#also this got pretty soap and ghost heavy so apologies to any gaz and price fans

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell au again because why not. so imagine with me that 141 fellas find you after a miserable customer has made you cry.

warnings: reader!character is experiencing the aftermath of a panic attack/distressing emotions when she’s approached by the boys, nothing explicitly stated but she’s feeling a bit vulnerable.

fem!reader and the use of gendered pet names (hen, love) and use of the word cunt as an insult to describe a customer.

also apologies, i’m english and my grasp on scottish slang/scots has mostly been informed by the wonderful show Still Game which is distinctly glaswegian in flavour and various scottish twitter posts.

so you’re hiding out in the smoking area (lmao smoking area, okay let’s be honest it’s where a bucket filled with sand has been dumped near an ex-display bench about idk 20 feet from the customer entrance) because you just need 5 fucking minutes to compose yourself…

gaz is actually coming back from his lunch break and spots you hunched up on the bench in a way that looks truly uncomfortable. he carefully sits next to you and offers a soft smile when you look over at him. “bad customer?” he’s gentle when he asks and doesn’t make a fuss when you make a truly gross sniffling noise and wipe at your eyes. “want a hug?” you shake your head no and hunch in tighter on yourself. “want a milkshake?” you shrug and he passes over a strawberry milkshake. surprisingly he doesn’t say anything and let’s you drink in peace. you like gaz, he’s always friendly and warm when you interact briefly on the shop floor. he always seems to know what to say or do to get the best out of you and everyone else around him. eventually you check your phone and see it’s been 10 minutes since you left the customer service desk with tears in your eyes and lump burning your throat. embarrassment and residual anxiety washes through you when you recall how you’d all but fled to the safety of the smoker’s bench despite not smoking yourself. gaz catches your shudder when you check the time and knocks his shoulder into yours gently. “don’t worry, i’ll let price know you need a few more minutes, alright?” gaz gets up and heads inside the building, you know he’ll speak to price so you unfurl a little bit and chew on the straw of your milkshake.

soap and simon find you next. soap’s chattering away about the most recent delivery as they both approach your bench. simon stops dead a respectable three feet away but soap throws himself onto the bench bumping his knee into yours “what’s the matter wi’ you then, hen? you’ve a face like a smacked arse”. you shift away from soap, usually you don’t mind his directness but it’s just rubbing you the wrong way right now. you’re still feeling raw and a bit sick from finishing gaz’s milkshake and lingering anxiety. “fucks sake johnny, leave ‘er alone.” simon grumbles and fishes a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. “how? am just askin’ what’s the matter!” soap’s hands swat the air near your face and you shuffle further along the bench to avoid being hit in the nose in his agitation. “johnny.” simon snaps and soap huffs and folds his arms across his chest. it’s quiet amongst the three of you while simon taps out a cigarette and pats down his pockets looking for a lighter. soap shoots a wink at you and starts playing with a lighter that apparently has just appeared from thin air. “give me my lighter back johnny.” “gies a cigarette an’ i’ll trade it.” “no.” “c’mon simon! wan little cigarette.” “fuck off.” “awright then you miserable bastard.” you shake your head at their bickering and hold out your hand. soap pouts but drops it into your open palm. you lob the lighter in a poor underhand throw to simon who plucks it out of the air easily and nods in appreciation. “aw c’mon hen, that’s no’ playin’ fair!” soap whines and knocks his knee into yours “i thought i was your favourite.” “favourite pain in the arse.” is simon’s dry response around the lit cigarette and you crack a wobbly smile. “there she is! didn’t i tell you si?” soap’s grin is blinding “i knew we could cheer her up!” your wobbly smile starts to resemble more of its usual cheer when you catch simon’s eye roll directed at soap. you open your mouth maybe to defend soap or maybe to provoke him, you haven’t quite decided, when a pointed throat clearing catches your trio’s attention. your smile drops off your face and the anxiety that had started to quiet down in the face of johnny’s cheerfulness rises again in your belly because price is aiming a stern look towards the three of you from only six feet away.

price gently sits next to you on the bench when you’re certain simon and johnny are back inside. johnny squawking about the injustice of having his break cut short and simon calling him an idiot in response as they both disappear through the doors. you open your mouth to apologise for skiving off and offer any reason or explanation that will help your case but your teeth click shut when price holds out a palm to forestall your inevitable word vomit. “i don’t want to hear it, love.” price’s tone isn’t unkind, he’s just shooting straight with you, it’s something you quite admire about him really. “that customer was a cunt quite frankly and i’m proud of you for handling her the way you did.” the praise creates a small glow in your chest and burns away the last of your dread. “but, a word of advice, as the duty manager for today?” price offers a small encouraging smile so you nod. “you’re not paid enough to put up with that shit, so don’t.” you grimace and blow out a breath, you want to argue, maybe even defend yourself and explain that it’s fine really that’s just how retail is. price chuckles “no love, listen. you aren’t paid enough, but i am. so next time it happens, send ‘em my way alright?” price offers another smile when you nod in agreement before pushing himself off the bench. “now, c’mon. i’ve got stock that needs counting down the plumbing aisle and you can give me a hand. no more talking to muppets on the customer service desk today.” you follow price back into the store feeling much better than you did twenty five minutes ago.

the rest of your shift passes by easily enough and you make a mental note to buy gaz a milkshake as a thank you when he shoots you a friendly smile as you pass him on your way out the store on your lunch.

[celenawrites]

in between

Summary -

You talk with Gaz after a rough mission.

Note -

Reader's callsign is Artemis and Gaz calls reader 'Artie' affectionately.

No pronouns used so far. (unless my sleepy self missed any, for that I apologize. But I usually write for female or femme presenting readers.)

Reader is written as POC, although I haven't mentioned any racial features except maybe one mention of their skin color.

Gaz and Artemis are like more than best friends but not a couple per se? If my brain can keep up, I might work out a mini-series out of this, who knows.

Also, I HC that Gaz is a mama's boy and has a younger sister named Bianca, who he's like very close to. This headcanon is so dear to my heart (T_T)

I wish I could be more prosy, more poetic with this piece cuz that's what Gaz deserves. But it's already late at night and I need to sleep before I go out with my friends so this'll do (until I get fed up and re-write this a year from now lmaooo).

I was going to leave this untitled but AO3 needs a title in order for me to publish this so I guess...this oneshot is called 'in between' ig? bon appetite y'all

word count - 1.9k

AO3 Version

You can see he’s thinking again. 

