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“That Herrera's a pretty good host. Makes a mean cocktail, gives you door-to-door service right to the embassy.” Steve tells him. Walking down the hallway with Javi, with his hand on his back and their sides practically glued together.
“What did Herrera say?”
“What'd he say?” Steve grabs ahold of Javi’s shirt and pushes him roughly against the hallway wall. Javi moving against him, grabbing a fist Steve’s shirt out in front of him.
“What'd he say?” Steve repeats.
“You fuckin' gave him that information.
He's got pictures on me,
he's got tape on me, Javi.
Answer me. “ Javi moves against him. Blood rushing through him, his pulse fast. Not the time at all. He doesn’t know how to answer him, he’s too distracted about Steve’s entire front being pressed against his.
“What?” Javi finally says.
“Did you give that shit to Herrera?”
“Do you think I would do that to you?” Javi says seriously.
“Are you playing with Cali, Javi?
That your version of "all in"?”Steve’s hips put some pressure against Javi’s unintentionally, creating some friction between the two of them. Steve still trying to stay serious but he’s so goddamn close to Javi’s lips. He can’t think straight. He reminds himself of why he has Javi shoved against a wall. He moves his body slightly back so he doesn’t embarrass himself.
“ I got one goal: get Escobar. “ Javi says
“That’s not an answer. Who the fuck gave him those photos” He says like he’s choking on his last breath. Javi practically squirms under him, but his hands still tight into Steve’s shirt. He releases his hands from his shirt hearing footsteps faintly coming down the hallway. Javi gets a chance to actually look at him and he’s flushed. He can’t imagine what he looks like himself.
“See you around, Javi. I’m gonna go call my wife.” Javi let’s out breath he didn’t know he was holding and rests his head back on the wall behind him. What the fuck has he gotten himself into.