Sarah tapped her foot, impatient as she waited in the office area of her club, the Ice Queen's Lair. Jack thought it was a hilarious joke when he first set it up as her cover, but she had taken the moniker and made it her own. Now, she was the Ice Queen, and people who entered her lair were rightfully afraid.
Her tailored suit hugged her curves, its topaz tones accentuating the icy blue of her eyes, exuding both authority and elegance. Her simple teardrop pearl necklace hung delicately on her neck, matched by her earrings under her neat bun pinning her hair in a sophisticated, yet practical manner. Her makeup was light, with some minor shadowing around her eyes, and a coral-orange lipstick picked to go with her suit. Her black high heels completed her ensemble, a classic pair with heels that made her tower over most people that came into her realm.
The heavy bass matched the pulse of her growing impatience, each beat resonating in the pit of her stomach. The dim light cast angular shadows across her face, deepening the cold menace in her eyes. Even the air seemed to thrum with the unspoken threats that lingered in every corner of the Ice Queen's Lair.
The large room held two leather couches and with four leather chairs arranged in a circle in the center, used by guests and Sarah herself. The edges of the room had more chairs, with her guards draped lazily in chairs as they idly scrolled their phones or read magazines. A large, ornate, solid oak desk sat off to the side, the top clear of any clutter. A single hardwood chair was pushed in to the desk. One of her guards was mixing a drink at the bar, taking a bottle of gin from the bottom shelf as he prepped the shaker.
The scent of sweat and bodies rose from the packed dance floor below, wafting up through the tinted windows. The press of flesh beneath her swayed with the music, as alcohol poured liberally into the bodies of the willing. Hedonism was the victor at the Ice Queen's Lair, at least on the main level.
The office area above was not the VIP area people would have expected, not used for celebrities or wealthy. It was Sarah's control room, used for planning jobs and meeting with her father's goons, or worse, members of the Syndicate. Bryce had been the last outside of her inner circle to breach her sanctum, his short-lived presence in her life a reminder of the loneliness she refused to allow purchase in her mind.
Her empire, though rooted in crime and theft, was constructed with painstaking precision, a fortress of carefully chosen bricks designed to elevate her above the chaos. Her father occasionally tried to convince her to get back together with Bryce, only seeing the potential for a combined force with enough strength to take on the Shaws. Jack didn't see the madness in Larkin's eyes or the lack of real emotion in his voice, only the strength of his crews.
So instead, Sarah stood alone in her tower, the goons her father assigned were useless with their presence. After the betrayal during the last job, where she found out one of the goons was working for Shaw, she couldn't trust any of them anymore. She needed fresh blood untainted by years of corruption, bribery, and murder.
The job they needed to pull was going to be hard, and the wisdom in her father's camp was, at best, smash and grab. It was a ridiculous notion for the score, ensconced in a CIA substation as it was. She needed fresh ideas. She needed a challenger that would refute the status quo and forge a new path. Which is why, when she had remembered the contraption underneath the backseat of Curls' car. It wasn't the contraption itself she needed, it was the ingenuity.
So, she had sent Carina to collect her friend from the past. The ex-boyfriend/best friend. In the year and a half that Carina had been working for Sarah, the redhead had never mentioned the man. The driver who had intentionally avoided working for any of the Syndicate while running small time jobs for five years. The man who had saved her life and didn't even ask her name.
As Sarah stared out the tinted windows, with her gaze panning across the undulating mass of bodies below, a pang of regret gnawed at her. It wasn't just for Carina, though sending her on this errand had weighed heavier than expected. It was for the man she was pulling into this world that he clearly tried to avoid. She had become the unavoidable force that would drag him into the abyss he'd managed to avoid for so long.
As Sarah watched the crowd impatiently, she caught sight of Carina leading Curls through the club floor as he glanced up at the window. It was tinted too heavily for him to be able to see Sarah, she knew, but she felt his eyes bore into her from below. His face was frightened, concerned, but alert. She squinted to make out a slight marring on his cheek, not able to make it out correctly from this distance, but there was something off about how his face twisted around it.
A brunette woman in a tight black dress that was barely covering her underwear set her sights on him as he followed Carina across the dance floor. She cut a path through the wall of humanity and intercepted him, separating him from Carina briefly. Carina snapped her head around, her eyes flashing daggers at the woman who ignored her as she ground up against Chuck to entice him away from the redhead. He almost imperceptibly winced as she ran a hand along his side, his reaction hidden from anyone not paying close attention, but Sarah could see clearly from her vantage point. Something had happened to him since she had last seen him.
