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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Favors Owed

María Elvira x GN!Reader

For Day 13 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, mentions of blood, angst, smut, oral sex

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I've never written for María before and I feel like that's a crime. I also feel like the lack of fic for her in general is a crime. So here we are! I'm in love with her and no one can stop me. 😌

Narcos Mexico Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @garbinge @narcolini @hausofmamadas @artemiseamoon @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Her hands, her whole body hadn’t stopped trembling since she sent Miguel away. It was the right thing to do—she knew that. In reality, she knew that she had been much kinder to him than he deserved. A mere flesh wound was nothing compared to the damage and pain that he had inflicted. No one would’ve blamed her if she’d done something more. For a brief moment as the door slammed shut behind him, she regretted not taking it further.

She thought about taking the kids, and whatever they could each carry in their hands, and running. Where to? She didn’t know. But it felt impossible to stay in a house where he had been. But even if she ran, she knew that there was nowhere she could go where he wouldn’t be able to get to her. Him, the men that worked for him. Nowhere was far enough away.

When you heard the phone ringing at the other end of the house, you weren’t expecting to pick it up and hear María’s voice. Even when you heard it, all you could think was that it didn’t sound like her. There was a tremble in her words that you hadn’t ever heard before. You could hear her sniffling on the other end of the line as she tried to get the words out. She didn’t say what had happened, and you could only try to imagine, but in your mind there was only one person whose fault this could be.

“Puedes venir acá?” she asked, more of a plea than a question.

In all the years that you’d known her, María had only ever asked anything of you a small handful of times. Fewer favors than you had fingers. If she was asking you to do something, it was because she really needed it.

“Por supuesto.” It was the start and the end of the discussion.

Once you hung up the phone, you immediately packed a bag, enough clothes to last you for a couple days just in case. You didn’t know if you needed anything else. If you didn’t know what you would need, you definitely didn’t know what she was going to need. You had to hope that showing up would be enough.

You knocked lightly at the door, anxiously toying with the strap of your bag on your shoulder. As you waited, you couldn’t help glancing back over your shoulder. If your gut was right, and any of this was about something Miguel had said or done, there was no certainty that you were safe here on her doorstep.

When you heard the sound of the locks clicking on the other side, you reverted your gaze, standing up a little straighter in anticipation. María pulled the door open only part way, like she was making sure that it was really you, and that it was really just you.

You saw the fear lingering in her eyes and your heart ached. You held your hands out, palms up and kept your voice soft as you spoke. “María, querida, soló soy yo.”

She let out a shaky breath and opened up the door a little wider for you to pass through. The second you’d stepped inside, she shut the door and locked it again. Resting her palm flat against the wide wooden paneling of the door, she let her forehead drop to it for a moment, a dull thud as she fought to take a deep breath.

“Qué pasó?” you asked as you glanced around the house. It was quiet, but nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that really felt off aside from María’s state, was the fact that you couldn’t hear the sounds of her children playing or bickering.

She turned around, tearstains still smudging her cheeks, a slight tremor lingering in her hands as they rested at her sides. “Miguel,” she finally said, the name falling heavily off her tongue like it took all of her strength to say it.

You frowned, the knot in your gut tightening. “Qúe hizo él?”

She shook her head, not wanting to say it out loud again. Saying it to him had been hard enough. “Cosas malas.” Lifting her gaze from the floor, she met your eyeline as she said, “Él es un diablo.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t much more for you to add. It’d been a long time since you’d had anything good to say about Miguel, but María’s life and choices were her own so you kept your mouth shut. She knew how you felt anyway—she could read you from a mile away.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you reached out, stopping when your hand was mere inches away from hers. You didn’t want to make her feel like you were another person that she had to pull away from, another person she couldn’t trust. She’d called you here, sure, but there was still an ocean separating the two of you, waves crashing over the floor tiles between you.

The waters receded when she put her hand into yours. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave her a gentle pull to follow you deeper into the house. “Ven comnigo.”

You guided her through the house towards the kitchen, figuring the first step in dealing with any of this was a drink. Water, tea, liquor, whatever it took to take the right kind of edge off. You spoke as the two of you walked, steps slow and calculated through the house. “Qué neces—” your sentence stopped short when you saw the kitchen knife laying on the floor. Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the blood on the edge of the blade. Your eyes widened as you turned back to look at her, heart stopping for a moment when she wasn’t looking you in the eyes. “María, did you—”

“No,” she knew where your sentence was going. “He’s alive,” she said, tone filled with bitterness at the reality of it. “Ya se fue.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything else. Letting go of her hand, you knelt down and picked up the knife before walking the rest of the way into the kitchen. She followed you, only able to stare at the knife in your hands as you walked over to the sink. You hadn’t even set your bag down yet but you were turning the faucet on, scrubbing away the blood on the knife with more vigor than necessary.

It wasn’t until you’d washed, dried, and put it back in the knife block that you turned back around to look at her. She was standing in the kitchen, watching you carefully. It was the first time in all the years that you’d known her that the fire in her ever seemed to waver. You hated Miguel for doing that to her.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back around, reaching for the cupboard that was safely out of reach of the children. Opening it, you pulled out one of the bottles of liquor that stood at the back of the shelf. You held it out to her in a silent offer, one that she gladly accepted. She didn’t bother with a glass, gripping the neck of it and bringing it right to her lips. She took a long drink from it before handing it back to you, and you did the same thing, not caring about the lipstick she’d left around the rim of it. It wasn’t a cure, but it was enough to get the trembling to stop for her, enough to start to slow down the racing thoughts that were in your head. You set it back down on the countertop before stepping in close to her again. You gingerly rested your hands on her shoulders.

“Qué necesitas de mi?” you asked. There was nothing that you wouldn’t do for her—all she had to do was ask and you would figure it out.

“Quédate conmigo,” she said, voice soft.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly in relief. It was a band-aid over a bullet wound, but it was better than nothing. It was only one word but it still had her collapsing against you, a shred of reassurance and comfort in the midst of the mess. Her arms looped around you, pinning her body tightly to yours as her head rested against your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders as you felt her balling her fists into the back of your shirt. Closing your eyes, you leaned the side of your head against hers as you ran one hand back through her hair, letting it cradle the back of her head.

“Lo siento, querida,” you said, trying to comfort her the best way you knew how without knowing the details of it all.

You felt the dampness settling in on your shoulder from her tears, and you did your best to hold her a little tighter. Turning your head slightly, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head as you murmured more apologies, more promises that you were there for her for whatever she needed.

Her fingers slowly loosened their hold on the fabric of your shirt. Her breathing quieted, evened out. You couldn’t help but to relax a little at the realization, find a shred of relief in it. Continuing to rest your head against hers, you asked, “Qué vamos hacer?”

She shook her head, not lifting it from your shoulder. “No sé.”

You nodded before kissing the side of her head again. That was an answer that you could accept for now. You were ready to stand in the middle of her kitchen like that all night if that was what she needed from you. But then you felt her pull away from you. Not much, just enough to be able to lift her head and turn to look at you.

You were about to ask her what she needed, what you could do, when she pressed her lips against yours. It caught you off-guard, and for a moment you couldn’t even think enough to kiss her back. You felt her fingertips graze against the side of your face for a moment and you felt the rest of your body short-circuit.

She pulled back, eyes searching yours for an answer that you weren’t even sure that you had. Your mouth opened and shut a couple times as you tried to conjure up the thoughts, the words you wanted to say. “María—”

“Quieres saber que necesito?” she said, her voice hushed, but steadier than it had been. “Necesito este.” Putting her hand to the side of your face, she pulled you in so that her forehead was touching yours. “Haz que me olvide de el.”

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to form the words that you wanted to say, but you still managed to nod. You heard the short sigh of relief that she let out before she brought her lips back to yours again. This time, you didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. Dropping your bag to the floor, you pulled her body tight against yours, hands sliding over the patterned fabric of her dress as she continued to kiss you, her nails raking lightly against the back of your head.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, it felt like she took all of your breath with her. Panic went through you for a moment, thinking that you’d done something wrong, thinking that she thought this was a mistake. You were about to apologize when she took your hand in hers and starting guiding you back through the house to her bedroom, promptly shutting the door behind the two of you once you were inside. Maybe it was wrong that you felt relief about it, the fact that she hadn’t changed her mind about this, but you didn’t have any time to ruminate on it once her lips were on yours again, all tongue and teeth and grabbing hands as she pulled you over to the bed.

She was lying on her back beneath you, long waves cascading over the pillow behind her head as you looked down at her, one leg draped and slotted between hers. She looked up at you, and even with the lipstick beginning to smear onto her cheek, you were certain that you’d never seen anyone more beautiful than her before, probably wouldn’t ever again.

María pulled you back down to her, hand at the side of your neck. You kissed her, savoring the faint trace of liquor still lingering in her mouth as you brought one hand down to her chest. You cupped her breast, thumb grazing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She let out a low moan of approval, her hand gripping onto your side, fingernails digging lightly in the space between the waist of your jeans and where your shirt had ridden up.

You slid your hand down, pushing up the skirt of her dress so that you could drag your hand along the side of her thigh. You felt her squirm beneath your touch, desperate for more, for whatever was next. Bringing your hand between her legs, you felt your brain and body freeze up for a moment when you felt her wetness through the strip of fabric that covered her core. Something about knowing that you had done that made you freeze up for a moment before pulling them to the side and running your fingers through her folds.

She moaned into your mouth for a moment before breaking the kiss. You pulled your face away from hers enough to be able to really look at her. Her breathing was ragged, and even though you knew you couldn’t, you could’ve sworn that you could hear the pounding of her heartbeat inside the quiet room.

The silence only lasted for a moment as you studied the look on her face, each shift in her expression as your fingers trailed lightly against her, but once you slid your fingers into her she broke the quiet with a moan that would’ve made your knees buckle had you been standing up. You caught her lips in another kiss as you began to slowly pump your fingers in and out of her, finding your rhythm based on the way she kissed you, the way her nails raked down your back when her hands slid beneath your shirt.

You felt the way that her legs were starting to shake, the trembling this time not from fear but from pleasure. When you pulled away from her, lips off hers, fingers sliding out of her when she was so close to release, her breath stopped halfway down her throat. She looked up at you, brows coming together in confusion, annoyance, as her chest heaved with each deep breath she took. She didn’t have to verbally ask you what the fuck you were doing for you to understand the question. You didn’t let it faze you, pressing a kiss to her jaw before proceeding to slide down her body. You pulled her panties down, casting them aside before pushing the skirt of her dress up the rest of the way. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching you with an unwavering gaze as you hooked her legs over your shoulders.

Dragging your tongue up her slit, you moaned at the taste of her as she let out a string of curses at the feeling of you. You kissed the insides of her thighs and between her legs before running your tongue over her again, rewarded with the sound of her head dropping back against the pillow. Wrapping your lips around her clit, you slid your fingers back inside of her.

Her gasp turned into a moan as she reached down, putting her hands against the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away, not that you’d ever even dream of it. Her thighs tightened around your head but even so, you could still hear her saying your name, the sound of that and nothing else filling the room. You let out a hum of approval against her, the sensation of it causing her legs to start shaking. With nothing but the feel of her against your mouth, and the sound of her voice repeating your name and begging you not to stop, you couldn’t help but to think that you had done exactly what she had asked of you. A favor you’d do for her time and time again if that was what she wanted.

#narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #nmx #nmx fanfiction #maria elvira #maría elvira #maria elvira x reader #maria elvira x you #x reader #x reader fic #narcos mexico fanfiction #my writing #nffalphabet #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

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My world and yours

David Barron x Ofc (Geneviève Amaris Boyea) | words: 2213

Warnings: show canon warnings, drug world, mentions of violence and death, as usual my narcos disclaimer applies. You know it, I’ve said it a hundred times.

💫 arte releases a draft from the void💫 | gif credit to owners 💫

Any expansion to this will adhere to my new policy and post in full only to A03. Now that I’ve come across this again, I think I def want to add more. I’ll have time in January so if interested in more, stay tuned! Once it’s up, subscribe to the one shot on A03. 💕

This isn’t his kind of place, in fact, David’s only seen places like this from afar or the outside. Sometimes Benjamins meetings with his fancy friends didn’t happen in the light of day, or in sun filled restaurants, sometimes, though less frequently, they happened at night.

Luna Lounge has been here for decades, Juan Escarra, one of Benjamin's important friends, purchased the place two years ago and turned it into his own private lounge. He filled the seat with important people and movie stars and gave VIP treatment to those who he benefits from impressing.

Some nights, Juan closed the place down for special meetings, on other nights, he met them in the private back room, an extension of the lounge free from the general crowd's eyes and ears. It even has its own driveway, parking lot and entrance.

The soundproof two-way mirror on the stage reflected back only the performers and crowds faces on one side, on the private side, they could see everything without being seen themselves.

It’s in this very room David stands, on the outer edges, closer to the private bar to the far left. He’s keeping an eagle eye view on everything.

Just ahead, in the center of the room, Juan Escarra and Benjamin are having a conversation. Also at the bar is Juan’s personal security guy, Ricardo. When Juan signals the bar for another round of drinks, the bartender gets to it and Juan presses a button on the side of the table. Suddenly, the sounds of the other side of the mirror fill the room, dominating the soft music that was playing.

The crowd's clapping fades as the performers leave the stage. David is just about to look away when the next performer approaches. David’s already still posture remains so as his eyes follow her on the stage.

The beautiful sultry woman stands behind the mic, her back to them now. Across the way, Juan picks up a remote and the large tv comes on, revealing a clear shot of the stage. David was instantly captivated by her profile alone, seeing her fully on the screen only deepens his interest.

“Easy on the eyes right,” Ricardo leans over to him and whispers.

David doesn’t respond, his eyes remain fixed on the screen for less than a second. He then shifts his focus back to the scene before him. Benjamin and Juan are enjoying their drinks and watching the screen.

The meeting is winding down and will soon be over. David straightens up, no longer leaning against the counter and slides his hands into his pockets. He waits for Benjamin's signal.

...

“Hey man,”

David turns his head slightly to look at Ricardo.

“Advice don’t try it. That’s Boyea’s daughter.”

David takes in the information, and only responds with a slight head nod.

Because he’s the muscle, certain people tend to underestimate him. Sum him up to some dumb, violent gang banger. But he notices everything, he pays attention. He knows who the rich important people are, even if others assume he doesn't.

David doesn’t correct them when they do this, even though it pisses him off. It’s better to let them think that way. He knows exactly who Angelo Deon Boyea is. Most who hear his name don’t know his face, he’s a private man, and an important one.

Coming from Afro-Mexican and Caribbean roots, Angelo spent time living all over the world and studied both here in Mexico and the US. He’s a money man, numbers and though his face isn’t front and center, he’s a powerful hand behind many people. He has banks all over the world and is an important man to make friends with, which Juan did wisely. So did Benjamin.

David never saw Angelo Boyea in person, not yet at least. And from what he knows, Benjamin only met him once which seemed to be a common thing, if you work with him, you deal with his people who get back to him. And if you’re in, you get one meeting,

If you get close, if the Boyea family takes you in, he’s no longer a ghost or apparition. In this case, his phantom appearance is replaced by lavish parties, big dinners, and trips. Aside from the banks, Boyea has his hands in politics, naturally. This is where the connection to Juan and the Arellano-Félix deepens.

Angelo has two children that David knows of a son named Deon Javel Boyea, he’s wrapped up in sports and owns a team, secretly of course. The front face for the team is just some stand in for media purposes. Then, there’s his daughter, Geneviève Amaris Boyea.

Not much is known about her, unlike many children of important people, she lives her life quietly, has never been part of a scandal (as far as he and the public know) and is never seen in the popular clubs. Many bigwigs' adult children paired at Christine, and the family's establishments. Not Geneviève.

Like her father, she studied here, in France and the US. She knows four languages and has a love for singing. A year back she won a beauty contest and seems to just focus on performing. She’s made a few appearances in Telenovelas.

Barron gets the signal from Benjamin and halts his thoughts. Goodbyes are exchanged and they soon head toward the door. Just as they reach it Juan calls out to Benjamin.

“There’s a party next weekend.” He approaches them, “Boyea is impressed with you, your family. You’ve been invited.”

Party weekend

The sounds of the party seep into the bathroom, even with the door closed. As he washes his hands at the sink, David catches a glimpse of himself.

He’s not used to seeing himself dressed like this. But the party has a dress code. He also feels naked without his piece. There’s a strong no weapons rule for the party, and though this makes him uncomfortable, he had to respect it.

Security is through the roof at this place, and this party is in a mansion on an island in the middle of nowhere, even the boat they took to get here was crazy. It took some getting used to the world of the Arellano-Félix family. Riches, sprawling properties, only the best and most expensive of everything; this is that time 10.

His scrappy beginnings in the hood and rise up in the gang is a completely different world from all of this. Drying his hands, he looks himself over once more. It’s a nice ass suit, perfectly tailored.

In the back of his mind, he revisits what Benjamin told him, to keep an eye on things but relax, to have some fun. To be honest, he didn’t really know what to do with himself here, but he wasn’t alone. It was easy to spot, even in nice clothes, other people's security guards. All without weapons and trying to blend in.

Leaving the bathroom, David swings by the main room and watches for a while. Benjamin is off to the side, having a conversation with Angelo. David watches for a while, and everything seems fine. He decides to keep moving, and heads to the wrap around balcony.

With the floor to ceiling windows, he can still watch everything inside. The breeze from the ocean cools his skin. As he walks, his eyes shift from the landscape to the scene inside. When a group of people spill out onto the balcony, he decides to head to the ground level, and put some distance between himself and the crowd.

On the ground level, he heads into the banquet room and makes a plate of food. He declines the help of the servers and makes his plate himself. After having what he wants, he steps out and into the dining room. It’s empty, all the other party goers are either on the beach, or on the upper two floors.

David is only in there for a few minutes when someone else enters. David looks up and locks eyes with Geneviève. She must have entered from the other side, there are two routes to the banquet room.

In the back of his mind, he was wondering if she was here, he spotted her brother about a half hour ago, lounging on the couch with some models.

When she re-emerges, she has a plate of food and drink in her hands. When she sits at the table to his left, he tries not to look at her, but can’t help himself and steals a glance.

He’s quick, but she’s quicker and catches him.

“Hi.” She smiles.

David greets her back, then focuses on his plate. He takes a bite of food and from the corner of his eye, he steals another glance of her.

The two eat in silence for a while. A few moments later, Geneviève rests her chin in her palm and looks at him. David swallows his food and meets her eyes.

His gaze follows her hand as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Delicate slim fingers with expensive rings on her middle finger and thumb. Nails painted the same shade of dark blue as her dress.

“Nice suit.”

“Thanks.” A small grin curves at the corner of his lips.

He accepts the compliment and tells himself to look away, but he can't. He's spelled by her deep velvety brown eyes and her long dark lashes.

She raises the drink in her hand to her lips, letting it linger there but not drinking.

Geneviève noticed him earlier. Handsome and pretty faces filled the room, but him- there’s something about him that’s captured her attention. She could tell this kind of setting isn’t his norm. Even in the clothes, he seems different from everyone else.

He’s also the finest man here, and something about his eyes pulls her to him. They’re deep, mysterious and shielded at the same time. Since first spotting him, she's been spinning up tales about who he could be. All she knows about him is he’s with Benjamin, and from the vibe he gives off, likely Benjamin's personal security.

When the prolonged eye contact becomes too much, and she feels heat rising under her skin and warming her cheeks, Geneviève looks away first and takes a drink. His eyes fix on her lips.

He knows he shouldn’t think about it, but his mind goes there anyway. He wonders if she’s as soft as she looks and what her lips taste like. He wonders if she’s quiet or loud when getting fucked and what his name would sound like on her lips -

His head turns to the door just before it opens, in comes a group of five, laughing and talking over each other. He sits up and eats the last bites of his food. He needs to get out of this room, and away from her. It doesn’t help that she smells so good, and it's the only scent he’s focused on, the food before him has long faded into the background of his mind.