The bar is filled with only a few patrons. Price is quietly nursing his whiskey on the one end of the bar table as he quietly talks into the phone(probably talking to Laswell) and observes his subordinates - namely Soap and Ghost engage in a captivating game of billiards. As far as you can observe, Soap is too impatient and Ghost is taking advantage of his restlessness and leading the score. Gaz sits beside you, one of his warm, deft hands nursing his own glass of bourbon and yet, his eyes show that he’s a thousand miles away from you, somewhere you cannot reach him. 

You want to be where he is. 

Your thigh touches his, gentle and unassuming and you let him warm you up. The team needed a pick-me-up after the brutal mission and what better way to loosen up than to drink the night away? 

But you can tell that even drinking heavy or watching Soap bicker with the usually dry Lieutenant about pool will not be enough for your Sergeant to forget all that had transpired this past week. You don’t blame him for it. 

The mission is all you can think about. 

It was pretty smooth-sailing - you got trustworthy intel, thanks to Laswell and so you planned an ambush to get a weapon cache, and trace an infamous cartel leader deep in Russia, hiding with his lackeys in bumfuck nowhere. And then things went south halfway through extraction, forcing you to barely get hold of the cache before you made a run for it - which led to you taking a bullet to the thigh while you covered Kyle and Price from roaming hostiles who spotted all of you because of a small error on your Gaz’s part. 

Luckily the bullet had just grazed you, and Ghost helped you patch up with the first aid kit they kept in the helicopter. Throughout it all, Garrick had his eyes downcast as he barely spoke while you rode away back to base. After landing, Price took a meeting and dismissed you just as fast, ordering you to go get your leg checked at the infirmary. Gaz followed you to the doctors - barely speaking despite your attempts at lighting up his sour mood. The moment you sit down on the cold bed and allow the nurse to take a look at your injury, you see the quiet man abandon you in the medical bay - but not before your eyes meet his, full of sorrow and remorse and a hint of something indecipherable. 

You know what guilt does to a man. 

The silence is killing you now. 

Sure, Soap is possibly the most outgoing out of your lot, and sometimes you’re even surprised at how your Lieutenant can make you choke on your own breath by making you laugh at his terrible jokes; and yes, Price and his odd way of comforting you works too. But all you want this instant is for your best friend to look at you like he always does (eyes brimming with mirth and warmth - so much so that you can get drunk off of it alone), you want to hear what he has to say about the faux rivalry between Soap and Ghost, you want him to ask Price to join you as he orders you another fruity mocktail because you’re the DD of the night (there’s a rotation set for it and it’s your turn now), you want him to drag your chair close and feel his body press to your side closer still as he talks about how his mother is, or what his sister is up to - you miss them, you really do. 

(He was nice enough to take you to them off-duty once and his mother apparently approved of you for her son, which you consider to be honor of the highest degree, especially from your best friend’s only guardian no less. His sister had been accepting too, roping you in to stay for the night and you all ended up having a self-care night - watching movies in nothing but soft robes, face masks and eating hot cheetos while Bianca did your nails and Gaz laid with his head in your lap, your free hand softly massaging his curls. And you all looked the epitome of domesticity )

“Penny for your thoughts?” you nudge him with your elbow that was previously resting on the table, and you break whatever reverie he might’ve been immersed in for the majority of the night. You’re tired and you want your Kyle back. 

You almost laugh at yourself, as you remember an old memory back from when you were new to the team and were not used to the British currency at all. You want to recall that memory to Gaz and watch him laugh, see his eyes crease into little moons that take away your breath every single time(you can never get used to the sight, never get used to him), hear the soft chuckle as he points out how silly it was for you to not know how pounds work. You’d rack your brain, settling for a half-hearted jab at him about him being British as you both laugh the night away, maybe joining your teammates for a round or two at the pool table. 

But you know now is not the time for that. 

You watch him intently, watch his brows furrow up as he closes in on himself, giving you barely a chance to penetrate his walls without setting off his defenses. You playfully shove at his shoulder, drawing his attention to you instead of whatever train of thought is running incessantly in his head. 

“It’s all cool, man”, you say and you cringe at yourself internally. You have never been good at comforting others - you rough-house, you use sharp words and sharper knives, given your field of work. You have never been blessed with someone treating you with a kindness you know you’re wholly unworthy of. So you have no idea how to deal with someone like him. 

He looks at you before his gaze flutters around your vicinity, dark pupils looking black under the dim yellow lights and his skin golden under the overhead bulbs (his skin against yours casts a nice contrast, despite the differences and the scars and burns - despite everything). You gently clasp his hand in yours, squeezing it in your palm as you look at him, unblinking and intense. He cannot take his eyes off of you even if he wanted to. 

You whisper to him, leaning closely so he can hear you over the jeering of his teammates, the buzzing of patrons and the background droning of the TV as it plays a recording of a football match from last season. 

“It’s not your fault”. 

He swallows a lump in his throat, and you watch as his eyes turn just a tad bit glassy. He’s close but he won’t cry. He never cries, not in public at least. 

He nods, and speaks, his voice throaty and scratchy and still him:

“I know, Artie. I know.”

He squeezes your hand back, the warmth emanating from his deft fingers grounding you as he continues speaking, “I know it’s not my fault. You’ve told me that. Heck, Price has told me the same, and yet…”

He drawls, and you almost lose focus because of how nice he sounds, because it has been a long day and you’re grateful that you can finally talk to your closest companion again, and so you nod in support, allowing him to talk, to cool off. Whatever he needs, you’d give him all in a heartbeat. 

“I know you’re not mad, and you don’t think it’s my fault. And yet, you almost died cuz I was too dumb to check my ‘9 and Lord knows how sorry I am for that”, his voice is thick with remorse and unshed tears as he looks at you earnestly for forgiveness, for redemption. 

But he doesn’t need those.

You shake your head, drawing circles on his wrist with your thumb as you quietly mumble at him, “ ‘s not your fault, Kyle. Moreover, that’s what friends are for. Saving each others’ asses is part of the job, and I’m too attached to yours to stop saving you now”. 

Your other hand cups his cheek gently, wiping away at his eyes and you watch enamored as he blinks away a few small, stray tears and your thumb gently swipes them away without a question. 

“So you like my ass, huh? That it, Artemis?” he jokes, and you can just softly laugh as you ruffle his head, his soft curls askew due to you playing with his hair gently.

You hum contently, turning your attention to your already empty glass, before looking back at your teammate expectantly. 

“Also, who would buy me fruity, expensive drinks when I can’t have a lick of alcohol?” you jest, slowly pulling away from him as you sit and face the bar instead of him, failing to notice how he almost chases after your touch. 