Chuck managed to extricate himself from the brunette and rejoin Carina as they continued across the floor, the brunette's eyes dancing with outrage at being so summarily rebuffed. The pair disappeared into a doorway that led upstairs, and Sarah seated herself in a leather chair, draping one leg over the side and lifting her drink of whiskey from the table, affecting an air of impatience.
The door opened, the smell of sweating flesh and liquor wafting in with the sounds of the club music and cacophony of people yelling over the overwhelming music. Her useless guards finally raised their heads to look, causing Sarah to roll her eyes at their lack of reaction or preparedness. They were worse than useless if anything were to actually happen. A show of force to prevent an incident from occurring in the first place, not the force that would end any incident that did. No, Sarah would be the only one that could finish an incident that began in her lair.
Carina led the way, still in her black jeans and leather jacket from earlier, she had cinched the jacket closed tightly, rather than letting the buckles hang free as they were before, as though it would offer protection from either Curls or Sarah during what was to come. She glared angrily around the room, her displeasure at collecting her friend clear. She walked purposefully in front of Curls, as though acting as a human shield from any violence.
Curls came next, warily entering the depth of the Ice Queen's Lair. She saw him scan the room quickly, clearly assessing the number of armed men in the room. She was pleased when he assessed her as a threat too. Too many men that entered her lair forgot she was the most dangerous one. She could see the marring on his cheek better now, the bruising fresh from earlier today and the shape of the stitches over a cut that was all too familiar as from the butt of a handgun.
"Leave us." Sarah motioned to the guards, gesturing them to the door. They all stood in place, the order being atypical for meeting a potential candidate to work with the Syndicate. As they hesitated, Sarah barked. "Now." A sharp look to the men got them moving.
As the men began to shuffle out, and she noticed the tension in both Carina and Curls start to ease. As the men passed by them to exit, Carina stepped away from Curls, no longer unconsciously acting as a human shield.
The door shut, sealing them off from the pounding music and alcohol fueled chaos, other than the deep, reverberating echoes of the bass that kept the dark windows rattling in their frames.
Swirling her whiskey, Sarah smirked as she remembered their first meeting in Curls' garage. "I have coffee and whiskey up here." As she gestured at the bar, which obviously contained many more options.
For a moment, everyone was silent as the words sunk in. Then, Curls started to laugh, a nervous but genuine laugh from his upper chest, spreading quickly to his belly.
Carina looked at him perplexed, a hint of worry in her voice. "Are you ok, Curls?"
Curls waved her off as he got his laughter under control. "I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting you to be funny."
"Well, that's good." Sarah frowned at him, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Because I am not funny."
Curls shook his head. "Ok, I'll have a coffee and a whiskey then." He paused, a small smile showing on his face at the memory of their previous meeting. "I hope you don't expect me to strip and get into your bed right after." His eyes widened in surprise as a hint of red tinged his cheeks at the fact that he voiced Sarah's own thought out loud.
"Curls, this is serious. Get your serious face on." Carina swatted his arm in response, a frustrated but affectionate tone in her voice, clearly unsure of how to interact with her friend in this setting.
Sarah blinked, watching the two, before her a small chuckle of laughter leaked out of her. Sitting on her leather chair, meant to be intimidating, and she laughed. The Ice Queen did not laugh in her lair. But the Ice Queen didn't encounter humor in her lair.
Quickly regaining her composure, she stood and strode behind the bar, her heels clicking on the floor as the bass changed in the music, the tempo matching her strides. A carafe of fresh coffee was on the side of the bar, brought up by one of the few servers that was allowed to her office. She pulled down a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, shaking it at Curls in question. "In the coffee or out?"
He laughed again, walking up to the edge of the bar opposite her. The sound was unnatural in this room. Why was laughter so unnatural in all aspects of her life? "In the coffee this time, please." Carina followed him cautiously, unsure how to deal with Sarah's unusual behavior.
Sarah chuckled at the absurdity of his words. Please… In the Ice Queens' Lair… She doubted that word had ever been used except in a lust fueled desperation in the bathroom stalls or at the edge of the dance floor. She poured a healthy splash of whiskey into the coffee and held the mug carefully out to him. Even in her towering heels, she found herself looking up to meet his eyes.
He took the coffee carefully, his fingers brushing hers gently. The pang of regret at bringing him here flared in her stomach. Gentle men who said please and made her laugh didn't belong in her life. She poured a healthy glass of whiskey for herself and lifted it to her lips, downing it in one go. She poured again, and offered a second glass to Carina, who took it with confusion plain on her face.
