Conversation Piece

Be persistent.

The words had snapped out of his father’s mouth on a constant basis. Ground out at the dinner table – when he was there to command the head of it and not off in some corner of a ravaged company doing the same to his men – at his wife, spat at him as his dad had squatted on his level when he’d barely reached his hip, growled out at those same men as they’d stood in orderly ranks, sweating, muddied, exhausted.

Persistent, consistent, smart.

A hundred places worldwide he’d let the old man’s rhetoric rattle around in his head like a mantra. Wasn’t much else he’d said that’d stuck with him but those instructions had buried themselves deep, kept him going when his actions had everything beneath and around him falling apart.

J.J. kicked himself mentally now, letting them rattle around in his head again, knocking down his doubts and mental blocks like the tin ducks in one of those fairground games they had over here. Pew pew pew. Dropping with those tinny little pings as he spoke to his brother. He might not’ve spent more than a few scraps of time with the LG but that mind set had been tattooed into him, maybe even ground into their DNA. Inescapable as the sandy hair and aqua eyes.

”Why not do what she suggested? Rent a room. Go poking from there. It’s not like you haven’t gone sneaking around like that before.”

J.J. huffed out a breath before he paused. He weren’t that far off the mark. There’d been an American politician who’d landed in Baghdad. Set up in one of the faded jewels of the oldest part of the city. The hotel had been reserved for the big wigs, protected like it was Fort Knox not a battered stone barricading protecting the biggest bunch of assholes in a city that’d been ravaged by them. Wearing the LG’s name like a big bright shiny badge, he’d slipped in with a booking. Wide blue eyes and cow-towing promises to avoid the west wing of the place. Promises he’d shamelessly broken the first night and the second, before he’d been caught on the third, sitting in Junior Congressman Pincett’s room, peppering the bloke with questions like he was wielding a verbal version of the tactical shotgun he’d been shown the exit on the end of afterwards.

He’d hummed in consideration to that but it was the one mental point still standing when the shadow had fallen over him and revealed itself with a tumble of blonde hair and curves packed in to the point where he was staring up at the sort of thighs that could kill a bloke if he was so inclined.

Plucking the phone back out of the crook of his neck as she spat Maddox’s name back at him, J.J. pressed it back against his ear with a grin for her. ”Gonna have to call you back later, mate. The solution might just’ve strutted up to me.” He heard his brother laughing a ‘what?’ out down the phone but J.J. was already thumbing it off.

Didn’t matter that the woman was waiting for an answer, he took the time to slide it back into the hip pocket of his jeans and recline back on his elbows again – for the better angle of course. ”Hi.” The word crooned out, his grin stretching as he raised his brows at her. ”You his next line of defence? Gotta say if you are, he’s got stunning choice in bodyguards. You know, his type still usually go for the big and brawny, more muscles than brains.” Oh, but this one wasn’t. There was muscle there, he’d already admired that as she’d loomed over him but there was something else there behind those pale eyes.

J.J. clucked his tongue, slowly easing himself up until he was sitting again with his forearms propped on his knees. He tipped his head sideways in invite to pop herself down on the pew next to him. ”Just a little work thing. Want a chat with him after all, although I thought the one in there did plenty of the warning.” Next step probably woulda been Mystic Falls’ finest coming along to chivvy him outta town. ”Unless…” J.J. drawled, narrowing his eyes at her as that grin went all cat that got the cream. ”… you got something to do with him that don’t involve guarding his backside. That it love?” If it was then that edge of interest in her just got razor bloody sharp.

Tagged: LEAH SIVAN * Word Count: 758

Wasn’t often he went after anything without some major agenda. Wrongs to right in a world that felt all wrong some days. Blowing the lid off of things people foolishly thought best locked away. Revealing hidden tragedies to people who could do something about them. He’d thrown himself into all sorts of noble pursuits and had paid the price for it in those pink slips and days locked up in places that made the worst prisons here look like bloody club med.

’J.J., can’t you find something else to work on, how about Westminster, I’m sure there would be enough excitement in Parliament. Your father could…’

Put a word in? Maybe but he had no intention of sitting in the press gallery, bored to tears while he waited for one of the hypocritical pricks to be caught fumbling with one of his mistresses in a back hallway of the Houses or for one to end up with her hand in a cookie jar. That woulda been a death sentence. Just the thought was enough to J.J. grimacing faintly as he hung the phone up. His brother might not’ve minded it too much after the mess he’d still only half admitted to – the peaceful life here. A white picket fence, none of that argy-bargy in a dust bowl somewhere. Constant combat leaving everything inside of him shaking.

Alive though.