“Is that all I am to you, Artie? A means to an end? Someone who can get you freebies?” he laughs breathily, asking the bartender for a refill for you as he recovers from the withdrawals he feels at the lack of your gentle, familiar touch. 

“Well it’s either pampering me, or dealing with Ghost behind the steering wheel” you both wince slightly at that, remembering the few times you have both survived Ghost and his impeccable driving skills. 

You know that he’s far from over it, the mission is still something he’ll possibly worry about for as long as he can think - but you can see him ease up a little due to your antics. He’ll be alright, you assure yourself as you clink your glass with his, smiling at him as you slowly talk more and he shares all the stuff Bianca has been up to. He shows you the produce his Ma has just harvested from her home garden, and you marvel at how big her home-grown pumpkin is. 

As you laugh and whisper to each other, your eyes travel to the end of the table and you lock eyes with your beloved Captain (now free from his long phone call), as he raises his glass to you and drinks - a small gesture of gratitude for getting his favorite Sergeant out of his head for the night. 

You feel your ears warm up in embarrassment as you try to avoid the keen gaze of your Captain and focus on your friend right now. You think about how much he has observed - the soft, hushed words, the casual touches, the lingering looks of yours that carried love and yearning and something more for Kyle and no one else. You wonder if he’d reprimand you, give you a reminder about being a soldier and how fraternization with your comrades will not end well for you. But he says nothing - he doesn’t get up and chide you, he turns away from you both and instead focuses on Soap and Ghost as they bicker over who won the last round. You’re almost thankful to him for that, as your attention turns back to Kyle (your dearest Kyle, the only thing who keeps you going on days when your job gets too much for your brain to handle) and as he animatedly gushes about his family and talks about how you both need to go back home and try out his Ma’s famous pumpkin pie she’s making this weekend, you can only think about one thing only. 

You would die for this man, easily. 

You wonder if this is how Icarus felt when he was too close to the Sun. Not fear, but endless warmth and safety engulfing him just moments before he fell. 

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 12 - Sketches and Dresses

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.9k words - AO3 Link

The issue with only being able to bring so many things on your contract job was Emma had only packed for one type of weather; hot. Ukraine this time of year rarely saw temperatures above forty and it could get well below freezing at night. Emma had packed all the warmest things she had and also dug her credit cards out from her long-forgotten wallet. She’d have to make time to stop and buy a few things, a jacket and a long sleeve shirt at a minimum. One last review of everything, hoping it would be enough because it wasn’t specified how long they would be gone, Emma clipped her pistol into her thigh holster and tossed it in the bag with a few magazines then walked out of her room with her duffle bag swung over her shoulder.

Even though it was only six almost everyone else was already up and out of their rooms, coffee cups were lined up on the counter and Gaz was busy digging out sugar and milk. Moving to deposit her duffel with the rest in a pile by the door Emma walked over gratefully and grabbed herself a cup and made up the drink before leaning on the counter. “How was movie night?” She asked as she cupped her hands to hold her drink, “sorry I couldn’t join just after everything that happened yesterday, I needed to be alone for a bit.”

“No need to apologize, I get it,” Gaz answered. At least he wasn’t being awkward around her, hopefully that would stay the same when Soap and Ghost joined them. Their doors were still shut and they hadn’t made an appearance yet. “Alex fell asleep halfway through,” Gaz replied as he worked on his own drink. “But Price joined us toward the end. Not sure when Ghost and Soap got in, we all went to bed and they still weren’t back yet,” he shrugged. “Plenty of time to sleep on the plane if you can block out the noise. It’s almost a six-hour flight, hope you have a book or something to do,” Gaz finished with a grin.

“You know, I brought a book series with me when I came over here and I still haven’t even finished book one,” Emma confessed. “I just never have the time to read anymore. Too busy or too tired when I’m not busy. I value sleep over stories I guess,” she grinned, “I’ll probably have to start book one over.”

“Is that where Sleeper comes from then?” A familiar voice asked from behind Emma. Soap was standing there and prepping his coffee, black with heavy sugar, as he eavesdropped on their conversation. Emma hadn’t even heard him emerge from his room but both he and Ghost were there, Ghost depositing both his and Soap’s bags onto the growing pile of items.

“Sort of,” Emma answered, her eyes darting between Ghost and Soap before landing back on Soap again. She had so many questions as to what happened between them but that moment was not the time to ask. “I’m a heavy sleeper,” she began to explain, which earned a smirk and nod from Soap, he would know after that first night. “And I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere too, and quickly. I would catch catnaps between trainings or classes. You could find me against walls, on benches, behind boxes, one time even up on a catwalk,” she laughed a little bit before taking a sip of her coffee. “I pretty much slept anywhere I could even if it were for only five minutes. If I went missing at group gatherings, my friends knew they could find me holed up somewhere.”

“You and Alex are peas in a pod,” Gaz answered. “Man falls asleep if he sits still for longer than five minutes. I don’t think he’s ever made it through a movie.”

“Not true,” Alex chimed in from the couch, “I just don’t make it through movies you pick, and you never let anyone else pick. Your British stuff could put anyone to sleep.”

“I’m not watching some American action movie. All you American’s like to do is blow things up and look like models while doing it,” Gaz shot back with a roll of his eyes.

“So, you do think I’m pretty then. I see the way you look at me,” Alex teased before catching the breakfast bar that Gaz lobbed at his head. Gaz quickly went over to the couch with his own breakfast and took a heavy seat on the couch next to Alex, throwing his feet up on the table while he ate.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Emma said as she looked over at Soap. She noticed that he had a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow and his lip was split and still a bit swollen in the corner. So, he had gone to the hospital at some point the evening before. She couldn’t see Ghost’s nose under his mask but it had been bleeding pretty good the night before so hopefully he had gotten it looked at. “But action movies are supposed to be blowing things up, impossible scenarios and good-looking men and women,” she finished. Alex pointed at her over the back of the couch in an exclamation that said ‘see, he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed those types of movies.’

“I’m not disagreeing,” Soap answered with a grin, “you already know my opinion on British television, too dry.” Gaz turned his head over the back of the couch at that and narrowed his eyes at Soap, but didn’t say anything as he turned back around again.

Ghost and Price had made their way over to the counter now to grab their own coffee and Emma sidestepped closer to Soap. She didn’t want to say anything out loud but instead just raised her eyebrow in a questioning look, darting her eyes over at Ghost to ask the question quietly. Things seemed okay between the two of them, considering Ghost had carried Soap’s bag out for him and Ghost himself was having a casual conversation with Price and Crane. Soap caught her look and just mouthed the words ‘later’. Fair enough, she didn’t really want to discuss any of that with an audience and even though Ghost was talking to others she was certain he’d listen in.

