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chickensarentcheap · 1 month

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I FOUND: THE MISSING PIECES

CHAPTER TWO

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Esme Drummond (OFC)

Summary: A collection of requested one and two shots that cover the CANON events mentioned in the original “I Found” story. It’s not a necessity to have read it, but it might help.

Author’s Note:

This is a companion piece to “I Found”. When I first wrote the story four years ago, I had every intention of including ‘flashback’ chapters that weaved Esme into the events of Extraction. Sadly, I lost my confidence at the time and ended the fic before I was one hundred percent ready to do so. Which I deeply regret. In the time that has passed, readers have requested both 'movie canon-centric’ pieces and those that cover events between Tyler and Esme that were merely mentioned.

Please keep in mind that the pieces are NOT in chronological order according to the movie timeline or Tyler and Esme’s persona timeline. Instead, they are written and posted in the order in which the readers submit their requests.

Thank you! I hope you enjoy.

Love, Chickens

WARNINGS: SLIGHT SMUT, PROFANITY, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF CHILD DEATH

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @watermeezer @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @kmc1989

@asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @alisbackalleybbq @karimac

@arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @munstysmind @fanficanatic-tw @ocappreciationtag @occommunity

****

WHERE: GASPAR'S SAFE HOUSE

“Tyler?”

He teeters on the edge of sleep, his body exhausted and aching; a dull, throbbing pain that seems to travel from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. He feels as if he’s lived a lifetime in a matter of twenty-four hours; his flesh littered with abrasions, bruises and gaping, hastily tended-to wounds. The silence surrounding him a welcome reprieve from gunfire and mayhem; temporarily tucked away in that quaint safe house on the city's outskirts.

The booze and the pain meds have begun to take effect; a haze and warmth that lower both his guard and his inhibitions and soften the chaos and the incessant second-guessing that have plagued his mind for hours. But her voice -quiet and apprehensive- somehow manages to cut through the layers of inebriation and exhaustion. And when he opens his eyes and glances towards the stairs, he discovers her standing on the middle landing; illuminated by the couch-side lamp and the glow of the light above the stove.

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay to come down there?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

He watches as she descends the remaining stairs and approaches, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floors. Her hair is loose and dishevelled from sleep; thick, dark tresses framing her face, tumbling over her shoulders, and spilling down her back. Her tiny frame drowns in a man’s button-down shirt; crisp and cool cotton in charcoal grey, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. One of many offerings that Gaspar had left behind in a plastic bag on the kitchen table; faded and tattered t-shirts and old jeans with holes in the knees and pockets and loose threads dangling from the cuffs. With nothing appropriate for a woman -especially one of Esme’s petite stature- available, she’d been relegated to washing her original clothes by hand; tattered and stained by blood and now drying over a chair on the small back porch.

Despite the dim lighting, he can see how heavily body and spirit bear the toll of the day; a slump to normally confident shoulders, a limp that replaces the normal bounce to her step. The sparkle of those dark eyes diminished; now dull and lifeless from a potent mixture of exhaustion, discomfort, grief, and concern. And when she stands in front of him, he can see the damage done to her pale, smooth skin; a bruised and slightly swollen left cheek, a red and angry abrasion that mars her forehead and disappears into her hair, and a small split to her bottom lip that appears sore and tender.

Yet, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

His hands find her hips as she steps between his splayed thighs. “You should be asleep.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“I’ve been resting my eyes. Here and there.”

“I damn near had a panic attack. I woke up and didn’t even remember coming here. I didn’t recognize anything, you were gone. That’s what totally freaked me out. I didn’t know where you went, and I thought maybe something bad happened and you had to leave us here or…”

“I’d never do that. No one is getting left behind. Especially not you.”

“It just scared me. Not knowing where I was. Being disoriented and alone and…”

“I only left because I didn’t want to wake you up. I couldn’t shut my brain off. And if I’d stayed up there and just kept tossing and turning…”

She reaches out; gentle fingertips exploring the bruises and wounds that litter his face. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little. The meds kicked in about ten minutes ago.”

She gently explores the cut above his right eyebrow and the abrasions on his cheek. “Did you take a lot?”

“I only took a couple. Just to take the edge off. Nowhere near enough to knock me on my ass.”

“I mean, I know it’s not any of my business; how many pills you take or how much booze you drink. But…”

“We talked about this. A couple of days ago. About how it’s becoming your business.”

When their plans to travel together after the job in Dhaka had been made official, they’d been accompanied by a conscious decision to turn his life around. Or at least attempt to. There’s an optimism he clings to; the belief that their immense attraction to one another will follow them into the ‘regular world’. That it isn’t solely rooted in similar experiences and shared circumstances; their equally traumatic childhoods, their time in the military and their failed marriages, the stress and the unpredictability of the ‘job’.

It’s the first time in years that he’s felt any sense of positivity regarding the direction of his life; finding himself no longer obsessed with wanting to catch a bullet or interested in drinking himself to death. It would be the biggest mistake he’s ever made; turning his back on the second chance that lay before him. And he’s determined to put the work in; wanting to clean himself up and give her the kind of man she wants, needs, and deserves .

“I worry about you.” Pushing her hands into his hair, she allows the longer strands to slip through her fingers. “I know you’re not to use that; someone giving a shit.”

He can’t remember the last time someone expressed any kind of concern in regards to his well-being. While boldly -yet erroneously- calling herself a friend, Nik views him as both a nuisance and a commodity. While none of the other mercenaries on her payroll come close to possessing the same level of skill and knowledge, his issues with drugs and alcohol often get in the way of her securing a client -and a mission- only he can conquer. Her friendship comes with a price; relying heavily on his ability to keep himself alive and the cash rolling into her bank account. And Mia had never been an affectionate or nurturing person; lacking those traits long before their marriage had started to sour. A byproduct of her career and upbringing, she’d always been rather cold and distant; expecting the man to be continuously ‘rock steady’ and admittedly ‘turned off’ by any show of softness or vulnerability.

His mother. She’d been the only one who’d ever shown him that kind of care and concern. Loving him unconditionally; with every breath she took and every punch and kick his father had rained down upon. Continuously -and selflessly- putting herself…mind, body, and soul…in the direct path of his ire to keep her only child safe. Attempting to give him some semblance of a normal childhood despite all the bloody noses, broken ribs, split lips and trips to the emergency room. It was the last time he’d ever felt loved; the only person who allowed her to show and express emotion and experience moments of fear and weakness.

Nearly three decades. Since anyone has given a shit. And it seems so foreign now; finding himself at the receiving end of even the smallest forms of affection.

“It’s been a long time,” he admits.

“That’s not right,” she laments. “That’s not right at all .”

Her hands continue to move through his hair; gently and repeatedly combing the dirty blond tresses. He finds himself unable to take his eyes off her; transfixed by the tenderness that both touch and gaze possess. The couch side lamp bathes her skin in a soft, almost ethereal glow; highlighting the juxtaposition between the bruises and cuts that mar her flesh and the gentle smile that curves moist lips.

It takes his breath away; her emotions -a mix of concern, adoration, and lust- written so plainly upon her face. He doesn’t deserve it; someone regarding him in such a manner, wanting and needing him to the depths and lengths she’s already shown. And while part of him whispers to push her away and spare her the hurt that he’ll eventually cause, an even louder and more persistent one screams at him to never let her go.

A shiver travels through him as her nails lightly scrape along his scalp and down onto the nape of his neck; those small, delicate fingers dancing over his skin before deftly and easily manipulating the sore, tense muscles below them. His eyes close; a sigh of both weariness and contentment escaping his lips as his head falls forehead and his brows rest against her. It’s intimacy in its purest; her touch soothing as he completely lowers his guard and allows himself a rare moment of vulnerability. She won’t judge him for it; won’t scoff, scold or mock upon discovery of a chink in his armour. Not the type to view him as less of a man because of a show of weakness; instead preferring to nurture the rarer, softer fragments that linger under his tattered edges and worn and weathered exterior.

When she gently tugs on his hair, he tips his head back and gazes up at her; eyes riveted on hers as she affectionately strokes his ears and slowly traces the outer edges with the tips of her index fingers. It isn’t until she releases a sigh of her own and scraps her top teeth over her bottom lip that he physically reacts; his hands smoothing over the curve of her hips and down the sides of her thighs before slipping under the bottom of her shirt. He hears her sharp intake of breath when rough, calloused palms glide across soft, supple flesh. Sees the way her eyes darken when he traces a slow, methodical circle around her navel and gently tugs on the hoop that passes through it. Feels both the shiver that passes through her and the goosebumps that invade her skin as his fingertips skim along the waistband of her simple cotton panties.