As he takes a drink of water, he notices one of the men in the group. He’s seen his face before. The same man makes a b-line for Geneviève and grabs her face, planting a big kiss on her cheek before she could pull back.

“There she is, I’ve been looking for you.” he leans too hard against one of the chairs and it almost toppled over. He catches it.

“I needed some food.” She looks up at him, then secretly glances at David.

“How beautiful is she,” the tall man cups her face and looks back at the group.

“You’re drunk Mateo,” she grabs his forearm as he kisses her cheek again.

“I’m going to marry this one, watch.” He stands up and sighs, his eyes still fixed on her.

David walks away and discards his empty cup and plate. He can feel eyes on his back but goes about his business. Not rushing, not taking his time either.

Behind him the group speak among themselves, he hears everyone's voice but hers. Then it hits him,

Mateo Alverez. Mateo is heir to a fortune, his family made a name for themselves in handbags or some shit, half the people in this party are likely wearing something, a watch, a bag, a top, from the family's fashion empire. This isn’t an area David knows a lot about, or cares about, but he’s seen his face around and the tall brunette at the table, his sister, has been in commercials.

On his way out, David passes the table once more. The group is so wrapped up in themselves they barely give him a glance, except Geneviève. She has a person at either side, Mateo to her left, his eyes hungrily drink her up, and some unknown woman to her right, chipping away about something. Geneviève nods, pretending to listen.

David breaks eye contact and leaves the room. When the door closes behind him, he feels a sense of relief. There are a dozen reasons he should stay away from her and hopes they don’t cross paths again because resisting his urges has never been his strong point.

David takes a stroll around the balcony, then heads back to the second floor to check on Benjamin.

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#David Barron #Barron narcos #Barron x ofc #fic: my world and yours #narcos Mexico #draft dusted off and released

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years

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A Picture is a Poem Without Words

Chapter 5

A/N: “Talk” “Spanish” ‘Thoughts’ Alludes to some sexy times. Lots of talks about feelings on multiple parties. Javier makes a phone appearance. Felix and Amado appear for a smidge. Blix begins to show some of her dark side.

Not gonna lie. Timeline of the show is about to get wonky, I will admit. I will give fair warning when that happens. Just rearranging certain events as it were.

A few days later, and Blix was bored out of her mind. Her stitches itched. She wanted the cast off. She was tired of avoiding arguments with Diego. She honestly was two seconds away from setting the damn house on fire.

She had gone through her files 5 times, and talked with her team, who had finished up the crime scene at La Tertulia. Nothing had been stolen, just made to appear that way. It was all a trap to get them there and try to take them out. According to intel, König had figured out that the FBI was on his tail, but he didn’t know much more beyond that.

That had been two days ago. She was currently pacing the floors. Chepe often made jokes, about her being like a carnival game. One sicario was brave enough to try and throw a tennis ball at her. She had been irritated enough to throw a knife near his face, in retaliation. No one dared to do anything similar since.

She was waiting for Pacho to return from his meeting with Escobar. Something about there being an issue in LA. She usually tuned out when he heard him talk business to his associates.

While she was waiting, a doctor had apparently been called to come in and look over wounds. Her stitches were removed, as was her cast. She was told to gently exercise with it, so as to not cause the muscles to stiffen and cause her more pain.

Once he left, she had nothing to do again, but pass time. She didn’t want to read, she wasn’t hungry. If she looked at her files again, she was going to throw them in the trash.

She eventually decided to go for a swim to pass the time. She ignored some of the whispers she heard from his men as she walked by. She had many scars throughout her body; she was well aware of what they looked like.

She swam for about an hour, during which Pacho had eventually returned, irritated. His irritation did fade a bit once he looked out from the balcony attached to his office and saw Blix swimming.

Chepe stood next to him and commented, “She is quite beautiful, no?”

Pacho smirked and nodded, “She is.”

Blix finally got tired of swimming and stepped out. As she was drying off, Diego walked over to her.

“Hm. I can see the appeal. Somewhat. You are almost beautiful. The scars though, tsk,” He began, saying it lowly to her. “You know Pacho is just using you right? You know that you mean nothing to him? That once you are no longer needed, he will cut you out? Don’t get use to his attention. It won’t last.”

Blix doesn’t respond, like she usually did. She just wrapped the towel around herself and went inside.

She took a quick shower and got dressed. While everyone was distracted with Pacho’s return she moved her files and notes and took them to the garage.

She looked around for the most inconspicuous car he owned. Which wound up being a dark green corvette, a convertible. She walked over to the wall that held the keys and found the one labeled Corvette. She grabbed them and unlocked the driver side door, reaching over and setting her files down onto the passenger seat.

When she straightened up, she jumped as she sees Chepe standing next to her.

“Trying to make the great escape eh?” Chepe teased, leaning against the car.

“I just need some air. Away from here. I am tired of being stuck here,” She quietly admitted, with a sigh. “Does Pacho know I’m out here?”

“No. I saw you sneak this way by chance. If you want to go out, I can take you, if you would like?” He offered politely.

She looked down, annoyed, and honestly exasperated. She had a quick thought; she wasn’t sure if it would work.

“Okay. Do you mind running in to get me a drink then? I don’t wanna risk running into Diego again,” She quietly pleaded. “A soda please?”

“Sure. I can do that, Little Lady,” Chepe answered, calling her the nickname that some of the guys had begun to call her.

He walked away and once he gotten a little bit away from her, she jumped in the car and locked the door. She quickly started it as Chepe, made his way back over to try and get her out. He was too slow, and she drove off thankful that each car had its own garage opener.

She drove past the guards and made her way out onto the lonely road that lead back to Cali.

As Chepe stood there, chuckling, Pacho wandered in. “What’s going on?”

“Little bird flew the nest. She apparently needed to get away for a while,” Chepe replied before turning around to go back into the house. “Let her have a day to herself Pacho. Also. Might want to talk Diego. I believe he may have said something to her again.”

“She took my favorite. A little concern about that,” He mumbled to himself, a hand rubbing over his chin nervously.

Chepe laughed at that, as they both made their way back to Pacho’s office. An hour later they finished business, and Pacho requested for Diego to come see him.

A moment later Diego appeared before him.

“My love. Why must you constantly be at odds with her?” Pacho asked sitting at his desk.

“Why did you even bring her here? Why are you even bothering with her? She said it herself, the deal the brothers want, won’t matter until Escobar is out of the picture. Why keep her around?” Diego rapid fired his questions in response.

“I like her. Simple as that. I brought her here to take care of her while she healed. I keep her around, because I enjoy talking to her. I know my answers may upset you. But you also seem to think that I’m replacing you with her, and that’s not true,” He answered truthfully, looking him in the eyes.

“I still love you Diego. She’s not taking me away from you. In fact, I’m quite certain I’ve spent most of this week with you. In your arms. Not hers. So why do you continue to belittle her?” He continued as he stood before Diego and pulled him close.

Diego looked away, and felt a small amount of guilt as he reflected over the comments he said to her.

“I will… try to tolerate her more. I make no promises. But I will stop trying to goad her into an argument,” Diego conceded.

“Thank you. That’s all I want,” Pacho said pressing a kiss to Diego’s lips. “Now, I have to go find her, and make sure she’s okay. You owe her an apology by the way.”

Diego rolled his eyes slightly but nodded his head.

Back with Blix, she had finally arrived home, parking the corvette gently in front of her home. She grabbed her stuff out of the seat, and went inside, sighing in relief at the sight of her home.

She set her files down in her office alongside her sat phone. She checked on the food in her fridge, some of which had spoiled so she tossed it out. She decided then that she wanted to go to the store and get her own groceries.

She did just that, the store she liked was only two blocks down, so she walked to it. She grabbed a couple of different meats to make meals with, and then she got a lot of junk food. Once she was done getting what she needed between food and personal hygiene items, she checked out. Her trip took about 40 mins, but it made her feel a lot better already.

While she enjoyed being at Pacho’s home, she was often left to her own devices, and her movements were restricted around the house, depending on where he had his meetings.

She quite frankly grew bored, and while she tried to strike up conversation with the men around the house, they often avoided her. Whether it was because she was a federal agent or because Pacho ordered them to not speak with her, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she simply couldn’t do much.

She returned to her house and put away everything. She called up Jacque to see if she could come into work that night. He very enthusiastically told her yes. So, she got ready, dressing up in a black halter top mini dress, with a simple v-neck. It’s straps and bodice were lace-y, the skirt ending just above mid-thigh, and flowy. She slipped on her black strappy high heels.

She did some simple makeup, lip-gloss, and a bit of eyeshadow. She thought about walking to work, but then she stared at the lovely little corvette before her. She grabbed her purse, making sure her house keys were in it, along with some cash, her IDs and such before she snatched the car keys. ‘It’s such a pretty car. I mean it should be admired, should it not?’

She drove to work, smiling. When she got to work, she greeted Jacque and the waitresses. The official story for them was that she was in a car crash. So, they all came up to check on her, and made sure she was okay.

She told them she was fine, and ready to get back to normal. The night went on like it normally did, locals in the beginning, before switching to the younger crowd.

Her head at one point did begin to pound, and she had to take a seat while she worked, because she felt a bit lightheaded.

Jacque eventually sent off on her break, and as she made her way over to the familiar taco truck, she felt a bit exhausted. She didn’t have too much time to think on it as a small force ran into her, arms wrapping around her tightly.

“Miss Bee! You’re okay. We were so worried! I -We missed you!” Came the small voice of Paulo.

She hugged him back once she regained her bearings. “Hi honey. Yes. I’m okay. I missed you too.”

She stepped forward as Paulo talked her ear off, catching her up on the local and familial drama.

“Slow down for a moment honey. I gotta order,” Blix said, trying to get him to pause for a moment. “Hello Henri. How are you?”

“I’m good little fox. I’m happy to see you out and about. Are you sure you’re okay to be working already?” Henri asked concern, looking her over.

“I’m fine. I may see about heading out early. My head is aching. But uh.. I would like the steak burrito, please?” She assured before placing her order.

“Oh? Who upset you honey?” He asked as he began to make it.

“Why do you ask that? It’s just a burrito,” Blix protested.

“You don’t order the burrito, unless you are feeling upset. It’s a part of your quirks. Steak tacos on normal days, chicken quesadillas when you have strange cravings, cause you tend to dunk them in whatever sauce is available, and burritos when you’re really upset by something,” He listed out as he cooked.

She stared at him in surprise, blinking slowly. “I… I don’t know what to say that.”

“As I said, it’s just something I noticed over the past year. By the way this is on the house,” he noted as he began assembling the burrito.

A moment later, he hands her the burrito wrapped in some aluminum foil, and a couple of napkins. He then puts out a sign saying that he’s gone on break and comes outside.

He beckons her over to one of the picnic tables, and tells Paulo to go inside, that he can catch up later.

Blix made her way over to him, hopping up to sit on the tabletop, as she took a bite of her burrito.

“Alright, lil fox, what’s going on?” Henri began, gently nudging her with his shoulder.

“I seem to have the worst taste in men,” She began softly.

“This guy I’m… dating? Sleeping with? I don’t really know what exactly it is, he… he has… a partner, who… doesn’t care for me too much, is the nice way to put it,” She slowly explained trying to take care in her words.

“I knew he had this partner from the beginning, or rather I suspected it. That’s not my problem. The problem is… I have spent the past week, being goaded and taunted by this other person, because of my looks,” She stated with a sigh, staring down at her food dejectedly. “Often times, I can ignore what people say about me. But this past week, has really done a number on me.”

“Is the man you are seeing aware of the comments, and insults?” Henri asked after a moment.

“Yes. He knows…about some of it. I gave up after the third day of it, and his partner giving no shits about what he says,” She confessed. “The thing is, I spent years… years… trying to get over my scars. There was a large portion of my life where I would spend an hour every morning, putting on makeup to cover them up.”

“What made you stop doing that?” He asked curiously.

“My friend in Bogota. He… he was the first guy who looked at me, sans makeup, and didn’t flinch. He told me that I looked like a goddess. Athena in human form. It was the sincerest compliment I had ever gotten in years. I stopped caring after that,” She answered with a fond smile, thinking of Javier.

“Sounds like a good man. Why aren’t you with him then?” Henri wondered with a chuckle.

Blix laughed in response, before replying, “Because the man is terrified of commitment.”

“Ahh. Okay then,” He responded, nodding his head. “It sounds to me however, that you need to talk to your other suitor. If this relationship is to continue, all of you have to be on the same page. Being outed by his other significant other, is not fair to you.”

“I… I don’t know anymore, Henri. Feels like I shouldn’t even bother with it anymore. Not gonna lie, I kind of ran off on him today. Just… couldn’t deal with it anymore. Maybe I am just meant to be alone,” She shrugged, before taking a large bite to distract herself.

“Now, that sounds like giving up. I didn’t take you for a quitter,” He lightly admonished. “Take some time to yourself. The next time you see him, if your heart starts to race, or you feel butterflies in your stomach, then that’s worth pursuing. It means his mere presence makes you happy.”

She smiled softly at that and nodded her head. She continued eating, the two of them talking for a while longer, before the both of them had to return to work.

She worked for another hour before leaving early. Her head was pounding, and she felt exhausted. She sat in the driver’s side of the car, resting her eyes for a moment. The lightheadedness had return as well. She heard a tap on her door, and she rolled the window down and sees Diego standing there.

“Move over to the next seat. I’ll take you home. Pacho is waiting for you there,” Diego softly ordered.

She stared at him in suspicion first, before slowly crawling over the center console, and sitting in the passenger seat. He gets in and started the car, after making sure she was secured in her seat.

“I’m… sorry.” Diego suddenly stated after a minute.

“Wow. Did that taste like vinegar coming out of your mouth?” She asked bitterly.

“Yes. It did actually,” He answered shortly.

“Thanks. I guess. You know… that I’m not trying to take him from you, right? If… when… he decides he doesn’t want me anymore, I’ll go. I’m not… here to ruin what the 2 of you have,” She quietly commented, staring out the window.

“I know…,” He responded. “Though… I have a feeling that you are going to be around for long time. The last girl he was with, he never brought her to the house. Never got her flowers. He likes you, that much I can tell. Which was why… I got territorial. Which was unwarranted. I can’t say that we will be best friends, but I will try to be less of an ass.”

“Okay. That works. Was Pacho pissed that I took his car?” She asked wanting to change the subject.

“Pissed? Concerned is more like it. This is his favorite. His baby,” Diego snorted, as they pulled up to her house.

“Oops.” She said quietly, a small snicker slipping out.

As the car came to a stop, she stepped out to see Pacho, waiting for her on the steps. He looked up at her, as she stepped forward. As his eyes locked onto hers, she felt her heart race a bit. ‘Damnit, Henri.’

She gently stepped passed him to unlock her door and walked inside without saying anything to him.

She made her way to her kitchen to get a glass of water, and some pain medicine. She swallowed the meds quickly before chugging down some water. When she finished, she noticed Pacho standing before her.

“Diego told me…everything. We spoke earlier. Hopefully, now we can all live somewhat peacefully with one another,” Pacho began.

As much as she wanted to believe that, her doubts and insecurities threatened to raise their ugly heads. She leaned against the kitchen counter behind her, gazing at the kitchen tile. Pacho moved to stand before her, and gently cupped her face with his hands, silently asking her to look up.

She does so slowly, hesitantly, biting her lip nervously.

“What’s the matter, my sweet?” He asked concerned.

“Diego… he made some points though. There is no need for you to dote over me when I’ve already agreed to do what you want. Your deal is as good as done, once the brothers have typed it up. So, why bother with me?” She questioned, her tone serious.

“I dote over you because I wish to. How many times do I have to tell you, that I find you absolutely gorgeous? Extremely breathtaking? A goddess? I’m with you, because I like you,” He praised. “Maybe I am being somewhat selfish in that I also want to learn about your every secret. Your beautiful, and charming. Smart. Witty. You have a dark side to you, that intrigues me greatly. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

He doesn’t allow her to answer as he pressed his lips to her. Her hands slowly wrapped around his back, as one of his slid down her side.

“This dress is sexy, but... I feel like it’ll look better on the floor,” He whispered against her lips.

His hand on her side, grabbed a handful of her dress, bunching it up as he began to pull at it.

They continued to kiss until they were gasping for breath and had to pull away.

“I want you to come with me to meet with the Gallardo. We’ll be going to Panama. It’ll just be me and a few others,” Pacho requested in a whisper.

“Why? What do you need me for?” She quietly asked, curious.

“I want you by my side. Simple as that,” Pacho answered. “What do you say?”

She started to answer when her phone rang. “Hold that thought.” She said pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Hello?” She spoke into the kitchen phone.

“Hey. It’s me,” Came Javier’s voice.

“Hi. What’s up? It’s like 1am,” She said with concern.

“We got Gacha. Earlier today. We… we killed him,” He announced with a sigh.

“What? Oh my god! That’s… that’s amazing!” She congratulated. “But uh… shouldn’t you be out celebrating? Drinking? Sex with a random woman?”

As she spoke, Pacho came up behind her, and pressed kisses to the back and side of her neck.

“Thought about it… but uh… didn’t quite feel like it, I guess. I mean. I have been drinking, just not at a bar,” He responded, somewhat hesitantly.

“Javi. What’s wrong? This is a win. One step closer to Escobar, yeah?” She contended, somewhat confused by his tone.

“I uhh. Do you… do you ever think about us?” Javi inquired.

She sighed at that question, while also attempting to get Pacho to stop with his ministrations that were slowly getting bolder. His hand had slipped under her skirt and were softly massaging her inner thigh.

“How much have you had to drink Javi?” She questioned.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Javier asked back, offended.

“You don’t talk about feelings. Unless you’ve had a few. Remember, that’s how you broke up with me? Got shitfaced and told me that you saw our relationship heading nowhere,” She replied somewhat bitterly.

“…. What if I said that I was lying? That I do see something with you?” Javi inquired after a moment.

“I’d say that I would rather have this conversation when you’re sober and in front of me. Listen. Go sleep honey. I’m proud of you. Call me when you’re sober,” She answered before slowly hanging up.

She gently leaned back into Pacho’s chest with a heavy sigh. “Is Diego still outside?”

“No. Sent him home with Navegante,” Pacho murmured as he slowly began to unzip the back of her dress.

She pulled away then and began walking toward the stairs. “Good. Come upstairs then.”

He followed behind her and as they stepped into her room, she kicked off her shoes. She stepped into her bathroom for a moment to wash off her makeup before anything else.

When she stepped back out into her room, Pacho was sitting on her bed, sans shoes and socks. She slowly slipped the dress off from around her shoulders, before doing a little wiggle as she pulled it down her hips.

She stood in front of him in just her underwear and straddled his hips a moment later. She stared at the shirt he wore, a shirt that was 3 different colors. Not exactly the best looking in her opinion.

“How much… do you like this shirt?” She coyly asked, pulling at the collar with an index finger.

“It’s… alright. Why?” He inquired squinting his eyes at her in suspicion.

She simply reached over to her bedside table, and after a momentary struggle of trying to find it blindly, she found her pocketknife. She flipped it opened and gently held it at the collar of his shirt. She bit her bottom lip softly as she held his shirt firmly in her left hand. She dragged the knife down, the blade slowly ripping the fabric.

Once there was a decent tear in the shirt, she set the knife back down on the table. She then began to pull at the tear, firmly, shredding the shirt down the middle.

The entire time that was going on, Pacho watched her curiously, and was only slightly concerned when she pulled out the knife.

“So, I take it, you didn’t like the shirt?” Pacho joked once she had finished shredding it and was shoving it off his shoulders.

“It’s… it was ugly honey. I’m sorry. But… you can pull off many looks, but this… This is a no,” She slowly responded pressing a small kiss along his collar.

He laughed loudly at her response and just nodded his head. “Understandable. Just know that I can and will get you back for it. Though I will agree. It wasn’t my best.”

