She pulled the engine to a stop and, seeing she was the first one to arrive, reached for the pack of smokes in the glove compartment — and retracted her hand, cursing.
Old habits.
Stretching in her seat, she closed her eyes, imagining taking a first deep hit of a cigarette, and grimaced — gosh, the very memory of tobacco smell made her nauseous.
She glanced at the clock.
There were two options — the idiot was either running late as usual, or he chickened out. It was actually a bit strange now that she thought about it — knowing what a scared little weasel he was — that he chose a meeting spot as obscure as this.
She got out of the car, leaned against the hood and placed her hands on her hips, stretching her neck to the side.
It would just be the two of them, then, a cold, winter sunset and several broken blocks of reinforced concrete. Goddamn, she was actually looking forward to it. He always rubbed her up the wrong way, but until now she hadn't realized how much she was actually dying to get her hands on him.
Her hand went to her hip, resting on the holster; not that she was going to resort to firearms here, but — at work or not, she never parted with her gun. And, not that she was paranoid, but, somehow, ever since she learned she was pregnant, she only took it off to go in the shower.
And there it was, finally; engine revving in the distance.
The car pulled over, and she frowned in disbelief, and then laughed when Gazpo stepped out of the car, escorted by two tall, black-clad male silhouettes that made him look even more wimpy than usual.
"I didn't know we were bringing muscle with us," she said merrily. "Think your little bodyguards are gonna help you negotiate?"
"If it's true what it says in here, probably not." He snickered back, glancing at the envelope in his hand before throwing it on the passenger seat. "But anyway… nice to finally meet you…Lisa," he said with a lewd look in his face as he made his slow way towards her. They really were well off the beaten track — the ground crunching under the soles of his boots almost echoed.
She only spared him a short glance and her eyes went back to the men behind him, their hips. Holsters on both.
Without the weasel between them, they didn't even seem that tall anymore. Wouldn't take much to knock them out. If she got close enough; and knocked him out first.
"Let's negotiate, then, shall we?" Gazpo gestured theatrically, stopping several feet in front of her.
On the other hand, if she took care of the hunks behind him first, Gazpo and herself could then have a nice little chat in a more intimate setting, just the two of them. As for now, she was too far, though, with the idiot in her way, surely armed as well. She had to move slowly forward, keep him moving back.
"I'm listening," she said in a serious tone, stepping towards him, grinning inwardly at how his chest heaved when she closed the distance between them. "Missed me?"
He gulped, and took a long breath in, blinking rapidly.
"With all the calling and texting, you know… I started to think that maybe it was more than intel you were after." She kept circling around him slowly, amused by how he desperately he tried to keep his composure and escape the glare she was pinning him with. "Tell me, Gareth," she mused, stopping right in front of him, so close her chest brushed his when she breathed in. "Is this what it's really about? You always wanted a mouthful of this, didn't you?" she whispered inches away from his face. "It drove you crazy to imagine he was getting what you could only dream of, didn't it?" Slowly, she slid her knee between his, making his breath turn shaky. "Did you come thinking about it?" A breathless grunt escaped his lips when her thigh brushed his erection. "Did you picture me fucking him? Would you like us to give you a little show?" He hissed and cursed uncontrollably when her hand followed where her thigh was and squeezed hard. "Is that what it would take for you to keep my little secret?"
She had to give him a credit, because how he managed to speak without his voice breaking was quite impressive; and how he managed to force himself to say what he then said — even more so.
"It's not even a percentile of what it would take."
She snorted, her brows arching. "Now that's a little bit harsh, don't you think?" She started circling him again. "With us being long-time colleagues and all… come to think of it, you didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. You see… this is exactly why you never made detective."
"What are you yapping about?" he asked with irritation.
"I know you combed through databases the moment you got the file. Didn't you find it strange you found nothing?" She approached him from the back, making him shudder when she breathed down his neck. "No trace of your dear Lisa anywhere. Interesting, isn't it?"
"Records get erased, it happens all the time."
"Does it?"
"Friends in high places make magic happen, nothing new."
"Exactly… friends in high places. Maybe you're not as dumb as you look, after all…" She blew out air down his neck, grinning as he shivered. "And do you know what happens when you piss off someone with friends in high places?"