“This is wrong.” Her voice trembles as she speaks. Barely above a whisper. “This is so, so, so wrong.”

“You could be saying that about the last five days.”

“I don’t mean that. Us. If there even is an us.”

His palms follow the curves and slopes of her ass and hips. Finding himself amused by her disappointed pout when his hands slip out from under her shirt. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“I meant this. Here. Your friend’s place.”

“If it makes you feel any better…”. His fingers tend to the buttons on the simple cotton garment. “…he doesn’t actually live here. It’s a safe house. He has no real ties to this place.”

“Always so rational.”

Allowing the shirt to fall open, his hands once more find her hips; fingers pressing into the supple flesh as he aggressively pulls her closer. She heaves a shaky sigh and violently shudders when his lips press against her stomach; her fingers burrowing in his hair as the tip of his tongue draws a lazy circle around her belly button and his teeth pull at the stainless steel hoop. Her nails digging into his scalp when he presses a series of kisses along her abdomen; slowly travelling from hip to the other, then stopping at the strip of lace that covers her pussy. And nuzzling his nose against her, he can smell and feel the moisture that dampens the thin fabric.

Her hands tighten their grip on his hair as he presses a line of warm, moist kisses across her waist; his mouth travelling slowly from hip to hip as his calloused fingertips drift over her ribcage. It’s a power juxtaposition; the softness of his lips paired with the roughness of his beard. She’s overwhelmed by the things he manages to stir inside of her; a level and ferocity of want and need that no one else has brought to the plate. On the good days, sex with Mark had been a chore; she merely tolerated it and certainly never initiated nor truly enjoyed it. On the bad days, it was expected of her; threatened and forced and punished -severely- if she had the nerve to say ‘no’ or push him away. After the marriage fell apart, she’d sworn off all forms of sexual activity that involved a partner; convinced she could happily live the rest of her life tending to things on her own.

And then she wandered into the debilitated shack in the middle of the Australian outback.

A violent shiver travels the length of her body as his hands and mouth travel upwards. Suckling and nipping at her collarbone while his palms cup her breasts; a whimper escaping her lips when his thumbs brush against her nipples. He reaches for her hair, his grip tight and unrelenting as he pulls her down into a kiss; his strength and power cause her to lose her balance and tumble into his lap. His hands aggressive and needy as they easily manipulate her much smaller and lighter frame; settling her on his lap, her knees on either side of him.

Both kisses and touch are rough and unapologetic. Bruising lips and duelling tongues as his hands dispose of remaining clothes and hers yank at shirt buttons and belt buckle and hurriedly open the clasp and zipper on his pants. There’s no romance; no extended foreplay, no whispers of adoration or praise, no tenderness or adoration. And she audibly gasps when he pushes into her with one strong, fluid thrust; her head falling backwards and her nails digging painfully into the bruises and cuts that mar the back of his neck and shoulders.

He remains undeterred; the pain is no match for the depth and the power of the want and need that take over every fibre of his being. His mouth finds the hollow of her throat; licking, sucking, and biting at the skin as his palms find the smooth curves of her ass. Fingertips biting into the soft, supple flesh as he controls every movement.

****

They sit in silence; basking in the afterglow with her sideways on his lap and her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, both his arms wrapped around her. Her head on his shoulder; one hand resting on his side, the fingers of the other repeatedly brushing the hair at the back of his head and the nape of his neck. Clothes discarded earlier in haste gathered up and put back on; avoiding the awkwardness if Ovi awakens and wanders downstairs or Gaspar shows up unexpectedly. His palm rests on the side of her left thigh; fingertips repeatedly moving over the skin in slow, smooth circles.

“Tyler?”

He turns his face into hers, lips meeting her brow. “Mmm?”

“Where should we head first? Where do you want to go the most?”

“What?”

“When we travel. Once all this is over. What should we put first on the list?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Wherever you want to go, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s it. Leave the hard work to me. I’m terrible at making decisions. I’ll pick something now and by this time next week, I’ll have changed my mind a dozen times.”

“Why don’t we get the hard stuff out of the way? I know you’ve been freaking out about the idea of going back to Colorado and having me meet your folks. If we do that first, you’ll be able to relax; have a good time when we go other places.”

“You know…” Esme presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...sometimes you are wise. So wise.”

“Are you saying I’m a dumb ass all the other times?”

She nuzzles the sensitive spot under his left ear with the tip of her nose. “Never.”

He’s getting used to it; her almost overwhelming need to give and receive affection. She’s the first partner he’s had that’s been so needy in that respect, and decades of being touched starved has caused him to be standoffish at times; unsure of how to react to her not being afraid to seek out physical contact. But she’s patient and understanding and never takes initial resistance or hesitation as a personal slight. After only five days, he’s both accepting and responding with much more comfort and ease; not realizing just how much he’s missed tenderness and affection. And amidst all the chaos, unpredictability, and fear of what’s to come, her mere presence gives him a welcome escape. The touch of her hands, the feel of her lips, and the smell of her hair somehow easing the weariness and the tension. Even if only temporarily.

“You don’t really want to go there, do you?”

“I want to see the mountains. Go snowboarding.”

“You do realize we can do those things without going near my family, right?”

“It was your idea. To take me to meet them.”

“And now I realize what a shitty idea it is. And no…” Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his face towards her. “...you are not the reason I don’t want to see them. I mean, you are . But not in the way you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“I’m not ashamed. Or embarrassed. When it comes to how we met and how quickly things happened between us. And it has nothing to do with who you are and what you do or…”

“Esme, none of that shit crossed my mind.”

“It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. I know what they’re like; I’ve put up with their bullshit all my life. They thrive on bullshit and drama. Especially my mother. Why would I want to subject you to that ? You haven’t done anything to deserve that kind of punishment.”

“Haven’t you been waiting your entire life for someone to come along and put your mother in her place? Well, the time’s come. Now’s your chance.”

“You have no idea what she can get like. Just how awful she is. She’s a miserable, evil bitch. And I can only imagine what kind of shit is going to come out of her mouth. About you, about me…”

“I’m not your ex-husband. I’m not the type that’s just going sit there and let it happen. She steps out of line, I put her back in it.”

Smiling, she reaches up to brush the longer strands of hair off his forehead. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I would. Someone’s got your back now. And she should know it.”

“My hero,” she playfully croons, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore. I’ll let her know. And I won’t be nice about it.”

“You really are a knight in shining armour.”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Knight in slightly tarnished armour?”

“I’ll let you have it.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; her head against his shoulder, the nails of one hand lightly and repeatedly brushing against his beard. His chin rests on the top of her head as calloused fingertips continue tracing random patterns on the side of her thigh and back of her knee. And he’s once more on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; eyes flickering open, finding her staring up at him. Those enormous dark eyes once more filled with concern, her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Who?”

“Ovi.”

“We’re going to get him out of here. Get him back where he belongs.”

“I mean after . When this is over. What happens when you do get him home? His father’s in jail. There’s no one there to protect him.”

“ I haven’t stopped to think about that. Yet.”

“Asif will never let him live. Think of the disgrace. He isn’t going to give up, Tyler. He’ll go after him again. And this time, things will end up so much worse. It won’t be about money, or power, or influence. Or disrespecting or embarrassing Mahajan. It will be about revenge. And you know what people like Asif are capable of. They’re violent and depraved and the things he’ll do to Ovi…”

“This is why you couldn’t sleep, huh?”

“He’s just a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. And if there’s no one around to keep an eye on him…”

“What do you think we should do? How would you handle it?”

“I don’t know. But there has to be something, right? That we can do? That you can do?”

“Short of sticking around in Mumbai and keeping an eye on him until shit dies down…”

“Would that be something you’d be willing to do?”

“Would you? Be willing to do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Esme admits. “It wouldn’t be the safest place, you know? We’d all have targets on our backs. Hanging around, just waiting for trouble to show up? Not my idea of a good time.”

“What else is there? What other options do we have?”

“We could bring him with us. We could put off travelling. Spend some time hiding out somewhere. We could take him to your place; lie low in the outback for a bit. Or we could go to Prague. Stay at my place; just until we know the coast is clear and that Ovi will be safe back in Mumbai. It makes sense, right? For you to be the one to do it. I know there wouldn’t be any pay at the end of things, but…”

“It’s not about money. It stopped being about that hours ago.”

