all american • javier peña

Chapter 6 [REWRITE]

Sloane avoided Javi in the weeks that followed, and for once he was willing to give her space. Evidently, there was a new lead on Pablo that Javi had received from one of his sources. She was supposed to go with Carrillo and his team on the raid, and the two DEA boys would be staying back. She'd be on a motorbike trailing the rest of the convoy.

She strapped her plate carrier to her chest as all the other men prepared to leave. Javi approached her and she sucked in a sharp breath, preparing herself for some rehearsed speech about staying safe.

"Be careful out there," he murmured, "you're one person we can't afford to lose."

"I'll be okay." She checked all her holsters and weapons one last time. She knew he cared and she still felt guilty about how she'd treated him, but he didn't want to talk to him any longer than she had to. "This is a routine job, don't worry about me. I'll be back before you know it, and hopefully we'll have Pablo. Now, I have to go."

Javi didn't want to distract her from the operation, so he fought every urge to say more than a simple "Good luck" before allowing her to go on her way.

The convoy left and she followed behind them. Everything was going as planned, she had gotten separated from the others, but was only a little behind them would arrive only slightly later than the rest.

She heard the explosion from two blocks away. By the time she arrived one of the cars had been blown up, bullets whizzed past her, and two trucks blocked the rest of the convoy on the street. It was an ambush. Knowing she was gravely outnumbered, she turned tail and ran away. She felt a bullet hit her back armor plate, and it almost knocked her off the bike, but she hung tight and kept going. She felt another bullet rip through her lower back. She didn't stop until she got back to base. The instant she got off the bike, it hit her, and the explosion she had just witnessed replayed in her head over and over, evoking an all too familiar of the explosion that injured her shoulder. Her chest ached as though she had been smacked against the ground all over again. She felt dizzy and nauseous, and couldn't make it any further than the stairs before she had to sit down. She squeezed her eyes shut and placed pressure on the exit wound in her abdomen as she tried to get bed breathing under control. The wound burned and she could feel hot blood seeping out. Come on Sloane, breathe. Get yourself under control and stand up. Just as she managed to dragged herself to her feet, Javi and the others rushed out.

"What happened?" he asked frantically, and his eyes dropped to the blood staining the white steps. "Are you hit?"

"What the fuck does it look like, asshole?" she pressed her hand even harder in an attempt to slow the bleeding. "We were set up, and I swear to God when I find the fucken hooker who gave you that intel, I'm slitting her throat. Now someone get me to a goddamn hospital before I bleed out on these stairs and go into shock." She knew it's harsh, and that she was in no position to be mean to Javi. He probably felt horrible already, but she wasn't in the mood for being nice.

"Somebody get a towel or blanket or something," Javi commanded. "I'm taking her to the hospital."

"Jav, you should call an ambulance," Murphy tried to suggest quietly.

"I'm not waiting on a fucking ambulance," he snapped before looking to her with a soft expression. "Here, let me help you get the vest off." He carefully undid her plate carrier and set it on the ground. Her hands were shaking, but not from the blood loss, she was still panicking. Messina came out with a blanket and he wrapped it around her tightly. "Come on, let's go." He put his arm over her shoulders and started to walk her towards his car. "I'm sorry."