She giggled and sighed before sadly stating, “I’m… super tired… I would love to continue this, but I may pass out on you.”

“It’s okay. We can do some catching up in Panama if you wish?” Pacho offered kissing her slowly.

“Yeah. I like the sound of that,” She agreed before getting up to go grab an old band t-shirt to put on and take off her bra.

She could hear Pacho undressing further as well, and once she was in the shirt and her underwear, she turned to see him in just his boxers. They slipped under the covers, and Pacho quietly told her about his day, laying on his side, his head propped up on his arm. When he mentioned the horse ranch she froze.

“Wait. You… you have a ranch… with… with horses???? And you… never told me?” She asked with wide eyes staring at him.

“Yes. Would you like me to take you there sometime this week?” Pacho asked surprised.

“Uh. Yes! I love horses! Grandparents had a horse ranch, and it was the best part of my summers as a kid,” She explained excitedly. “If I had known about the ranch, I wouldn’t have gotten bored. I’d been harassin’ you to take me every day.”

He smiled sadly at her, and he apologized softly, “I’m sorry you got bored. Not going to lie, I’m used to women who love sitting around and doing nothing.”

His hand softly stroked her side as he spoke. She smiled in response, reaching up to run her hand along his jaw.

“It’s not a big deal honey. I’ve been told I’m like a husky, need to be walked 15 times a day or I’ll lose my mind,” She lightly joked.

“Then I’ll make sure you have plenty to do,” Pacho assured as he pulled her closer to him.

She snuggled into his chest, and they slowly fell asleep together.

The next morning, was a blur as they got dressed and ate a quick breakfast. She definitely packed up all her snacks, because she refused to leave her junk food behind.

As they stepped outside, her neighbor, Mrs. Garcia, said hello. She waved at her distractedly as Pacho opened the car door for her.

As they drove out to his house, he mentioned that she could have a car to claim as her own to use. “Just not this one. This one is… special.”

They spent the day at his house and planned a time to go see the horse ranch the next day. It was going to be in the afternoon, once Gilberto and Miguel left after their meeting.

The day passed normally, there were no arguments between her and Diego. They even had pleasant conservations throughout the day.

The next morning was a bit chilly, and she threw on a large fleece cardigan over her shorts and tank. As she walked around, she ran into Navegante and politely asked if the brothers had arrived yet.

Navegante informed her, “Yes, they’ve been here for about an hour now.”

She nodded her head in understanding before making her way into the kitchen. She made herself a cup of tea with honey, before grabbing 3 more cups and filling them with black coffee. She threw sugar packets into one pocket of her cardigan and different flavors of creamer packs into the other.

She made her way upstairs, gradually, and into Pacho’s office. The three were standing around the table pouring over a map. She cleared her throat to alert their attention to her.

“Sorry to interrupt. Thought some fresh coffee might help?” She offered holding them up.

Pacho smiled somewhat tightly but said thank you. She sets the cups down, pulling out the packets of sugar and creamer as her hands became free.

She glanced down at the map, which was of Mexico, and found herself looking at it confused. Most of Mexico was marked off into sectors; the various different territories. Everywhere except one place.

“Guadalajara, yes?” She confirmed without much thought. “Why is the Baja not marked off?”

Miguel cleared his throat before answering, “Guerra. Opium dealer. He owns the Baja. Doesn’t like cocaine.”

“But Gallardo’s probably made him offer right?” She guessed looking at all 3 of them.

“Yes. He probably has why?” Pacho questioned.

“You said it yourself. Gallardo’s arrogant. Probably thinks that if he controls all of Mexico, he has you in a checkmate,” Blix began to explain. “Make Guerra a better offer. Or as Marlon Brando would say, ‘Make him an offer he can’t refuse.’ It’s what I would do.”

Gilberto smirked at her before grabbing his phone and handing it and a number on a post-it note.

“Then do it.” His tone was challenging, like he was daring her.

She took both from him slowly, took a deep breath, and called the number. ‘I’m being tested. Well. Let’s see how I do then.”

The phone rang for a moment before someone finally answered.

“Hello, may I speak to Mr. Guerra please?” She politely requested.

“Mr. Guerra isn’t available righ-“ the man began before Blix cut him off.

“Listen. As someone who is clearly an overpaid secretary, I’m calling bullshit. Please tell Guerra that a representative of the Cali Cartel wishes to speak to him. Now,” She informed him firmly.

A few minutes passed before another voice, older and gravellier, answered, “Guerra speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Blix. My… associates have heard rumors that Gallardo offered to bring you into the cocaine business, yes?” She began and before letting him answer continued. “We wish to make you a better offer?”

“Oh? Is that so? What could you possibly offer me?” Guerra inquired sounding somewhat agitated.

“I’m willing to bet that Gallardo only offered about 10% of the profits. We’d like to give you something a little more than chump change,” She offered as she leaned against the table, taking a sip of her tea.

“50%” Guerra stated.

“Guerra. I may have been born at night, but it certainly wasn’t last night. 50% is too high and you know it. Don’t insult my intelligence,” She lightly warned. “20%”

“Hm. 40%” He threw back.

“30%.” She responded hoping to trick him into going lower

“25%.” He threw out before he tried to take it back, stumbling over his words. “N-Wa-“

“Deal.” She confirmed before he could say anything. “One of my associates will be in contact with you to iron out the details, within the next day or so.”

“You are a good businesswoman, I must say. It’s not often I fumble over a deal,” Guerra complimented.

“For some reason, I just don’t believe that. You knew I wasn’t going to go much higher than 20, you just wanted to see if you could get me to agree to something higher,” She responded ignoring the compliment. “I would also like to inform you Mr. Guerra, that you should forget about your travel plans to Panama. Wouldn’t want to cause any… conflicts of interest.”

“Ah. An intelligent woman indeed. Good, you’ll need that while working with the cartel,” He stated. “Gallardo isnt going to be pleased by this.”

“Gallardo isn’t my concern. Do know this Mr. Guerra. Gallardo will probably at some point retaliate. He’s a prideful man. It’s in his nature. But what he does to you, will be nothing in comparison to what we will do if you try to betray us,” She cautioned.

“Are you… are you threatening me?” He accused.

“No. Warning. Because... Gallardo will take revenge, sure. But Cali? No. Revenge is petty. Beneath us,” She stated darkly. “Accidents however… Accidents can and do happen every day. Like… fires, gas leaks, that sort of thing can happen anywhere, like at your restaurant, your home/ranch, that shitty lil town you’ve proclaimed yourself as king, or your acres of opium. Would be such a shame… if anything happened to your livelihood.”

It was quiet, but she could hear him breathing, “Understood.”

“Good! As I said, earlier, someone will be in touch to finetune the details. Have a lovely day, Mr. Guerra,” She ended the call with a perky tone.

She handed the phone back to Gilberto and said, “That wasn’t too hard. Enjoy your coffees.”

She walked away with her tea, toward her room, to get dressed for the afternoon.

Pacho watched her leave with an impressed smirk plastered on his face, his eyes dark as he watched her leave.

“Did that… really just happen?” Miguel asked in disbelief.

“It did indeed. I told you. She has a darkness to her, and I love seeing it,” Pacho grinned, lighting a cigarette. “It was also her way of speeding up the meeting so we can go to the ranch.”

The brothers laughed and soon enough their meeting had ended. As soon as it was over, he walked down to Blix’s room. He leaned against the door-jam as he watched her get ready. She was slipping on a pair of cowboy boots when she noticed him standing there.

“Oh? Done so soon?” She greeted happily, walking over to him.

As she stepped up to him, he pulled her close and kissing her passionately.

“Wow. What uh… what was that for? Not that I’m complaining,” She wondered breathlessly, when they pulled apart a moment later.

“You are very sexy. Even moreso when threatening men. Couldn’t help myself,” He whispered to her.

She shook her head at him before excitedly asking, “So the ranch? Horses?”

He nodded, laughing at her as she bounced up and down in front of him, like a child.

They made their way down to his car, and off they went to the ranch. The ranch was only 20 minutes from his home and as they pulled up her excitement ramped up.

She was out the door before he could even turn the car off. She rushed up to the stalls and began excitedly talking to both the horses and the stable hands that were working.

Pacho slowly walked up behind her and listened to her coo to the horses as she ran her hands down their faces.

They spent several hours there, half of it spent with her in awe of each horse, and the other half was her riding around the stables on some of the horses.

Lunch was served late there, and as they ate, he commented, “If I had known the ranch would make you so happy, I would’ve brought you sooner. Don’t think I’ve seen you smile so much.”

“I smile? What do you mean?” She asked confused as she looked at him taking a sip of the daiquiri that he insisted on making her.

“I mean, that since the second we pulled up, you haven’t stopped smiling. You smiled even when Rowdy tried to eat your shirt. It’s quite beautiful to see you so happy,” He further explained with a fond smile.

She looked down, a light blush gracing her cheeks.

“You mentioned last night that your grandparents had a ranch? What happened there?” Pacho asked curiously.

“The short story? My grandparents died, and my mother didn’t want to deal with it,” She explained quietly as looked away.

“And the long story?” Pacho lightly probed, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

“My sisters and I… we loved it. It was the best 2 to 3 weeks of our summer. Spending our time at the ranch. Training horses. My grandfather had show and race horses. We would trade off each day on who we would work with on what.” She began thinking about to it fondly.

“When they died, my mother wanted nothing to do with it. Sold off the horses. Fired the workers. Cut down the apple orchard we had opened for the public to go apple picking. The barns have been hit hard with storms, and my mother didn’t care to fix them. If she could she would’ve sold the land as well,” She explained rather sadly.

“Why didn’t she?” Pacho inquired.

“Grandparents left it in their will that the ranch was to go to us. That when we were old enough, we could decide who would run it. That the land could only be sold by us if we all agreed to. So, my mother found a loophole around it. Can’t have much of a ranch if there’s nothing there,” She concluded with a half shrug.

“I’m sorry your mother stole that from you and your siblings,” Pacho consoled as he lifted her hand to press a kiss to it.

She didn’t respond beyond shrugging and letting out a small sigh.

“So. Tonight we leave for Panama yeah?” Blix changed the subject.

He nodded his head, and reported, “Yes. We leave on a late flight, check into our hotel, and then meet with Gallardo tomorrow at noon. In fact, we should probably head back, and pack up.”

They did just that, got home, packed, and she met a few other members, like Salcedo, and a couple of guards going with them.

The flight to Panama was swift, and soon they were in their hotel room, resting. Morning came around, and as they made their way to the hotel where Gallardo was at, Pacho made a quick explanation.

“When we get there, if you could please wait downstairs for 20 minutes. I doubt the meeting shall take very long, but I would prefer it if you did not get involved any more than you have. I’ll have a guard with you, just go shopping or something. I’ll come retrieve you,” He informed her as they pulled up to the hotel.

She raised an eyebrow and decided she wasn’t going to argue about this, right now. She got out and with her newly grown shadow in the form of a 30 something year old man named Thierry; she wandered the shops.

She came across a jewelry store and waltzed in, looking at everything bored. Something eventually caught her eye as she made her way over to the men’s jewelry.

As she looked at it, a small smile grew on her face. A store assistant came over and asked if he could help her.

“Yes. Can I see that necklace please?” She politely asked pointing at it.

He reached in and grabbed the necklace, displaying it in the palm of his hand.

She inspected it closely and hesitantly said, “Umm. That necklace has a small scratch on it… would there happen to be anything similar to it?”

A manager happened to be walking by and overheard the conversation. He inspected the necklace and spotted the imperfection before telling the employee to put it with the discount items somewhat annoyed.

“Come this way ma’am. I’m sure this one over here will please you greatly,” He schmoozed in a hoity manner, giving her a look.

He brought her over to another display case and pulled out a similar necklace. She nodded her head, stating ”Yeah. This one is much better. How much?”

“$647.32. In American dollars.” He answered in a mockingly sad tone.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope that her tips from the brothers in it. She counted out 650 and told him to keep the change. He tightly smiled and boxed it up before handing it to her.

She rolled her eyes at his attitude and made her way back out to her guard.

“Just because your item got fucked up, doesn’t mean you need to get all snooty about it,” She muttered under her breath annoyed.

She continued exploring, getting slowly more and more annoyed with her babysitter, since he kept trying to steer her over to the elevators. She eventually made her way through a large crowd and lost him after a moment.

She noticed as she walked further on that there was an art auction going on in one of the conference rooms that was open to the public.

As she strolled that way, she ran into 2 men, one of whom she had seen pictures of.

“Mr. Gallardo. That was quick, I hope Pacho wasn’t too cruel with you,” She greeted as she blinked at him.

“No. Not at all miss?” He prompted.

“Blix. I hear you enjoy art; would you like to join me in viewing the auction?” She politely asked before turning to the other man with him. “Hello. You can join us as well Mr.?”

“Amado. I’ll just.. wait here. Thanks.” He declined with a nod of his head.

Felix and she made their way into the auction and began looking over the art. Blix stared at some items with intensity, and Felix who did look at the art, was more intrigued by the woman next to him.

“So, you are with the Cali? A bit odd for a federal agent, no?” Felix questioned, looking at her curiously.

“Hm. It’s… an interesting arrangement let’s just go with that. Besides. They are not my concern. Not my division as it were,” She replied meeting his eyes.

“Yes. I heard you were in art crimes,” Felix acknowledged as they made their way through a section of impressionist art.

“Yes. Art is quite fascinating. Horace once said that a picture was a poem without words,” Blix noted. “That picture in my opinion can mean anything. There’s always something that speaks to you. Whether it’s religious, political, or personal. Art is a reflection of you.”

They stopped near a canvas that had a weeping willow tree, the vines covered in ice.

“Take this for example. To you it’s simply a tree. To me… it reminds me of my childhood home. We had willows everywhere,” She said as an example. “Art, no matter the format, is an extension of you. Extension of your personality.”

He smiled at her and nodded, and before he could respond, they heard a throat clear behind them. As they turned to it, Pacho stood there, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Uh-oh. It appears I’m in trouble. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gallardo,” She whispered conspiratorially holding her hand out to shake.

He took it and instead of shaking it, kissed the back of it. “The pleasure was mine. I do hope Mr. Herrera brings you out to our meetings more often.”

He walked away and met up with Amado, before disappearing.

Blix quietly followed Pacho who she could tell was fuming. His shoulders were tensed, and he was breathing roughly.

They made their way back to their hotel in silence. They even left that night instead of staying like they originally planned.

As they stepped over the threshold of his home, she finally broke the tension, “Are you going to stay mad at me forever? Or are you going to finally tell me what’s wrong?”

“I had the guard with you for a reason. He was there to protect you. Instead of doing what I asked you not only ignored it, but put yourself onto Gallardo’s radar, for no reason” He fumed, glaring at her.

“I am a federal agent. I can take care of myself. I do not need a guard or protection. I can protect myself quite well. Been doing so for a very long time,” She reminded him.

“As for Gallardo, I ran into him by accident. I didn’t seek him out. I figured he knew who I was, which he did, and I was just being polite. That’s it,” She reassured.

He took a deep breath, looking away. “I don’t like you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. If he had decided to retaliate against me, using you…”

She stepped up to him, placing her hands on his chest, and soothed, “But he didn’t. I’m still here. Annoyed that we didn’t stay in Panama, especially after I got you something, but still here.”

He placed his hands on her hips, and said, “Oh? You did? What?”

“Not giving it to you now. You were a brat. I’ll give it to ya when you’ve earned it,” She teased as she walked away.

Pacho raised an eyebrow at that comment and chased after her, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.

“A brat eh? Takes one to know I think,” Pacho mocked, smacking her on the ass.

“Really? Did you seriously just?” She asked in disbelief, before smacking his butt in return. “Turnabout is fair play.”

He carried her upstairs, both of them laughing at each other, before he decided to make it up to her all night long.

A few days had passed, and she still had yet to give Pacho the necklace she got him. He was convinced it was a watch. It wasn’t until a package arrived for her at Pacho’s house that she decided to give him the gift. Especially when she realized that the gift was from Gallardo. It was the painting of the willow tree that they had looked at together.

The painting came with a note, “It was a pleasure speaking you, my lady. I hope we can talk more soon.”

Pacho was annoyed by its presence. So, she pulled out the velvet box that held his necklace in it, hoping it would soothe things over.

He was sitting in at his desk in his office when she walked in. She moved over to him and gently sat in his lap, presenting the box to him. He opened it slowly.

“A crocodile?” Pacho questioned confused.

“I don’t know jackshit about watches, so don’t ever expect one from me. But I do know that in most ancient cultures, the crocodile is one of the few animals that was revered. They’ve been worshipped longer than God. Deified for well over a millennium,” She began to explain as she took it out of the box.

“They represent duality. Tough enough to withstand bullets, but do not do well with criticism. They are precise with every move they make and see opportunities where others cannot. They are cunning, strong, brave, and dependable. That’s what I see when I look at you,” She described as she hooked it around his neck.

“So, my primordial being, do not bother yourself with the opinions of sheep or the thoughts of lesser men. I certainly don’t,” She requested with a kiss. “I want you to wear it for good luck. Protection.”

Her phone at that point began to ring, and she stared at the number slightly confused, for she did not recognize it. She answered it after a moment. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Lage. This is Felix Gallardo,” Came the response.

“Oh. Mr. Gallardo, how are you?” She replied turning to Pacho with a wide eye look. His returning look was with narrowed eyes, and a tense jaw.

“I simply wanted to make sure that painting arrived safely,” He informed softly.

“Yes. Yes, it did. I was hoping to be able to thank you in person, but this works too. It’s quite lovely,” She thanked, wondering where this was heading.

“Good. I must say, I was a bit hesitant to get it for you, since you looked at it so sadly, but then I saw a glimmer of something, that… I could relate to,” Felix admitted. “I saw a longing. For home. I often get that way myself thinking about Sinaloa.”

“Home? Not necessarily. Simpler times, more like. Haven’t missed home in quite some time,” She lightly argued.

“Hm. It is rather interesting, though. The things we would do for those we consider home. Safe. Like threatening an opium dealer to cut a deal for your lover. Guerra said he spoke to a charming young lady. Would hate for anything to befall said lady, for sticking her nose into business she does not belong in,” He vaguely threatened.

“Well. Mr. Gallardo. I would simply say that I can take care of myself. I’ve dealt with plenty of villains, Felix, and I hate to break it to you, but I’ve faced scarier. Have a lovely day,” She hung up the phone after that.

“Villains? You mean… your mother?” Pacho tried to clarify.

“Let’s just say, ruining a ranch, was nowhere the worst thing she ever did to me,” She whispered vaguely gesturing at her face.

“I see. Well then. I guess it’s a good thing you are mine. Anyone tries to harm you, they’d be dead,” He promised after a moment of silence, fully understanding what she was implying.

She smiled sweetly at him, and they spent the rest of the day talking about his work. He was giving her a glimpse into his world and how it worked. That to her was a level of trust she wasn’t expecting, but she appreciated it, nonetheless.

Neither of them were aware of the chaos that was about to unfold, due to the events going on in Medellin.

#pacho herrera #pacho herrera x oc #narcos #slight narcos mexico #slight javier x oc

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cregan-starks · 2 years

Text

Taquito | Beholden

Summary: Magnussen returns to Guadalajara.

Words: 3,395

Pairing: Walt Breslin x OC (not really)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of sexism, mention of communism, mentions of food, smoking, alcohol, cussing. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: As always, apologies for taking so long to update. This chapter’s lighter than the previous ones, but I hope y’all still enjoy it. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 and to my darlings @cleastrnge 💜 and @qoedameron 💓 for the Mexican Spanish translations!