“I just think it makes sense; that we take him with us. You can keep him safe. He trusts you. And I think that…”

“You know what I think? I think it’s been a long day. And I think you’re tired and overwhelmed and you need to try and turn your brain off. Or at least quiet it down a bit. I know you’re neurotic as fuck sometimes, but…”

She grins. “You already figured that out, huh?”

“Less than a day into knowing you.”

Scowling, she tugs playfully at the hair covering his chin.

“Why don’t we just let it go for now; cross that bridge when we get to it. Because it’s been a hell of a fucking twenty-four hours and my brain needs some peace and quiet. And I know yours does too.”

“I just…”

“Not right now, okay? Let's try and get some sleep. We need it.”

Nodding in agreement, she nestles her cheek against his shoulder. Several minutes passing before she gives a loud yawn and once more sits up/

“Esme…” Tyler doesn’t open his eyes. “ I swear to God…”

“I have a lot on my mind, okay? It’s really noisy up in there. And I won’t be able to sleep until it quiets down a bit. Humour me? Please?”

Sighing, he opens his eyes and slides a palm to the back of her head; fingers pushing through her hair to gently massage her scalp. “What’s going on?”

“I need to ask you something. And it might cross a line or two or trample on a couple of boundaries. I know we haven’t known each other long and it’s kind of personal and you might want to tell me to mind my own fucking business, but I’m just asking because I’ve been getting some really bad vibes and I’m nervous and worried and…”

He chuckles; her tendency to ramble when excited or nervous never crossing the line between amusing and insufferable. “Just take a breath, yeah? It can’t be that bad.”

“It depends on what you consider bad. Or intrusive.”

“I think we’ve reached a point where nothing could be considered intrusive. Considering what’s been going on the last five days and just happened twenty minutes ago…”

“I’m only asking because I’m worried. And a bit scared. I…”

He squeezes the nape of her neck. “Just ask.”

“How well do you know him?”

“I take it we’re not talking about Ovi this time.”

“Gaspar. How close are you guys exactly?”

“We’re mates, I guess. If we’re in the city, we’ll go out and grab something to eat, have a beer or two.”

“Would you say you’re solely ‘work buddies? That the only time you see him is if there’s a job involved?”

“Yeah, I’d say. It’s not like we see each other regularly or we hang out when it’s our downtime. I don’t exactly call or text him or shit like that, if that’s what you’re asking. Why…?”

“So you’re not friends friends. You don’t visit one another, you don’t know much about each other’s personal lives, you’re not on one another’s Christmas card list or…”

“I barely see the guy. We’re work friends. Colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. We won’t be visiting each other any time soon.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m being a huge bitch and personally attacking your friend or assuming bad things about him or…”

“Are you going to get to your original question sometime today or…?”

Taking a deep breath, she releases it slowly, then chews pensively on her bottom lip. “Do you trust him?”

“He owes me his life.”

“That isn’t what I asked. Do you trust him?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

She sighs.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“I can’t shake this awful feeling that he’s up to no good. Something just isn’t sitting right; the way Nik was so resistant when you told her to call him, the way he looks at me like he wants to throw me to the wolves, the things he says…”

Tyler frowns. “He talked to you? When? What did he say?”

“He didn’t confront me or anything like that.” The lie rolls easily off her tongue. “ And it’s not so much what he says, but how he says it. He won’t even call me by name; when he’s talking to you he calls me ‘the girl’ or ‘that girl’. That’s not a huge red flag to you?”

“Don’t take it personally. He’s always been a bit of an asshole.”

“Something’s not right, Tyler. And I know you’re feeling it, too. Nik never would have put up such a fight about calling him if she wasn’t worried about something. ”

“I think everyone’s on edge. We’re sore, we’re tired, we’re…”

“You just said you’re not sure if you trust him. So you’ve got the vibes, too. I know you do.”

“Whether I trust him or not, this is our only option. I have more control over things here than if we’re on the street, constantly looking for a place to hide out. Do you trust me ?”

“With my life. You know I do. But that doesn’t mean I can just ignore this. The way I’m feeling. Something is… off . I can’t put my finger on what , but it is. And the sooner things die down and we can get the hell out of here, the better.”

“If I start feeling worse about things…about him …I’ll get you and Ovi out of there. I’ll figure something out; find a place to lay low until Nik can get us out of here. I won’t let anything happen to you. And I will get you out of Dhaka.”

“Gotta get yourself out of here, too. Remember our deal? Both of us or neither of us.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I have thought about it.”

“And?”

“And I can’t make any promises. Not when it comes to that. You know how bad things can go. And how quickly it can happen.”

She scowls. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“It’s the only one I have to give you. Right now, anyway. Are we done? Did you get everything out of your head you needed to? Quiet things down a bit.”

“It’s a little better.”

“You’re safe, Esme. Nothing can touch you here. And if anything even tried…”

“I can’t pretend I feel good about this. About him .”

“You don’t have to. But for now? Try and get some sleep. It’s been a long fucking day. And if you don’t settle down, shut your mouth, and close your eyes soon…”

“You’re such a sweet talker,” she chides, and nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose. “Let’s stay here a little bit longer. Just like this. I need it. I need you .”

He obliges; wrapping both arms around her and pulling her even tighter against him. Laying a palm on the back of her head, he draws it down onto his shoulder; fingertips gently stroking her hair until her body relaxes against his. Her breathing softening and slowing as she finally drifts off to sleep.

****

Despite succumbing to exhaustion, Tyler’s senses remain hypervigilant. Aware of the slightest change in temperature, the softest of noises out on the street, every sigh and mutter Esme makes as she sleeps on the couch across the room, and each creak of a spring whenever she rolls over or adjusts her position. His hearing is keen. Picking up on the rumble of an engine and the opening and shutting of a car door; a dog in the near distance barking at the intrusion.

He senses the other man’s presence the moment he steps into the room; clocking the the shifting of floorboards beneath feet, the rustling of a brown paper bag, heavy, deep breathing, and a combined smell of cologne and perspiration. He remains silent and motionless; not wanting Gaspar to be aware of his wakefulness. The soft glow of the couch side lamp allows him to watch every move the taller, heavier man makes; his breath catching and his jaw clenching as Gaspar approaches the sofa.

His hands curl into tight fists as Gaspar briefly observes a sleeping Esme, then removes the throw from the back of the sofa; draping it over and tucking it securely around her tiny body. Feeling both nausea and fury building inside of him when his old friend touches her; smoothing her hair away from her face and running a fingertip over the bruises on her left cheek and above her eye. And he isn’t entirely sure what he feels; disgust, worry, rage. Possessiveness, even.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Gaspar gives a small start, then an awkward chuckle as he turns away from the couch. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Now answer my question. What are you doing?”

“The windows are open. It gets chilly at night. I was just making sure she was warm.”

His body aches as he stands. A throbbing that seems to spread outwards from his bones; travelling from the roots of his hair to the tip of his toes. Reaching for the sling he’d discarded earlier, he winces as he pulls it over his head, gritting his teeth as he settles his injured arm into place. Approaching the couch, he places his body between it and Gaspar as he reaches down to wake her; grazing his knuckles along her swollen and bruised cheek.

“Hey…” Tyler softly jostles her shoulder. “...Esme…”

Giving a loud yawn, she stretches languorously and turns her face towards him; pressing her brow against his forearm.

“Tyler…”

It claws at his throat and heart; the way his name leaves her mouth so softly and tenderly. It’s terrifying; what should have been a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement quickly -and effortlessly- becoming so much more. She’s the first person to attempt to get past the walls he’d built in the wake of his son’s death; effortlessly managing to burrow beneath the layers of guilt and grief and regret. Breathing life back into him and making him feel again.

“Esme…” His voice is louder, pushing past the last remaining veils of sleep. “...you need to get up.”

Rolling onto her side, she peers up at him, concern immediately furrowing her brow. “What’s wrong? Is there trouble? Do we need to leave? Do we…?”

“There’s nothing wrong. No trouble. Why don’t you go upstairs?” Curling his fingers around her bicep, he guides her into a sit. “You’ll be more comfortable up there.”

“Okay,” she sleepily agrees, gathering the throw around her shoulders as he helps her to her feet.

Although Tyler notices Gaspar’s disgust when she briefly rests her forehead against his chest, he doesn’t hesitate; placing his hands upon her shoulders and gently squeezing. “Try and get some more sleep. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“Alright.” Yawning once more, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes; wrapping the throw around her as she shuffles through the living room and up the stairs.

