A/N: This fic is probably never going to have an regular update schedule, sorry about that.

III. Little Scarlet, Starlet

Misael gives him a once over before taking Amy's spoon from her, greedily digging into her Rocky Road.

"Hey!" Amy cries indignantly, swatting her brother's massive bicep. If Jake wasn't scared shitless right now he might have found their antics amusing.

"Gotta let a man eat, sis," Misael informs, turning to Jake for confirmation. "Right?"

"R-Right," Jake stutters, doing his best to smile back. Amy hides her grin behind a delicate hand.

"So you're Iannucci's new boy, huh?" Misael asks suddenly, shifting his entire body around to look at Jake properly. "Jake Peralta?"

"That's right," Jake swallows, sitting up straighter. Amy stifles a laugh, and Jake feels himself flush in embarrassment. Misael's eyes narrow, darting between Jake and his sister.

"So what are you hanging around my sister for?" Misael questions, hand curling around the little ice cream spoon he's holding. Jake imagines his neck in it's place; he's sure this guy could easily suffocate him to death if he tried.

"Basta, Misael. I invited him out," Amy explains, grabbing Misael's wrist. Her small hand can barely wraps around it. Misael huffs, pulling away from her and giving Jake a resigned look.

"In that case," he begins. "I suppose you won't be needing the usual 'older brother threats,' from me then, right?" He drops a hand onto Jake's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to pop it out of it's socket.

"Right," Jake nods quickly, relieved when Misael immediately releases his hold on him. The bigger man quickly devours the rest of Amy's ice cream, then moves to stand up.

"Well then," Misael says, awkwardly bending down to plant a kiss on his sister's cheek. She smiles sweetly when his lips brush her skin, eyes brightening considerably. Misael turns back to Jake, his posture still stiff, "I was sent here to inform you that we have a meeting at Canarsie Pier tomorrow night, 8pm sharp."

"Shipment?" Amy guesses, smirking when her brother gives her an annoyed look.

"Yes," Misael confirms, pointedly keeping his gaze on Jake. Amy rolls her eyes, collecting the trash on the table and Jake's now-melted ice cream.

"I'll be there," Jake promises, sliding up and out of the booth. Amy follows, all of them heading toward the exit. Misael gets out first, Jake being held back by Amy who dutifully throws out their trash.

Jake offers Amy his leather jacket just as Misael mounts his motorcycle.

"Peralta," Misael calls, making the smaller man jump in alarm. Jake secures the jacket around Amy's shoulders before turning back to the bigger Santiago. Misael stares back at him with a contemplative look, and he seems to have come to a conclusion about something as he speaks again. "Make sure she gets home safely," he orders, starting the engine.

Amy snorts, "I can take care of myself, thank you very much, hermano."

"I know," Misael grins. "Which is why I'm trusting you to kick his ass for me if he screws up."

Amy laughs, "He won't." As Misael drives off, she takes Jake's hand in hers and looks up at him seriously. "I'll make sure of it." Jake shudders under the intensity of her gaze, trying to shake off the overwhelming reverberation of emotion he feels for her.

"So," he says, drawing out the word as he squeezes her hand. "He's given me permission to walk you home I guess?" It comes out sounding like a question, but Amy giving him a mischievous grin nonetheless.

"Among other things," she insinuates, letting go of his hand so she can wrap an arm around his waist.

"Really?" Jake inquires, because he's an idiot and he really likes it when she flirts with him.

"No," Amy deadpans, the corners of her mouth lifting when she catches his comically crestfallen expression. She doesn't offer him any words of comfort, just leads him along the path to her home.

"Why didn't you out me to your brother?" Jake wonders, breaking their silence. Amy sighs, forcibly stopping both of them in their tracks. Jake cocks a brow at her curiously.

"Because I hate him," she replies simply, continuing to walk as if her words held no weight.

"Why?" Jake probes, jogging to catch up with her.

"He's a coward," she tells him. Jake gives her an incredulous look, that certainly wasn't the answer he was expecting. "They all are," she snaps, hands curling into fists. He reaches hesitantly for her hand, wondering if it was okay to touch her like she did, but Amy angrily rips her hand away from him. He tries not to look as put-out as he feels. "Just a bunch of hermanos, who leave their hermanas and their madres-" Amy swallows down the tears before they can even emerge, and all Jake can do is stare back at her. "And for what? Money? Fame? Fraternity?" She shakes her head and quickens her pace, leading them to a neighborhood of shoddy old houses. They're all blocked off with broken chain-linked fences and decrepit locks, each house's paint job worse than the next.

"Amy I-" Jake starts.

