SUMMARY: They moved in perfect tandem, as if they’d been rehearsing this moment for years. In a way, they had.
WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S), violence
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written for leverageland's Rest in Pieces Challenge. The prompt was Major Character Death. You've been warned.
Sophie died in a car accident. A drunk driver, according to the police. They were all so torn up with grief none of them realized what was really happening until it was too late.
Until Alec was killed by a car bomb a week later. At least he went out with his beloved van.
When Parker disappeared soon after they honestly didn’t know if she was hiding or dead.
They got their answer three days later.
Eliot couldn’t tear his eyes away from the broken, battered body that had been unceremoniously dumped on the warehouse floor. There was so much blood matted in her hair you almost couldn’t tell it had once been the color of spun gold.
Nate wasn’t looking at the body; all his focus was on on the man who’d put it there. “You’re supposed to be rotting in a cell in San Lorenzo.”
Damien Moreau’s laughter was like a mouthful of razor blades. “You of all people should know how impermanent prison can be.”
“What do you want?”
“Want?” Moreau shrugged. “Maybe I just want revenge.”
“If that were true we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. What do you want?”
The grin slid from Moreau’s face. “Eliot.”
Eliot didn’t move. Not a muscle. He’d known this was coming, known from the moment he first heard Nate speak Moreau’s name. Or maybe before that, even, when he’d walked away from Moreau. It had been foolish to think he’d ever get away clean.
Moreau’s eyes turned in Eliot’s direction. “Come back to work for me.”
Eliot didn’t say anything.
“If you do I’ll let this last one live.” Moreau’s hand flicked in Nate’s direction.
“No.” Nate’s voice was steely.
Moreau raised the gun he was holding and pointed it at Nate’s head. “I’d give you time to mull it over, but I’m afraid prison has made me a rather impatient man.”
“Go ahead and kill me,” Nate growled.
Eliot counted six armed men visible, plus Moreau. There’d be two more out of sight somewhere, probably up high. Good men, all of them. The best. Unbeatable odds, Moreau would have seen to that.
Moreau’s brow arched expectantly.
“Okay,” Eliot said.
Smiling, Moreau lowered the gun.
“Eliot, no.” Nate was pleading now.
“I always knew you’d come back to the fold,” Moreau said. “Eventually.”
Eliot looked at Nate. When their eyes met something unspoken passed between them. Understanding. Resolve. Acceptance.
Nate’s expression was grim, but there was a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll see you in hell.”
Eliot allowed himself a grin in response. “Not if I see you first.”
They moved in perfect tandem, as if they’d been rehearsing this moment for years. In a way, they had.
The warehouse erupted in gunfire.