By the time everyone had finished eating and cleaned up it was time to head out their ride to air field which was about thirty minutes away. Price informed them all they would be traveling with a transport of personnel and supplies to a base in Ukraine about two hours outside of Kiev then they would be driving the rest of the way. Their cover was they were embassy workers, specifically coming for humanitarian relief from the recent civil unrest. They would head to the safe house that afternoon to setup and debrief before beginning work that evening.

It was odd, to say the least, to see everyone dressed in such a casual way as they piled out of the truck that was full of other military personnel in their uniforms. The whole 141 had jeans and sneakers on, pistols that were usually strapped to their legs nowhere to be seen, and t-shirts. Price had even left his usual hat at the base, or in his bag, and the rest of the men had actually styled their hair. None of them looked the part of a lethal killer at first glance, though their size and mere presence in the area gave the air of it. People at the base even opted to give them a bit of space, obviously sensing that maybe the group wasn’t exactly what they said they were.

Emma was even treated the same for her association with them, though one brave solider offered to help her with her bags as the team moved off to go check in. Price had informed her she had a full bag of medical supplies at her disposal that he had commandeered from the hospital. The bag itself was almost as large as her and when she hefted it out of the truck when they got to the airstrip, she almost dropped it from the weight and everything shifting inside. “Did they pack me the whole emergency room,” she muttered as she moved to swing it up on her back.

“Let me help you ma’am,” the man offered and he swooped in to grab the medical bag before Emma could answer. He was young, a fresh recruit from the looks of him and how he carried himself. “Shouldn’t leave a lady to lug all of this,” he said with a small smile as he swung the pack onto his back, his eyes darting over to where the team had walked away. “I take it you’re the embassy crew headed to Ukraine?”

“Ah, yes actually,” Emma answered as she bent down and picked up her much lighter bag and draped the strap across her body. “Are you stationed there?” She asked as they started to walk toward the plane. She had no need to go join the men checking in, they had her fake identification papers, but she did glance over to where the rest of the taskforce was talking to the pilots. She was expecting to see them exchanging papers, maybe having a casual conversation, but what she found instead was Soap staring at her. He wasn’t subtle, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, as he crossed his arms across his chest and just watched her with head slightly cocked. Emma swallowed, daring to giving him a small smirk, before turning her attention back to the man helping her. Soap could have helped her with the bag if he had wanted, but he didn’t and now he’d get to watch someone else assist her.

“I am, my first deployment actually,” he said sounding a bit proud, but Emma could see he was also nervous. “Before I joined, I never even left the country and now I’ve been to three different ones in less than a week,” he grinned before gesturing for her to step up the ramp first. “Have you travelled much? I mean, I guess with the embassy you must have,” he was rambling a bit as they sidestepped some crates to head further into the plane for their seats.

“I have,” Emma answered, “I’ve been to quite a few places actually. I was in the air force when I was younger, I was a medic,” she explained, careful to not shed too much information about herself since she was there under a false background. “Helped me join the embassy when I got out,” she finished before they stopped at some seats. The man, last name Newman by his patch on his uniform, lowered her medical bag and stuck it under a row of seats, tucking it safely behind the cargo nets. Emma bent down and dug her book, and large ear covering headphones to help block out the plane noise, out of her bag before shoving it next to the medical bag. “Any idea what you’d like to do once you get out? Or are you a career man?” She inquired as she pulled the headphones around her neck and took a seat.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” he replied taking the seat right next to her, Soap was going to love this. “My whole family has been in the service, that’s actually how my parents met,” he grinned. “My sister just finished eight years and is in school now working on her masters. I may make a career out of it, school’s never been my thing. My dad was the same.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Emma answered with a smile before she looked back toward the plane entrance to see if the team was boarded yet. She couldn’t see down the ramp, there were crates and other items in the way, but more and more people were filing on and taking up the seats. If they didn’t hurry, they were all going to be sitting separated, there weren’t many seats setup for this flight and they were filling up rather quickly. “What’s your name?” Emma asked after moment, “I’m Emma by the way.”

“Sam,” the man replied before his eyes darted up over Emma’s head to take in the people that had just arrived. Emma turned to find Soap leading the group past the crates, his bag gripped tight in his right hand as he held it over his shoulder. He was continuing to stare, though he now had mischievous grin on his face as he walked over to where Emma and Sam sat. Emma was determined to not let him ruin the nice conversation she was having with an obviously anxious young man.

“Don’t mind them,” she stated quickly turning back to Sam, “they’re all bark and no bite,” she continued, giving a small eyeroll for emphasis. Sam still hadn’t looked away from the group though and his eyes had widened a bit before Soap spoke.

“I don’t bite because you haven’t asked Lass,” Soap said as he sat down in the seat right next to Emma, shoving his own bag underneath right next to hers. “I’m always willing to try anything,” he winked at her before looking over at Sam and extending his hand. “John,” he stated as a way of introduction, they weren’t using call signs here being that they weren’t supposed to be military.

Emma felt the butterflies in her stomach at Soap’s words and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from biting her lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and she was going to have to sit here with that thought for the duration of the flight.

“Sam,” Sam replied, taking his hand and shaking it. At that point the rest of the group lined up down the row, each taking up a seat and digging out their own inflight entertainment. Gaz had brought his music and headphones; the rest had a combo of music or books as well. Sam was watching all of them carefully, “you’re all embassy workers?” His voice was a little disbelieving as he took them all in, especially Ghost in his face mask. While it didn’t have the signature skull markings on it and was just plain black, it still stuck out.

“Aye,” Soap answered, letting his accent roll off his tongue heavily. “That one there’s our translator,” he pointed to Alex who gave a friendly wave, “boss down on the end. The mask is, well, he’s our security,” Soap smirked to himself enjoying his little game. “Rest of us are just regular old workers, except this lady,” he patted Emma lightly on the thigh, but then never removed his hand, the weight of his palm sent a wave of heat through Emma but she didn’t betray anything on her face. “With all the civil unrest and some emergency situations they needed some more medical personnel.”

“She was saying she was a medic in the Air Force,” Sam explained with a small nod, his eyes darting to where Soap still hadn’t removed his hand from Emma’s leg. Catching the look Soap squeezed his hand lightly, as if showing Sam exactly what was going on here.