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MARCH 6, 1986

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

Obscure fun fact: sometimes, the DEA experience involved sneaking barefoot out of a parking lot, at 1 a.m. Completely sober, too. Holding her shoes in one hand and her lit cigarette in the other, Magnussen sauntered towards her apartment building, accompanied by the sound of crickets. Against her better judgement, she stopped near a streetlamp to finish her cigarette. Bugs had flown around the top, drawn to its light. The current state of affairs did have a reasonable explanation. Barely two hours into her six-hour drive from Mexico City to Guadalajara, Magnussen’s feet had begun to hurt, so she had taken off her heels. In hindsight, it had been a shitty decision. The temperature had dropped significantly – causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin – and the rough surface of the sidewalk underneath her feet created a slight discomfort. Magnussen took a drag from her cigarette, relishing in the view. The night sky served as a canvas for the shy, gleaming stars. A couple of blocks away, a dog barked as a car quietly drove by.

Magnussen remembered a similar evening, sitting on the fence of the Consulate with Kiki and smoking, after he and his team had failed to lure Gallardo across the border into the U.S. and arrest him. Kiki had been so adamant about Gallardo knowing his name. He had felt exhausted, demoralized, defeated. That operation had been the closest they had ever gotten to capturing the Godfather, and he had slipped through their fingers… again. Kiki had longed to go home. It had seemed like he had finally been willing to abandon the hunt… and he should have. Back then, Gallardo had been wanted for being a notorious narco-trafficker. Now, he was also wanted for Kiki’s torture and murder. A sour reminder that a flame can transform into a wildfire.

Worse, the men tasked with bringing Gallardo to justice didn’t even give a shit about Camarena. Magnussen gritted her teeth in frustration. She had taken Leyenda’s pulse, and she had been left rather disappointed. How was she supposed to work with them? Petski was auditioning to be a mime, Mejía was an arrogant toe, Méndez and Álvarez were yes-minions, Orozco was Breslin’s mustached parrot, Garza’s favorite hobby was waterboarding – or spitting on puppies – Palacios hadn’t developed a personality yet, and Breslin was a narrow-minded redneck. He probably wouldn’t budge on the Azul situation. Typical Yankee; loved to hear himself speak, rejected anyone else’s input. Whatever. Magnussen was too woman for her opinion to matter. Morales had been the only one whom she had genuinely liked. At least he had had the decency to introduce himself and welcome her to the team… although, as far as Magnussen was concerned, he must have had ulterior motives, too. Severe lack of trust among coworkers. Off to a great start…

Give it time, she reasoned. Loosen some of that Eastern European pessimism. Magnussen dropped her cigarette on the ground, instinctively moving her foot to put it out before pausing in realization. Dodged a burn. She crouched and used the heel of one of the shoes that she was holding to extinguish the cigarette, mumbling “ridiculous” to herself, then headed into the complex. Magnussen peered to distinguish shapes in the dark in an attempt to not trip and fall flat on her mug as she tiptoed up the oddly dirty and sticky stairs. She cringed internally at the mere idea of navigating her apartment in this condition, already tired. Throw in hunger and an agonizing need to pee, and you could guess Magnussen’s general disposition.

Maybe contemplating building her own network within the operation would serve as a distraction and cheer her up a bit. She couldn’t depend on her colleagues forever. In fact, she didn’t fancy relying on them at all. Administrator Lawn had gotten one thing right. Magnussen was no team player. She refused to let Calderoni off the hook, too. She demanded answers, and she was certain that the Commander was in possession of one or two of them. Calderoni had potentially upgraded to triple agent, bumping elbows with the Mexican government, the U.S. government, and the Guadalajara cartel. When Magnussen had told Breslin that Leyenda required somebody on the inside, she had meant it. Commander Calderoni was the perfect candidate for the job. Her plans didn’t end there, either. She also wanted to set up surveillance on Tómas Morlet – a DFS agent who had actually been placed at the scene of Camarena’s abduction and the man responsible for Kiki’s neighbor’s execution – and the low-ranking assholes who just so happened to be on Leyenda’s hit list. Happy coincidence.

Magnussen curled her fingers around the handrail, for support, the sound of her rings clinking against the metal echoing. Apologies, neighbors. Unfortunately, they will have to adapt. You never knew what you were going to get, with Magnussen. Judging by the crusty sensation in the corners of her eyes, her makeup had betrayed her as well, becoming smudged. Magnussen was eager to eat, sleep… definitely drink… and wash her feet. She made it past the second floor. Almost there. So close, yet so far away. Magnussen even entertained the idea of crawling on all fours to avoid smearing the floor and carpets in her apartment. Who was she kidding? She would undoubtedly pass out immediately. Anything else belonged to the realm of speculation.

Fuck.

Magnussen froze in her spot, startled by a door swinging open, nearly clutching her shoes to her chest.

‘¡Oh, mierda!’, exclaimed the intruder, equally stunned, ‘Me espantaste.’ (Oh, shit! You scared me.)

You and me both, honey. The apartment’s light flooded the hallway, further confusing Magnussen’s fragile state of mind.

‘Pérdon,’ she mumbled, discreetly studying the woman in front of her. (Sorry.)

Big, dark eyes stared at Magnussen with concern. Her turquoise nails contrasted her smooth, brown skin, and her thick eyebrows were darker than her lengthy curls. She wore a beige cardigan over a white undershirt, her voluptuous chest distracting Magnussen only a little… as did her plump lips and curvy hips.

‘¿Estás bien?’, inquired the woman, visibly worried. (Are you okay?)

Poor soul. Magnussen couldn’t blame her. She was roaming the hallway, barefoot, at one in the morning. Don’t sweat it, she could’ve seen worse.

‘Totalmente,’ assured Magnussen, calmly, ‘Solo tratando de llegar a mi departamento.’ (Totally. Just trying to get to my apartment.)

‘¿Vives aquí?’, asked the woman, surprised, perking up, ‘No te he visto antes.’ (You live here? I haven’t seen you before.)

You shouldn’t exactly be seeing me now, either. That’s a story for… never. If you’re fortunate, you won’t run into me in the future.

‘Me mudé ayer,’ clarified Magnussen, hesitantly, regarding the current time, ‘O hace dos días. ¿Porqué estás sacando la basura a esta hora?’, she interrogated, referring to the trash bag that the woman was holding. (I moved in yesterday… or two days ago. Why are you taking out the trash at this hour?)

Forget about my suspicious behavior. What about yours? The woman’s demeanor did not suggest that she was deceiving Magnussen. Alas, her investigative skills after midnight should be deemed dubious, at best.

‘Estaba afuera con unos amigos,’ explained the neighbor, the memory fond, ‘Ah, tú eres la que pone Judas Priest a todo volúmen.’ (I was out with some friends. Ah, you’re the one who plays Judas Priest loudly.)

‘Sí,’ confirmed Magnussen, unsure how to feel about the label, ‘Esa soy yo.’ (Yeah. That’s me.)

Spotted on day one, and already effortlessly built a reputation for herself. How long would laying low have lasted, anyway? She couldn’t not talk with sentient beings.

‘Soy Guadalupe,’ introduced the woman, friendly, extending her free hand, ‘Llámame Lupita.’ (I’m Guadalupe. Call me Lupita.)

‘Bonito nombre,’ complimented Magnussen, shaking her hand, mindful of her shoulder holster peeking out from her jacket, ‘Santo. Soy Antonia. Llámame Toni.’ (Beautiful name. Holy. I’m Antonia. Call me Toni.)

Another lie that she would have to maintain. I gotta put them on paper, eventually.

‘Gusto en conocerte,’ commented Lupita, offering a small smile, ‘¿De dónde eres?’ (Nice to meet you. Where are you from?)

Shit.

‘Es un poco complicado,’ excused Magnussen, awkwardly, grimacing, ‘Vivo en Nueva Zelanda... pero nací en Rumanía.’ (That’s a bit complicated. I live in New Zealand… but I was born in Romania.)

‘No sé mucho de Rumanía,’ admitted Guadalupe, sounding disheartened, ‘Nunca he estado ahí.’ (I don’t know much about Romania. Never been.)

‘No te preocupes,’ enunciated Magnussen, waving dismissively, ‘No te pierdes mucho.’ (Don’t worry. You didn’t miss out on much.)

Unless you count communist repression, minimum respect for human rights, secrecy, propaganda, occasionally hideous infrastructure.

‘¿Cómo es que estás en Guadalajara?’, questioned Lupita, politely curious. (How come you’re all the way in Guadalajara?)

Attempting to bring justice to my deceased friend, who was tortured and murdered by a drug cartel, in collaboration with the Mexican government – allegedly. So, the usual.

‘Yo, uh, tengo un internado,’ disclosed Magnussen, mentally congratulating herself for her duplicitous reflexes, ‘En el consulado de Estados Unidos.’ (I, uh, have an internship… at the U.S. Consulate.)

It’s a classified internship. Please, don’t press the issue. It’s a difficult period for me.

‘Que elegante,’ noted Guadalupe, half impressed, tugging her sweater over her chest, to keep warm, ‘Yo estoy intentando tener un título de Artes. Trabajo en un salón de uñas.’ (Fancy. I’m trying to get an Arts degree. I work at a nail salon.)

Glancing down at her feet, Magnussen curled her toes, to prevent them from falling victim to frostbite. “Fancy” is not a word I would use to describe my “internship.” Arts are always approved of. Artists are the soul of society.

‘Buena suerte,’ she replied, unable to omit the most precious fact, ‘¿Salón de uñas, huh? Que suerte la mía.’ (Good luck. Nail salon, huh? Lucky me.)

‘Eres bienvenida cuando quieras,’ asserted Lupita, leaning against the doorframe, ‘¿Estás libre este fin de semana? Deberíamos salir.’ (You are welcome anytime. Are you free this weekend? We should hang out.)

Despite her initial cynicism, Magnussen gradually realized that she would need to interact with people outside of her Leyenda circle, otherwise she would lose it and commit atrocities.

‘Aún no lo sé,’ began Magnussen before interrupting herself to address the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that emerged from Guadalupe’s apartment, ‘Oh, hola.’ (I don’t know yet – Oh, hello.)

Lupita quickly moved her foot to block the dog’s path. Its round, black eyes watched Magnussen with a sweet, gentle expression, and its lengthy, fluffy ears framed its face. The dog sported a silky, classical Blenheim coat – rich chestnut markings on a clear, pearly white ground.

‘Esta es Taquito,’ revealed Guadalupe, evidently not having anticipated the dog’s presence, ‘Debería estar dormida.’ (This is Taquito. She should be asleep.)

Taquito – excellent name, by the way – can do whatever she wants.

‘Es un amor,’ countered Magnussen, affectionately, crouching to scratch the dog behind its ears, ‘Tráela contigo cuando salgamos.’ (She’s a darling. Bring her with you when we go out.)

‘Los perros no están permitidos en bares, Toni,’ reminded Lupita, playfully. (Dogs aren’t allowed in bars, Toni.)

‘Que se jodan,’ declared Magnussen, adamantly, petting Taquito’s head, ‘Iremos a un parque.’ (Fuck them. We’ll go to a park.)

Taquito showed her endorsement by wagging her tail, excitedly.

‘Le encantará eso,’ chuckled Guadalupe, weakly pushing the dog back into her apartment, ‘Di buenas noches, Taquito.’ (She’ll love that. Say good night, Taquito.)

‘Buenas noches,’ said Magnussen, standing up and waving to Taquito. (Good night.)

‘Realmente tengo que tirar la basura,’ recalled Guadalupe, cautiously shutting the door once the dog was inside, ‘Nos vemos luego.’ (I really have to throw away the trash. See you around.)

‘Cuídate,’ quipped Magnussen, amused, observing her depart down the stairs. (Take care.)

Alright. Scram, Scout. Forth, on to your lair.

Magnussen kicked off her slippers and leaned back against the couch – mindful of her filled wine glass – stretching her legs before resting her feet on the edge of the coffee table. Fleetwood Mac’s Spare Me a Little of Your Love started to play quietly on the stereo. She sipped her beverage, the spice inundating her taste buds, urging her nerves and muscles to finally relax, since the immediate burdens had been lifted off her chest; she had relieved her bladder, washed her feet, removed her makeup, changed into her pyjamas, and eaten… dinner? What meal do people have at two a.m.?

Her eyes lingered on the telephone laying on the table, conflicted. She should have dealt with this yesterday… or two days ago. She itched for another cigarette, but that would require getting up, walking into the bedroom, retrieving the pack, and cracking a window to get rid of the smell and smoke. Open windows at night were a no-go. Magnussen was on her own. She downed her wine – setting the glass aside – and grabbed the telephone. Magnussen checked her wrist watch as she dialed the number, estimating that it must have been eight in the morning in New Zealand. Here we go.

A few seconds passed, and the prolonged dial tone seemed to be in sync with her heartbeat. Magnussen absentmindedly pulled on the loose thread of one of her fuzzy socks, hoping that the noise would cease – though she was unsure about her preferred outcome. One where I don’t get shamed for suffering from chronic hesitancy.

When the dial tone abruptly stopped, the words died on her tongue, her throat dry. A funny feeling settled in her stomach. Anxiety butterflies.

‘Hello?’, answered Maia’s robotic voice, casually.

Any trace of thoughts vacated Magnussen’s mind. She glanced around the living room, fixating on nothing in particular.

‘Uh, hey,’ she greeted, stiffly, scratching the nape of her neck, ‘It’s me.’

‘Well, well, well,’ articulated Maia, and Magnussen braced herself for the upcoming snark, ‘La Llorona didn’t find you yet. I hear you’re serenading me.’

Magnussen involuntarily looked at the stereo. The song neared its end.

Spare me a little,

Spare me a little of your love.

‘Compensating for my silence,’ she huffed, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards, ‘Sorry about that, by the way. What’re you up to?’

‘In the kitchen,’ informed a grumpy Maia, ‘Drinking coffee before work.’

‘First cup?’, inquired Magnussen, smugly proving that she knew Maia’s morning routine.

‘Second,’ corrected Maia, apparently fumbling with cutlery in the background.

‘Oh, so, I caught you at a good time,’ joked Magnussen, leaning over the couch arm to turn off the stereo.

‘That depends,’ teased Maia, flirtatiously, ‘What’ve you got for me?’

‘I just got back to Guadalajara,’ droned Magnussen, the reminder causing her to feel tired again.

‘Isn’t it late there?’, checked Maia, confused, the frown in her tone palpable.

‘Early, according to some,’ countered Magnussen, humorously, producing a small piece of paper from the pocket of her pyjama pants, ‘I had a meeting with the team.’

Morales’ note. She scanned the neatly written names and numbers, barely paying attention.

‘And how was it?’, interrogated Maia, evidently curious.

‘I’m not,’ began Magnussen, carefully, searching for the appropriate term, ‘Too impressed. They seem like a bunch of yes-men. In it for a medal and a few bucks. Only Morales talked to me afterwards. Genuine or not…’

‘There’s that pessimism, alive and well,’ observed Maia, fondly.

‘It’s not that,’ grumbled Magnussen, shoving the note in her pocket, ‘Breslin’s already stepping on my tail.’

Romanian saying. Maia would get it. She always does.

‘Who could’ve anticipated that?’, falsely lamented an amused Maia.

‘He has ego cramps because of the airport thing,’ dismissed Magnussen, sinking into the couch.

‘Do tell,’ encouraged Maia, interested.

An opportunity to complain? She would be a fool not to seize it. Maia proceeded to sip her coffee, loudly, forcing Magnussen to briefly remove the telephone from her ear, annoyed by the noise. Maia was doing it on purpose.

‘I randomly saw him struggling to light his cigarette,’ explained Magnussen, feigning innocence, ‘So, I offered him my lighter. Made small talk.’

‘You didn’t tell him who you were,’ concluded Maia, incredulously.

‘Of course, I didn’t,’ scoffed Magnussen, offended by the implication, ‘Said my name’s Sofia, faked an accent. He was probably suspicious, but I doubt he figured out what was really wrong. We met a second time in Heath’s office.’

‘Gross,’ deadpanned Maia.

Magnussen wholeheartedly agreed.

‘I didn’t know Breslin was gonna show,’ she clarified, placing the telephone between her ear and shoulder to reach for the DEA badge on the coffee table, ‘He didn’t know I was gonna show. It was funny. He was so pissed.’

‘Barbie’s boyfriend must have been confused as hell,’ posited Maia, chuckling, ‘What did he do?’

‘Nothing,’ shrugged Magnussen, bitterly, ‘It’s not in his job description. He still pretends to have a spine. He didn’t stay long. I can’t tell if he feels any guilt over what happened.’

She studied the pretentious-looking object, attentively, her nail lightly digging into the eagle – the U.S. – proudly sitting atop the badge’s sunburst-shaped body, grasping an olive branch and arrows – the federal government’s authority over peace and war. Atrocious.

‘It’s not in the job description,’ echoed Maia, somber, ‘He doesn’t have to.’

‘Hopefully, D.C. will be merciful, and I won’t have to deal with Bureaucrat Ken’s existence moving forward,’ claimed Magnussen, gloomy, tossing her badge on the table, ‘Anyway, I bumped into one of my neighbors. Lupita. She has a dog named Taquito.’

‘Congratulations on socializing,’ jested Maia, condescendingly, ‘A reason for you to go out more. Don’t forget to smuggle Taquito into New Zealand when you come back.’

‘If I come back,’ corrected Magnussen, reflexively, then subtly attempted to change the subject, ‘I thought we were getting a cat.’

‘Hey, don’t talk like that,’ scolded Maia, refusing to take the feline bait.

Magnussen provided no response, instead shifting into a more comfortable, apathy-compatible position, lying down on her side, balancing the telephone over her left ear.

‘How’re you holding up, so far?’, murmured Maia, concerned, as if she were reaching out to tenderly squeeze Magnussen’s shoulder.

A lump formed in her throat, preventing the truth from bursting past the surface. I wish things hadn’t been like this. I wish Kiki would still be alive. I wish I had been a child for a little longer. Lying to Maia would be pointless. Magnussen swallowed hard and counted the seconds, pondering when would be the right moment to say something. She sniffed, gradually sobering up.

‘I don’t know,’ confessed Magnussen, at last, voice wavering, ‘It’s strange, being here, not having him around… The city hasn’t changed much, but everything feels different. I’m starting to understand what Jaime meant.’

‘You need time,’ offered Maia, compassionately, ‘Going back was never going to be easy. You’re probably not going to like this, but I think you’re doing this for yourself as much as you’re doing it for Kiki… Take it easy.’

Historically unsustainable for me.

‘You might be creating problems where there aren’t any,’ continued Maia, surprisingly civil, ‘Heath, Breslin, Morales, whoever the fuck. You’ll be fine. You can handle them. They have no idea what’s coming.’

‘The cartel or the DEA?’, quipped Magnussen, managing a smile.

‘Both,’ replied Maia, decisively.

‘Okay, enough about my bullshit,’ interjected Magnussen, her allergy to compliments manifesting, ‘How’s everything on your side of the world?’

‘Long version?’, recited Maia, aggressively setting her mug in the sink, ‘Up to my neck in work. O’Connor is driving me up a fucking wall. I don’t know who hired him, and I don’t know why they won’t fire him… Short version? I can’t wait for the weekend.’

‘Amen, sister,’ yawned Magnussen, stretching her legs that didn’t remotely touch the opposing arm of the couch.

‘Alright, I have to go to work,’ announced Maia, adopting her Mom Tone, ‘And you need to sleep.’

‘Mmmyeah,’ mumbled Magnussen, drowsily, rubbing her eye, ‘I miss you.’

‘I bet you do,’ sassed Maia, readily.

‘Mahuika,’ warned Magnussen, vaguely threatening.

‘I miss you, too,’ reassured a sly Maia, ‘Call me at more decent hours.’

‘Attempts will be made,’ bargained Magnussen, doubtful, ‘Good… morning.’

‘Good night, honey,’ chirped Maia.

Magnussen lazily shifted on her back, allowing the telephone to fall next to her, on the couch cushion. She stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, contemplative, before she realized that the unwashed dishes awaited her, in the kitchen. From the bottom of her being, Magnussen released a deep, heavy sigh.