Both men remain silent. Until they hear the squeak of the bedroom door as it closes, followed by her soft footfalls overhead.

“Now it’s my turn,” Gaspar speaks in a harsh whisper. Shoulders tightly drawn, eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and disgust. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and that girl . And whatever the fuck is going on between you.”

“Esme. Her name is Esme. And whatever’s happening between us? That’s none of your business, mate.”

“You’re my friend. That makes it my business. What is wrong with you? This ? This latching onto someone. Practically throwing yourself at their feet. It’s pathetic; watching you trip over yourself trying to get her to even look at you.”

“I’m getting it just fine. Without having to do that. And when have I ever had a job like this? Working with someone? This isn’t normal for me. She’s not normal.”

“It’s embarrassing; the way you are with her. I saw it the second you walked in here; needing to be near her all the time, always finding ways to touch, batting your eyelashes at her every chance you get. When did you get like this? When did you get so soft ?”

“Keep getting on my ass like this and you’ll find out who’s soft.”

“You need to get your head on straight. You’re a mercenary, aren’t you Tyler? Then start acting like a mercenary. Because this ? Her ? It’s wrong and you know it.”

“What’s going on with Esme and I has nothing to do with the job. And nothing to do with you . So if you don’t mind, mate, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about her. Or go near her. Just keep your distance. Because if I see you touching her again…”

“Get your shit together!” Gaspar snarls. “You want to get out of here alive? Stop whatever is going on with that girl…”

“It’s too late for that. To stop it. So just back off and…”

“Don’t you understand that I’m worried about you? That I see what’s happening? What she’s doing to you? Are you that fucking blind that you don’t see it? She’s using you, Tyler. She’s lying and she’s manipulating and…”

“She’s not. She’s not doing any of that.”

“It’s what she does for a living. Did you forget that? Why she’s even involved in this job in the first place? It’s who she is. In the same way being a mercenary is who you are. She cons people for a living. And now she’s conning you . Because you’re her only chance of getting out of here alive.”

“That’s not what she’s doing.”

“Do you think she loves you?” Gaspar gives an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you think? That she sees you as some knight in shining armour that’s come along to sweep her off her feet?”

“You need to let this go, mate. Because there’s nothing you can say or do…”

“This is what she does, Tyler; what she gets paid for. She wanders into people's lives and turns them upside down. She lies and she uses and she…”

“That’s not who she is away from the job.”

“It’s exactly who she is. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”

“You don’t know her, Gaspar. You don’t…”

“And you do? It’s been what? A week? If that? You think you know who she really is? That she isn’t using you and playing you the same way she has so many others? Why are being so fucking naive? Are you that lonely? That desperate? That you can’t see what’s going on?”

“You weren’t there. Back in that hotel room. You don’t know the things that happened or…”

“Oh, I know what happened. You’re a red-blooded male, she’s an attractive woman. It’s not hard to figure out. And it must have been really damn good. Bceause for you to be so naive and so fucking blind…”

“...or the things we talked about. You need to let this go. I don’t know what you’re trying to do or why you’re doing it…”

“She is going to ruin you, Tyler. She is going to lie and manipulate and tell you everything you want to hear. She’s going to keep whoring herself out to you so…”

His fists clench. “I’m warning you, mate. Don’t talk about her like that. Don’t talk about her at all .”

“Do you honestly believe someone like her would want someone like you? That she doesn’t know what a mess you are? Look at her; she’s way out of your league and can do so much better, Why would she want you ? All your baggage, all your bullshit. The pain meds and the booze and…”

“She knows I can change. That I will change.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to run off with her? When all of this is over? You’re going to get out of Dhaka and the two of you are going to live happily ever after? That’s bullshit and you know it. Everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie; all the sweet nothings, all the pillow talk, all the promises. And if you yanked your head out of your ass long enough to realize it…”

“I’m only going to tell you this once more. It’s none of your business. Don’t talk about her again. Don’t go near her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her.”

“You’re in for hell of a rude awakening the second you leave here. When you finally realize that everything she said…everything she did…was nothing but shit. She’s using you, Tyler. Doing whatever she has to make sure she gets out of here. And when she does, she will leave you an even bigger mess than you were before.”

Smirking, he gives his head an incredulous shake. “We’re done here.”

Gaspar snatches him by the arm, preventing him from leaving. “This is going to blow up in your face. And she’s going to leave you an even bigger mess than you already are.”

“Mind your own business, mate. That’s the last time I’m going to warn you.”

“Two broken people can not come together and make a whole. It doesn’t work that way. You know what happens? In the end? They end up making each other worse. They destroy everything.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Rake Lives #Extraction 2 #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Chris Hemsworth

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chickensarentcheap · 3 months

Text

I Found: The Missing Pieces

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Esme Drummond (OFC)

Summary: A collection of requested one and two shots that cover the CANON events mentioned in the original "I Found" story. It's not a necessity to have read it, but it might help.

Author's Note:

This is a companion piece to "I Found". When I first wrote the story four years ago, I had every intention of including 'flashback' chapters that weaved Esme into the events of Extraction. Sadly, I lost my confidence at the time and ended the fic before I was one hundred percent ready to do so. Which I deeply regret. In the time that has passed, readers have requested both 'movie canon-centric' pieces and those that cover events between Tyler and Esme that were merely mentioned.

Please keep in mind that the pieces are NOT in chronological order according to the movie timeline or Tyler and Esme's persona timeline. Instead, they are written and posted in the order in which the readers submit their requests.

Thank you! I hope you enjoy.

Love, Chickens

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @watermeezer @munstysmind

@asirensrage @residentdormouse @karimac @alisbackalleybbq @kmc1989

@arrthurpendragon @occommunity @ocappreciationtag @ninjasawakenedmystar @themaradwrites

@fanficanatic-tw-

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57016363/chapters/144997636

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you'd like to be added

****

Chapter One: The Bar

Where: outside Dhaka city limits

When: six days before Ovi's rescue and extraction

“You have a really nice smile, you know that?”

Giving a small, embarrassed chuckle, he takes a large swallow of beer.

“What? You’ve never heard that before? No one has ever told you?”

“Once. A very long time ago.”

“I find that hard to believe. What’s the deal with that? People just too blind to notice? Or do you just not do it much? Smile.”

“Someone needs a reason to, yeah? I haven’t had one of those in quite a while.”

“You’re doing it now. What’s the explanation for it? The whiskey, beer, or tequila?”

“I’m thinking it has less to do with the booze and more to do with the company.”

She feels the heat that rises in her cheeks and quickly spreads to her ears; a mixture of embarrassment and the handful of tequila shots and glasses of beer that have already been consumed. “Did you just bust out your game on me, Tyler Rake? Because THAT was smooth.”

“Game? What game? I don’t have any game. That’s just me telling it like it is. What’s the saying?” Reaching for one of two remaining full shot glasses on the tray in the middle of the table, he sets it in front of her, then takes the final one for himself. “Drunk minds speak sober thoughts? Or some shit like that.”

“Well, it certainly makes you chatty, that’s for sure.” She picks up her shot and leans across the table; tapping the tiny glass against his before downing the liquor. Wincing and then rapidly patting her chest -in vain- to relieve it of the near-painful burn the tequila leaves behind. “I don’t mind, though.” She sets the empty glass upside down on the tray. “I like it.”

“What?”

“This side of you.”

“Yeah?” Tyler nods his thanks to the waiter who arrives to retrieve the tray of empty shot glasses and deposit a platter of various appetizers in the middle of the table. Waiting until the man departs before addressing Esme once more. “What side is that?”

“The non-mercenary side. It’s… nice .”

“Nice, huh?” (Chuckling, he takes a swig of beer. “Something tells me you won’t find it that nice once you get to know me better.”

“What is there that could possibly scare me off? I’m stuck in this shitty-ass life too, you know. I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“All I know is that I’m pleasantly surprised. With what I’ve seen so far, anyway. Away from the bullshit, you’re a normal guy. You’re not constantly bragging about the number of people you’ve killed and all the gory ways you’ve done it. It’s… refreshing .”

“Refreshing. I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

“Something tells me you’re not the total hardass everyone thinks you are. All they know is mercenary Tyler. That’s all that exists to them.”

“Maybe there’s nothing more to it. Maybe that’s all I am.”

“You’re too different. You’re not like everyone else. You hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You’re not out there bragging about what you do. You’re not hanging out in bars talking about your kill sheet or telling stories of all the gory ways you can kill a man with your bare hands.”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“People talk, especially in this circle. No one knows anything about you outside of the job. It’s like you don’t even exist; you get in and out and barely leave anything behind. Sometimes, it’s like you were never even there. Some people wonder if you’re even real; if you’re nothing more than an urban legend that’s just evolved over time. If the stories are just that. Stories.”