"I'm not scared of you."
She bit her lip, doing her best to leave amusement out of her voice. "You do know what happens. Not from sitting at that little desk of yours, but you watch the movies, Gazpo, don't you?"
"It this all you got?"
"Depends. On you."
He turned around and their eyes met. She narrowed her eyes and smiled, holding his gaze to buy time to think what to say next; he should think she got scared that he'd call her bluff. With the two men now behind her, she just needed to get him to advance towards her, push her into their arms.
"Tell me what you want," she said, her voice grave serious.
Her panicked expression must have worked, because the grin overtaking his dumb face washed away all the fear that was there just seconds ago. "Now you're talking… though, how do you know you got what I want at all?"
"This job's all I have. So, cut the crap and tell me your conditions. Before I lose my shit. If you went through the whole file, you know what happens when I do," she said, mindful to keep a hint of fear in her eyes when he started making his slow way towards her.
If the guys behind her kept their positions — and she didn't know where he took those idiots from, but they stood so close to one another that a few more steps and she'd be able to reach them both at once before they had time to blink, not to mention reach for their weapons.
"You're gonna talk or you're gonna stare and waste my time?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You'll make a public apology to me, in front of the whole team."
She bit her lip hard not to laugh. "Apology for what?" she force-frowned to keep the amusement off her face.
"Sexual harassment in the workplace."
How she made it to keep her composure, she had no damn idea. "And?"
Just several more steps.
"You'll blow me. Now, for them to see. And we'll take it from there."
She frowned, genuinely this time, trying to push back a wave of nausea.
Just one more step, the last one—
Once she knocked the idiot out with a kick to the head, the guys behind her didn't know what hit them; a couple of well-placed kicks and punches was all it took to leave them with their faces in the dirt and hands cuffed behind their backs.
With a satisfied smirk, she was in the middle of rising to her feet when the sound of a boot gritting against the sandy ground behind her made her turn around, and it was in slow motion — the gun pointed at her, the trigger clicking — she made a move to dodge, falling to the ground, her eyes squeezing shut at the surge of sharp pain piercing her head, her ears ringing—
"You look good from that perspective," the somewhat distorted voice reached her right ear, making her force her eyes open as she rolled onto her back, holding a hand to her left ear, pain pulsing in her head — and no wonder — her hand had blood dripping off it. Clenching her teeth, she probed with her fingers — the ear seemed to still be there, some of it.
"What're you gonna do, Gazpo, shoot me?" she sneered.
"Tempting, but — nah, just playing with ya…" He exhaled noisily. "Though, now that you mention it — no one would ever know if I did — you're not the only one with friends in high places."
She needed him closer, a step closer. "What the hell are you talking about?" She winced.
"Well, I wouldn't normally tell you, but — now that you're a wanted felon and your word doesn't mean much — well, let's just say — me overseeing your little undercover gig wasn't coincidental."
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me…" She scoffed, propping herself on her elbow. "You and MB…"
"Well, he does pay a bit more than an officer's salary…"
"Amy…" she breathed, her throat dry.
"Yeah, that was unfortunate business — but — well, she pissed off the wrong people, apparently."
"You son of a bitch…"
"Sorry about that — wasn't my call to make, though."
An inch of a step more and… she put more of her body weight on her elbow, and swept him off his feet with a swift kick to the ankles.
"You were saying?" She swung her foot and sent his gun flying before he could grab it from the ground. Rolling roll him onto his stomach, she pulled his hands behind his back. "It was the right hunch to take three sets of cuffs, don't you think?"
He gasped and grunted as she secured the metal restraints around his wrists. "You know how many times I jerked off picturing you doing this?"
"Oh yeah? Hope it involved vomit, 'cause if you don't shut up I'm gonna top it off with all I had for lunch." She hissed, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling till he rose to his knees.
"That's not really my thing, but… Fuck…!"
She grinned at the abrupt scream breaking out of his lungs. "It's just a little pocket knife, no need to cry like a baby."
"You sick bitch…"
"Eye for an eye, ear for an ear — was that how it went?" she mused.
"Fuck! Please don't… please… shit… noooo… awww fuck!"