Fuck.

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END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

READ MORE: Mahuika, DEA badge, to step on someone’s tail = to annoy/upset them

#narcos fanfic #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #walt breslin #walt breslin x oc #walt breslin/oc #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin/reader #ossie mejía #danilo garza #daryl petski #sal orozco #amat palacios #scoot mcnairy #tori's beholden

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aerynwrites · 5 years

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Husband - Javier Peña x Reader

Author’s Note: Ugh I LOVE Perdo Pascal, and his role in Narcos has me WEAK. so here is a little one-shot? fic? idk what you would call this lol. But here you go, I hope you all enjoy this little request I got! Love to hear from you all as always! (Sorry for any grammatical errors, I’m writing and posting this in between classes so I didn’t quite have time to like triple check lol)

Request? Yes! based off this request: How about a one-shot where Agent Pena or Agent Whiskey (your choice) takes injured reader/partner (who is secretly in love with him) to hospital. He lies and tells them he is her husband so that he can stay with her. When she wakes up, the nurse says something like, "Your husband went to get coffee, but he held your hand all night and kept telling you how much he loves you." (Requested by anon)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: blood, violence, fluff.

/////

While you had been an agent for the Drug Enforcement Agency for almost 10 years now, you were completely caught off guard for what awaited you at your assignment in Columbia. Not only was there bribery, treason, and just down right morally questionable circumstances, there was also Javier Peña. When you were assigned to move to Columbia to help the DEA take down Escobar, you had met Steve Murphy the minute you stepped foot into the country. He was kind enough to escort you back to the Embassy and give you the official tour, as he called it. Everything had been going well, but then Javier Peña showed up and, as his presence usually entails, he dampened the mood.

“Another rook?” he said, hands on his hips as he looked you up and down, eyes filled with disapproval.

Murphy let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Javier, meet (Y/N) (L/N), Senior DEA agent.” He said pointedly.

You squinted your eyes at the man in front of you, completely turned off by his hostile and frankly rude demeanor, and you opened your mouth to speak, but Javier cut you off.

“Well she’s not a senior agent down here Murphy,” he looked from Steve to you, “And I don’t need another person to babysit and translate for. One is enough,” he all but hissed.

You took a threatening step forward ignoring Murphy’s hand on your upper arm, “I’ll have you know Agent Pen͂a,” you emphasized these words, your Spanish accent shining through as you said his name, “I grew up in New Mexico, and my parents are from south America, so I think I can handle myself just fine. With or without your help.”

Your words were dripping in venom, and Javier had to keep the surprised look on his face at the revelation of your background as well as the fluttering of his heart as your accent slipped through. Not that he fond that attractive or anything…just surprised. Yeah, just surprised.

Javier hadn’t moved in in, hands still on his hips as he let out a sigh, “Whatever. I’m just going to go ahead and assume you’re all in on this operation,” he relents, “We have a lead on the whereabouts of some Narcos connected to Escobar, we have a possible safe house location.”

You didn’t waste a second before you were grabbing your holster and leather jacket and brushing past the two men towards the door, “Well what are we waiting for, let’s go!” you called.

Your eagerness to dive into your work had Javier and Steve casting a glance at one another before shrugging and following you out the door.

* * *

That was forever ago. At least it felt like it was as you fell from the second floor of one of Escobar’s known homes and plummeted to the ground. It had been several months, almost a year since you had joined the hunt for Escobar in Columbia, and you all had made considerable progress. Despite several setbacks with M-19, the police, and even Escobar himself, you all were closing in. And along with your continued search for Escobar came the inevitable close relationships with your partners. You had grown to see Steve as somewhat of a brother to you, weekly dinners with him and Connie becoming a regular occurrence. They helped ease the pain and homesickness you felt being away from your friends and family for so long. It also provided an environment in which you all could just relax and forget about the days work, opting instead for wine, local food, and beer, a familiarity you had missed since moving. However, your relationship with Javier was nothing but confusing. He had slowly but surely accepted you as his partner, acknowledging your capability in the field and fearlessness when it came to doing more questionable parts of the job. However, that was as far as it seemed to go, which was difficult for you because you had grown to feel more for the man than just a platonic relationship. As horrible as it seemed to you, the feeling of love and adoration slowly crept its way into your heart the more you were around the hardened DEA agent. You had been hard pressed to reject his more intimate advances one evening when you all were at your apartment eating pizza and just relaxing after a hard day’s work. He had flashed you one of those toothy charming grins, and less than subtly suggested what he wanted. However, you, not wanting to get trapped in a meaningless friend with benefits relationship, turned him down. No matter how much it pained you, and he never asked again. However, he seemed to distance himself more after that, and it frustrated and saddened you. Was that all he saw you as? A conquest to take, and once he found out you weren’t giving it up you were worthless to him?

For some reason that night, the night with the pizza and hasty rejection, was the only thing playing through your head as you fell through the air and hit the ground with a painful thud. The Wind was knocked from your lungs and you knew instantly you had broken several ribs as you could not draw in a full breath. You and Javier had climbed the stairs to the second story of the house and when checking the last room a left behind Narco had burst from the closet with in, and before you could react he had fired a shot directly into your shoulder before roughly shoving you through the open balcony doors. You vaguely registered a panicked shout of your name followed by another gunshot before you tumbled over the railing and to the ground below.

Which is where you were now.

Blood pooling around your neck and shoulders as you lie gasping for breath on the warm dusty ground of the backwater property of Escobar’s mansion. Your head was throbbing painfully along with your chest and leg. You couldn’t even think properly to try and figure out what had been injured in the fall. You just kept struggling to breath as tears slipped from your eyes, both from the pain and the now ever-present fear of death. You hear two sets of rapid footsteps approaching you and opened your eyes to see the faces of Javier and Steve hovering over you, expressions of panic and fear creasing their features.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered as he knelt down, “What happened?” he demanded from Javier.

“Steve just shut the fuck up and get help over here now!” he exclaimed.

Steve just nodded and ran off to make a call as well as request help from the police there with you all. Javier knelt next to you and pulled your hand in his own, brushing your hair back in a comforting manner, causing you to close your eyes at the small distraction from the pain.

“Hey, look at me,” Javier gripped your hand tighter, and you opened your eyes to look at him, “Don’t go to sleep,” at this point he had started to remove his button up shirt, leaving him in only a white undershirt, and pressed it firmly to the still bleeding wound in your shoulder.

You let out a cry of pain as more tear’s escapade your eyes, the pain was excruciating and your eyes were getting almost too heavy to keep open, but you did.

You looked over to Javier who was now trying to asses your other injuries, “I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I should’ve been paying attention.”

At your words Javier snaps his gaze back towards you his heart clenching as the words left your mouth. You just got thrown out of a window and were currently bleeding out, and you were the one apologizing? He just shook his head and returned his hand to the side of your face, brushing the tears away with his thumb.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You just stay awake – stay alive,” he insisted.

If you weren’t half unconscious, you would have sworn you heard desperation and a slight fear in his voice as he said those words. But before you could dwell anymore on the fact, Steve ran back over to the two of you.

“Come on Peña, we have to move. Medical help is no where to be found, so our best bet is just driving her there ourselves.”

“Fuck,” the man above you muttered before looking down at you apologetically, “I’m sorry (Y/n), but we have to move you.”

Those were the last words you heard before you felt him slide two arms underneath you and life you from the ground. You didn’t even let out a cry of pain before darkness consumed your vision.

* * *

“Hey! We need help! We need help right now!” Javier called out to the staff as him and Steve burst through the doors of the hospital, your unconscious form still held firmly in his grasp.

The next few moments were a whirlwind of commotion as the nurses and doctors jumped into action, quickly moving you onto a gurney and rolling you into the back after listening to what happened from Javier. He watched, for once feeling completely helpless, as he watched you be wheeled past the doors and into emergency surgery. Both him and Steve sat in the waiting room anxiously waiting to hear something about your condition. Javier could hardly keep himself in his seat as he switched from sitting to pacing, then sitting again, then standing and asking the nurse if there was any word, then sitting again. It was making Steve even more anxious.

“Will you sit the hell down?” Steve finally blurts, “Please? God, you’re making me more anxious pacing around like that,” he finished, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting out a sigh.

Javier turned on Steve ready to make a snarky remark but stopped himself short when he saw how awful Steve looked. He was being selfish. He wasn’t the only one who cared about you, he knew very well the sibling-like bond you and Steve shared and felt himself deflate slightly as he plopped in the chair next to his partner, running a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry, I just- “he stopped himself, taking a deep breath, “I’m just worried about her.”

“And you think I’m not?” Steve shot back, “She’s not just your partner you know.”

Javier let his hand fall from his face and onto the armrest of the chair, “I know that, it’s just that I- “he stopped himself, pursing his lips to keep the words from coming out. He wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal those feeling yet.

“You what?” Steve pressed.

Javier opened his mouth to respond but the entrance of the doctor stopped him short.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?” the doctor called out your name, which prompted both Steve and Javier to jump from their seats.

“Is she okay?” Steve asked frantically.

The doctor gave them both a kind smile and tucked a clipboard under his arm, “She is going to be just fine,” both men let out sighs of relief and wait for the doctor to continue, “She had three broken ribs, but they didn’t puncture her lungs so it will just be uncomfortable to move and breath for a few weeks. However, the gunshot wound to her shoulder and her broken tibia will keep her out of commission for at least a few months. That means no field work agents, I mean it.” The doctor look pointedly at both men.

“Can we go see her?” both of them asked simultaneously.

The doctor adjusted his glasses and looked down at his watch a frown tugging at his lips, “Well unless either of you are immediate family, I can’t allow that. Visiting hours ended four hours ago.”

Before Steve could say anything, Javier took a step forward, “I’m her husband! Just married last week,” he smiled, hoping his usual charm will help him out in this situation.

“You’re her what?” Steve’s shocked words caused the doctor to give the men a suspicious look.

Javier just reaches an arm around Steve and pats his back more roughly than needed, a fake smile plastered on his face, “I know, I can hardly believe it myself,” Javier’s voice drips with faux happiness, as he squeezes his partners shoulder begging him to play along.

Before Steve or the Doctor can say anything else, Javier is walking towards the door and holding it open, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see my wife now.”

The doctor gives one more cautious glance to both men before leading Javier back to your room. His eyes immediately fall to your sleeping form and he feels a lump form in his throat and his heart clench at the sight of you. He doesn’t even hear what the doctor says as he takes in your form. White bandages wrapped around your shoulder peak out from under the baby blue hospital gown as well as the sling that rests over your arm. He also notices your right leg is casted from just below your knee all the way down to your foot and is elevated on some pillows. By the time he has pulled a chair up to the side of you bed and holds your hand in his, the doctor is gone.

* * *

The dryness of your mouth is the first thing you notice when you wake up. followed quickly by the beeping of a machine and the shuffling of papers. You open your eyes more and take note of the dimly lit hospital room and your newly bandaged wounds and casted leg.

“Good Morning, sweetheart,” a feminine voice meets your ears.

Your eyes move to find the source of the sound and are met with a short petite nurse in green scrubs standing at the end of your bed flipping through papers on a clipboard. You open your mouth to respond but it’s so dry you can hardly get any words out. The nurse, who had looked at you briefly, seemed to notice your predicament and quickly poured some water in a little paper cup before handing it to you. You swallow the entire cup in two gulps, and sigh in relief as you lay back into the pillow, the movement flaring pain up the side of your neck.

“You are one lucky woman,” the nurse says as she takes the cup from your hands.

you close your eyes and try to adjust yourself to sit up more, “Yeah, I’m just glad it wasn’t any worse. Because trust me, I’ve had worse.” You chuckle dryly.

You glance around the room and are immediately aware of the absence of your partners, and you frown slightly. Had they not stayed? You felt your heart clench at the thought of your own friend not staying to make sure you were okay.

“Was there anyone that came in with me?” you ask, “Two men, a tall blonde and then a shorter brunette?”

The nurse’s eyes seem to light up at the mention of your partners and a large smile comes across her face…what was her deal?

“Oh yes! Your partner Steve said he was going back to fill out some reports and then your husband just left to get some coffee.”

Your eyes widen, and if you had still been drinking water you would have surely choked, “My husband?”

Her smile widens as she looks at you, pulling the clipboard to her chest, “Oh yes, he was a nervous wreck waiting to hear word from the doctor on your condition. And since he was let in the room, he hasn’t left your side,” she notes, and she leans in slightly to whisper her next words, “He really love you, you know. When I would come in to check your vitals and such he would constantly be whispering of how much he loved you and how he couldn’t lose you…” she lets out a forlorn sighs, “It’s endearing really, I wish my husband was like that.”

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the nurse as you soaked in the news, she just told you. but before your mind could catch up and respond, Javier walked back into the room, coffee in hand and the nurse excused herself, sending you a wink on the way out. Javier met your eyes and his own widened at seeing you awake. But he tried to keep his composure as he walked over to the side of the bed and sat in the chair still resting there.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You rest back into the pillows, not sure what to say. Because physically you felt okay, most likely thanks to the pain medication, but emotionally you were confused. Confused at what the nurse told, confused if she was telling the truth. So, you just shrug, choosing not to answer.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that answer because his hand falls to yours and he runs his thumb over your knuckles, “Are you in pain? Do I need to get the nurse back- “

“No. No Javier I’m fine, I just- “you paused not sure how to continue.

Javier sets his coffee down and leans back in his seat now, hand withdrawing from your own, “It’s just…. what?” he asks, a curious expression settling on his face.

You pick at the hospital blanket absentmindedly, not prepared to talk about this subject but knowing that it needs to be discussed.

“The nurse told me some things,” you begin, “Some things you said while I was out. Some rather…intimate things.” You finish finally, looking to the man sitting next to you.

He seems to freeze in his place, mouth dropping open as if saying ‘oh’, before it snaps shut and he seems to be at a loss for words. Which, for him, was very unusual.

“Did you mean them?” you ask quietly, not sure if you want to know his answer.

He’s quite for a moment, and you’re sure he’s about to reject you. tell you they meant nothing and that he was just afraid of his partner dying. So, your mouth starts to move before you can stop it.

“Never mind, that was a dumb question. I know you were probably just worried about me dying. I was so stupid to think that you could like me back. I know that’s not your style and- “

“(Y/N)- “

“in this line of work its never a good idea to- “

“(Y/N)- “

“get into relationships and I’m sorry if I-“

“(Y/N)!” Javier’s raised voice stops your rambling, “Stop. Just listen to me.”

You snap your mouth shut, lips pressing into a thin line as you wait for him to tell you off. But you unclench your jaw when you feel his warm hand gran onto your slightly cool one. You look up at him again and are shook by the soft and almost loving look he gives you as a small smile tugs at his lips.

“I was terrified when I saw you go over that balcony,” he admitted, “And I was even more scared when you passed out in my arms. I was so scared you were going to die in this hospital and I would never get to tell you how I felt,” as he stops speaking he brings your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly before placing his other free hand over yours encasing it in both of his still very warm hands.

You felt tears burn at the back of your eyes at the meaning of his words, you were so sure you had pushed him away and that he could never feel the same way as you. so, to here this, it was a lot.

You squeezed his hand gently as you looked at him, “You remember that night you brought over Pizza and beer?” he nodded, “And you tried to get into my pants?” you let out a little chuckle as he groaned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly but nods again.

“I thought I pushed you away,” you admitted, “I thought that you had only gotten close to me so you could add me to your list or whatever.”

“No (Y/N), that’s not what happened, I thought I had pushed things too far,” he explains, “I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me again because of that. I though its ruined things.”

You shook your head and squeezed his hand again, “Well, that’s good to know,” you smile, “Because when you quite hanging around me after that was when I realized…” you paused.

“Realized what?” Javier asked, heart pummeling against his chest at the words he expected to come from your mouth.

“That I love you, more than just a friend or partner,” you finally admit, eyes dropping from his own to look at your still intertwined hands.

Javier didn’t say anything at first, and when he pulled his hands from yours, your heart fell to your stomach. Did he not feel the same? But before you could voice your concern his hands came to the sides of your face as he leaned down to place a heated and desperate kiss to your lips. You kissed back instantly and, out of instinct, went to reach your hand up to card through his hair, but a sharp pain in your injured shoulder caused you to let out a gasp of pain.

“shit,” Javier pulled away instantly and looked over you worriedly, “Did I hurt you?”

You let out a pained chuckle as you rested back against your pillows, “No, I just got a little too excited, and I don’t think my shoulder appreciated it.”

Javier gave you a mischievous smile before leaning closer to you, “I can kiss it better.”

Before you could respond he placed a tender kiss to the bandages over your injured shoulder, then a soft kiss just below your ear, then finally a much gentler meaningful kiss to your lips. You responded and you both stayed like that for a moment before he pulled away and sat back in his chair, your hand held in his securely.

“Did it work?”

You smile and nod, “Yes, I think it did, husband.”

He let out a loud laugh at your little joke and scooted his chair closer to your bed, resting his hand near your head and stroked your hair affectionately.

“I think I could get used to that,” he whispers.

You smile and kiss him one more time before nodding, “Me too.”

////

Permanent Tags: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck

#Javier pena x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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soyunaagente · 4 years

Text

Crossed Wires

Thank you @pridelumos for trusting me enough to write this request!

This is the first one I’ve ever done so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count- roughly 2,200.

Warnings- mentions of murder, guns, sex, drugs. My terrible writing.

The ticking of the office clock was the only thing breaking the tense silence. Yet another day had passed and not a single tip, clue or evidence was sent in. You sighed loudly and got up from your desk. The evening sun still flooding the room in a warm glow.

‘Someone’s in a good mood,’ Agent Roger Knapp commented on your louder than normal exhale.

You shot him a look as you poured yet another cup of coffee, The third of the day. ‘It’s been weeks Roger, weeks. We still know shit.’ You’re fresh, not three years out of the academy, still chomping at the bit to make a difference; after all you’ve heard about the emerging ‘drug war’ in Mexico. The more….seasoned agents have gotten cynical over the years. Unless it falls into their lap they don’t bother to investigate.

You dropped into your comfortable office chair and slumped over the desk. Letting out a frustrated groan. Honestly? If you knew the adventure that was about to ensure you’d wish for a few more of the lazy office days.

----------

Miguel Ángel Felix Gallardo, arguably the most wanted man in Mexico, leaned back in his office chair. Specially designed with French leather. Not for the faint of heart. He too let out a frustrated sigh. The Gulf was weeks away from overtaking most of the land border into the United States. All he’d been able to do was sit back and watch it happen.

He sighed again and stood up to look out the window. The fading rays of sunlight doing nothing to ease his apprehension. The Gulf was mere weeks away from securing the majority of the land border between Mexico and the United States. It would lead to a drop in profits; and an increase in problems. As if he hadn't had enough, Tijuana and Sinaloa were in a war, Pacho had him in a vice grip and Maria was gone. Fled. Kids and all.

Miguel lit a cigarette, as he watched the ash tip onto the stone balcony he realised there was no point in wallowing. This wasn't going to sort itself. At least this may be something he could fix. Miguel caught his jacket from the coat rack and slammed the door behind him.

If he had known the events of the next few days maybe he would have gently closed the door instead.

----------------

You stood at the side entrance of the offices, leaning against the door frame and watching the Guadalajara streets begin to light up with nightlife and music. You glanced back at the building you called a workplace for a moment. Your eyes scanning the stonework. When you laid eyes on him, however. your jaw dropped to the floor.

Strutting up the steps to the main entrance. To the United States DEA base in Guadalajara Mexico was none other than the man that had saved your life almost two years ago.

Miguel Ángel Felix Gallardo.

*Sinaloa two years prior*

As the first female in the DEA you felt as if you had a point to prove. This was your shot to do it. The biggest night time raid the DEA was about to undertake in the city of Sinaloa. Three houses, two down, now it was your turn to show off all you had learnt. It's not an Old Boys Club anymore.

