For week 21 of GBB weekly prompts: contact. You will not believe how far removed from the prompt this is. cw for a couple mentions of blood and death. Smidge of max/gp. About 1.8k
The mission goes sideways right at the last moment.
Max is sitting in the target's lap, playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt, distinctly aware of the positions of the two bodyguards (one by the pool, the other by the stairway entrance) and of Daniel (beside the table, refilling a fruit bowl). He can't see him, but he knows that Alex must be watching them too through the viewfinder of a sniper rifle.
He can feel the targets dick get harder under his ass and he smiles, knowing that as soon as he finally manages to drag him into a cabin their mission will finally be able to proceed and they'll be able to go home.
Then, just as he bends towards the target's ear, ready to whisper seductively an offer he won't want to refuse, the bodyguard by the stairwell brings a hand up to his earpiece, a confused expression painted on his face, movement immediately mirrored by the other bodyguard. Max sees Daniel retreat from the corner of his eye, head tilting slightly in that way he had never been able to fully get rid of as he listens to his own, much better hidden earpiece.
The target's hands squeeze Max's waist, apparently completely unaware of the tension suddenly building on the yacht's deck, and Max is momentarily distracted as he tries to find a way to extract himself from his grip without causing a scene.
The moment in which he turns fully towards the target is almost enough to get him killed.
There's an exclamation, a scuffle of too-heavy boots on the polished wood of the deck, then a hand wrenching at his wrist, tugging him violently away from the target. Max lets himself drop, shouting in fake pain, desperate to keep up the charade for a few last precious moments, when he sees red starting to pour from one small perfect circle in the middle of the bodyguard's forehead.
The target doesn't manage to scream before Daniel is hitting him in the back of the head with an empty tray, the metal ringing loudly in the ocean breeze, and Max struggles back to his feet, noticing the other bodyguard lying just as dead as the first on the deck.
"We have 10 seconds before staff comes up," Daniel says, handing him a earpiece and a gun. Max takes the earpiece, ignores the gun, and plunges his hands into the targets pockets instead, grabbing for the wallet he had felt there.
"What the fuck happened?" he asks, clipping the earpiece in and plucking his discarded shirt from the pillows beside the unconscious target.
"We've been betrayed," Alex's slightly tinny voice says in his ear. "The bodyguards got a message telling them what you were there for."
Max swears, rifling through the bodyguards pockets as Daniel blocks the stairwell door with a chair, heavy steps echoing up behind it.
"I'm going to bring the boat as close as possible," Alex tells them, the sound of the engine already loudly trying to overpower his voice. "Jump."
Max swears again, grabbing the target's phone from the table, then following Daniel overboard.
--
"What the fuck was that?" Max demands as soon as he drags himself on the boat, water dripping from his soaked clothes, Daniel swearing as he pulls himself up behind him.
He crushes the earpiece on the deck, now that's been rendered useless by the salt water but could still be traceable, then marches towards Alex, who's tensely steering the boat back around, heading for the harbor, rifle still propped beside him.
"I don't know! Fuck, we were almost done!" Daniel complains, finding two towels and throwing one at Max.
"Who knew what we were doing?" Alex asks. It's almost a rhetorical question: nobody knows outside the Academy. But to think that they might have been given up...
"That's nonsense," Daniel declares, vigorously drying his hair, turning it into a frizzy mess. "What reason would they even have for that? We have done nothing but out jobs."
Max drops into the sea next to Alex, shrugging off his sopping shirt, eyes unfocused on the slowly approaching coast as he thinks.
"Could have been a singular person," he muses, feeling anger and confusion battle in his chest. "Someone angry. Or jealous."
He knows they all have a list of people who could satisfy either requirement, so he doesn't push for it. Instead, he carefully dries the stolen phone and the wallet.
The phone is dead, obviously, but they could still be able to recover something from it, with the appropriate tech. If they get access to it, of course. The cash is useless, but there are a few credit cards they could use until they get something safer, and a passport that could come in handy too.
Behind him Daniel takes a couple of steps, throwing the damp towel away with half a scream.
"Fuck! This is..." he stops, so angry he can't even find the right way to describe the clusterfuck of a situation they're currently in.
Max can relate.
Until they figure out what happened, they can trust nobody from the Academy, which means they're left with very few resources and even less safe spaces to hide. As far as they know, there could be something in the harbor ready to shoot them as soon as they anchor.
"Let me steer," he tells Alex, standing back up, "and go back to the viewfinder. I want to know everyone who's at the dock."
