Rival Hearts: An Unexpected Duo!

The houseboat vibrated with angry voices, the couple inside locked in a fight so fierce, they didn't hear Freen's shouts. Freen hammered on the door, but their screaming swallowed the noise whole. Then, a scream—raw terror—cut through the air. That was all Freen needed.

In a flash, guns were out. Freen and Becky's eyes met, a silent "let's go" passing between them. The door splintered as Freen kicked it in. They stormed inside, guns raised.

A man, knife pressed to a woman's throat, held her tight. She was shaking like a leaf. "Drop the knife! Bangkok Police!" Freen's voice was sharp, no room for argument. Becky stayed tight behind Freen, her gun steady on the man.

Her eyes were huge, filled with fear. His burned with a wild, desperate anger. "Get out!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "This is our business!"

"That's not happening," Becky said, calm but firm, her gun never wavering.

"Please, Emilio, just do what they say..." the woman begged, her voice trembling.

"Shut up!" he roared, the knife digging closer. A tiny bead of blood welled up on her neck.

"Lower the weapon, sir," Freen repeated, her voice steel.

Emilio shook his head, eyes wild. "Que te jodan, cerdos! Me matará!" he snarled.

"No hacerlo, Señor," Becky countered, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Ella aún es joven y tiene una vida plena para vivir."

Freen's eyes flickered to Becky, a flash of surprise and respect. Becky spoke his language.

Emilio hesitated, his eyes flicking between Becky and the woman. Something in Becky's words seemed to break his rage. He shoved the woman to the floor and bolted for the back door. "Stop!" Freen yelled. He was gone, a blur through the back entrance.

"Armstrong!" Freen barked. "I've got her," Becky replied, already kneeling beside the woman, checking for injuries.

Freen burst through the back door, spotting the man fleeing down the dock. He was a dark speck against the bright water. She launched herself after him, legs pumping, hair whipping wildly behind her. Emilio risked a glance back, his eyes widening as he saw her gaining. He surged forward, desperation fueling his sprint.

Freen closed the gap, her hand reaching out. With a brutal tackle, she slammed into Emilio, sending them both crashing to the hard planks. Emilio took the brunt of the impact, a grunt escaping him.

Freen pinned him, her knee digging into his back. "Stop means stop, you son of a bitch," she hissed. She yanked his hands behind him, the click of the cuffs a sharp punctuation. "Get up!" she snapped, hauling him to his feet.

Becky and the woman stumbled out of the houseboat just in time to see Freen's takedown. Becky's eyebrows shot up, a silent "wow" written on her face. She turned to the woman, who clutched a small towel to her neck, her eyes still wide with shock.

"Como te llamas, Señora?" Becky asked softly.

"M—Maria," the woman stammered, her voice still shaky.

"Okay, Maria. We need to ask you some questions about your... boyfriend. Can you come to the station with us?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Maria spat, a hard edge to her voice. "...and yes, I'll go."

"Perfect," Becky nodded, a reassuring smile on her lips. They started walking up the dock, Maria's steps still a little unsteady.

By the time Becky reached the car, Freen had Emilio crammed into the backseat, looking thoroughly subdued. "That tackle was something else, Sarocha. And you've still got the speed," Becky grinned.

"Thanks," Freen replied, still catching her breath. She nodded toward Maria, who stood with a small crowd of onlookers. "What about her?"

Becky glanced at Maria, then back at Freen. "She's coming to the station, questions and all and to testify against her ex boyfriend."

"Nice," Freen said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. She slid into the driver's seat. "So, how's that for your first day in Bangkok?"

Becky smirked, climbing into the passenger side.

Freen finished booking Emilio, a grim satisfaction settling over her, and headed down the corridor toward the lobby. From a distance, she saw Becky and Maria, their heads close together, a low murmur of conversation hanging in the air. As she drew nearer, Freen noticed Maria's hand lightly brushing Becky's forearm, a lingering touch. Becky smiled, a soft, almost intimate expression, as Maria stepped closer, blurring the lines of personal space. This wasn't just small talk; the air crackled with something else.

Becky whispered something, and Maria's face lit up with a giddy smile, a blush coloring her cheeks. Freen stopped dead in her tracks, a flicker of unease in her eyes. Maria was undeniably attractive—a petite Hispanic woman with a figure that could stop traffic.

Maria rummaged in her purse, pulling out a pen and a slip of paper. She scribbled something down, a phone number, Freen guessed, and pressed it into Becky's hand. Becky returned the smile, a slow, sensual curve of her lips, and then Maria turned and disappeared through the revolving doors.

Freen shook her head, a low growl rumbling in her throat, and stalked over to Becky.

Becky looked up, her smile faltering slightly as she registered Freen's expression. "Hey, Armstrong. What's up?" she asked, the forced cheeriness failing to mask her unease.

"Done questioning our victim?" Freen's voice was flat.

"Yeah, all wrapped up," Becky replied, her eyes darting away.

"And done flirting with her too?" Freen's tone was laced with sarcasm.

"What?" Becky's brow furrowed, a flimsy attempt at innocence.

Freen raised an eyebrow, a silent "don't even try it" hanging in the air.

"Alright, fine. Maybe a little," Becky admitted, a smirk playing on her lips. "But to be fair, she was the one coming on to me. I can't help it if I'm irresistible to women, gay or straight. What's it to you anyway?"

Freen crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "This is work, Becky. Not some nightclub where you're picking up women. Rule number two: no flirting with victims or suspects."

"Hey, you can't keep me on a leash, Sarocha," Becky retorted, a playful glint in her eyes.

"I was just comforting a woman who'd been through hell. And letting her know, if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on... I'd be there."

"Oh, please," Freen grumbled, a wave of disgust washing over her. Becky chuckled, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Freen's eyes snagged on something. "What's that on your neck?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Huh?" Becky touched her neck, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

Freen stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Looks like..." she leaned in, then recoiled, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Ew, are those teeth marks?"

Becky's eyebrows shot up, a grin spreading across her face. "Teeth marks... oh, yeah..." she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Met this smokin' hot girl last night. Things got a little... intense."

"Stop!" Freen snapped, holding up a hand, her face contorted in distaste. "I don't want to hear about your late-night conquests."

"You asked," Becky shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I've got paperwork," Freen huffed, turning on her heel and stalking away.