In the end it had all happened so fast. First you lead the team tactically into the premises, cleared the perimeter. You did everything by the book. After that night you learnt that rules become blurred south of the border quite often.

There was a sudden whirr of bullets, frenzied screaming.... an odd smell of smoke. Fear overtook you when you heard the order coming from your Walkie Talkie. Two words registered. 'Ambush... scatter.'

You gripped your gun so tight it was a miracle it didn't snap in two. Barely taking in your surroundings you ran. Hastily. The streets passed in a blur. Your lungs felt on fire as you slowed your steps. Slowing to a stop, leaning against a building. The panting made the footsteps approaching behind you inaudible, it was far too late by the time you noticed.

The sickening click of a gun being drawn from its holster behind you caused your face to drain of blood. Trembling you slowly turned. You were staring down the barrel of a gun.

Seconds ticked by. The masked gunman's hand trembled. In that split second a gunshot rang out.. as you were thrown to the ground. You kept your eyes squeezed tightly. A warm hand ran down your arm. Daring to open one eye was the best and worst thing you ever did. You opened both. A pair of deep brown eyes stared back. Entranced. He helped you up, how kind of him.

Once steady on your feet you got a good look at the man. Time for round two of heart attacks of the day. One of the most wanted men in Mexico had his hand in yours, his other holding your elbow to keep you steady. He looked, well, he looked concerned.

'Estas bien mija?'

Your mouth opened and closed.

He chuckled. 'We,' he gestured to the giant of a bodyguard standing over your would be killer's corpse. 'saw what happened. He was on our hit list anyway.'

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was like melted butter. He squeezed your hand. 'I hope I'll see you again... agente.'

------------------------------

A bunch of roses with no name attached appeared at the office two weeks later. After getting a LOT of shit from the other agents you figured it could only be Miguel who had sent them. Two days later a necklace arrived. Your internal monologue went a little like ‘Oh no Oh no Oh no no no no no no’, especially when you realised the butterflies before evening opening the little box tied with a red ribbon. He’s a goddamn Narco. You’re meant to be putting him in a prison to rot.

You threw the flowers out and hid the necklace in your wardrobe. Get rid of all keepsakes and therefore all memories. He’s not for you. It’s not right. It’s damn illegal.

Now here he was walking as calm as could be into the lion’s den. You stayed watching his cool demeanour. His cockiness. That blue suit, that jet black ha-no stop. You didn’t even notice the small smile appearing on your face as he disappeared indoors.

Realising the worst thing you could possibly do was follow him. So you waited. Hiding behind a tree. Smooth. Real smooth. He emerged from the building about twenty minutes later. You almost deflated in relief as the car turned the corner and sped off down the next street.

Naively thinking it was safe you returned to your desk. Only to have Roger and Chief Jamie Kuykendall waiting with eyebrows raised and an unreadable look on their faces. Jamie was the first to speak. ‘We-um- we had a visitor.’

You acted confused. They fell for it. ‘I- we- Felix Gallardo was here. Looking to give us information,’ he finished.

‘Wha- what? How? Why?’ you babbled.

‘We don’t know the specifics. That’s the problem, we haven’t the faintest idea why he wants to give it to us. All we know is. He’ll only give it to you.’ Roger intervened.

Your jaw hit the floor. ‘Me?’

‘No, he came all the way in here to ask for the Pope. Yes you,’ Roger snapped.

Jamie handed you a scrap piece of paper. ‘He asked to meet you for dinner. He’ll give you the information then.’

Your brow furrowed. The moral compass going into overdrive. He’s a narco. He saved your life. You’re just getting information. Pushing all the thoughts aside you nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do it. It’ll be okay.’ Whether you were convincing them or yourself is still up for debate.

You didn’t sleep at all that night. The bed was uncomfortable, the night was too humid, the pillows were uneven. All excuses you convinced yourself were the issue. Sitting straight up at dawn you stared at the wardrobe. The necklace. Sneaking up on the shelf you caught the box and pulled it down. Inside lay the most beautiful silver and diamond collar.

Slipping it on felt right, It fit like a glove. The dress you chose was a bit risqué to say the least. But you know, we have to give him something to look at. Grabbing your purse before leaving you noticed a driver and his car outside.

‘Para ti Senorita,’ He opened the door. Champagne and truffles awaited. The smell of the new leather filled you with apprehension as the streets rolled by, before long you were in an unfamiliar part of town. The filthy rich side. The driver pulled up to a villa straight out of a Hollywood movie. The old fashioned villa, complete with a football field sized yard and outdoor pool was a stark contrast to the cramped apartment you called home.

Feeling slightly out of place you followed the driver to the entrance. He pushed open the door to a beautifully ornate interior. A butler handed you a glass of champagne and led you to the outdoor terrace. A table for two was set, with a view overlooking the city. It was almost too much. Almost. You took a seat at the table. Admiring the white table cloth and, of course, the vase full of roses as a centre piece. You nervously tugged at the necklace, anxious for Miguel to arrive. Still mixed feelings on the whole deal.

‘Hola Senorita,’ that voice, It stirred something in the pit of your stomach.

‘Hola.’ There was a slight bit of tension in the air as he sat across from you. The look in his eye was mischievous, bordering cocky.

‘Antes de cenar agente. Tengo un regalo para ti.’ He pushed a brown envelope across the table. You let your fingertips touch it before he lets it go. You take another glance back at him. The cockiness is gone. This is the envelope with everything in it. Names, addresses, routes. You tapped your fingers on it for a second. Contemplating. Eventually deciding against better judgement you slipped the invaluable information into your purse. A look of relief washed over Miguel’s face.

It honestly took you by surprise how funny he could be. You felt a six pack coming on before dinner was even served. The tension disappeared. As the wine flowed you felt more at ease with your supposed arch nemesis. His shoulders slowly dropped throughout the meal. Simply enjoying the company. The butler cleared the dinner dishes away. As he did so the sound of slow classical music filled the night air. Bringing with it Miguel’s invitation for a dance. Slightly embarrassed at the prospect he put you at ease by assuring you he didn’t know the steps.

He held your hand in his. His grip around your waist was both comforting and reassuring. You simply melted into the embrace. Resting your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears. That moment, nothing could ruin that picturesque moment. The smell of his expensive cologne, the feeling of his cool shirt against your skin.

You gazed up at him, his beard tickling your upper lip. You felt a smirk, his hand around your waist tightening. Oh dear, no. You place your hands on his chest where your head once lay. He looks at you, concern filling his eyes. ‘Que pasa mija hm.’

‘I-I.’ you fumble. ‘This,we,’

He stopped dead in his tracks. Moving his hands to hold your shoulders gently but firmly. ‘What are you worried about?’

You stared down at the floor. ‘I can’t be a notch on your belt Miguel. That’s not what this is, I'm a DEA agent. Of course I’ll be forever grateful for saving my life but…. But I just-’

His grip became slightly firmer. Barely noticeable but yet, you felt it. ‘I’m not going to bring you to my room mija. If you do decide to, it'll be because you want to. Not to, what, thank me for the information? That’s not what this is.’ His tone was reaffirming. Yet Calming. His juxtapositions were almost overpowering. How could one man be so much Ying and yet, so much Yang?

You held his hand. Entwining your fingers with his. ‘This is the way it has to stay Miguel,’ your voice cracking slightly. This is the way it has to stay.

You quickly wiped a tear from your cheek. With mascara threatening to run you turned to leave. Picking up your purse you took the first steps. Before bidding adieu to the glorious villa you glanced back at the Narco standing in front of you. ‘If you have any more information you know where I am.’

With that, you bid the man that firmly held your heart farewell.

#miguel angel felix gallardo #miguel angel #miguel angel felix gallardo x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos

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maryalexrios · 4 years

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Mod. 13 - Narco’s World y El Malo Conejo

Image: IMDb

Article || https://remezcla.com/film/bad-bunny-narcos-mexico/

youtube

YouTube || Song: Soy El Diablo (Remix) - Natanael Cano x Bad Bunny

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-latin/bad-bunny-natanael-cano-soy-el-diablo-corrido-904362/

Lyrics: https://www.allthelyrics.com/forum/showthread.php?t=121567

Narco Culture is something that was present in my life but not as much as folks who have witnessed seeing them in person and live in the same town as them. I was introduced through music because Corridos are my dad’s top music choice. I often would just put my headphones in because when I was younger I didn’t understand what the words meant and I was starting to learn english, so I leaned more into music like pop or rap. I love spanish speaking musiclike more reggeton, cumbia, bachata, even band, but when I would catch a snip of a corrido that would leave me thinking about what it meant like the song 500 Balazos by Calibre 50 in the beginning the lyics say:

“500 Balazos, armas automáticas (gun shots from a riffle) Pecheras portaban, de cuerno las ráfagas Los altos calibres, tumbaban civiles También por igual” (AllTheLyrics.com)

Why I remember this song so vividly is because after the first line a riffle goes off and the song continues to play. The rest of the song goes on to describe an attack going on in Sonora, describing using guns and bazukas, and of course civilians getting hurt. The romanticization that happens often in corridos like this is what I later on saw a lot in young latino men, and the way that these stories are able to be told so causally just makes me think about how with Engilsh music here in the States. I then asked my self if something like corridos could be accepted and I thought about rap, hip hop, and even with reggeton all those genres were always seen as taboo an “unacceptable” by our parents and/or older family members because of how saw all kinds of messages and ideas in the music they did not like and didn’t want us to be associated with. Whether it was by the lyrics (often very sexual/objectifying women, wealth, drugs and alcohol), the way rapper’s would dress and look (tattoos, expensive clothes, statement pieces like only wearing a specific color(s), hand sign(s), chains/rings, etc.

I think to now how both music, pop culture, and culture is continuously being shaped, like Bad Bunny diving into Narco culture, a Puerto Rican artist, probably one of the biggest Latino star at the moment collaborated with Mexican artist Natanael Cano and made this corrido with slight reggeton touches and of course Bad Bunny’s signature style as well. He also recently confirmed to have a role in the new season of Narcos: Mexico on Netflix where he will play the character Arturo “Kitty” Paez, a member of Ramón Arellano Félix's narco gang (Remezcla). I believe Narco culture will continue to be represented in the media as it is now but the conversations about the medias being made need to be questioned and allow for ourselves to pull out of the “thrill” of these stories and really look at them also being parts of history and facts we know are real and happening in Mexico still.

#narcos #netflix #bad bunny #corridos

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crwdgoinapeshit · 6 years

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Episode/Tarot Card Breakdown Episodes 1-5

i’ve always wanted to break down the tarot card the writers’ chose for every episode, see which character it refers to and if it’s reversed or upright so i thought why the hell not. it was admittedly interesting and im glad i did. *sn it’s long but really cool

Episode 1 La Ermitana: The Hermit Tarot Card - Reversed

"The Hermit stands alone on the top of a mountain with a lantern in his hand. Mountains typically symbolize achievement, growth, and accomplishment."

Character: Teresa

In the premiere we see that Teresa has doubled what she's earned since leaving Mexico and is moving 30 kilos weekly through Malta. She has grown in the game of narcos, however, she does so in hiding and isolation. She has Pote by her side but as we see in the episode she acts singularly which is why he states she can not build an empire alone. King George also lectures her on the importance of delegating and not doing certain things herself. At the end of the episode she pulls the Hermit tarot card in its reversed position signaling that she's isolating herself too much.

"...the appearance of the reversed Hermit may suggest that you are spending too much time alone in excessive isolation. You are literally becoming a hermit and cutting yourself off from others. While this period is helping you on a spiritual level, you may be feeling temporarily isolated and alone. Do not underestimate the value of staying connected with others, even while you are going through your own spiritual journey."

James' appearance moments after she gets the Hermit tarot card opens the door for her to challenge her isolated state and let someone in. I mean the next episode does end with him asking her to let him in. coincidence..i think not!

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/hermit/

Episode 2 El Calgado: The Hanged Man Tarot Card - Upright

"The Hanged Man is a willing victim, someone who has chosen the path of sacrifice to accomplish a higher goal. The Hanged Man represents the willingness to forsake the temptations of instant gratification for a higher cause, and because of this willing sacrifice he accomplishes the goals he has in his heart. He is like the ultimate martyr, putting his self-interest aside and giving up his personal needs for the greater good."

Characters: Pote, James(?)

Pote is tortured by Cortez & Camila's people for Teresa's whereabouts, however, he refuses to give her up. He even tells her, in code, to flee Malta and leave him behind to be killed by Cortez's men; the ultimate form of sacrifice and martyr-ship.

James could also represent the hanged man, though to a lesser degree. He surrenders himself completely to Teresa and willingly leaves himself defenseless as a way to show her that his intentions are good. He spends the episode putting aside his safety to make sure she stays safe.

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/hanged-man/

Episode 3 Reina de Oros: Queen of Pentacles Tarot Card - Upright

Character: Teresa

"The Queen of Pentacles is a very ‘motherly’ card, expressing practical energy. She is the original Earth Mother. She shows her love for others by cooking, cleaning, keeping a warm and inviting home and bringing in a decent income to support the family financially........She strives to create a warm and secure environment for her family and loved ones, and gives love and support freely."

Teresa symbolizes the queen of pentacles when she goes on her crusade to rescue and free the abused girls Rocco de la Pena traffics. Her desire to protect them can be interpreted as "motherly" in a way.

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor-arcana/suit-of-pentacles/queen-of-pentacles/

Episode 4 La Fuerza: Strength Tarot Card - Upright

"....the Strength card represents inner strength and the power of the human spirit to overcome any obstacle. The meaning of the Strength Tarot card is about knowing that you can endure life’s obstacles by drawing upon your inner strength and confidence. You have great stamina and persistence, tempered by an underlying patience and inner calm. You are focused on what you need to do, and you go about it in a way that demonstrates great composure and maturity......The Strength Tarot card also reflects a compassionate approach."

Characters: Teresa, Camila(?)

The strength tarot card is upright for Teresa when she gets to Arizona. With her dealings with the La Commission she demonstrates a calm confidence and she's focused throughout. With Mayo she makes a slight blunder when she doesn't realize that Pecas sold her out him, but she readjusts and comes out "smelling like roses" as Pecas stated. Initially she wanted to go down a more upstanding route, one could consider that to be a "compassionate approach", when getting the sheriff to back down, however after he murders the reporter she realizes just what he is. She sends money to the family of the reporter who Mayo murdered as well, an act of compassion.

I'm iffy on whether or not this can apply to Camila due to the whole compassionate part of the tarot card(she sets up a woman to be murdered by Boaz's siccario), but if you ignore it it does represent Camila this episode as well. She patiently plays a long con against Boaz baiting him into an assassination attempt in order to get Reynaldo to ax him out the business. She showed composure, confidence, maturity and patience in this episode which is what the strength tarot is generally about.

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/strength/

Episode 5 El Juicio: Judgement Tarot Card - Upright"

“The Judgement card shows a number of naked men, women and children rising up from their graves.......The people are appealing to the angel, ready to be judged by the power of the Universe. In the background, there are huge mountains, or even tidal waves, which signify insurmountable obstacles and the impossibility of avoiding judgment........The Judgement card calls for a period of reflection and self-evaluation. The Judgement card suggests that you have had a recent epiphany or an ‘awakening’ where you have come to a realization that you need to live your life in a different way.....This integration has healed any deep wounds and you are now in a position to put the past behind you. Your memories no longer haunt you, and you are able to understand and value what has happened to you and what it has taught you about life."

Character: James

One way or another James will be "judged" for the death of Susie, a little girl who died in an explosion he set up after murdering her parents. James will either face his judgment from Devon or Teresa once she learns the truth. He’s willing to surrender himself over to Devon to be "judged" for what he did knowing full well that Devon plans on killing him, instead Teresa makes a valiant show of “forgiveness” by grabbing guns and standing her ground in defense of James. Previously in episode two James said that he wanted to do things in a different way, the death of Susie pushed him into this epiphany; he no longer believes in the words he told Teresa in 2x02 because Susie’s death and the time he spent with Teresa. Teresa's display of kindness, forgiveness, and acceptance helps James move forward.

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/judgement/

#queen of the south #qots #teresa mendoza #james valdez #pote galvez #camila vargas #king george #devon finch #jeresa

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updatesandreviews · 4 years

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Narcos: United Mexican States may be a show for people that need the war to last forever

Narcos started as a show regarding Pablo Escobar, a real-life felon United Nations agency outdid even the foremost outrageous fictional ones. The show designed a compelling two-season crime adventure story around his astonishing life and death. however whereas Escobar died, Narcos — successful that premiered in 2015, once Netflix was apace building its streaming empire — required to travel on. a 3rd season followed another Colombian combine. Then a by-product, Narcos: United Mexican States, half-tracked a parallel combine in Central America. the primary season elaborated its rise; the second chronicles its fall. If there was any purpose to any or all this, it’s become onerous to stay track of. The show is just too busy following the hard drug.

Narcos: United Mexican States is that the story of Mexico’s initial drug kingpin, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo (Diego Luna). the ten episodes that premiere on detail the dramatic implosion of Gallardo’s empire, a collapse that produces for terribly bingeable tv. Yet, despite the thrilling spectacle, exhaustion seeps in. even if it aims at being one thing additional, Narcos: United Mexican States doesn’t appear to possess ambitions so much on the far side those of the criminals it follows, pushing additional product. The second season of Narcos: United Mexican States needs to form a degree regarding consequences, a minimum of on a surface level. The collapse of Gallardo’s empire stems directly from brash actions taken throughout his ascent — most directly, the murder of Drug Enforcement Administration agent Kiki Camarena (Michael Peña), that sends agent Walt Breslin on a reckless mission of retribution. There are bridges burned on the manner, friendships burn to use as fuel for ambition that leave several needing to see Gallardo out of power. Throughout, Narcos sometimes makes overtures at the grander significance of the story it’s telling. Across ten episodes, Gallardo’s desperate maneuvers to retain management of his business and stick it to people who have slighted him have consequences that reverberate on the far side the criminal underworld, ultimately leading to a lateen presidential election. “Sound familiar?” the show’s speaker winks.

There is a protracted series of assumptions during this, concepts that are gift in Narcos from the beginning, as it sometimes paid feigning to their subversion: that Central and South yank nations ar lawless playgrounds for the corrupt, wherever prosperity will solely be appropriated by crooks and violence reigns. each currently so Narcos will its diligence to complicate this image, virtually entirely via narration: a tossed off line that notes the Mexican and Colombian drug trades exist totally to serve the appetites of the rich within the United States and Europe, or another regarding the essentially destabilizing influence of the United States’ policy that created issues in exchange for the glow of “solving” them. The actual ethical universe of the show is much simpler: dope dealers be whatever’s coming back to them, the unhealthy guys usually win, and therefore the sensible guys ought to be ready to do no matter it takes to prevent them. Narcos can’t actually complicate itself any more as a result of doing thus would acknowledge that every one these stories ar an equivalent story, and in telling them, the show becomes complicit. Midway through the primary season of Narcos: United Mexican States, Gallardo (Diego Luna) leaves his native country for a secret meeting in South America. in an exceedingly moment that’s designed to be an enormous surprise for old Narcos fans, Pablo Escobar (Wagner Moura) is expecting him. YOU COULD TELL THIS STORY INDEFINITELY “I’ve continually type of seen this as of the Marvel superhero universe of connecting narcotraffickers, which all of them exist,” showrunner Eric Newman told The Hollywood newsman shortly once the season premiered in 2018. It’s a unrefined manner of describing the dynamics at play in these stories of cartels and corruption, however additionally a really yank one. The gringos, because the Mexicans doing the dirty work for the combine bosses say, continually need additional. And what higher expression of “more” is there than the excesses of the trendy medium universe? This is however Narcos has carried on, and the way it'll keep it up if it continues its run. even as Narcos: United Mexican States harkened back to Narcos with a well-deployed Escobar anaglyph representational process a gathering that doubtless ne'er happened within the planet, the show continues to hint at the ways that it'll sprawl outward and continue telling these varieties of stories currently that it's exhausted the drama of Gallardo’s Federation. It’s not refined regarding it either, ensuring in its initial season that you just recognize Gallardo’s driver Joaquín Guzmán goes by “Chapo” and disbursement a substantial quantity of your time this season birth the groundwork for rivalries that he can carry into the long run, for what is going to be one among the foremost prolonged conflicts within the history of Mexico’s warfare. You could tell this story indefinitely, as a result of it's still being told nowadays, with each story of a White furious at the sound of Spanish being spoken, with each ICE raid, with each chant for the wall. combine dramas like Narcos ar fairy tales for a nation in decline, flattening numerous and sophisticated countries for the good thing about a nation that refuses to acknowledge the mayhem it's wreaked on the globe.Grammar Check

#narcos #web series #hollywood #english #mexico

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artemiseamoon · 1 year

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Hiya! I just joined A03 or whatever it’s called purely for your fics 😁😍 I’m just wondering if you had anymore Ramón Narcos Mexico work that I haven’t seen? I’m obsessed with “Flirting with danger” 😍🤩

Hi, well now that you’re on it, I hope you can find many more things to enjoy! There is a lot on there.

