How The Crow Flies - pt. 9
Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover
Word count: 5.4k
Chapter Summary: You and Javier complete the raid on Lorea's house while Frankie is escaping with what is remaining of his crew
Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, violence, and blood mentioned heavily in parts, including description of bodies piled up, admitting of feelings (to the best of his ability) by Javier, SMUT including riding, but honestly it's brief.
A/N: Omg the final part! Once again, thank you guys for being patient. I hope you all enjoy and don't hate me for how I left it at the end...open to interpretation? Anyways....love you all! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!
Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee
Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired.
His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”
“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes.
He knows they are all pissed at him.
Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter.
How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash…
All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks.
This is going to be long and torturous.
Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”
You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”
He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following.
“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up.
As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer.
“Someone is coming.”
“Get the boy somewhere safe.”
You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.”
Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”
“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”
“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.
He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead.
You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”
He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing.
No one.
You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it.
You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.
“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either.
“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went.
Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it.
Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.
Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.
“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them.
Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again.
He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him.
“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him.
Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket.
Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”
It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”
Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue.
A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”
When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”
Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.”
Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth.
Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”
“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”
Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”
“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”
Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all.
Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels.
Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”
He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”
Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”
“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.
Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs.
Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.
You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.
You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it.
You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground.
Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this?
You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”
Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out.
You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”
“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”
You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”
“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”
You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening.
You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people.
You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way.
Frankie was a hiccup.
The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone?
Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone.
Frankie had said they were here for a payday.
Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside.
Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money.
To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full.
You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.
Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner.
That son of a bitch was going to fire him.
You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems.
“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”
“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”
Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”
“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”
“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”
“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”
Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus.
No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.
The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall.
His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly?
There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view.
He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands.
An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears.
“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.
You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”
Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs.
Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”
You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.
You were fired, of course.
Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”
Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…
You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position.
He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.
You felt like a fuck up.
His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”
“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail.
Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”
“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip.
He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”
You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”
“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions.
“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie.
Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”
Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”
He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”
“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was.
It was mostly just complicated.
Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission.
You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him.
He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours.
They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”
He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”
Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”
“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls.
He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest.
You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand.
It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully.
He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work.
The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him.
He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.
It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face.
“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple.
You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”
He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”
Two weeks later
You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase.
You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.
Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”
“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”
“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”
“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”
“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”
“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness.
“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms.
“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”
“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”
“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”
“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door.
He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference.
You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat.
After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster.
The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”
A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm.
“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly.
“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want.
“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen.
“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned.
You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”
“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”
You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it.
The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you.
“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh.
“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you.
You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”
“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited.
“Well, yeah I–”
“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts.
You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided.
“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm.
You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words.
You click the phone shut, looking around you briefly before tossing the burner into the nearby trash, stepping toward the entrance to get your bags checked. Frankie could memorize your new number later.