“Well, now you can go back and let them know that I’m real. That I actually do exist.”

“Believe it or not, like you, I try to keep my distance, too. Put that world behind me when I finish a job. A form of self-perseverance, you know? I can’t live in that world twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I need time away; just disconnect from it and pretend that I’m a normal person, living a normal life. Whatever normal is, anyway.”

He nods in understanding. “What I want to know is how you’ve heard all this stuff about me. How you seem to know more than anyone else.”

“It’s not that I know more than they do. It’s just that I SEE more. I look at you differently, I guess. I see things they don’t. Or maybe they’ve just never bothered to look for them.”

“Something tells me there’s a little more to it than that.”

“Well, what can I say?” Reaching for her bottle of beer, she finishes it in one long pull. “You’re not the only one that’s really good at their job.”

****

They engage in small talk as they indulge in the appetizers and start in on the new round of shots and a pitcher of beer. Both aware of the physical closeness that has developed between them; neither experiencing discomfort or attempting to shy away from it. The toes of their shoes touching under the table while their fingertips often brush together; staying in contact as their forearms rest on top of it.

Whether it’s merely the booze making him feel at ease, Tyler finds himself enjoying her company; liking the sound of her voice and the way she smiles and laughs. She possesses a layer of confidence that often thins to the point of revealing something else entirely: a shy and awkward child who while in need of attention, acceptance, and adoration, worries about how she’s being perceived. And there’s a sexiness under that youthful, girl next door persona that had initially attracted him; something unique and appealing about the handful of piercings and the sneak peeks of ink that the slight shift of her clothing gives him. Numerous colourful and intricate tattoos that grace soft and supple flesh.

“Tell me more about yourself, Tyler Rake.”

“I don’t know how much more there is to know. You seem to have a pretty good handle on things. Your spying has served you well.”

“I’m hardly a spy. It’s not like I’m some female James Bond running all over God’s creation. I just know where to go for information. What places to look, what people to talk to. I’m an intel specialist.”

“Which is a fancy name for a spy.”

“Potato, po-ta-toe. Seriously, though…” Reaching for the pitcher of beer, she tops off both their glasses. “...tell me.”

“Probably easier if you tell me what you DO know. That way I can just fill in the gaps. If there are any.”

Her eyes sparkle as she lifts her glass to her mouth; rim pressed against her lips she grins at him from across the table. “You’re difficult.”

“I can be.”

“Lucky for you, I love a challenge.”

“Something tells me that or a little thing, you put up a hell of a good one yourself.”

“Well, maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll find that out firsthand.” She immediately becomes embarrassed; noisily setting her glass down on the tabletop and then covering her face with both hands. “Oh God…” She laughs into her palms. “...that was just so wrong. So, so, so wrong.”

“I didn’t have a problem with it.”

“That was just way out of line. I’m sorry. I never should have said that. I…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

“I know better than to drink this much. And I normally don’t . Because of shit like this. I get a little too…I don’t know…bold.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. I didn’t see anything wrong with what you said. Believe me, it takes a lot to embarrass me.”

“Sometimes it takes very little to embarrass me. And saying what I did…”

“Hey…” He lays a hand on her forearm, emboldened when she doesn’t question the touch or pull away from it; proceeding to repeatedly graze the pad of his thumb along her skin. “...it’s no big deal. There’s no reason to get worked up. Not with me, anyway.”

She gives a smile of appreciation. “Word of warning. I can be a little…neurotic…at times.”

“I’ve noticed. You know how you mentioned what was lucky for me? Well, I guess it’s lucky for you that I don’t scare easily, either.”

Her eyes widen. The heat in her cheeks and the tips of her ears increasing.

“There. Feel better? Now you’re not alone. We’re BOTH embarrassed.”

She laughs in response and he reaches for his beer; the fingertips of his free keeping that small, innocent contact with the side of her forearm.

“So what DO you know? About me?”

“More than you realize.”

“Like?”

“You were born in Port Douglas. A little town in Queensland. You were an only child; your father worked in construction and your mother was a homemaker. But she taught right up until shortly before you were born; home economics and sociology were her specialties. She even won Queensland Teacher of the Year. Twice in a row.”

“How do you know all of this? How…?”

“Come on now…” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “...a woman has to have some secrets.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”

“You don’t get to be this good at my job without knowing where to look and who to go for information. And without learning how to hack into a government computer or two.”

“I’m almost afraid to find out what else you know about me.”

“There were no skeletons in the closets I looked into. Well, nothing major, anyway.”

“If you know about my mum, you know what happened to her. You read about the accident.”

“I did” Sighing, she chews pensively on her bottom lip. “And I’m sorry. That you lost her. Especially as a little boy. It’s hard enough to lose someone you love at any age, but that? That’s just...horrific. I wasn’t going to bring it up, by the way. If you hadn’t mentioned it…”

“It’s alright. It’s a long time ago. Almost thirty years.”

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it. Losing your mom. Especially the WAY you lost her.”

He nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“You don’t need to say anything else. And I definitely won’t push you on it. But if you ever WANT to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener, and I wouldn’t mind hearing about her. Or about what you were like when you were a kid. It’s kinda hard to imagine you like that, you know? What you were like before all of this.”

“I was just a normal kid, I guess. Did normal kid shit. What else do you know? Or should I be scared to ask that?”

“Like I said, I didn’t find anything major. Nothing I’d consider even remotely alarming.”

“Humour me.”

“I know that you joined the military straight out of high school. And that you’d only served a few years and completed a couple of tours before they approached you about joining special ops. That’s a pretty huge deal, you know. The fact they came to you. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

“I guess something I did impressed them.”

“You had three medals for outstanding bravery. And you were only twenty-three. I’d say that’s pretty damn impressive. You were practically a kid still and you passed the training for SASR. With flying colours. Do you know more people have died in training than they have in war? While working special ops?”

“You really are into doing your research, aren’t you.”

“Well, if I’m going to be pretend married to someone, I think it’s only fair that I find out if he’s an axe murderer or not. I don’t want to be sharing a hotel room with a serial killer.”

“How do I know you’re not one? Isn’t it the ones you least expect?”

“I guess you’ll have to hope and pray for the best. Or at the very least, sleep with one eye open.”

“You know what I have a hard time wrapping my head around? You being caught up in this shit. Someone like you in this kind of life? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“ Nothing about this world does, Tyler. For any of us.”

“Makes less sense for you. You’re not the kind of person who should be doing this. You’re way too smart for this shit. You could be out there doing something that actually matters. Helping people. Fixing things. Making the world a better place. But this? This life? Someone like you shouldn’t be here. You deserve better than this. Way better.”

Tilting her head to the side, she regards him intently, fingernails drumming against her glass. “You don’t think any of this matters? What we do?”

“Honestly? Not really, no.”-

“You don’t think we make things better? You don’t think we help people? Fix things?”

“Not in a way that really makes a difference.”

“It makes a difference to the people that hire us. They wouldn’t need us if they didn’t need to fix things.”

“You know just as well as I do that not everyone calls us to ‘fix things’. Most of the people that hire us? They’re just as big of a dirtbag as the person they want us to get rid of. When was the last time you did a job where the client had a solid reason to ‘off’ someone? I’m talking about an abused wife who can’t escape her husband, someone who wants the guy who molested his kid to suffer, a grieving husband that wants revenge on whoever raped or killed his wife. I’m talking about people who actually need help. Not just hiring us out of spite. or to send a message, or to put the fear of God into someone. Do you even remember the last time that happened?”

“To be honest, no.”

“You can’t tell me that doesn’t bother you. Being out there, doing what you do, for absolute fucking dickheads. You don’t belong here. And I’m not just talking HERE. In Dhaka. I mean in this life. You deserve so much better than this.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re not like everyone else, Tyler. I’ve been around a lot of mercenaries. I’ve heard the things they talk about; they gloat about the lives they’ve taken and the ways they’ve taken them. They’re proud of themselves. They wear other peoples’ blood like badges of honour. And they expect everyone to be so impressed. To just bow down to them. Idolize them.”

“A lot of people DO. That’s the problem..”

“It’s gross. Being like that. They even use it to try and pick up women. Believe me, I know firsthand. More than one has tried.”

“I bet they learned the hard way that you’re not the type to put up with that shit.”