I do not have any other Ramón at this time though. I may, slight chance, have something sitting around in drafts, but not sure. My draft folder is like 100+ things deep so 😬

I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed Flirting with Danger! I think of it often, I love that pair.

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years

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A Picture is a Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 1

A/N: this is my Pacho x OC story. It is also slightly a Javier/OC story, which was unintended but here we are. My intention with Pacho here is to depict him as bisexual. If I ever get anything wrong, or if I need to clarify something, please tell me. Don’t be an ass about it, just tell me what I can do to improve it. TW: Slight depiction of a panic attack, swearing, some violence but its Narcos?? It should be expected I feel?

‘Thots” I mean ‘Thoughts’

“Italics” is them speaking Spanish, I was not about to fumble my way through Google Translate and hope that it made sense. Except for the first paragraph- that’s just a sneak peek at the future.

Gifs are from @scntacruz (go check out their stuff, if you love all things narcos/narcos mexico they are FABULOUS, their writing and gif sets are *chefs kiss*) and @lowndsiercs

A sharp ringing in her ears, a heavy object pinning her leg down, screams, shouts. This is all that she was aware of as she came too. ‘What happened?’ An explosion. Too close. Her eyes opened and she tried to focus on her surroundings but couldn’t. Everything was blurred, out of focus. A voice was shouting her name and all she could think was, ‘How the hell did I get myself into this mess?....Oh that’s right. A man.’

Blix had moved to Cali, Colombia about 2 years ago, with her then boyfriend. However, once he decided to show his true colors when he cheated on her in their bedroom, she left him. The problem was, she was all alone in Cali. Anyone she considered to be family was in New York. So, what was an American girl to do? She had her own money already, but it can be difficult to transfer money between countries.

Blix began working at a local bar to earn money, she lived in a small but nice townhouse near the downtown area. She did her best to create a new life and make the best out of a shitty situation.

When she wasn’t working at the bar, she was at a local park, drawing. She would draw portraits/landscapes, or caricatures. If the day was nice, she would bring chalk and draw on the sidewalks whatever came to mind. If she didn’t have any requests made during her time out there, she would simply draw whoever was walking around, or would just enjoy the feeling of the sun on her skin, the wind blowing her hair every which way.

Life was quite enjoyable, until one day when she made the mistake of drawing a few guys who were fooling around in the park, and one of them became suspicious of her. A few weeks later, she would meet a man who was nothing but trouble.

It had been a normal day; Blix had done a few fun caricatures of some kids who were playing in the park. She was idly staring around looking for some sort of inspiration before she packed up for the day. She heard them long before she saw them. About 5 guys, who were hooting & hollering, passing a joint between themselves. They talked loudly in Spanish about their latest conquests.

She thought, ‘Why not?’ and began to doodle them acting goofy.

While she was concentrating on the paper, one of the guys noticed her as she worked and glanced over at them multiple times. The man watched her with suspicion and quietly whispered to one of the others, who then took notice of her as well.

Blix finished up the caricatures and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at what she drew. With a nod of her head at it, she began to pack up her things. As she walked away, she was unaware of the eyes that followed her as she made her way out of the park. She made her way home and changed clothes for work as soon as the supplies were put away.

The job itself was alright; it was fun meeting locals and getting local gossip. The pay was good, and the tips were better. Blix worked most nights, with the exception of Thursday and Friday (even though she often covered those nights anyway with how few staff there was). Her shift started at 6pm and ended usually at about 3am. It was currently about 5pm and the bar was only a 20-minute walk from her home.

As Blix got ready for work, across town, trouble was beginning to brew for her.

The five men from earlier that day, strutted into the mansion (or rather one of) of Gilberto Orejuela, and asked to speak with him promptly. Moments later they stood before him and explained their suspicions that a woman may have been gathering information on them at the park.

However, they were all hyped up and talked over one another to the point where, Miguel, Gilberto’s brother, spoke up, “Gentlemen, calm yourselves, and one of you tell us, what exactly you wish to tell us.”

“Don Miguel, there’s a woman who may have been gathering information on us at the park. We asked around and it seems no one really knows who she is other than she there at that park every day and works at a local bar, Caliente,” Marco informed looking directly at the brothers. “It is suspicious that an American woman, not only lives alone but also spends her time at 2 locations.”

“An American you say?” A third man questioned, as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“Yes, Don Pacho,” Marcos confirmed. “Shall we tail her to see who she gets into contact with?”

“Let us discuss this further, in private, and then we shall let you know,” Pacho ordered as he directed them to wait outside the office.

As they stepped outside, Gilberto’s daughter, Marta walked forward, wishing to speak with her father about wedding details. Pacho held one finger up and mouthed, “One moment,” before closing the doors again. Marta leaned against the wall next to the doors and could hear parts of the conversation through the wooden double doors.

She heard mentions of an American woman and a local bar, she furrowed her brow as she listened further. She schooled her expression when she heard someone walk toward the door again.

“Tail her, don’t let her onto you,” Pacho instructed the men waiting outside. “Miss Marta, your father is ready to talk to you.” As he swooped his arm back into the office, holding the door wide open for her.

“Hello father, do you have time to talk about some wedding details?” She asked as a plan formulated in her own mind.

Back with Blix, she began her shift at Caliente, taking over the bar for the owner, Jacque, who tended to work for at least the first hour of its opening. He asked her if she needed anything, and upon her denial, walked toward his office, where he would stay for most of the night.

The night began as it normally does, locals coming in for the first few hours and shooting the breeze. After about 11:30pm, it switched over to more of the younger crowd, and tourists. An hour into making a hundred fruity drinks and tequila shots, she sighed as a lull came in the number of drinks that were being requested.

Her boss stepped out of the office at that point and told her to take her break for the night, that he would take over. She nodded her head and rinsed off her hands, before walking around the counter.

She made her way outside and took a deep breath of relief as the cool air washed over her. She stood there for a moment, before heading across the street to a local vendor, who sold street tacos and burritos, and other portable foods for the drunks of the streets.

“Hello Mr. Martinez, how are you doing this evening?” Blix asked as she leaned against the counter of his food truck.

“Doing just fine little fox. How about you? And do you want your usual?” asked Henri Martinez, a man about in his 40s, with prominent laugh lines and a soft voice.

“I’m alright Henri. And yes, my usual please,” She responded pulling out cash to pay for it.

“Miss Bee! Hi!” came the enthusiastic voice of Henri son, Paulo. “Look what I have just for you!”

He lifted a box of soda, Pepsi to be exact, and said, “These are all for you and no one else, cause I remember you said you weren’t a big fan of Coca-Cola.”

Bix laughed at his enthusiasm and replied astonished, “I mentioned that like once, over a year ago? How did you remember that?”

“Because he has a crush on you,” Henri mumbled loudly, shaking his head.

Paulo glowered at his father as a blush creeped up on his face. Blix decided to save his embarrassment by stating, “Well, I thank you for getting these. I know it probably was a bit of a hassle to get.” She then leaned over and gave Paulo a small kiss on the cheek, in thanks.

His blush got deeper, and he handed one of the cans of Pepsi before he muttered a soft “You’re welcome,” before disappearing again.

“He’s been waiting all day to show you that. Now, he is forever in love with you, you know that?” Henri teased as he cooked.

Blix simply shrugged with a small smile. When she first began working at the bar, she often would simply get food and leave. One night, a couple of guys tried to harass her as she waited, and Henri scared them off with butcher knife. Seeing him and his family wound up becoming the highlight of her nights there and she always felt welcomed with them.

Soon she had her food, steak tacos, and her soda, so she quietly ate and talked with Henri about his day, and what’s currently going on with his family. It was as this went on that a woman, a little bit younger than Blix, walked up with two of her friends. They ordered food and stood nearby as they waited.

One of them looked at her curiously and politely asked, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt. But may I ask where are you from? Your accent is unusual.”

“No, that’s fine. I get asked that a lot. I am from the United States. Georgia to be exact, the Southern accent is hard to get rid of. Hell, I even lived in New York for quite some time and that didn’t get rid of it. May I ask, do I sound silly when I speak, or am I just pronouncing things weirdly?” Blix asked back feeling self-conscious about her Spanish.

“No! I’m sorry! I just meant. With most Spanish dialects you can tell when a person is from a different country because of how they say certain words. I could just tell, you weren’t Colombian, so I was just trying to figure out where you were from,” She responded frantically trying to assure her that her Spanish wasn’t terrible.

She nodded her head, “Fair assumption. I’m Blix by the way, and you?” She introduced as she held out her hand to shake.

“I am Marta, these are my friends Felicity, and Isabelle,” She informed her, grasping her hand to firmly shake it.

Blix waved at the other two and they waved back. Blix looked at the time and realized her break was about to be over. “Well, I gotta get back to work. When ya’ll are done eating, come across the way and I’ll make ya some damn good drinks,” She offered, as she threw her trash away and started to cross the street.

She took control again over the bar and returned to serving drinks. Within 20 minutes she saw Marta and her friends come inside and they order shots, and cosmos. They took a seat at one of the tables near the small dance floor and continued to enjoy their night. Blix tuned out the rest of the evening, working simply on muscle memory, as she made her concoctions and received payments/tips.

It got down to the last hour of the night, and as most of the bar had cleared out, Marta and her friends moved to the bar and chatted with Blix as she began the process of cleaning the dishes.

“It’s almost closing time, if there are any last-minute drinks you want, you should probably order them now,” Blix recommended as a waitress brought over a tub of dirty glasses, and bottles that needed to be recycled.

Marta smiled and requested, “Another round of shots, that you should join us on, and surprise us with a favorite of yours.”

Blix smiled and said, “I’ll do a shot, but it won’t be tequila, we don’t agree with one another.”

She poured out 3 shots of tequila and a shot of bourbon. They toasted, tapped their glasses to the countertop and downed them in one go. She then began to make one of her favorites, called Shark Bite.

She explained what was in it as she made it and handed them each a glass, and as Marta reached into her purse to pay for the drinks and the shots, Blix stopped her by stating, “These were on the house.”

They all said thank you and finished their drinks with about 15 minutes to spare before closing. They said their goodbyes, made sure their tabs were closed and headed out. Blix finished the dishes, and helped the waitresses clean up the tables, as their boss closed the register. She had her tips separated from the waitresses and after pocketing them, waved goodbye to everyone, and headed home.

Marta came back practically every night for the next two weeks, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. She was fun to talk to and she loved to talk about her wedding plans- one she said wasn’t going to happen for another 2 years, because of timing. She adored her fiancée and spent much of her time either gushing about him or ranting about her family.

One night, just before she decided to head out for the night, she asked Blix, “Hey, do you have any plans this weekend?”

Blix shook her head before replying, “No I actually have the weekend off, because Jacque is training a new bartender to help me out. Why? What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you would like to have brunch with me and my family? I need an outside opinion on wedding details,” she asked with smile.

“Sure. When and where?” Blix questioned as she made a Mai Tai for a customer.

“Just be ready about 10am, I’ll have a driver come get you?” She informed her before asking for her address.

Blix quickly scribbled it down onto a napkin and handed it to her with a wave as she began the next order that came in.

Saturday morning rolled around faster than Blix thought it would. She had dressed in simple green sundress that had thin straps and fell around her mid-thigh. She slipped on some black pumps and grabbed her purse when she heard a horn honk outside at around 9:57am.

As she made sure she had everything she needed she stepped outside with the door slightly open, just in case she needed to grab something really quick.

Once she had confirmed she had everything she needed, she closed the door and locked it, before stepping down toward the car.

A man with curly, reddish-brown hair, that was slightly receding stood there holding the car door open. She had an odd feeling about him, as though she knew him but could not quite place it. There was something alarming about his smile, Cheshire-like and toothy.

She shook it off thinking she was just being paranoid and stepped into the car. About 20 minutes later they were pulling into a gated home, that was large and imposing, with small gardens around.

When she stepped inside of the lavish home, it was to a very open living room where Marta sat, with four other men, laughing, and three women standing nearby. As Blix moved further in, her breath caught in her throat, and she had to quickly control herself as she walked over to Marta.

Sitting before her were the Gentlemen of Cali: Gilberto & Miguel Orejuela, Pacho Herrera, and Chepe Santacruz. She gave Marta a hug and Marta introduce her to the four men there, and her mother(s) (?). She smiled and shook hands with the brothers, Chepe gave the back of her hand a kiss and with a small, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

Pacho also kissed her hand and murmured a greeting, but as he looked at her if felt like he was staring into her soul. Like he could see her every dark secret.

She nodded her head in greeting and they all took a seat. Food was brought out and Marta pulled out some wedding books and a notepad to write on. As they talked and quietly munched on small sandwiches, Blix could feel them watching her every move and tried not to panic.

Brunch passed by faster than she thought it would, and as Marta left to go get swatches of patterns, she was left alone with these four men, who looked like the cats that caught the canary.

Blix took a small breath, and asked plainly, “You gentlemen clearly know who I really am, may we just cut to chase?”

The man who had escorted her there, dropped a thick manilla folder onto coffee table, that had her name written on it. Gilberto leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and inquired, “So, Agent Blix Lage of the FBI. What exactly brings you to Cali? You have been here for two years, and yet, no one seems to know much about you? We do know that part of your backstory- the cheating boyfriend thing- is a lie. So. Explain to me why I should not be concerned about you?”

“Nothing that has to do with the cartels. I’m FBI not DEA. I don’t know what I’ve done to get onto your radar, but I assure you that unless you’ve stolen valuable art, I have no interest in you,” She admitted with a shrug, her attempt at playing it cool beginning to rattle as her hands shook.

“Our boys here, seem to be under the impression that you were gathering information on them at the park, about 2 weeks ago,” Gilberto continued, gesturing to a group of men by the door.

Blix looked over at them and did not recognize any of them and said as much, “I’m sorry but I really have no clue who they are. It is possible I drew them, but that’s it. I don’t often remember random faces I see in the park. Sorry.”

One of them stepped forward and started to shout at her, calling her a lying whore amongst other things. Pacho held a hand up, effectively stopping him in his tracks and signaled for him to step back. The man does so, muttering under his breath angrily as he did.

Pacho looked directly at her and before asking while lighting a cigarette, “Miss Lage, what exactly do you plan to do while in Cali?”

“None of your business Mr. Herrera, my case does not pertain you or anyone else in this room, nor does it pertain to Escobar, or any other cartel that comes around here. Not my jurisdiction. Simpler terms: Not my circus, not my monkeys. Now, unless you have a legitimate concern, I am going to leave now,” Blix firmly stated as she stood up, and began to make her way to the front door.

“Also, do inform your daughter Gilberto, that as much as I enjoyed her company these past few weeks, I think it would be best, she never shows her face around my workplace. And if you’re men ever have a problem with me, maybe I don’t know. Ask me a fucking question. Not assume the worst in a person,” She called over shoulder as she made her way out of the house.

The man from before stepped into her path, blocking her. She looked at him with a grimace and politely asked him to move out of her way. He shook his head and told her she wasn’t going anywhere. She asked again for him to move, and he shook his head again.

Blix sighed heavily and then with a vicious smile, threw a punch out and hit him directly in the throat. He choked and grasped at his throat, falling to his knees. With a swift kick of her right leg, she directed it at his face, and knocked him further down.

As he groaned on the floor, she looked at the others, and threatened, “Anyone else wanna play winner?”

When no one else moved toward she continued her path, purposely stepping on the man that laid before her, without a care.

As she stepped outside, she walked directly to the gate that the guards refused to open for her. She glared at them, then cracked her neck as she put a foot through the gap first and slowly maneuvered her body through it, with her head turned to face one direction. This was one of the few times she was grateful for being on the skinnier side and with a bit of wiggle and some hair getting caught briefly, she was out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back inside, Pacho and Chepe were chuckling at what they just saw. Gilberto and Miguel looked unimpressed by their men, and their inability to stop one woman. Marta walked back into living room confused for a moment before sudden realization came onto her face.

“So, father, is she a threat?” She asked returning to her seat.

“No, I don’t think so. She may be good ally to have though. If we can convince her that we mean no harm, that is. Chepe I would ask you to take on this task, but we need you back in New York. Pacho. Do you feel comfortable with this?” Gilberto requested looking between the two men.

Pacho nodded his head as he took a drag of his cigarette. “Should be no problem, Gilberto. From the looks of it, she will be easy to sway,” He assured looking down at her file and as he lit his cigarette.

“Don’t be too sure of that Pacho. She may give you a run for your money,” Miguel warned taking a puff of his cigar.

As Chepe boasted about Pacho’s ability to woo any man or woman, Pacho contemplated Miguel’s words, and had a feeling that he may be correct.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She stalked down the sidewalk going at least 2 blocks away before she called a taxi. The adrenaline was catching up and she was on the verge of panicking. She directed the cab driver to take her not to her house but to the airport. Her hands shook the entire time, as she paid the cabby for dropping her off 15 minutes later and as she purchased a ticket to Bogota.

She dug into her purse and flashed her FBI badge to security and was swiftly through security and on the last seat of the noon flight to Bogota. Her knee bounced the entire, and she gnawed on her lips as worried and panicked thoughts ran rampant in her head.

Two hours later, she landed in Bogota and swiftly made her way to the American Embassy, fury now built up within, replacing the fear. She made her way to the ambassador’s office; her secretary tried to stop her, but she did not care about niceties currently. She threw the doors open, and could see Javier Pena, Steve Murphy, and Horacio Carrillo, standing there speaking with the ambassador.

She pushed past them with no fuck’s given.

“Tell me something ambassador. Which one of the pricks of the CIA do I have to violently stab for leaking my dossier?” She asked her hands on her hip as she stood directly in front of her.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean, Agent Lage?” the ambassador asked with little confusion.

“Bullshit. Then tell me, how exactly does the Cali Cartel know about me? Seeing as how I was just in the lovely home of one Gilberto Orejuela and they appeared to know that my entire backstory, that I have worked for over TWO YEARS TO MAINTAIN was fake,” She angrily explained her voice raising often. “So, tell me, what deal did the CIA get on their knees for to fucking stab me in the back?”

Horacio came up to her and tried to pull her back away from the desk, lowly trying to calm her down.

She shook him off, before continuing since the ambassador had yet to answer her, “Listen, I know that every other department thinks that me and my team being here is a joke. That we are the least respected because we are a part of the art division. But when your decisions put not only my life in jeopardy, and not just the lives of my team, but threatens to ruin the case I have been working on for the past 2 years, someone had better give me a damn good explanation.”

The ambassador sighed, before she replied, “It was nothing personal against you.”

“Nothing personal eh?” Blix said disgusted, shaking her head.

She turned and stormed back out of her office, slamming the doors shut behind her.

Javier sighed and with a turn to the door, stated “I’ll go after her. Stop her from murdering someone.”

