When You Least Expect It | Aaron Hotchner

four

Hotch

We were tucked away in the back of what was carefully disguised as a beat-up movers' truck with Mia and Gabe.

Despite how packed it was in here, the space was well-ventilated with air-conditioning.

This all seemed to be something of a slice of paradise for Garcia, who hasn't stopped marvelling at the extensive amount of tech the ESF has in here and she has been hovering over Mia's shoulder ever since we came onboard.

The latter doesn't seem to mind it though, happy to have someone she could talk tech with. From what I could tell, while the rest of the ESF are trained to work with the tech just fine, none of them has a particular interest in it like our analysts do.

I admit, I haven't been paying attention to them much, though.

My eyes have been glued to the monitors that lined the wall of the truck, and for some reason, I haven't been able to take my eyes off of them.

I was anxious about how things were going to turn out. More anxious than I cared to admit.

Any minute now, Danny, who was acting as a chauffeur, would be dropping Olive off on the front curb of Indulgence.

The place has been set up to look like a thrift store, allowing it to blend seamlessly in with the various random shops that were neighbouring it.

Right on schedule, a sleek black SUV pulls up in front of the store and Olive steps out of the car, looking like something out of a dream.

She walks through the front door of the thrift shop, pulling a gold mask over her eyes.

A burly guy, who I assumed was a bouncer, greets her at the door. The two of them exchanged a few words before he starts to lead her to the back.

As soon as Olive disappears into the shop, Mia's fingers are flying across the keyboard and it couldn't be more than several seconds before the screen flashes with feed from the cameras inside.

The doors open, revealing Olive as she struts through it with confidence radiating off of her like heat on a hot summer day.

Eyes follow her as she walks through the room towards the bar, and I wonder if she knows just how stunning she looks in that dress.

Like what is commonly said, sometimes the dress wears the person. But with Olive, she wears the dress and she owns it like it was made just for her.

Her presence commands the room and as soon as she settles at the bar, men flock to her, but she shoots them down one after another once she's determined that they aren't our unsub.

The clock ticks and she manages to shake off every guy who approaches her no matter how insistent they are.

But that was part of the problem, our unsub wouldn't give up on his target this easily. With plenty of women to pick from in a club where everyone had the same expectations, the men aren't putting much of an effort into charming the women.

Now, Olive sits alone at the bar, her eyes taking in every detail of the place.

Almost half an hour ticks by until a man, clad in an all-black suit, slips into the empty seat next to her.

She turns towards him, eyes appraising. Whatever she sees there, has her turning towards him and leaning forward in mock interest.

The guy calls out for the bartender, who nods at something he says before serving up several shot glasses of clear liquid.

Olive flutters her lashes at the guy, playing the part so perfectly that a tinge of something that felt dangerously like jealousy blossoms in my chest.

I watch as she throws her head at something he says and my hands ball up into fists on the tabletop.

It's strange to have to watch everything unfold on screen like I was imposing on an intimate moment I wasn't supposed to.

On the outside, it looked as if they were a normal couple in the club that had hit it off. Except, I knew they weren't. And as the guy leans forward when he thinks Olive isn't looking and proceeds to drop something into her drink, I knew we had our unsub sitting right across from her.

Olive looks oblivious as she turns back to our unsub, but I see the suspicion in her eyes as they dart down to the shot in front of her.

With an ease I have never witnessed before, Olive leans forward and directs the unsub's attention to something on the opposite end of the room. With his attention divided, Olive switches her drink out with another in the bunch and picks it up to knock it back just as he turns his gaze back on her.

As time ticks on, the unsub grows more handsy, and she lowers her face into her hands like she's starting to feel dizzy.

The guy then leans in, pushing her hair back in a gesture that comes across sweet and caring- probably to a plot to disarm his victims- before he leans in and whispers something in her ear.

Olive looks up at him with something akin to relief on her face and nods in response to whatever he was saying to her.

With that, he wraps a hand around her back and helps her off of the stool, all the while, Olive keeps up the appearance of being affected by the drugs he had roofied her with.

Her steps are wonky and disoriented. The way her chest heaves and the way she's swaying as she struggles to keep up with him has me worrying for a minute that her other drinks had been drugged without our notice too.

But then, she throws her head back and her eyes connect directly with the camera, and it relinquishes any doubt in my mind that she was in trouble.

It's clear to me now that the woman is perfectly capable of handling the situation...that is until I see that they're headed for the exit.

"What is she doing?" I demand, raising from my seat the moment she steps foot out of the club. "She is not supposed to leave the premises. This is not part of the plan!"

I'm not sure what exactly was spurring me on, but despite the protests of her team that Olive knows what she's doing, I'm pushing open the heavy metal doors of the truck and going after her.