“Yes, well, I continued outside of the Air Force and got my degree. I’ve been working for the embassy since as a medical consultant,” Emma answered, her eyes cutting to Soap in the corners, but she kept her focus on Sam. “I go where they send me. I just finished a job down in Africa a few months ago, thought I would be home for a little while but here we are. So, if you enjoy travelling and decide not to make a career out of the military, it’s always an option.” She smiled nicely at Sam, but kept her hands firmly curled around the book in her lap, the fingers digging into the spine as Soap dared to slide his hand about an inch up her thigh.

Sam opened his mouth to say something else when someone called out to him a row over. It looked like all of his friends were staring at the situation and one of them quickly gestured for him to come join them. Without even looking Emma knew Soap was smirking from ear to ear at the situation he had caused. “I should go,” Sam said then suddenly stood up, straightening out his shirt. “It was nice talking with you,” he added looking at Emma and barely giving Soap a glance.

“Bye Sam,” Soap called and Emma nudged him hard in the side with her elbow after Sam had turned and hustled away. She could feel Soap holding in his laugh and Emma rounded on him once Sam was out of earshot.

“That was incredibly rude,” she hissed, “he was only being polite. He carried my bag on which none of you offered to help,” she leaned and glared at the rest of the group who also looked like they were busting to laugh.

“He was being polite because you’re the prettiest thing he’s probably seen in a month,” Soap answered her. “And he was hoping you’d find him just as cute and nice,” he taunted before finally laughing. “I know, I was that boy at one point,” he added, “any girl stepped onto the base and we were all fighting for their attention.”

“You still didn’t need to run him off, I can hold my own,” Emma answered before she batted his hand away from her leg. “He’s nervous about his first deployment, he didn’t say it but I could tell. And none of you helped that,” she leaned around Soap again to give them all a look before sitting back in her chair.

“Ah, it’s all in good fun,” Soap said as he looked up to see Sam and his friends looking over at them. Soap gave them a little wave and they suddenly were all looking around at something else having been caught in their staring. “He’ll learn to be smoother about talking to women over time, he’s still green.”

“Oh yes, and you are so smooth yourself,” Emma answered as she moved to crack open her book. The ramp on the plane was shutting now and the propellers were starting up so it was beginning to get loud.

“I won you over, didn’t I?” Soap asked, though he leaned over to say it in her ear. Emma wasn’t sure if he did that because it was getting loud inside the cargo area or if he wanted to tease her. Either way it worked and she felt goosebumps breakout down the back of her neck at his breath on her ear.

She didn’t answer him as she moved to pull her headphones on to block out the sound of the engine and everything starting to rattle. Even with the headphones on she could still hear how loud it was and she saw as other people were breaking out their own ear covers, including Soap. Determined to read Emma lifted her book into her eyesight and crossed one leg over the other as the plane began its taxi. It wasn’t long before she felt them lift into the air and while she had flown plenty of times the sudden lurch always made her uneasy for a moment. She glanced over at Soap who was leaned back in his own seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head back completely at ease. He was apparently opting to sleep for the flight as was Ghost.

Emma made it a few chapters before the hum of the plane and the light vibrations started to rock her to sleep. It was just like driving in a car, if she was a passenger she was out within the hour of the drive starting. Telling herself she was just going to rest her eyes she pressed her thumb into the book and flipped it shut, leaning her head back on the seat. She saw out of the corner of her eye the rest of the guys had done the same, Price’s head hanging so far forward on his chest she didn’t know how he could breathe like that. Scooting herself down a bit Emma shut her eyes and felt herself drift off before she could even really comprehend that was happening.

Sometime later she was awoken as the plane took a dip, they had apparently hit turbulence. Emma felt her head loll off what it was resting on and a hand gently pushing her shoulder back so she stayed in her seat. Blinking a few times she took in her surroundings, a bit disoriented, to find she was leaned over to the side and her head was resting on Soap’s shoulder. Her forgotten book was tucked safely under his thigh and he had draped his repaired jacket over her lap.

“How long was I out?” Emma asked before realizing there was no way he could hear her over his headphones. He probably didn’t even realize she was awake yet because he hadn’t looked over at her as he absentmindedly secured her back in her seat when she had slipped. Instead, his concentration was on the sketch he was currently working on in the journal sized notebook in his hands. She had seen the notebook before, seen him taking notes in meetings with it or had it out on the couch when they were relaxing in the evening.

She never pried into what he was doing but she dared to look now to find the page on the left was full of little sketches. The page he was currently working on had a drawing of her, asleep on his shoulder and how she looked from his angle. Her hair was obstructing most of her face, the overly large headphones setting it all askew. He had apparently been able to see her parted lips as she breathed though and how her face was perfectly relaxed in her slumber. He thankfully hadn’t added on the drool that she was suddenly very self-consciously afraid was there. Emma adjusted a little bit as she watched his hands work the pencil over the finishing touches of the shading of her lips when he peered down to find her eyes open.

Soap grinned before reaching over to pull one of her headphones off her ear, “go back to sleep. We’ve still got about two hours to go,” he explained before setting the ear piece gently back down on her. He didn’t give her a chance to protest before he went back to work, glancing over at her every once in a while, to make sure he was getting the piece right. Emma didn’t close her eyes though; she was too busy watching and grinning to herself at the fact he had chosen to draw her. It was a simple gesture but it seemed extremely intimate at the same time. His drawing skills were a bit surprising, she never picked up on the fact he would draw she assumed it was just notes or doodling during meetings.

When he finished, he tucked his pencil into the small loop in the book to hold it there before he pushed the notebook into her hands. Emma sat up at that and gave him a questioning look to which he leaned over and pulled the headphone back again. “Take a look if you’re interested, nothing to hide in there,” he stated before letting go of the ear piece and stood up. Emma watched him stretch before he sidestepped down the aisle to walk toward the front of the plane to probably find a bathroom or just move around a bit. They had been sitting for hours now and Emma knew her back was going to be stiff by the time they landed.

Looking around to see if anyone else was watching, they weren’t, she finally dared to crack open the well-worn leather journal. She found that the leather outside was just a cover, he must have head it for years, transferring it from notebook to notebook as they filled up. Inside the pages were stuffed with small notes, scribbles, numbers that made no sense to her, dates and times or random words. But there were also drawings, tons of drawings. Some were quick basic sketches of people or animals, sometimes buildings or even plants. He had a few schematics of what she was guessing were buildings he worked in but as she flipped through, she spotted familiar things. There were a few of the 141 in there, their faces so lifelike Emma looked up at their sleeping forms to compare them, before she continued to flip through.