Poor idiot, didn't he know what those screams did to her? They only got her blood coursing faster, every inch of her on fire, almost like — no, it was better than meth, better than anything. "You've always been a wuss, but this — no wonder you're not getting any." She grunted, finishing her handiwork and letting go of him.
The wails and sobs faded eventually, some sobering voice in her head trying to get through, but it was too late, she was too high on it, no going back now, not if — holy fuck, she forgot how fucking good it felt…
"You know, Gazpo — I could actually slit your throat while I'm at it, why not — like you said, I'm a wanted felon — ain't got much to lose, do I?"
"I haven't leaked the file yet, I swear, please—" he panted as she grabbed his hair and pressed the blade to his neck. "—take it, it's in the car—"
"Oh, now you're being nice, huh? By the way, where did you get it from?"
"Xena, stop!" a loud, thunderous, familiar male voice made her raise her head.
She wanted to turn back towards where it came from, but just blinked and froze, her eyes closing. "…Xena…" the sound of the name kept filling her, echoing, the sounds of horse hooves galloping and swords clashing, men yelling, one voice slashing above it all… hers… "Kill'em all…!"
Her eyes snapped open, the vision gone, a cold shiver running her through. "What…" she panted, eyeing the knife in her hand, the blood on it, all over it, her hand, the blade — the man kneeling in front of her shaking in her grip, her ears ringing as the voice called her again.
"You don't wanna do this."
She rose to her feet, slowly; her temples about to burst, a headspin making her swagger a bit as she turned around, the sight of this damn face and the instant memory it brought making her blood boil anew, the sweet rush coming back with double force. "You're right," she said through clenched teeth. "It's not him I wanna do this to… it's you."
"It is me, so let him go."
"Why, I thought you liked a little bloodshed… what's wrong, getting soft as you age?" She raised her brows at him, sneering. "Didn't you wish you met me sooner? Well, here I am."
"Xena—"
"—don't fucking call me that—"
"—look, I'll explain it all, it's not what you think…"
"Save me your bullshit—"
"—she's got you all fooled, how can you not see that?"
"Oh, yeah?" She grabbed Gazpo by the neck. "Tell him, Gareth… tell him where you got the file from… mm, not so talkative now that you think he's gonna save you, huh? Well, guess what — no one's gonna save you, you little shit…"
"You know—" Gazpo spoke, his shoulders shaking with a cough, "for him to sell you out like this — you really must be a poor lay — maybe I didn't lose much, after all."
She exhaled, her temples pulsating, heat flooding her head to toe, burning, fingers clamping around the handle of the knife in her hand.
"Do it," he rambled on. "But let me tell you this — you know what pissed me off most? Apart from the fact that a low-life like you wore a badge? I lost my brother to Oxy." He huffed, the bitterness in his voice — sobering like a punch in the gut, the words like a stab to the chest. "You're not just a criminal… you're a damn murderer…"
A cold shiver ran her though, her eyes welling up, everything around her blanking out like she got hit on the head. Her hand muscles went lax, the knife falling to the ground with a soft thud.
"Come on, let's get out of here," the voice reached her as if from far away; the voice she loved and needed, and hated so much she wanted to holler.
Realizing she was still holding the kneeling man by his hair, she let go; and, placing her foot on his back, sent him falling face down to the ground.
It was the gurgling noises that alarmed her. Grimacing, she crouched next to him. "What, you're allergic to sand?" She grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back when no answer came.
And then, she saw why.
Blood freezing in her veins, she sobered up in an instant, her eyes roaming back and forth; from the inanimate man at her feet to the growing puddle of blood between his neck and a piece of metal rod protruding from the ground, all dripping red; it wasn't there before, she could swear; no — it wasn't a small thing — she would've remembered—
"Don't touch me." She snatched away the hands trying to lift her off the ground.
"You think you can put your pride aside till you stop bleeding? Not to mention, cops will be here any minute."
"Good," she winced, her hand going to her left ear.
"Killing an officer? You'll get life without parole."
"I'd rather spend the rest of my life behind bars than see your face even again," she managed to utter, her voice getting weaker with each passing second, every next headspin making it harder to keep her eyes open.
Her vision turning black, she kept falling down into some pit, all black, and landed on something soft, something warm coating her, his voice around her, more voices, till it all faded out.