"What exactly did Carina tell you about why you're here?" She probed, wanting to know how much she needed to inform him.
Curls fidgeted uncomfortably, brought back into the reality of the moment as he took a sip of his coffee. "Not much. Just enough to know I'm in deep already."
"Okay, Curls. I'll make this quick. I need a new driver. We got burned on our last job, so I won't take chances with any insiders. Five hundred a day, plus five percent of the take if we're successful." His eyes bulged at the amount.
Curls hesitated a moment before responding. "Did Ri tell you I won't carry a gun?" he asked her hesitantly, his tone dropping with concern.
Sarah narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. It was a very odd rule that Carina had been very explicit to mention. It made her question his commitment to the jobs he pulled. "Yes, she did." Carina's eyes flared in anger and Sarah could see her looking at the cut on Curls' cheek. "Seems to me it's a rule that's going to get you hurt someday, but it's not a problem for me."
Curls' expression darkened as his fingers unconsciously raised to his cheek. He dropped his hand when he realized his reaction. "Maybe, but that's still my condition."
Sarah assessed him, his reaction to the dancing woman weighed on her. "Are you able to drive, what happened to your ribs?"
Carina's eyes flared at him in outraged frustration. "What does she mean about your ribs?" Her voice dripped with concern for him as she started pulling at his shirt immediately. Chuck awkwardly to swat Carina's hands away, his efforts unsuccessful against her determination. Carina got his shirt up, revealing three large bruises with telltale deep purple welts in the middle. The bruising had started to yellow, showing their age. Carina faltered as she gently prodded at them.
Curls stiffly pushed Carina off him and pulled his shirt down. "It's fine." He said, exasperation filling his voice, the tone a child used to mollify an overconcerned mother. "I did a job this morning, barely noticed it."
Sarah drummed her fingers on the bar. "Do you work with Bryce?"
"No." Curls' tone was firm, stern in his denial of being involved with the Larkins. "I just owe some money… How'd you know it was Bryce?"
Sarah paused and took a sip of her coffee before nodding to the hidden bruises. "I recognize the rings."
Carina's eyes were wild, her nostrils flaring at the exchange. Her voice was a restrained hiss as she spoke. "Curls, this is not fine. You told me you had the money. You said you'd call me if you have any issues."
Curls sighed heavily, his lies caught out. "I know, Ri. I did have the money. Can we do this another time?" he pleaded.
"No," Sarah cut in sharply, her tone leaving no room for debate. "Carina's right. If you're paying your debt and he's still enforcing, that's not business, that's personal."
Curls ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting nervously around the room. "I've got another month." He mumbled, as though that solved his issue.
"And you're going to let me be there next time." Carina said assertively, shoving at his chest to emphasize her point.
"Fine. You win… Again." Curls said, surrendering to Carina's will. He turned back to Sarah. "Look, if we can get back to it. What happens if I say no to your offer?"
Sarah took a deep breath, letting the question hang in the air. "You know how this works. I could make your life very difficult. Your family, your business… everything could crumble." She paused, there was a resolve in Curls' eyes, tinged by a spark of fear as she spoke. "But I won't."
Sarah took a sip of her coffee, waiting as he processed his freedom against the value of the offer before she continued. "But, if you walk out of here, you're going to leave knowing that I'm still running this job. Carina is already in on this job." Sarah said, her voice steady. She met Chuck's gaze, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. She didn't want to do this, to use his feelings for Carina against him. "And if you leave, then we're going to go find another driver. Just like we found the last one we worked with. The one who sold us out. One who she won't know she can trust." She paused, a pang of guilt twisting in her chest. It wasn't right, but it was necessary.
Carina looked at Sarah, a mask on her face but anger in her eyes. She had argued this wasn't right, it was a manipulation too far, but Sarah had assessed their relationship as Curls' weakness.
She could see the decision forming in Curls' mind as he licked his lips as he tapped a rhythm on his mug with his fingers. "So who else is in on this?"
Outwardly, Sarah smirked in victory at the setting of the hook. Inside, she felt the guilt twist harder in her chest. She hated how easy it was to use that against him. But that's what she did. She found people's weaknesses, and she exploited them. It was how she survived in this world. She wasn't proud of it, but pride didn't beget power. Control did. And she needed control right now, even if it meant hurting him. "This job has to be small. Controlled. It will be just the three of us. Me, Carina, and you. It's an infiltration and data extraction job."