“Everyone expects me to be so meek and mild. They take one look at me and think I’m going to be a huge pushover. And they don’t like when ANY woman sticks up for themselves. Never mind someone that looks like me.”

“Something tells me a lot of people underestimate you. I know I did. I’ll admit it.”

“It’s why I’m so good at my job. No one ever expects me to be up to no good. Or be able to hold my own. It’s not a bad thing. I mean, it’s kept me alive this long, hasn’t it? Flying under the radar.”

“You’re tough for a little thing, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve had to be. I grew up with five older brothers. Only the strong survived in that house.”

“Jesus Christ. That many brothers? Did they wait on the front porch while you were out on dates? Threaten to bury the bodies somewhere they’d never be found if guys even thought of messing with you?”

“Dates?” Laughing, she sips at her beer. “What dates? Like guys even knew I existed.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure all the boys knew you existed.”

A blush once more creeps into her cheeks, eyes sparkling as a grin stretches from ear to ear. “And you say you have no game.”

****

It’s shortly after midnight when they begin their stroll of the hotel grounds; not ready to retire for the night. And while he sips at a bottle of water in hopes of softening the effects of the booze and warding off the potential hangover, she eats chocolate ice cream out of a paper cup; purchased from a street cart just metres from the front entrance.

She feels warm and giddy; a mixture of the alcohol consumed and the immense attraction to the tall, strong, blue-eyed Australian who walks alongside her. Finding herself consumed by a powerful combination of intrigue and lust; eighteen months without experiencing the touch of another human has her responding to even the simplest and most innocent of touches. Vividly aware of the weight of his hand as it rested on the small of her back; safely and protectively leading her through the crowded bar and towards the exit. She enjoys how he places a hand on her hip and gently pulls her closer to make way for other hotel guests on the winding path. And it’s almost uncomfortable; that familiar, intense ache that builds deep within the pit of her stomach. Immensely attracted to not only the rich, deep tone of his voice and his much larger and stronger presence but also the smell of perspiration and cologne or body wash that clings to his skin and clothes.

“So what else do you know?” Tyler asks. “Just how deep did you dig?”

“I kept it pretty superficial. Once I saw you didn’t have an extensive criminal record…”

“Drunk and disorderly. I was nineteen. And stupid.”

“...I figured I didn’t need to turn over too many stones. I know that when you weren’t on active duty, you were stationed all over Europe; mostly doing diplomatic security jobs. Prague, Lucerne, Vienna, Brussels, Berlin. All of those are a pretty long way from Australia.”

“You find out any personal stuff? Other than my drunken brush with the law?”

“Just what DID you do to get arrested? Or is that top secret? Will you have to kill me if you tell me?”

“Not if you promise never to tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“And it’s not top secret. Just embarrassing.”

Esme stares up at him in wait, spoon poised against her lips)

“I pissed on the side of a cop car. Then threw up in it after they cuffed me and tossed me in the back.”

“Oh…” Eyes widening, she pops the serving of ice cream in her mouth. “...yeah…that is a little…embarrassing.”

“If you laugh, I just may have to kill you.”

“I’d be laughing with you, not at you.”

“Yeah…” He chuckles. “... sure you would.”

“I guess you were kind of a lightweight back then, huh?”

“Just a bit.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve had my own humiliating experiences. That involve alcohol and vomit.”

“Is that one of the things I get to find out if I behave myself? Play my cards right?”

“Maybe,” she sing-songs, then offers him the cup of ice cream, to which he refuses with a shake of his head. “I have a confession to make. I DID try and dig a bit deeper. When it comes to personal stuff. The SASR keeps that shit locked up tight, though; even my spying and hacking skills couldn’t get past them.”

“You know, you could have just waited to ask me. I would have told you whatever you wanted to know.”

“I wasn’t sure how well received being nosy straight to your face would be. I thought it would just be easier; save me a lot of humiliation when you got all bent out of shape and told me to ‘fuck off’.”

“That never would have happened. I probably would tell other people that, but you…”

“So it’s okay, then? To ask? Personal stuff?”

“What’s the worst that could happen? I just won’t answer. “

“There ARE a couple of things I’m curious about,” she admits, and briefly steps away; tossing her spoon and container into a nearby garbage bin before returning to his side. “PERSONAL things.”

“Alright…”

“And if I’m totally overstepping, just tell me. You don’t have to spare my feelings. If I’m being too much of a nosey bitch, just say it.”

“Well, I might be a little nicer than that,” he teases. “What do you want to know?”

“Why were you honourably discharged? You’d served ten years; you were well-decorated and respected, you’d taken part in almost a dozen tours, your superior officers had nothing but amazing things to say on all your performance reviews. And then things just went bad. So suddenly. What…?”

“Life just fell apart. During my last trip to Kandahar. I fucked up my back pretty bad and instead of having it taken care of when I got home, I started drinking all the time and taking way too many Oxy’s. I was a mess. I became a liability instead of an asset. So they cut me loose before things got worse.”

“They didn’t even give you a chance? To turn things around? Clean yourself up?”

“I was pretty much a lost cause. There were other things; shit going on at home that was pretty messy.”

“Family stuff, you mean? I’m assuming you had one. A family.”

“I did. I had a wife.”

“Things just didn’t work out or…?”

“We’d been having problems. For a few years. We’d talked about getting divorced more than once; just cutting ties and moving on with our lives. We jumped into things; we were both lonely and looking for a quick fix. Neither of us was getting any younger; we both wanted a family and were tired of looking around for ‘the one’.”

“You know, I stumbled upon a quote once. About how ‘it’s easier to think you’re in love than it is to accept that you’re alone’.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t remember. I probably read it somewhere. Or heard it on a TV show. But it’s true. I’ve been there. Sounds like you have too.”

He nods.

“Did you end up having a family? Any kids?”

“I had a son.”

“Past tense? HAD? What…?”

“He died a few years ago.”

“Oh god…shit…fuck. I am sorry. I didn’t…”

“There’s no reason to feel bad. And you definitely don’t need to apologize. You didn’t know any of that happened.”

“Still, it makes me feel like a shitty person. Being as nosy as I am. I didn’t mean anything by it; I was prying with the best intentions, not the worst ones. Had I known that you went through something like that, I never would have gotten so personal.”

“I told you it was okay. To ask personal shit. I kinda saw this coming.”

“You should have just said no; when it came to answering personal stuff. Or just told me to mind my own goddamn business. You wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. Well, maybe a little bit, but…” She playfully digs an elbow into his side. “...I would have gotten over it.”

“I already said it’s okay. I’m fine with it; you asking me shit like that and answering it. There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. Or sorry for. If there were, I’d let you know.”

“Nik warned me; that you could be brutally honest at times. And that you tended to be a little…prickly.”

“She said that?”

“Well, she wasn’t as nice about it. I guess she just wanted me to be prepared. She said you weren’t always the easiest person to be around. That you’re used to working alone. So you might not be so open to the idea of me tagging along.”

“I wasn’t,” he admits. “At first, anyway.”

“And now?”

“Now I think I can at least tolerate you.”

She laughs at that. Liking the way his hand finds the small of her back when she gives a small, drunken stumble; offering no objection when his palm slides to her hip. And stays there.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. About your little boy. It’s a horrible thing to go through; losing a child. Probably every parent’s worst nightmare.”

“You’re a parent? You’ve got kids?”

“No. I have a lot of nieces and nephews, though. And I did come close. Sort of. To having a baby. I was barely into the second trimester when things went wrong.”

“Now it’s my turn to apologize. And feel like an asshole.”

“Oh, god. Don’t.” She places a hand on the middle of his back, rubbing in slow, reassuring circles. “It was a hell of a thing to go through and the entire experience nearly broke me, but in hindsight? Considering just how evil my ex-husband ended up being? Losing that baby really was for the best. I know that probably makes me sound like a horrible person.”

“No. It makes you sound like an honest one.”

“It would have been a disaster; having a baby with him. Not to mention totally unfair; no kid should ever have to live in a house like that.”

“He was that bad, huh?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad. And because I’d rather not ruin our night, it’s probably best I don’t get any further with this. Or he’ll end up being the next name on your hit list. I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Sounds like he’d deserve it.”

“I won’t lie; it would give me a sense of satisfaction…and closure…if someone handed him his ass.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing lined up after this job. If you’ve got his address, we can head there right away. I don’t mind putting my foot up his ass. Or in his teeth. Or both.”

