Bounty Hunter [REWRITTEN VERSION]

Chapter 8: Airports, Planes, and Blue-eyed Blonds

MAIZE

"So the Captain arranged for a safe house."

"Where?"

"Mexico."

It was later into the night, still at Alec's apartment even after the sun had sunk below the city line. The three of them had only just begun discussing their next plan of action, once Alec had gotten a call back from the Captain a few hours later because it was evident that the city was no longer safe. Though, as Maize sat on the edge of her seat, she was only half listening as the conversation went on, distracted from her own thoughts running through her mind.

When she agreed to the job as the FBI agent's bodyguard, she had seen it as an opportunity to do something different from simply hunting down criminals, now she would be protecting one—though Kishan was not a criminal, he had been in the gang that called themselves Zmeya, and Maize would be damned if she passed up an opportunity to get some intel about a new crime gang in the States, connected to the Russian syndicate no less. Even if Kishan refused to give her the details, knowledge was knowledge. And knowledge was useful.

Besides, it wasn't like she was completely in the dark. Sure she didn't know much about Zmeya in Los Angeles, but she did know about the Russian syndicate. After all, who didn't? They were a powerful group, centred in Russia, but which extended to branches across the world that tethered countless individual groups into one, into their own. In turn, each of these gangs, groups, and crime families took on a Russian name, to show their alliance to each other and to the syndicate's cause—ruling over the entire crime world. Maize knew this much from experience, after doing her own research, asking the right questions to the right people when she saw an opportunity, listening to whispers that carried on the streets. The syndicate was everywhere, that was a fact. But Zmeya was only a grain in their bucket of rice. And now it was Maize's job to make sure they didn't get to Kishan, her job was to protect—and she had to do it alongside the one person who got on her nerves more than anyone...She had to work with Alec fucking West.

Fate was ironic, wasn't it?

For the most part, he didn't exactly try to hide his reluctance to work with her, and in turn, neither did she. But perhaps, in this situation where there was, literally, a life on the line, the bounty hunter could learn to tolerate his presence. Just so long as he stopped referring to her as— "Maizey!"

Oh for the love of— She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. West was anything if not great at shattering her resolve to put up with him.

She could tolerate his condescending demeanour. She could tolerate his rambunctious sense of confidence. She could tolerate the fact that he had to disagree with her on everything.

But she could not tolerate that stupid nickname.

"What do you want, idiot?" She snapped at him, suddenly noticing how not just he, but the agent as well, were both staring at her expectantly, as if waiting for something from her.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you listening to a word I just said?" The fact that she made no move to respond seemed enough of an answer and he rolled his eyes. "I just finished explaining how we have a problem with getting Kishan through airport security without it getting picked up on the FBI's radar...or were you too caught up in your daydreaming to hear me?"

Maize clenched down on her jaw, but chose to ignore the jab as she focused her attention on the rest of what he had said. "So...you need to somehow pass airport security?" She mumbled out loud as a few new considerable thoughts ran through her mind.