Work Text:
Shit goes bad.
Beth feels like this should be par for the course at this point but somehow it always seems to surprise her when things go down the drain so quickly. This time it has to do with the police; it’s not a job gone sour, or a thug that can’t handle a simple deal honestly, or shaky hands or greedy underlying messages.
It’s the police and they’re onto them and it feels like anxiety is quite literally reaching into her chest and squeezing her ribs closed.
It’s not Turner, it’s someone higher up the food chain and scarier and bringing real threats to meetings they’re trying to have. If there’s anything to be happy about, she’s just glad that there were rumors about the police messing up one of their deals away from her dealership. The bad publicity isn’t something that she needs.
Though, she supposes she doesn’t need jail time either and fuck, fuck, she’s so screwed.
Beth bends a little to put her head in her hands, elbows on her knees as she sits down at a barely held together coffee table in a motel bedroom. This is one of Rio’s safe houses, or hiding places, whatever he wants to call it.
They drove past the deal, a trap, thanks to Aviles texting Rio at the very last minute letting him know that he heard rumblings of police involvement. God, what if they’d shown up at that deal? What if they’d been arrested? Would Rio be able to get them out of that one? She knows he has a good lawyer in his pocket—but how many times could playing that card really work?
She jumps as Rio puts something down on the table, Beth lifting her face to see a bottle of scotch. Her stomach turns and she shakes her head.
“No?” He asks, before pursing his lips. “What about coffee?”
She clears her throat, trying to swallow down bile that threatens to work its way out of her. Beth runs a shaky hand through her hair and leans back against the chair, saying nothing. That doesn’t deter Rio from making the bottle disappear, turning in the kitchenette and working a shoty coffee machine to gurgle to life.
“Nothin’s changed,” He says after a moment, so calm and patient that she wants to hit him. “We lay low for a few days, go back to business as usual.”
“How did they know?” She says, doesn’t wait for him to finish.
Rio turns and leans against the counter, taking his coat off to set next to the fridge. He takes his time to answer her, rolling up the sleeves of his off white Henley. “Because people talk for money,” It sounds so simple. “People bend over backwards to knock others off the top; that’s where you and I are, sweetheart. The top.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” Beth presses the palms of her hands together, fingertips touching her lower lip.
He shrugs his one shoulder, making the feathers on the one side of his bird tattoo rustle. “Because this is how this shit works. What, did you think there’d be no consequences for your actions? Know you’re not that naïve.”
She doesn’t appreciate the undertone of cruel teasing along his words, wrapping around her like sandpaper—because no, she wasn’t prepared for this. Somehow it’s the last thing she thought of, the other shoe dropping, the wave finally crashing down into the shore.
Beth didn’t think about their work catching up with them.
She wants to say something back, something just as equally nasty so she doesn’t feel so small and ground into tiny bits—but nothing comes out. Instead a high-pitched noise empties out of her lips, a sound that signals she might lose it, that she might vomit or cry or scream or something that’s not patterned, thought-out words.
Her hands cover her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut a moment and Rio shifts on his feet, a soft sigh emptying into the space around them before she feels him approach her. When she opens her eyes again, he kneels in front of her, one hand falling to her knee. He squeezes, trying to get her attention, his golden pinky ring shining too bright in the florescent lights.
“We’re gonna be fine,” He tells her, his thumb working circles into her inner thigh. “Nothin’s gonna happen to you, yeah?”
It sounds awkward coming from his mouth, like he wasn’t prepared to say it, his jaw working as he chews on words underneath his tongue. He makes sure to hold her gaze for a few moments, his other hand reaching for the palms on her lips. He laces their fingers and presses a kiss to the back of her knuckles.
“This place looks like it’s held together by glue and maskin’ tape,” A laugh empties from her throat, very purposely on his part. “But it’s safe. You’re safe.”
Beth swallows but she nods, holding his gaze because his eyes are brown and warm…and she believes him.
She trusts him against his better judgement.
“Business as usual?” She whispers, an invitation.
Rio hums and stands, squeezing her hand before letting go. “Business includes scotch, so prepare yourself for a little kick in your coffee.”