“As much as I appreciate you wanting to defend my honour, I think it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. He’s someone else’s problem now. Which means for the first time in a long time, I get to live. How I want. I’m finally able to just…breathe.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m willing to teach him a lesson. Free of charge.”

“Don’t tempt me. I just may take you up on that one day.”

“I’d ask for details…about your ex and the shit he did…but something tells me I really would fly into a homicidal rage.”

“You seem like the protective type. Not that that’s a bad thing, believe. Some of us have never had someone like that in our lives. And I’d tell you. About him and the things he did. If I was ready for that kind of thing. And believe me, that’s not a slight against you. In any way. I’m just not there yet. Mentally. I haven’t quite reached that kind of head space yet. I will, though. Eventually.”

“You know where to find me. When you’re ready.”

“Is that permission to just show up on your porch? A second time? Just walk right up to your front door, totally unannounced?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t turn you away, that’s for sure.”

A furious blush creeps into her cheeks, rapidly spreading to her ears and the back of her neck. And she grins up at him as her hand moves to his hip, playfully squeezing “Be careful what you wish for, Tyler Rake.”

*****

Instead of retiring to their rooms, they sit on the edge of the hotel pool. He can’t remember the last time he’d just ‘hung out’ with someone of the opposite sex; his relatively non-existent social life consisting of camping and hunting trips with old military buddies and the occasional one-night stand.

He finds it easy being with her; she’s refreshingly optimistic and bubbly, and unapologetically assertive; confident in her skills and abilities, the mercenary world somehow not destroying her view of the world and the people that inhabit it. Her honesty and openness encourage him to follow suit; allowing him to carry on with light-hearted and intense conversations, and feel completely comfortable in his skin while doing so.

It’s a mixture of that comfort, the booze he’d consumed, and his immense physical attraction to her that had him unable to resist; not arguing when she’d grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the pool. Nor when she kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pants, put her feet in the water and invited him to do the same.

“So is it my turn now?” Tyler inquires. “To ask the personal stuff?”

“I’ve already told you my deepest and darkest secrets. About my ex-husband and his bullshit, how I lost a baby. How much more personal can you get?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of normal, everyday stuff. Whatever makes you, you .”

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly had the most exciting life. I was born and raised in Colorado; a little sparrow fart town named Snowmass, about half an hour from Aspen. I’m the baby of the family and the only girl. I came as a complete surprise. And believe me, my mother has never let me forget it.”

“You think she’d be happy; having a little girl after all those boys.”

“You’d think. But I was an ‘oops’ and she reminds me every chance she gets. Needless to say, we don’t exactly get along. I avoid her like the plague.”

“What about your dad? He still around?”

“He died when I was seventeen. I do have a step-father though; he and my mom got married less than a year after my father died. Which I wouldn’t have been too pressed about, had he not been a friend of my dad’s for over forty years.”

“That’s kind of fucked up. Your mum stooping that low.”

“Her bullshit knows no bounds. My stepdad isn’t a bad guy; he was good to me and supported me through the last year of high school and was the only one cheering me on through university and when I joined the corps. And he did give me a sister. Riley. She just turned nineteen. She’s the only one I do miss. Out of the entire family.”

“You’re not close to your brothers?”

“Not really. They’re all a lot older than I am. Except for Kyle. He’s a firefighter. In Denver. We have a love/hate relationship. One minute we’re best of friends, the next we want to strangle each other. He does my mother’s bidding; spies on me every chance he gets, always gets on my ass about something, and reports every little detail about my personal life back to the wicked witch of the midwest. It’s why I fly under the radar; use a phone that can’t be traced, change my IP address every time I email someone back home, use a post office box instead of giving my address.”

“Your mum’s that bad, huh?”

“That’s putting it lightly. She’s an acquired taste. And that’s putting it nicely.”

“Sounds like your mum and my old man would get along great.”

“I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy. Unless your dad is a gigantic piece of shit just like her.”

“That’s something else I’ll have to tell you about. When I’m ready.”

“Already thinking about the future, are you?” Esme teases, playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. “Are these heart-to-hearts going to happen the next time I just randomly show up on your doorstep?”

“Maybe I’ll just randomly show up at yours. If Nik will give my address away, yours isn’t safe either.”

“You don’t have to go that extreme. You can have my address. Something tells me you’re one of the few people I can trust with that kind of info.”

“Where do you live? Where is home?”

“Prague. I have a little apartment not far from The Vltava River. I spend a lot of time down there; reading, writing, meditating. Sometimes I even go running. When I’m not being lazy. It’s my happy place; being near the water. I always feel so calm. Relaxed. Grounded.”

“How’d you go from Colorado to the Czech Republic? There’s a lot of miles in between.”

“I ended up in New York City first. After my marriage fell apart. I ended up doing some freelance work. I wasn’t tied to just one handler; I could do whatever job I wanted, with whoever I wanted. And the money was good. Very good, actually.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Why do any of us leave?”

“Usually ‘cause we cross the wrong people.”

“One too many bridges burned,” she laments. “ I had worn out my welcome in The Big Apple, so I decided to just take off. Start a new life somewhere else. And I’d always been fascinated by Prague. Since I did a project on it in grade eight geography. I’d fallen in love with the people, the scenery, the architecture. I didn’t have anything holding me back, so I just left. Found a little place there and that was that.”

“How the hell did you end up crossing paths with Nik? If you’d left the life behind when you took off from the States…”

“G got the ball rolling. He’s married to my cousin; one of the only family members who knows what I actually do for a living. I was getting bored sitting around doing nothing and I knew I wouldn’t be happy in a normal nine-to-five, so I put the word out. That I was looking for work. G mentioned his boss needed an intel person and he arranged the time and date for Nik and I to meet. And that was that. She had a job for me in forty-eight hours and I’ve been working for her ever since.”

“I still don’t understand how the fuck someone like you gets caught up in a world like this.”

“How did you get caught up in it?”

“I asked you first.”

“Well, technically you didn’t actually ask. Not this time anyway.”

Tyler smirks.

“I warned you I can be a bit much.”

“And I already told you: I enjoy a challenge.”

“I’ve scared away many a man in my time. Most can’t handle me.”

“What can I say?” He shrugs. “ I’m not most men.”

“No. You certainly aren’t. You’re a breath of fresh air, that’s for sure. Especially in this circle.”

“You probably won’t be saying that in a couple of months. If you last that long. I tend to scare people away too.”

“Intentionally, or..?”

“Sometimes.”

“You haven’t scared me away.”

“I’ve been making an effort not to.”

“Just so you know, I don’t get intimidated. And I don’t frighten easily. I’ve gone up against a lot of bad people. Who have done some pretty terrible things. And lived to tell about it.”

“Everybody meets their match eventually.”

“I don’t think you’re it. Not in a bad way, anyway.”

“You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t you.”

“I may look meek and mild, but you’ll learn pretty quick that I’m anything but.”

“Remember earlier? When you told me to be careful what I wish for? I think you should be taking your own advice.”

“You know what I think?” Leaning into him, she rests her chin upon his shoulder, then reaches out to place her hand on his cheek. The pressure and slight bite of her fingernails encouraging him to turn his face into hers. “I think you need to learn that I don’t listen to any man.”

*****

When they finally decide to retire for the night, the amount of alcohol consumed and its lingering effects have peaked. For him it’s a calm and warmth that encompasses his entire body yet still manages to loosen his lips; sharing stories of childhood surfing lessons, his love for playing the guitar, and a talent for drawing that he hasn’t explored in over twenty years. For her it’s an amplified giddiness; excitedly talking about snowboarding in Aspen, her love for New York City, Central Park, the loft apartment she’d once owned in Queens, and her childhood dream of owning a bookstore.

Instead of being annoyed by her incessant chattering, he finds himself completely enthralled by her; captivated by her infectious, bubbly personality, and the deep-rooted intelligence that always lingers just under the surface. It’s a two-fold attraction that he hasn’t experienced in over a decade, and certainly not to the depths that he currently finds himself submersed in; enamoured not only by her zest and enthusiasm for life despite the darkness of the world surrounding them, but also the physical attributes she brings to the table. Her petite, seemingly fragile stature, the striking contrast between smooth, pale skin and shimmering dark hair, and a smile that crinkles the bridge of her nose. And the sound of her voice and her laugh. Filling him with amusement and contentment.

They linger in front of her hotel room door; Esme leaning back against it, facing him.

“Thanks for not telling me to fuck off earlier,” she says, as they linger in front of her hotel room door. “When I found you in the bar. ‘Cause I had a pretty good time. It was a lot of fun.”

