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Beth’s come to expect a lot from this job; shit happens more often than not. She’s learned to be adaptable, to roll with whatever comes in front of her, to learn, because sometimes she’s forced to do so. Rio’s taught her a lot, even though she doesn’t admit it all the time. He’s good at what he does, a natural born leader, an instinct to suss out what a certain job needs and how much and when. So good with timing. He’s teaching her and she’s greedy to take absolutely anything she can.
She’s developed meetings on her own, kept good records, led payment conversations with clients and has fired her gun more than she’s wanted to.
But she’s done it. Beth’s stepped up when she’s had to and even though Rio doesn’t always tell her, she can see it in his eyes when he’s impressed, when he’s proud of her. She doesn’t do this work for a man, never for anyone other than herself…but she has to admit it feels good to have him look at her like that. It reaches something deep inside her, something hidden, something she thought was gone when Dean continuously doubted her, didn’t trust her, thought she was nothing more than a dumb house wife.
As much as she sometimes thinks she can do all of this on her own, she loves the natural partnership that she has with Rio. They’re good at this—together.
Beth’s hands shake as she holds up her gun.
She’s also not saying that everything always goes smoothly because it doesn’t. There’s been gunfire and jobs gone bad and blood and stolen money and broken cars and Beth taken by the throat by men who thought they could take advantage of her.
But what she doesn’t expect?
“Why the long face, sweetheart?” The man asks her, grinning because he thinks he’s won. A bag of money by his feet.
Is Rio with a gun to his head, pressed back against this guy’s chest, an awkward position forced upon his body. He looks more annoyed than anything else; he’s not scared and he’s not concerned, frustrated that someone got the drop on him like this. The job was finished, done, and this guy decides he’s going to flip at the last minute.
He’s not threatened by Beth, so he takes control by grabbing someone he is threatened by, Rio pinned so he can’t reach his gun.
He lets out a long sigh, letting this guy manhandle him with a gun pressed to his temple, “Not sure how you think this is gonna end, bro.” Rio locks eyes with her, glancing down at her own gun.
Her hands are shaking, it has to be noticeable. Beth tries to draw oxygen into her lungs, calm her nerves, but it’s not working. She has to do something about this, Rio can’t handle it on his own. He can’t pull away in the position he’s in, not when the gun pressing hard enough to bruise against his skull.
Fuck.
The guy laughs, “Whatchu think Home Ec. Barbie is gonna do somethin’ about this? She doesn’t even know how to hold her gun properly.”
Beth takes a step forward, clicking the safety off. The guy raises an eyebrow and grins, intrigued by her attempt at confidence, shaking his head.
“That’s cute.”
“Elizabeth.” Rio interrupts, forcing her eyes back on him. He leans back slightly as this guy tugs him, almost putting him off balance. He’s guiding her sight, trying to get her to focus on the task at hand and oh—oh, its right in front of her, clear as day.
The guy’s shoulder is exposed, just slightly, her aim would have to be…
She can’t do this.
“Rio.” She says back, trying to press her concerns into one word.
He lets out a soft sigh, struggling against the guy’s grip. Fuck, what is she supposed to do? What if her aim is that off? She could hurt him, or worse, she could miss and Rio’s head is blown clean off. She shakes her head, a soft noise leaving her lips in frustration as this guy moves with Rio towards the door.
Using him as a human shield.
“Elizabeth.” Rio snaps, frustration like barbs wrapped around her name. “Don’t be afraid, darlin’. We’ve practiced, yeah?”
Practiced for what? Aiming her gun? …or for the inevitable day where she might have to shoot him.
Beth swallows and lets out a slow breath that somehow spins the room into slow; she hears her heartbeat in her ears, the guy’s slow smile stretching his face, Rio’s calm and patient gaze never leaving her.
She fires—
And hits the guy along his neck, just missing his shoulder, but grazing Rio’s. There’s a sickening crunch as Rio spins after the shot, punching this guy in the face, rushing towards her as blood flows and all she can see is red. She doesn’t feel Rio grab her, forcing her out of the warehouse to the point where she’s stumbling over her own feet.
She doesn’t feel anything until she’s pressed back against the sleek black of Rio’s car, her partner grabbing her chin to force her gaze onto him.
“Hey, you did good.”
She blinks, swallowing down a sound as he takes her gun off her, putting the safety on before he puts it in the waistband of his jeans.
“You’re—” She blanks on words, motioning to the graze of his shoulder.
He glances down and touches the wound, pulling his hand away with blood kissing his fingertips. “Just a scratch. Won’t be needin’ you to sew me up.” He’s smiling, which somehow feels weird to see.
“Rio.”
He opens the car door for her and pauses, moving to touch her face again, this time more gentle, a finger dragging alone her jawline. “I’m fine. You did good, ma,” He repeats. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She supposes she can’t really argue with that.