As she got further along, she found the first sketch of her. She was faced sideways to him, her face turned to look ahead of her with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. He had captured the tight look in her eyes, she was obviously concentrating on something, and her hand was on a table taking notes. It must have been during a meeting or some sort of intel training that Alex was putting on, something that Soap didn’t need to concentrate on so he decided to draw instead. Emma grinned as she ran her fingers over it before flipping the page to find another sketch of her at the gun range from behind. Her hair was tied in a braid down her back and Gaz was there as well instructing her, she was in a shooting stance and the gun holster on her thigh was snapped open as if she had just pulled her gun from it.

She continued to flip through and she got further along sketches of her started to make more frequent appearances. Her lounging on the couch after a long day, working in the gym, standing with her oversized helmet on glaring at him from behind her scarf, curled up asleep in a lounge chair. But mixed in were other sketches from Soap’s life. Ghost’s mask, the symbol for the 141, a random military truck, some sort of gun and finally she found a self-portrait. It was rough, like he had started on it then never went back to smooth everything out. She sat and stared at it for a while, her eyes taking in all the angles and shadows, how his mohawk laid to one side and curled slightly at the ends, he had a cut on his cheek when he had done it and the scar by his eyebrow was prominently outlined. She was engrossed in it when Soap finally came back and took his seat next to her, leaning over to see what she was looking at.

Emma pulled her headphones off and looked at Soap, obviously portraying a look of surprise and awe. “That’s not even my best work,” Soap scoffed at her reaction, “it’s not even finished.” He moved to flip the page so she would move on from it but Emma stopped him and held the page down with her fingers gently.

“I think it’s my favorite,” Emma stated and she saw the look on his face, “I’m serious. It’s raw but just something about it,” she ran her finger down the jaw before looking back up at Soap. She had never seen him blush, and she doubt she would, but the look on his face was very close. “You’re really talented Johnny,” she stated knowing no one could hear her use his name, “I mean it. These are incredible,” she flipped back to the one of her on the shooting range pointing out the shading and shadows.

“I’ll show you my favorite. And it’s actually a good one compared to your favorite,” Soap teased after a moment before gently taking the book from her hand and flipping forward a few pages. He stopped and looked over it for a second before handing the book back to her. This sketch took up both pages and Emma gasped a bit as she took it in. It was of her again. She was laying on the couch on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands, which were laid flat on the cushions, her gaze looking up at him. She had a smile on her lips that reached her eyes and her hair was hanging loose around her face and down her shoulders. It was obviously night time because she had her pajamas on and her socked feet were dangling over the couch arm.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma stated after a moment of looking it over before looking back at Soap again. He had a genuine smile on his face, one that someone had when they were full of pride of their own work and enjoyed the praise. “When did you draw this?” She asked turning back to look at it again.

“I’ve worked on it for a while,” he shrugged, “but I started it about a week after you signed your contract and agreed to stay on.” He gestured for her to continue, willing to share this intimate part of him with her. It was enough to give Emma a pleasurable squirm in her stomach, making her wish they were alone, before she sat back and continued to flip through the pages slowly. She leaned up against his arm a bit as she admired everything and Soap peered over looking between the work and her face before shutting his eyes peacefully and settling into a nap. Going through the artwork had taken up the rest of the trip and Soap awoke when the pilot came over the intercom to announce their descent.

Price was the first off the plane to get their transport to Kiev. It was a plain black van that could fit them all, albeit tightly, so they wouldn’t get separated. Emma took advantage of the few minutes they had before they piled into the van and stretched herself out. Her back was tight and she could feel the discomfort in her hips as she pushed herself into runners stretch, groaning a bit at the tug in her thighs. Soap had carried her medical bag for her and when Price rolled around with the van, he tossed it in the trunk as did everyone else with their stuff.

“Couldn’t have sprung for anything bigger?” Gaz asked as he peered into the very tight quarters. The van wasn’t much bigger than something you would take as quick transport to the airport. Ghost had taken the front passenger seat without anyone trying to fight him for it and Price was driving, so that left the rest of them to figure it out.

“Biggest they had,” Price said as he turned around to look at them all climbing in. Emma immediately went to the back row, being the shortest on the team she could curl herself in a bit tighter. Soap immediately joined her, his body barely fitting into the tight space but he made it work. Gaz had the row in front of them to himself, a smirk on his face as he stretched out with his legs on the seat, then Alex and Crane each took up a captain’s chair behind Price and Ghost. “All set?” Price asked and everyone gave their confirmation before he drove off.

The Ukraine landscape was vastly different than what she had been looking at for the past few months, it was a nice change. The land was lush and green with rolling hills and mountains in the distance covered in snow and Emma leaned her arm on the window to look out as they drove. She missed the fresh crisp air, it reminded her of home, and it was nice to not be sweating from the moment you woke up until you went to sleep.

Emma shifted a bit to better lean her head against the window when Soap’s hand gently slid into hers, threading their fingers together. Emma grinned and squeezed his hand, looking over at him to find him watching her before he glanced off at a window on his other side. Price had asked for them to be inconspicuous and Emma knew Ghost was not pleased with their situation, so she was okay with being lowkey like this. Enjoying one another’s company and touch without being obvious, like it was their own little secret tucked all the way in the back of the van. After a while Soap rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles and Emma shifted her leg to rest against his for the duration of the ride.

As they got closer to Kiev everyone seemed to be a little more alert, Soap slipping his hand out of Emma’s to sit up straighter and watch the area around them. While the city itself looked okay in the distance, driving up was another story. There were destroyed houses, people in the streets cleaning and other people watching them closely as they drove through. The political landscape had been a mess for years and Russian interference was not helping. Emma listened as Price explained everything that was happening and as the men around her asked questions. They didn’t venture too far into what they were doing there, waiting for the safety of the safe house just in case there were any bugs.

The safe house itself was actually a very small two-story house on the outskirts of the city. It looked rundown on the outside and when they all climbed out a feral cat darted under the back porch that was sagging on one side. Price ushered them all in and once inside he locked the door and peered out the windows to make sure they weren’t followed but the streets were empty. The inside of the house wasn’t much better than the outside, the kitchen tiles and walls were tinged yellow from years of someone smoking inside, the carpet had very questionable stains and was missing in some spots as if someone just cut chunks out of it. The furniture was dingy and Emma toed at an old looking cardboard box, afraid something may be alive inside of it.

“It’s not much but it’s secure,” Price stated before pointing at the bookshelf. Alex immediately went over and pulled it off the wall like a door, and once opened the inside revealed a bunch of surveillance equipment, monitors and gear. Alex pulled over a chair that had definitely seen better days before he started working on logging in and starting everything up. “Gear is upstairs,” Price stated and Crane and Gaz bolted for the steps, shoving one another playfully as they went to go check out what they had. “You can go through and setup all your medical stuff in the spare room over there,” Price gestured to what must have been the dining room at some point.