He downed his drink, his lips curling into a grimace, not just from the taste, but from the heaviness of the decision. "I'm in…" he said quietly, his voice firm now. "But you can't keep calling me Curls."
Sarah cocked an eyebrow at his requirement. "So, I can't keep calling you Curls, what should I call you?"
He mouth quirked up into a small smile as he reached his hand out, offering it to her with a genuine warmth in his voice. "Chuck, Chuck Bartowski."
Sarah took his hand, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her, mixing with the twisting in her gut. "Sarah Walker."
o-o-o-o-o
Sarah weaved through the people and forklifts working, moving pallets throughout the warehouse both off and onto waiting trucks outside. Abandoned boxed and loose parts cluttered the edges of the warehouse. Her trainers scuffed quietly on the dusty floor as she weaved through the activity. Her jeans and leather jacket blended in with most of the employees, wearing assorted jeans and jackets themselves, though Sarah was more careful in hiding her gun underneath her jacket than most of the people working. Sarah's face remained a mask of cool indifference as she made her way to the back office, her eyes flicking over every detail, calculating, always ready.
Jack was already watching her through a window, tracking her progress across the concrete floor. His tan suit jacket was undone, the opening swept aside and held back by his hands tucked into his pockets, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a casual nonchalance. She nodded at him tightly as she entered the office, shutting the door behind her. His smirk met her as it always did, familiar, but always with something lurking behind it.
The office was sparsely decorated, not ostentatious like her office in the Ice Queen's Lair. It could have fit in with most warehouse offices, if it wasn't for the bullet proof glass of the windows, or the pair of shotguns Sarah knew were secured under the coffee tables. Jack's work desk was a cheap bit of wood, covered in paperwork. The wall was covered in white boards and clipboards with shipping manifests that could just as easily be for the cover as it was for Jack's real work.
"Jack." She greeted him coolly by his first name, a habit that had started early in the growth of his empire. There were very few of his lieutenants that were aware of their past as father/daughter con artists, and neither of them had any compulsion to share that.
"Sarah." He smirked deepened, as if this were all just a game to him.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Why'd you call me here?"
Jack walked to his desk, gesturing to a spare chair in front of it. He took a seat as he began to talk casually. "I hear you had some issues on your last job."
Sarah's eyes narrowed at the oversimplification. "You could say that." She stalked to his desk, leaning on the cheap frame. "The guy you-" she jabbed a finger at him. "sent with me was working for Shaw."
Jack didn't react immediately, just gave a slight nod, his eyes flicking to the chair in a silent command for her to sit. Sarah stayed standing, her body tense, daring him to push her harder. "Everyone's scrambling over this Fulcrum contract. The fact that it's open means that's going to continue."
She huffed at the statement. "We need to complete the job if we want to get paid. This backstabbing is just going to get people killed."
"I agree." Jack nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "I need you to land this one, Sarah. Decker has offered some of his guys to join your crew. With your last addition from my guys though, I'm not sure his offer is welcome."
"It's not." She answered sharply. Decker was a slimy bastard, his affiliation to Jack seemed too situational for Sarah to trust him. "A small crew will work better for my plan, and I've got the two I need."
"Just two?" He cocked an eyebrow as he leaned back. "I assume you're going to use Carina again, who else?"
"A newbie, runs a lot of small jobs, but nothing big. Chuck Bartowski." She watched his reaction closely, there was a flicker in his eyes, a moment of hesitation. Whatever it was, something about Chuck's name sparked recognition in Jack.
"You know I like to know the people working for me." He templed his fingers in front of his face, his eyes searching hers for something.
Sarah sat back casually, crossing a foot over her knee. "That's part of why I picked him."
Jack leaned forward. "You know he has debt with the Larkins, right?"
Sarah thought carefully before answering. Her father knew way too much about Chuck, but it wasn't the debt. Whatever Jack was concerned about was something else, he'd never be straightforward about it. But Chuck, he hadn't hidden anything, his tells were too obvious, his thoughts shared too freely.
Jack was hiding something. Sarah could see it in the way his eyes flickered, the way he paid too close attention to Sarah's own tells. Whatever it was, it only made her more certain of her choice. Carina hated Shaw with a passion, and Chuck clearly didn't like the Larkins. If her father didn't like Chuck, it meant he wasn't under anyone's thumb.
"I'm aware." She said evenly, though the tension between them grew. "He's taking care of it."
"You should bring him by." Jack said, his smile warm but hollow. There was a sharpness in his gaze, a silent promise that the invitation wasn't optional. Sarah's stomach tightened, but she nodded, unwilling to show her discomfort.