"Save it," she snarls back. "You brought it up because you want answers, right?" Jake nods dumbly, too much in shock to do anything else, really. "Fine," she grits out. "You're going to keep Misael safe during that job at the pier, then you're going to find out what you want to know."

"How?"

Amy smiles bitterly, "For such a jackass of a brother, he always comes home on time for Sunday dinner." Jake feels like he's missing a big joke, but he doesn't dare to question her further on that subject matter.

"How do you know he wants me over for dinner?" Jake asks instead. "He doesn't seem exactly fond of me." They stop in front of a single-floor yellow house, the lights all off except for one room where Jake can see a candle burning from the window.

Amy stops to open the gate, "He's not the only brother eager to meet my new boyfriend." She purposely refuses to meet his gaze, stepping into the yard. Jake catches shadows moving through the curtains in the window behind her, and it isn't long before six faces are staring back at him. Amy must sense their presence from behind her, because she shuts the gate and leans over it, her face suddenly in front of his and obscuring his view. "Make a good show," she whispers, just as her lips slide over his.

Amy tastes like chocolate and kisses him the way she kissed Leo back in the club. She tugs him closer by his button-down and angles her head to deepen the kiss, and Jake's hands are frozen on her shoulders. He just starts kissing back when Amy breaks away, huffing in annoyance.

"Too little, too late, Peralta," she frowns, wagging a finger at him. He tries to reach for her again to prove his worth, but Amy easily escapes his arms. "Bup, bup, bup," she teases, locking the gate to prove her point. "Tomorrow night," she promises, turning on her heels and towards the front door, where Jake spots at least three guys waiting for her. The tallest one gives him a violent gesture before shutting the door, Amy (safely?) tucked inside.

Jake sighs, rubbing his hands over his face as he pulls out his burner phone.

He needs to call Clark.

"So let me get this straight, she has-"

"Seven brothers, documented," Agent Clark repeats for what is probably the fifth time. Jake flops onto his shitty mattress in his shitty cover-aparment and forces his tired brain to function properly.

"And five are in-"

"Involved in some sort of organized crime, yes," Agent Clark cuts him off, and Jake can just imagine the over-worked CIA specialist pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What about the other two?"Jake inquires, licking his lips. He can still taste Amy's strawberry lipgloss even after the long walk home.

"The third brother is dead, shot by one of our very own." Jake cringes at that; the idea of Amy having to bury one of her own is enough to make him queasy.

"And the other?"

"The eldest? No clue. He's been off the grid since his high school graduation."

"Should I ask Amy about it?" Jake wonders.

"Ms. Santiago probably wouldn't know," Agent Clark guesses, his voice sounding harsher than necessary. "She wasn't even born when he left. She's the youngest," he reminds.

"Should we track him?"

"He's not important. He hasn't even made a sound since he fell off the grid," Clark says more forcefully.

"We should still track him," Jake repeats, though he know now Clark probably won't. He makes a mental note to put in a call to Rosa tomorrow morning. Clark must have heard the resignation in Jake's voice, because his next statement is noticeably calmer.

"Already working on it," he lies, sounding bored. "Just keep tabs on the Santiago family, Jake. They could be more involved with the Iannucci's then we know."

"Alright," Jake sighs, unbuttoning his shirt in preparation for bed.

"Anything else you have to say to me, Detective Peralta?" Clark prompts. Jake considers telling him about Amy's discovery of his identity, but decides against it. Clark might pull him out of the mission if he knew.

"Nope," Jake answers cheerfully, popping the 'p' in the word. "Nothing at all, sir."

"Right," Clark says flatly. "Don't go falling in love with the enemy, Peralta. Remember, at the end of the day they're nothing but a bunch of dirty criminals."

Jake wants to argue, to tell Clark that Amy's more than that, to defend her honor, but he finds himself speechless.

"You're right," Jake finally manages, shrugging off his button-down and kicking off his jeans. He turns the light off as he settles into bed.

"Of course I am. Sleep tight, Peralta. Sounds like you've got a big day tomorrow."

"Wish me luck," Jake mumbles, shutting the phone without waiting for a response.

He falls asleep replaying the moment when Amy's lips were against his, and wakes up wishing she was tucked into his side.

For some reason, he mind is stuck on the image of Amy worrying about her brother, eyes clouded with fear and anger as she declares that she hates Misael. Jake never really believed that she hated her brother, and he still doesn't.

She holds too much passion for that, a certain amount of affection and care for others that he knows is rare to find among the slums of Brooklyn.

It's not even surprising, now that Jake's thought about it, that Leo Iannucci likes Amy the way he does, she's practically a light to all those insects.

Screw Clark, Jake curses to himself. Amy Santiago can't possibly be as bad as they all make her out to be, she just can't.

On the bright side, I have (finally) come up with a plot for this fic.