Heavy feet thudded across asphalt. She stepped out from cover, pointed her gun at the darkness. She didn't spot the red, glowing lights closing in on her. Not until a metal hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

The gun clattered to the ground. There was a muffled shout, a gurgle, then silence.