“Do you think I’m going to need it? I thought this was just information gathering,” Emma inquired as Soap grabbed the bag for her to lug it into the next room.

“Always be prepared,” Ghost said simply, “best to know what you have to work with just in case something doesn’t go to plan” It was the first words he had spoken to her since the night before, they weren’t clipped or angry either. It was actually fairly civil for him and it was jarring enough that Emma just turned around and walked into her area to start sorting through everything.

It took her well over an hour to pull everything out and get it in some sort of semblance of order, making a mental inventory and checking the packing list. They had provided her with pretty much everything she would need in an emergency situation to keep someone alive until they got to the hospital. It even went as far as a small portable AED and quick set cast for a broken bone. She was zipping all of the pockets shut now that the bag was empty when Price called them all back into the living room to start handing out files for all of their marks and discussing tactics.

Emma took her folder and flipped it open to find the left side was full of pictures of a man and the right had all his information. Mikhail Lebedev, heir to a very wealthy Russian family that owned an arms dealing factory that had exclusive contracts with the Russian military. He was a single business man, almost a decade older than her, known for being a playboy that liked to flash his money. He was suspected with helping push Russian agendas among the rebels in Ukraine and even supplying them with money and weapons. Emma pulled a face as she flipped through the pictures, he wasn’t bad looking at all with his broad shoulders and head of dark curly hair, but she could tell by just looking at his body language he was full of himself. He knew he could get what he wanted when he wanted it and he never took no for an answer.

“I hope you slept on the plane,” Price stated as he looked at Emma while everyone flipped through their files. Alex had a pile of all of them since he was staying behind to coordinate and keep tabs. “There’s a big meet up this evening hosted by Mikhail. Laswell secured us an in to get into the club,” Price stated before pointing at Gaz, Soap and Crane, “they will be going in with you, their own marks will be in attendance but we’re mostly concerned about Mikhail tonight, we think there may be a deal going down in the next few days. Gaz will be playing your security guard, Soap and Crane are your close friends,” all of them nodded though Emma was confused what role she would be playing if she needed security.

“You’re a wealthy American heiress on a tour of Europe before your marriage,” Price explained and Emma’s eyebrows shot straight up, this was news to her. Since when was she going to be playing the bait and actually interacting with her mark. “He likes money and things he can’t have,” Price continued before he dug around in his jacket pocket and tossed a bank deposit bag onto the table in front of Emma. “You don’t have to do anything you are uncomfortable with,” he stated as Emma pulled the bag toward her and opened it up to reveal a large stack of cash in the Ukrainian currency as well as jewelry, a different passport and other various documents. “We just need you to keep him sufficiently distracted while the rest of them work the room, see if you can get anything out of him. Ghost is going to work on trying to get into his penthouse to plant a few bugs while Mikhail’s…busy.”

“What am I going to do with this?” Emma asked as she held up a few of the bills, “I don’t think he would want my money if he’s as rich as you say,” she continued though she had a feeling where this was going.

“You need to look and dress the part,” Price answered simply and Emma finally dared a glance at Soap. His face was unreadable as he took in his instructions but she could see his hands were curled into loose fists on the table. This was part of the job though; this is what they both signed up for and Price had made it very clear that the job could not be affected by their feelings. “There are some clothes upstairs in the master bedroom already, Laswell had them sent. I have no idea what she picked for you, but hopefully they are warm. There’s a chance it’ll snow tonight,” Price looked pointedly at Ghost who merely nodded. Snow meant footprints so he would have to cover his tracks.

“If I’m supposed to catch his eye, I doubt the clothes will be very warm,” Emma muttered as she pulled out a very expensive looking diamond bracelet and ran it through her fingers. This was probably worth more than what she made on a single contract job. “I suppose I’ll go get ready?” Emma asked, sounding braver than she felt. She couldn’t back down now, she had been training for months for this and they were depending on her to get the work done. She could flirt and flash a little skin to keep Mikhail busy while the guys worked their own marks. Plus, she was due to be ‘married’ so there shouldn’t be any expectation from Mikhail of her, though Price’s comment about him liking things he couldn’t have stuck out in her mind.

When no one said anything to her Emma pushed out from her chair, tucking the file and bank deposit bag of items under her arm and headed up the creaky stairs with her personal bag. The house was cold as she made her way to the master, which mercifully was actually nice and clean compared to the rest of the house though Emma wouldn’t be surprised if there were still a few mice or roaches lurking in the corners. Finding the closet Emma pulled it open and stared at the clothes Laswell had sent for all of them, a mix of dresses for her and formal wear for the men. There were a bunch and she had an uncomfortable feeling she was going to be playing this heiress for more than one night.

“For fucks sake,” Emma breathed as her fingers danced over the satin and silk of the dresses. None of them left much to the imagination and she picked a bright pink one off the hanger and held it up before quickly putting it back with a solid ‘no’ muttered under her breath. Some of the dresses were short cut and tight, obviously meant for the club scene but others were floor length and elegant, meant for nice dinners or galas. The only formal dresses she had worn in her life were for school dances or the Air Force ball. All of her dresses were off the rack from local department stores but these just oozed designer made, custom. “I’m going to feel so out of place,” she stated to herself as she tried to choose what to wear that night.

Overwhelmed by the dresses, Emma decided to get her hair and makeup done first, that she could do while she mused over in her mind what to wear that night. In the bathroom she found stacks of different makeup and hair product and she groaned looking over all of it. It had been so long since she put on a full face of makeup or even curled her hair, she would be surprised she’d remember how but she needed to look like she did this effortlessly every day. So, she got to work. Emma used the foundation she found to cover up bruises and marks she thought would be seen under her clothes, though she decided that maybe a few wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave a bit visible. Maybe Mikhail liked women that could take a few hits or acted like they enjoyed that type of thing. He looked like he would, the smug bastard.

It took her a while to primp and clean herself, lotioning up her skin, pulling her hair this way and that to get it to curl just right then spraying everything to set. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she may have been actually happy with how she looked, it did look like she was going out on a very fancy date. Even the undergarments she had found felt luxurious under the bathrobe that she had plucked off the bathroom door and pulled on. At least Laswell appreciated the work that went into getting ready and made sure she was comfortable while doing it.