Alex doesn't argue, slipping off his seat and setting his rifle back up with practiced movements.
"Even if there's nobody there," Daniel says, finally sitting down too, "we have nowhere to go. As soon as we use the dude's money we'll be tracked, and we can't use our documents to leave the country, because those are for sure monitored too. We're trapped."
Max shakes his head, hands too tight on the wheel.
"We need to get to land, a new phone, and somewhere safe enough to lay low while I make a phone call. I have a contact."
"Max," Daniel starts wearily, "anyone tied to the Academy..."
"He's not with the Academy," Max interrupts, "he's safe."
Daniel starts to argue again, but Alex cuts him off, voice tense.
"Three people on the right of the deck, looking too much like tourists to be. No weapons in sight, yet."
"Wait for us to be close enough to swim, then if they're still there take them out," Max orders, pushing the boat a little faster. "Daniel, stay low, you're too exposed. As soon as we can, we leave the boat running and we jump."
--
It's startlingly easy to steal things from rich people. They are so trusting of their silly little alarms and of their security measures, they forget both are easily put out of work with the right amount of knowledge.
Alex gets them into a yacht four decks away from the one they were supposed to arrive at, as screams erupt behind them, the boat they had left going crashing into something with an almighty boom.
They stay just long enough to dry themselves off, change into a couple of crew shirts Daniel manages to find, then jump off again, heading into the city.
"We have five minutes at most before someone realizes we aren't in the harbor anymore," Daniel says, smiling cheekily at a group of giggling girls, tipping the hat he had stolen off a hook in the yacht.
"We can..." Max starts, but Alex is shaking his head already, smoothing his frown just before it has the full chance to form.
"We're not splitting up. We're getting you a phone and then a room."
Neither Max nor Daniel argue.
Ten minutes later they walk past a small house with a light blue gate, a cheery B&B sign in front of it, and they don't hesitate before walking inside. Forty minutes later, they have a room and, thanks to the helpful directions of their host, a new phone.
"So this contact..." Daniel says, laying down on one of the two beds with a sigh.
"I met him at the Barcelona job," Max tells him, impatiently waiting for the phone to boot up. "He can get us money and papers."
"And he's not with the Academy?" Alex asks, just to be sure, opening every single cabinet in the little room just to find them all empty.
"Not anymore."
Daniel and Alex's heads snap up at the same time, glaring at him.
"What the fuck do you mean not anymore, Max? That's not what I would call fucking safe, what the fuck!" Daniel exclaims, pushing back up to a sitting position.
The phone lets out a cheery tune as it finally lets Max into the home screen, and Max starts tapping through the setting up process.
"Trust me, he's safe," he tells them, not even looking up. "I'd trust him with my life."
"And ours, apparently," Alex mutters under his breath, but they don't stop him as he finally punches him the familiar number.
It rings twice before it's picked up, silence on the other side of the line.
"It's me," Max says, "and I am in a fucking mess."
"Of course you are," GP's calm voice answers, "what do you need?"
--
By the time they land in Cardiff all three of them are completely exhausted.
They had stayed hidden in the room for a day, until the package from GP had arrived, filled with freshly counterfeited documents and full credit cards. Then they had gotten a car and driven out of Italy and into France, where they had changed the car to get to the Lyon airport. From there they had flown to Alicante, and then finally to Cardiff, where another rented car with tinted windows welcomes them under a drizzling rain.
Max drops in the driver's seat with a groan, allowing himself one moment to close his eyes before shifting into drive.
"How long is it?" Daniel asks with a yawn, head leaning against the passenger seat headrest. Alex is already laying down in the backseat, long legs awkwardly curled up against his chest.
"Bit more than an hour," Max answers, carefully queuing up towards the exit. "You can sleep, I got it."
Daniel doesn't make him tell him twice.
An hour and a half later Max turns into a gravel driveway, exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. The cottage at the end of it is small, but the lights spilling out of the windows is warm, and, most importantly, it's safe.
Daniel and Alex wake up as he parks, but Max doesn't wait for them before getting out, stumbling towards the man standing in front of the open door, dropping into his arms with a shudder.
"What the hell did you get yourself into, Maxy?" GP asks, hugging him tightly.
Max can't find the words, too tired to think anymore, just shaking his head against the soft fabric of GP's t-shirt.
"Ah, sweetheart," GP sighs, kissing his messy hair, which must for sure be disgusting from all the travel. "It's fine, I got you now, we'll figure it out."
Max closes his eyes and holds him tighter, trusting him to be right.
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