Javier made his way into the offices where he caught the ending of a confrontation between Blix and Stechner of the CIA, who she had punched him in the face.

Javier ran forward and grabbed her around the waist to pull her away from Stechner before she could do any more damage. She struggled against his hold yelling at him, “JAVIER LET ME GO!”

“ENOUGH! DON’T CAUSE MORE TROUBLE” Javier yelled back as he dragged her away.

He then threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the elevators. She sagged in his hold, furiously muttering and breathing heavy.

Javier didn’t put her down until they were in the parking garage and by his truck. He opened the door and sat her in, hooking the seat belt around her, and the door shut firmly.

He got into the driver’s seat and took off. He drove down the road a ways, stopping at a local café. He told her to stay there, before he stepped out of the truck and walked into the café.

Her anger was fading, and her hand throbbed from hitting Stechner in the face. She tried to take some deep breaths, but it felt like she couldn’t get enough air in. Her eyes were watering, and every sound seemed muffled, and her ears ringing. She barely noticed Javier’s return to the truck, nor did she notice when he unbuckled her seat belt. But she did notice his arms as they wrapped around her and pulled her into his chest.

The tears were falling freely now, and she buried her face into his chest and shuddered. She could vaguely hear him shushing her and whisper words meant to soothe her. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but soon, she felt the tears slowing and the world coming back into focus.

Blix gently pushed away, with a sniffle, rubbing the tears hurriedly off her face. She mumbled an apology, to which Javier gave a small laugh, and replied, “For what? Having a panic attack after spending the morning with the Cali Cartel? I’m an asshole sweetheart but I’m not going to get pissed at you for being legitimately afraid.”

She gave him a small smile in reply, and finally noticed the smell of coffee filtering the cabin. She looked at the dash, and saw 3 to go cups of coffee, and one cup of iced tea.

“Is that for me?” She softly asked pointing at the tea.

He nodded his head, and verified, “And yes. It is a sweet tea. Just like you like it.”

“Sweet tea, or tea that had sugar dumped at the bottom of the cup?” She questioned as she reached for it.

“There’s a difference?” He asked seriously before a smile broke out on his face, as a look of horror appeared on hers.

“As a Texan, you should know better than that,” Blix jokingly admonished as she pulled the cup to her and took a small drink.

“I also got you this, if you’re interested,” He teased as held a small box that had a cinnamon roll perfectly set in it.

“You’re going to make me fat, Javi,” She said with a pout.

“Oh, so you don’t want this then?” He asked pulling the box away. “I guess I’ll just throw it away then.”

She quickly leapt forward and grabbed ahold of the box and shouted, “No!”

She took it from him and held it protectively to her. He chuckled, and then gently asked “You feelin’ a bit better then?”

She nodded looking down at her lap. “C’mon. Let’s get back to office. I’ll help you check chatter to see if word has spread about you,” He offered, starting the truck back up.

“You would do that? For me? You hate listening to chatter?” Blix asked, eyes wide as she stared at him in shock.

“We’ve hit a dead-end with the Medellin cartel, again. So, may as well help you,” Javier responded nonchalantly, with a half shrug.

His attempt to play it off backfired as Blix leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“You’re a good man Javier Pena, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise, not even yourself,” she affirmed as she sat back in her seat, and buckled up.

Javier had a small smile on his face before he cleared his throat and moved the coffees to the middle seat before taking off. They made their way back to the embassy and began the long process of listening to chatter to see whether or not her case had been compromised.

As the day drifted into evening hours, and the office slowly emptied, Blix sighed and stretched to shake off the aches that had built up in her neck and back. Javier pulled off the headphones he had on and rubbed a hand over his face.

They were the only ones left at the office by this point. Steve left hours ago to go have dinner with Connie, and Horacio had to get back to base to train some rookies.

“C’mon. We are not going to hear much else tonight. You can come stay at my place,” Javier offered knowing that Blix did not have a place in Bogota because of how often she was in Cali.

“You sure I won’t cramp your style? I wouldn’t want to disrupt your favorite nightly routine of ‘interrogating the local nightlife,’” She teased slightly as she stood up.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always spend the night in the arms of a strange woman. C’mon now. Where else are you going to go? A hotel, with no change of clothes?” He asked throwing on his jacket.

She shrugged in response and grabbed her bag, followed him out to his truck. His place wasn’t too far from the embassy, just a quick 15-minute drive.

As they stepped into his apartment, he offered to order take-out for the both of them. She hummed in agreement, and they wound up ordering some pizza, one that was called the Carnivore, for its 5 meat toppings. 30 minutes later they were stuffing their faces, as they watched some crime drama, and pointed out the things that were wrong.

Between the 2 of them they had devoured the whole pizza, and Blix kept trying to stifle her yawns. Javier shook his head with a chuckle and got up and walked into his bedroom. He came back out with an old t-shirt and some shorts.

“Here, go change. I’ll take the couch,” he said as he shoved the clothes into her arms.

She nodded and headed into the bathroom to change. Minutes later she stepped out and called over to Javier, “Ya know, we are both adults, we can both share the bed. S’not like it’d be the first time we’ve slept together after all.”

She heard him take a sharp intake of breath before he got up from the couch. She walked with him into his bedroom, and crawled in on one side, and laid down on her back with a pleasant sigh of relief.

“If we are going to share this bed, Imma need you to not make those kinds of noises,” Javier pleaded as he got in on the other side, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

She giggled and murmured a quiet apology.

As they both laid there, Blix began to feel a sense of dread as she thought about the next few days.

“Is it stupid… that I’m terrified to go home? Granted today appears to show that nothing is wrong, but I… They know where I live. But I can’t exactly move because that would raise suspicions. I’m at a loss at what to do, Javi,” Blix confessed in a hushed voice.

“We’ll check chatter again tomorrow, and if nothing seems amiss, we’ll go from there. But if what you said earlier to me was true, than they’ve known where you been for the past 2 weeks and have done nothing.” He turned on his side to look at her as he spoke.

“I don’t want to give you a false sense of hope, but the Cali are not dumb. They are not going to attack an American federal agent. If I could, I would go and be your bodyguard for however long you need me, but I wouldn’t want to give your neighbors a heart attack and let them think you have a boyfriend finally,” Javier calmly soothed her worries and made her chuckle with his teasing.

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her; she settled into his arms and turned to face him. “Ya know, if you got over your commitment phobia you would make a very good husband to someone,” she complimented with a yawn, her eyes drifting shut.

He hummed in response and as she fell asleep, whispered to her, “Maybe one day I will for you,” before he too, fell asleep.

#pacho x oc #slight javier x oc #narcos #pacho herrera

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big-edies-sun-hat · 5 years

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Helping to get the word out about American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins. This book about the Mexican cartels was written by a (formerly) white-identifying woman, who, unlike Katherine Boo in India, does not exactly appear to have immersed herself* in her research:

[A] quintessential “Latin lover” shows up at Lydia’s bookstore and speaks to her in a tone significantly different from the other characters of American Dirt. I must emphasise, Javier’s dialogue does not reflect the normal speech patterns of Mexico, but perfectly reflects U.S. stereotypes. The only way to properly read Javier’s lines is through the most gross of caricatures.

One should imagine the husky voice of Antonio Banderas, speaking at his most sensual and Spanishy. Any character he has played in English will do, although it is clear that Javier was ideally written for the voice of Puss in Boots. When Lydia asks if Javier reads English, the dapper narco responds:

“I try, yes […] My English isn’t fluent, but it’s close. And this story is so delicate.”

Later, when Lydia praises him for being an ideal customer, he places a hand across his chest and gives a slight bow:

“I shall try to be enough […] If I had met you in a different life, I would ask you to marry me.”

… Curiously, during these protracted sequences, Lydia continues to speak with a normal English cadence. Only Javier employs this sexy, Banderas-esque speech.

How about we don’t, with this. How about we not.

The controversy is ongoing and best summed up by @lesbrains.

-----

* She does seem to have done in-person research, but notwithstanding, it seems the novel is full of errors that someone more familiar with Mexico would not have made.

#american dirt

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talesfromthebookdragon · 4 years

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Book Spotlight and Giveaway!

Hello Fellow Book Dragons! Welcome to our first Book Spotlight, where I will spotlight a book and it’s author here in The Cave. This may be a book that has just launched or an old favorite that deserves another day in the sun. This week, it’s Dragon Feeder Jeanine Kitchel’s follow to her Narco Noir Gem “Wheel’s Up”. Tulum Takedown promises to be just as good! And is also a stand alone if you have not had a chance to catch “Wheels Up” yet. Jeanine provided us with a excerpt from her new Gem! Read to the end to find out how to win a Kindle Set of “Wheels Up” and “Tulum Takedown”!

TULUM TAKEDOWN EXCERPT

by Jeanine Kitchel

A Journalist A Missing Girl A Fatal Deadline.

OVERVIEW:

While hiding out after her daring assassination of a cartel rival, Layla Navarro, head of Mexico’s most powerful cartel, develops an unlikely friendship with a beleaguered Mexico City journalist that leads her to the sun-drenched beaches of Tulum. This excerpt reveals how their universes collided.

FROM CHAPTER 5

Layla followed Yolanda to a mixed group of men and women who were listening intently to a dynamic woman standing dead center. Layla faded back as she eavesdropped on the conversation.

“He was coming out of the office, another long work day,” the animated woman, dressed in a gray linen pant suit, said. “They mowed him down like a dog in the street.”

That got Layla’s attention. Were they talking about the dead journalist?

“What had he done?” one of the men asked.

“Oh, please, Javier! What hadn’t he done or written about those savages? He never let it rest. Do you know how many death threats he’d had over the years? Six! Can you imagine going to work, not knowing if you’d make it out of the building alive? Even inside isn’t safe! Remember Monterrey!”

Everyone nodded. Who could forget the cartel’s boldness when they’d stormed past a security guard at that city’s newspaper offices, killing the guard, receptionist, and two journalists.

“Whose idea was it to run it?”

“Augusto’s,” the speaker said. “As publisher, he calls the shots. I think it was clever. What else can be done, except to try to appease them? The police and government are no help.”

Again, everyone nodded, no doubt thinking their own thoughts on the death and destruction that had come not only to those involved in cartel business, but to those who merely put pen to paper and wrote about it.

“It’s easy to kill a journalist in Mexico,” the reporter said, her shiny hair pulled back in a low chignon. “They killed a hundred and twenty-five of us since 2000. Twelve last year alone!Twenty-five more disappeared. Only eight federal investigations. Convictions—one. It’s laughable.”

“Can’t someone do something?” a fellow party-goer asked.

“Hmmph. Who? The president? He’s too busy coiffing his hair for his next TV close-up.”

Someone snickered.

“Mexico is the most dangerous country in the western hemisphere to be a journalist. And if we’re not threatened by the cartels, we’re stalked by the government. They’re destroying the country’s freedom of press. No one is brought to justice.”

Layla, standing a slight distance from the crowd, nudged Yolanda. “Who is she?”

Yolanda leaned in. “Alma Reyes. The only woman reporter for the News. She was kidnapped out of her apartment last year, with her bodyguard. Men pretending to be federal agents closed off an entire city block searching for her in a manhunt, going from apartment to apartment. They put her in a car trunk. She survived, but her bodyguard was murdered.”

###

If you enjoyed that as much as I did, please got to Amazon now and order the book! https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Tulum+Takedown&ref=nb_sb_noss Available for free on Kindle Unlimited! Also, follow Jeanette on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/Jeanine-Kitchel-255426494528083/ . Follow this blog, Jeanette on Facebook and Tales From the Book Dragon on Facebook. Contest closes at 11:59PM EST March 29th. Facebook is in no way connected to this contest. Winner will be announced Monday 3/30.

I hope you have enjoyed our first Spotlight!

Drakon T. Longwitten, Book Dragon

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mrcoreymonroe · 6 years

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The Joy Of ADF

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Like many of you, I bought my first airplane a long time ago, and the panel looked like something out of a South American locomotive. There was a very tired, crystal-controlled Narco VHT3 navcom that worked on alternate Thursdays when the moon was full. There was also an equally weary but still functional Bendix T12D ADF that looked as if it shouldn’t work but did.

At the time, I regarded the Bendix as a wonder box. It was the simplest possible form of radio navigation. The needle pointed at the station. End of directions.

Simplicity isn’t necessarily all it’s cracked up to be. ADF offers no distance or altitude information and no internal heading info, though following the needle could provide a bearing to the station. If you could receive two strong signals with the proper geometry, you could switch back and forth and sometimes triangulate a rough position. Very rough.

ADF was simple and primitive, but it worked…most of the time.

Anyone who’s read Rod Machado, William Kershner or any of a dozen other aviation textbook authors can probably recite chapter and verse as to why ADF has been all but abandoned as a primary nav aid for VFR and IFR flight.

The system dates back to the 1920s, and no, this isn’t a historical dissertation on the superiority of ADF over today’s satellite-based, supremely accurate navigation technology.

ADF operates in the LF band that ranges from 200 to 415 kHz and the AM, commercial broadcast band that plays between 550 and 1600 kHz. Unlike some clear channel, AM broadcast stations that boast power up to 50,000 watts, dedicated aviation LF stations generally make do with 200 watts or less.

Of course, as everyone learned in flight school, the LF signal is notoriously unreliable in convective weather. Any electrical discharge, typically a thunderstorm, can drive the needle crazy, most often pointing at the nearest lightning flash. Terrain errors, common in mountainous areas, can induce erratic readings. Ionosphere error during sunrise and sunset also can cause fluctuations in the readout. Bank error can compromise the DF function when the aircraft is in a turn.

The former owner of my 1946 Swift had a directory of commercial AM broadcast stations that he carried with him everywhere he flew, and he bequeathed that book to me when I bought his airplane. The info in the directory and my Bendix ADF helped me travel to pretty much anyplace I wanted to go.

Blessed with undeserved courage and limited aviation brain cells, I flew the Swift from Southern California to practically everywhere in North America except Mexico. Though my directory provided the lat/long of the transmission source, it didn’t relate to the airports’ location. I could usually determine that info from Acc-U-Quik or by consulting the chart.

I was reminded of all this a few weeks back when Dan Neil, auto reviewer for the Wall Street Journal, wrote a story in his Rumble Seat column about driving coast-to-coast across the lower U.S.A. in his minivan.

Neil waxed poetic about the joy of driving at night when some AM broadcast stations could reach out and touch him from 2,000 miles away. Obviously, Neil had no DF capability in his van, but that barely mattered since he was forced to follow the interstate highway system anyway.

When I flew at night over Southern California, I was a little amazed to sometimes tune WABC in New York (770 kHz) and have the stations come booming into my headset as if they were on the phone.

Moot point. The Swift had a range of about 350 nm, so those far-flung stations were never my destinations. At least, the ADF could point out the proper direction to the station, sometimes even in daylight.

When I was learning to fly in Alaska, navigation was mostly by pilotage, dead reckoning or ADF. Few trainers had VOR receivers. Mountains are practically everywhere in the 49th state, so even when VORs finally became available, their application was limited.

When ADF worked, it was the closest thing we had to long-range nav. Fortunately, most general aviation aircraft came equipped with ADF in that era, and it seemed there were NDBs everywhere.

When I began delivering airplanes overseas in 1980, ADF became even more valuable. LF beacons are relatively inexpensive to buy and maintain, and they’re still used extensively all over the world, especially in Africa and on many remote Pacific islands.

The advent of GPS has eclipsed much of the NDB’s application in the U.S., and the FAA is slowly decommissioning more and more of those low-frequency stations.

LF beacons and four-course ranges were standard in many places until VHF/VORs began to supplant them in the early 1960s. The VOR network was good for short distances over land but not so good over the ocean.

On the standard, 1,800-nm leg from Gander, Newfoundland, to Shannon, Ireland, we used to tune a commercial broadcast station (Radio 2 – 566 kHz, I think) that happened to have its transmitter located directly east of Shannon.

If atmospheric conditions were good, we could track that signal all the way across the Atlantic. Sometimes, when conditions were optimum, we could pick up Radio 2 while sitting on the ramp at Gander.

If we homed on the station with the needle, we’d sometimes prescribe a slight arc across the ocean because of frequent, northwesterly crosswinds. Most of the time, the added distance was less than 5 percent of our total. If we “tracked” to the station, using a wind correction angle, we could often reduce or eliminate the error.

More importantly for pilots who were smarter than to overfly oceans, ADF allowed tuning LF frequencies at airports across the U.S. These stations weren’t always very strong, but some offered NDB approaches that allowed IFR procedures when weather was marginal.

Coincidentally, a non-directional beacon (CPM–378 kHz) was mounted on the side of my hangar in Compton, California until a few years ago. One joke around the airport during instrument weather was that if I could call ahead and have someone open my hangar door, I could fly right into my hangar. Not!

ADF was usually a good friend. I used it religiously, even after the VHF/VOR network was introduced. Every airplane I’ve owned has been equipped with ADF, and the system has been a valuable backup more times than I can count.

Once, back in the ‘80s, well before the introduction of GPS, I was flying a 36 Bonanza outbound from Honolulu, final destination—Perth, Australia. I was halfway out on the second, 2,000-nm Pacific leg toward Majuro in the Marshall Islands, still 1,100 miles distant.

The Majuro NDB was strong and pointing straight ahead when the needle lost lock and wandered slowly around to the 90-degree-right, park position. I tried to check the identifier, but there was nothing on the frequency. Majuro’s beacon had gone off the air.

No cause for panic. For what it was worth, I still had my dead reckoning flight plan, but that was based on best guess winds aloft in Honolulu, now far behind me. My chances of finding tiny Majuro, a half-moon coral atoll about three miles across counting the lagoon in the center and still 1,000 nm away, were marginal, at best.

I called up San Francisco long range on HF and asked if they could check with Majuro on the problem with the NDB.

San Francisco called back a few minutes later and said they were still trying to contact Majuro. Apparently, there’d been a major power outage, and even San Francisco couldn’t raise anyone at Majuro.

Meanwhile, with no better plan in place, I kept doing what I’d been doing, hoping that someone could get the NDB back on the air. Power failures are common on mid-Pacific atolls, and they usually don’t last long, I kept telling myself.

Sure enough, a half-hour later, the needle came back to life and rotated back to top center. At the same time, San Francisco called and said someone at Majuro had forgotten to refill the generator’s emergency fuel tank. When the power failed, the voltage drop was supposed to kick the generator back on and keep the NDB on the air. No gas, no signal.

Perhaps sadly, the advent of GPS has eclipsed ADF in both OEM and the aftermarket. Most aircraft manufacturers still offer ADF as an option, but many buyers don’t bother to check that box, because GPS is regarded as invincible.

Don’t believe it. I was flying a Cessna Grand Caravan from Guam to Seoul, Korea, on the last leg of a ferry delivery from Santa Barbara a decade after the Majuro incident and was treated to a GPS “blink,” a brief signal loss on both panel-mount GPSs and my two portables.

I was flying in strong headwinds toward Hiroshima, Japan, and the airplane was 1,700 pounds over gross with ferry fuel. Plus, with a cargo pod hanging down, the Caravan was about as aerodynamic as a stagecoach, so I was only grounding (watering?) 120 knots. Plus, Dumbo, the dancing bear in the left seat, hadn’t checked the ADF before departing from California. It turned out the ADF was stone cold dead.

Japan and Korea are hard targets to miss if you can merely read a compass, but I was still grateful the GPS signal came back online in about 20 minutes.

Before you sign on to your MacBook or Dell to ask, yes, I’m a big fan of GPS. I have two of them on my current Mooney’s panel, plus a semi-permanent Garmin backup on top of the dash, and they’re my primary nav sources. I also have a small Terra ADF tucked into the lower right corner of the panel, and it’s on most of the time during every flight, just in case GPS decides to blink at me again.

Check out more Cross-Country Log flying stories from ferry pilot and Senior Editor Bill Cox.

The post The Joy Of ADF appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

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