Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way

Part Ten.

**For Carlos the face I used is Manny Montana, but particularly Manny as Rio from the show Good Girls. The references to his appearance and tattoos is from how he looked in that show**

The cartel party is being hosted in a massive, three-story building that appears to double as housing and a supply warehouse for the subsequent criminals within. Prior recon provides you with knowledge of the basic floor plan of where the event is being held and the location of the weapons cache they have housed on the property. There is also a presumed area where they store the copious amounts of drugs they peddle to the masses. Soap had been unable to gain its whereabouts from outside when he'd done his recon, so it was up to you to locate and provide that information—a small task in comparison to having to gain their leader's trust.

It wasn't going to be easy. There were guards damn near everywhere, each well strapped with a rifle in their grip. The entrance alone was lined with watchful eyes that you could only assume had trigger-happy fingers.

Pushing down the fresh hurt from your confrontation with Soap, you hold your chin high and put a sway in your step as you are escorted to a burly-looking man who glances between you and an iPad clutched in his meaty fist. If all had gone to plan, an "inside" contact would have spread the word of your false story far and wide enough that they know precisely why you are here. You give the man a placating grin, and his answering smarmy smile tells you everything you need to know.

"The boss is expecting you, traidora." He smiles, his eyes roaming across every inch of your exposed skin that it can find. He reaches out a hand, and it causes you to cringe, to which he lets out a grating laugh. "Rules are rules. I have to pat you down."

You don't say anything, teeth gritted, as his large hands slide across your body. He lingers too long in places he shouldn't and only continues with his search when you clear your throat loudly. Agonizing minutes later, he finally deems you cleared with a satisfied smirk and ushers you inside to the sleeping beast that lurks within.

SOAP'S POV:

Out of every place I want to be in this exact moment, camouflaged amongst the nature of the Mexican mountainside, is the absolute last fucking place on that list. I should be down there with [Y/N] either as her escort or to blow out the brains of every creep that looks in her direction, which has been way too many. In the last 15 minutes alone, I've had to force my finger off the trigger of my gun out of restraint.

As furious as it makes me, I can't blame them for how their stares linger. She looks fucking exquisite in that dress. The only thing that keeps me from ripping off this stupid ghillie suit to charge down there is the privilege of getting to watch her like this. Every move she makes has me utterly entranced. The mask of confidence she has up is so sexy and reminds me so much of the girl she used to be before I ruined her.

There is no end to self-loathing brewing inside me when it comes to how horribly I've treated her. Having control has always been fundamental to who I am, and that flies out the window every time I look at her. It absolutely terrifies me. I devolve into a brain-dead asshole who breaks her apart because I have no clue how to handle all of the things she makes me feel. It is both harrowing and intoxicating to feel my discipline slip between my fingers while I am powerless to stop it. I would give anything to fix this mess I've made; to pick up the broken pieces of herself she has laid at my feet and put them back where they rightfully belong...but I am a fucking coward.

I shake the stinging thoughts from my head. I can't let myself brood over that right now. [Y/N] is down in enemy territory, and she needs me enfolded in the present, to keep her alive.