“It was. Surprisingly.”

“I hope pleasantly, at least.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Since you just kicked back and relaxed.”

“I do have friends you know.”

“War buddies?”

“In more ways than one.”

“And there’s Nik,” she points out. “And Yaz.”

“They’re colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. Nik sees me as a commodity. And a nuisance.”

“For what’s worth, she worries about you.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words. I’m just really good at reading people. I’ve needed to be; my job doesn’t leave any room for misjudgement. Or error. That’s why I realize that tonight is probably a rarity for you; just hanging out and chatting. With someone other than your military friends and work buddies.”

“Aren’t we work buddies?”

“Technically in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be your wife. Your fake one mind you, but still.”

“Do I need to get you a ring?”

“I think we can forgo that formality. Knowing Nik, she has all that covered. All the little details needed to sell things. Honestly though…” Leaning back against the door, Esme crosses her arms over her chest. “...this isn’t like you, is it. The way you were tonight. So friendly and chatty. Especially with a woman.”

“When I want company…when it comes to women…I know where to get it.”

“I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about.. this . The way you were in the bar. And afterwards. It’s different for you. I’m different.”

“Just a bit.”

“Life hasn’t been kind to you. And you definitely haven’t been kind to yourself.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re a shrink and this is all just a bunch of bullshit. This job. Maybe there’s some kind of intervention about to happen. Nik brought you on to talk some sense into me.”

“I’m not a shrink. Or a therapist. I’m just someone who takes the time to see other people. Really see them. And I see you.”

“I’m almost scared to ask.”

“You’ve isolated yourself. You keep your distance. You don’t like to get close to people.”

“Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt. One way or another.”

“Not intentionally. On your part.”

“It’s just easier this way; not letting anyone get too close. I don’t get a chance to fuck things up. And they don’t get a chance to see how big of a mess I really am.”

“I think I’ve figured that part out. I think I figured it out the second I met you. It was in your eyes. There’s a lot of hurt there. You carry a lot.”

“I’ve got broad shoulders.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it all by yourself.”

“Remember what I told you? About being careful what you wish for?”

“I’m not some meek and mild little girl. I have dealt with messier than you, trust me. You’re not the monster you think you are, Tyler.” Placing her hands on his chest, she perches herself on her tiptoes; bravely brushing her lips against his jaw).“ Thank you. For walking me here. Making sure I got back safe and sound.”

“I know I’m an asshole, but not I’m not that big of one.”

“Well, for an asshole, you were a perfect gentleman. Maybe when all this is over and we’re far away from here, we can do it again.”

“I’d like that.”

His response surprises him; knowing it’s against his better judgement. The rational side of his brain is screaming at him to walk away; eager to spare her weeks or months -maybe even years- of wasting her time on him. But the attraction is too great; he’s crippled by those enormous dark eyes, that soft, playful smile, and that flirtatious tilt to her head as she peers up at him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to want this profoundly and deeply. Years spent filling his nights with random hookups he felt no real connection to; just warm bodies used for physical satisfaction. But this is different; going far beyond the basics of lust and hunger and need. And it both confuses and scares the shit out of him.

Reaching up, she trails a fingertip across his cheek. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

“‘Night, Esme.”

While she turns towards her room, he waits; wanting to make sure she’s safe inside with the door bolted before leaving. Suddenly hyper-aware of the things occurring around him; the smell of coconut and honey that lingers on her skin, the oppressive humidity that causes droplets of sweat that bead at her temples and glisten on her shoulders, and the tendrils of hair that flutter in the breeze and brush against the nape of her neck. He’s unable to resist; reaching out to brush away those loose strands, his calloused fingertips gliding across soft, smooth skin. And he feels the way she shivers under his touch, hears her sharp intake of breath followed by a long, airy sigh, and sees the goosebumps that invade her flesh.

She again turns to face him, her back pressed against the door. “Look, I don’t normally do this kind of thing. I’m not the type to form connections, either. Especially with people I work with. And I just want you to know that I don’t make it a practice to hook up with mercenaries. I didn’t want you thinking that…”

“I was thinking anything . Nothing bad, anyway.”

“And I know this is going to come across as really bold and I hope what I’m about to say won’t make you think of less of me.”

“Esme…”

“But do you want to come in for a little while? Or a long while? I mean, that’s entirely up to you. How long you last for. Oh… fuck…” Her eyes widen in embarrassment; a blush creeping into her cheeks and spreading to the tips of her ears. “...that is not what I meant. What I meant was ‘stay for’. How long you want to stay for.”

He chuckles. “I know what you meant. And yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot .”

She gives a sigh of relief and an awkward laugh. “I was really nervous there for a second. Like I said, I don’t normally do things like this; pick up guys in bars, or mess around with people I work with. Not to mention I do not handle rejection well.”

“I have a hard time believing anyone would turn you down.”

She continues her nervous rambling. “Honestly, had you told me to go and get fucked and not in the sexy, fun way? I probably would have gone inside and cried myself to sleep. And then totally disappeared off the face of the earth. Not even Nik would have been able to track me down; I would have gone completely off the grid and..”

Laying a hand on the nape of her neck, he pulls her into him, effectively silencing her with a kiss. Desperate and needy; his fingers pressing into soft, delicate flesh as his tongue hastily pushes its way into her mouth. Both hearing and feeling the sigh that she releases; her body leaning into his as her arms wrap around her torso and she eagerly responds.

She’s breathless when it’s over; her eyes remaining closed as her head falls upon his chest and the world seems to spin around her. Her feet are numb; her knees impossibly weak as her body relies on his to keep her on her feet. It’s been a long time since she’s been kissed like that. If she ever really has. Both finding and losing herself at the hands of a strong and confident man; someone who knows exactly what…and who he wants. Possessing a skill and finesse despite the hunger and urgency; his mouth a fervent captor, hers a willing and submissive prisoner. A kiss so intense and demanding that it felt like she was being claimed. Yet somehow still possessing a remarkable tenderness that lingers under the bruising aggression.

As her eyes flicker open, her hands find her chest; palms flat against solid muscle. “That was…” She lets loose a long, shaky breath; a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she peers up at him. “... nice .”

“Yeah…” His hand slips from the nape of her neck; his eye fixated on her full, moist lips as his knuckles graze along the smooth curve of her jaw. And he’s unsure what exactly causes the change of heart; the aching and longing that suddenly surpasses the simple need for sexual gratification or the way her eyes -influenced by both alcohol and lust- sparkle up at him. There’s so much caught up in how she looks at him; a mixture of hunger, want, and unwavering trust.

It’s been a long time since anyone had displayed that kind of faith in him. And he’d single-handedly destroyed both it and them .

“Let’s go inside.” Her hands slide slowly down his chest and sides, lingering at the bottom of his simple black t-shirt before turning towards the door. “We can…”

“Wait…” His fingers curl around a slender wrist before she can fish the keycard from her pocket.. “…Esme…”

“Wait?” She laughs as she turns to face him. “Are we capable of waiting? After a kiss like that? ”

“I can’t do this. I can’t…”

Cocking her head to the side, she frowns up at him. “What do you mean you can’t? Less than thirty seconds ago, you were more than ready, willing, and able. So…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Or that I don’t want you . This just isn’t a good idea; mixing business with pleasure. Things will get messy; we won’t concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing and shit will go wrong and the kid will suffer ‘cause of it.”

“That’s bullshit. And both you and I know it.”

“Things will go wrong. Eventually. They might be good at first…”

“I’m not asking for a commitment here. I’m not expecting you to put a ring on it; marry me and father my children and spend always and forever with me. I just thought that we…”

“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I want to. Believe me, I do. But I just can’t .”

“Tyler…” She reaches for him; fingertips brushing against the fabric of his shirt before he backs away.

“You deserve better than this. Better than me .”

“Don’t say that. Don’t…”

“ I didn’t mean for it to get this far. And normally I wouldn’t run away. I’d take you up on things and…”

“Then just do it. Ignore whatever’s going on in your head. Just…”

“Goodnight, Esme.” Skimming his knuckles along her cheek, he hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face towards him; lips grazing hers before backing away. “I really am sorry.”

“Tyler, you don’t have to go. You can stay. We don’t have to do anything. We can just hang out. Talk. You can even sleep in the extra bed. We don’t have to…”

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

With a heavy, disappointed sigh, she leans back against the door; her arms crossed over her chest as she’s relegated to watching him walk away. His chin tucked into his chest and his shoulders slumped; hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as he limps off into the night.

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