One more pause in the mirror Emma stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself as she twisted a curl back and pinned it to frame her face. Hearing someone outside of the bathroom door in the bedroom Emma paused and tightened the belt around her robe before walking out. She found Soap sitting on the bed and he gave a low whistle as he took her in, his hands finishing up the buttons of his own shirt.

“Lass…Gaz is going to have his hands full keeping everyone off of you,” he stated as he moved to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, folding the cuffs in a slow deliberate manner. He was dressed nicely as well; black slacks and a simple dark blue button-down shirt that he had left the collar undone. His shoes were shined dress shoes, forgoing the usual boots or sneakers, and he had trimmed up his beard and was freshly shaved as well. Seeing him like that took everything Emma had to just not drop the robe there and jump him, especially with the way his eyes ran over her in an almost possessive manner.

“I’m more worried about all the women with you,” Emma noted as she turned to the closet to finally pick out a dress. “I’ll at least have Gaz running interference but you’ll be thrown to the wolves,” she said as she mused between the red and black number, turning them this way and that on their hangers. She would have felt much more comfortable in the floor length numbers but she knew that wasn’t practical tonight, and not the point of it either. She needed to show some skin, catch eyes and keep those eyes distracted.

“I’ll be watching you all night, no one else is going to hold my gaze like you,” Soap said quietly as he came to stand behind her with one hand one her hip, the other reaching around to look at the dresses himself. “I won’t be able to concentrate,” he breathed into her ear which made her shiver slightly and lean back into him. He ran his forefinger and thumb over the different materials before pulling the short dark blue dress out, similar to the color shirt he was wearing. “This one,” he stated, making the decision for her and handing her the dress. Emma nodded and took it from him and moved to head to the bathroom to change but Soap grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back to him.

Emma felt her breath catch as he twisted her back around to face him again. She tilted her head up to him, arms hung loosely at her sides, waiting for him to continue. Soap didn’t say a word as he undid the belt of her robe, never breaking eye contact with her, and let the fabric fall open slowly to reveal her dark lingerie underneath. She caught the eye flare as he pushed the robe off her shoulders and Emma let the fabric fall down until it caught in her elbows.

“Did Laswell do this to torture me?” Soap groaned as his fingers trailed lightly over the material covering her breasts. The lace wasn’t doing much as far as coverage but undergarments that went under these types dresses weren’t meant to be modest. Soaps fingers splayed against one breast and squeezed gently, causing Emma to gasp, before he slid his fingers down her bare stomach to toy with the elastic band of her underwear on her hip. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he glanced down to the garters on her thighs that were holding up her stockings with delicate little clips. He swallowed hard, as if to restrain himself, before grabbing her hips with both hands and pulled her tight against him.

“If you weren’t all done up already, I’d have you bent over that bed right now,” he stated, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his face against hers so he could whisper in her ear. “Test out how quiet you can be as I fucked you in this lingerie,” he bit at her ear lobe which caused her to gasp and her hands shot out to grab at his forearms. “Well…until I ripped all the pretty lace into shreds,” he continued, pressing a kiss over her racing pulse on her neck. His hands slid around to her bare ass and his fingertips squeezed into the skin there as he pulled her even tighter against him so Emma could feel how badly he wanted her.

“How fast can you be?” Emma asked, almost pleading with him to do everything he had just stated and more. It was a risk with everyone here but her brain was so clouded with lust for the man standing in front of her she was willing to take it. She had been wanting to jump him for two days now but things kept getting in the way. She’d even take a heavy make out session at this point, she just wanted him keep touching her. “Makeup can always be touched up,” she continued, her hand drifting to press up against the seam of his pants which was incredibly tight at the moment.

“I can do fast and dirty,” Soap ground out as his fingers slipped between her legs from behind, pushing the thin strip of underwear to the side to feel the wetness there. He huffed and slid his fingers away, earning a whine of disappointment from Emma who had opened her legs a bit wider to give him better access. “But I’m not that fast and Price is waiting,” he ground out before unwrapping his arms from around her reluctantly.

Emma felt like she was going to combust as she looked at him and almost grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand back to her body but he was right, they needed to get going. Soap took the dress that was draped over her arm and gestured to help her into it, twisting her around by the hips to do up the back. His hands were nimble as they pulled up the zipper and slid the diamond necklace around her neck, though he kept running his hands over her body as he worked; especially as he helped her strap on the heels, his fingers gently massaging her calves and kissing the inside of her knee.

“When you’re busy flirting with Mikhail I want you to think of me undressing you later,” he said as he slowly rose from the floor where he had knelt in front of the bed to lean over her instead. “And when he talks a big game to you,” his hand slid up her skirt and he grabbed one of her garters between two fingers. He picked the material up a few inches from her skin before letting the elastic snap back on her thigh with a sharp sting, “I want you to think of how you felt screaming my name in that warehouse.” He smirked and dared a quick kiss to her lips, not wanting to smear her lipstick, “and if he tries anything with you, I want you to know I’ll break his fucking skull.” The last sentence was a lethal promise and Soap locked eyes with Emma to emphasize it. Emma felt the shiver of fear, but also comfort, shoot down her back from his words before he pulled away to stand up straight and offer her his arm.

“You better stick to that promise of undressing me later Johnny,” Emma stated as she loosed a breath she didn’t realize she was holding before she smoothed her skirt back out and grabbed her small clutch. She had stuffed some cash in the little black purse along with her lipstick, a burner phone, her fake passport and a small knife in the zipper pocket. “Or I may just get Mikhail’s number and call him up if you can’t satisfy me. He looks like he knows his way around a woman,” she smirked and Soap all but growled his displeasure at her words but he moved to help her out of the room and down the stairs.

“Well don’t you look cute,” Gaz stated as he buttoned the cuffs on his suit jacket and stuck the ear piece in his ear. Emma rolled her eyes at him but he just laughed. His cover as her security would allow him to have a direct line with Alex where they could talk back and forth without issue. Emma was handed a small ear piece that went so far into her ear canal it was barely visible and in the dark lighting of a club behind her hair no one would see it. The microphone piece was a small button that clipped right onto her bra strap and she tested it with Alex before heading out to the car. It was an actual car this time, not the van, a sleek black Cadillac looking thing. Gaz walked to the front to drive, shoving his second pistol into the glove box, his first one was on a chest holster under his jacket.

Emma, Crane and Soap slid into the back, the two men were dressed the same in button-down shirts and black slacks, large watches on their wrists and rings on their fingers. Emma jiggled her foot the whole ride over and Soap gently patted her knee as they rode in relative silence. The closer they got to the club the more nervous she became and when Gaz pulled up to the valet, she took a deep breath and waited for the door to open. Time to put on the act.