Too many more months here without a sniff of something more than a mountain lion with a taste for a little of the other white meat and they’d be putting his obituary in the Daily. Joshua J. Hart – dead of boredom. All too possible. Unless…

The smile had gotten him everywhere before, there’d been times it’d also bought the fury of a woman immune to his immeasurable charms down on him but who was gonna try and split that hair. Maybe this one’d take some work. Her jaw was stiffening, tension running through in a way that might’ve had him flinching faintly in anticipation of the crack of a palm or the burning score of nails across his face – if he was a lesser man.

J.J. hummed lightly, his head tilting bird like to regard her before he tipped his chin up in the direction of the hotel where the other blonde probably had her nose pressed to those shiny glass doors to watch out for him. ”’tween the plebs and his nibs in there. You met her? The blonde bulldog who’s got a hundred ways of saying ‘get lost mate’.” He’d seen women like that one on bases though. It might’ve been a cliché but they were formidable. You wouldn’t get close to the LG without going through his people first and they could have you cut off at the knees – or somewhere more delicate – in seconds flat.

This one would’ve fit right in, although not with Grey Maddox’s image of a pair of brawny security guards bracketing this scrawny little worm. She was giving him the time of day for one thing, perching on the step next to him. J.J. lifted his brows as he leaned in a couple of inches towards her. ”Sounds like you know him then,” he suggested cheekily. One blue eye winked. And if she knew him then he was gonna get to know her. Dirt was gonna pour out of this one, he could feel it in his bones.

He laced his hands between his knees, thumbs tapping restlessly against his knuckles. Coulda been a ploy he guessed. Find out when he knew and then turn everything that spilled out of his mouth against him. Would’ve been what he’d have tried had this been the other way around. ”I’m … oh really now?” Anybody who’d spent more than ten minutes around him would’ve been wary of the sudden shift in his posture. An edge cut into his blue eyes, the smile turning great white shark predatory. ”Related and bitter enough about it to tell someone all about it?” J.J. clucked his tongue lightly. He reached into his pocket, smirked as he extracted a card from his inside pocket and offered it up to her between two fingers like he had done with the other one. ”I’m a journalist. Was gonna write a puff peace on your relative for the Daily but it looks like he’s got a little something he don’t want me digging into. Stonewall a journalist and they’re always gonna come back with a sledge hammer. J.J. Hart.” He announced it almost like she should recognise the name, offering up his other hand to her to shake.

Tagged: LEAH SIVAN * Word Count: 764

If there was one thing people in this town had it was balls. None of them were too afraid to show you either. They walked around like they owned the place and alright, maybe, in a few cases they did, but they all acted like that. The Founding Families were above the law, it seemed, and although the boss’ bloke definitely hadn’t come from one of them – the estuary English accent was a dead giveaway – he still acted like he was. He’d watched Grey Maddox swagger into the news room, barely a glance cast at the rest of them before he disappeared into Destiny’s office. Hadn’t taken him five minutes to start digging into the bloke – he was only watching out for the boss lady, honest guv – to pin him down to here. And only five minutes for his major domo to kick him. J.J. Hart, formerly of the Beeb, gave him no more weight there than it had done in that tiny police station in South Sudan. Shame.

At least it looked like he wasn’t the only one. One sandy brow hitched as this one told him she hadn’t been inside the hotel to catch a look at the prettier version of Bib Fortuna. Blue eyes narrowing faintly beneath to show off the fan of fine lines at the corners of his eyes, scored there by years in places sunny and dusty enough to leave you looking like old Clint every time you stepped outside. If she hadn’t been able to talk her way in there then maybe he was truly screwed.

J.J. clucked his tongue, one corner of his mouth twitching. If the two of them was to stroll in there and drop a credit card on the glossy counter – his own black card and not the thing with a five hundred dollar limit the paper had issued him – was the manager likely to crack open a suite door for him or had he already been black balled? Maybe worth checking out at some point if this new little avenue failed.

He snorted, shaking his head as he settled back. Blue eyes ticked back up to her. J.J. tipped his chin up towards the place. ”Should try it, at least for a taste of the glorious customer service.” Would they recognise her if she did? Maybe the familiarity only went one way, just like his own. He’d have called the manager as pleasant as a dose of something antibiotic resistant but he kept that little comparison to himself. ”Just delightful,” he crooned instead. Maybe that was why Maddox had hired her. Although, if that was his type then what the hell was Destiny doing with him?

Was that a touch of protectiveness towards the elfin little boss woman? Jeebers. He tapped his knuckles against his chest just the once before he’d leaned in to the slightly friendlier blonde. Destiny could handle herself for the minute. If the story he was pulling together happened to have her seeing the bloke with different eyes then so be it. There was always the Courier if this got him in the shit.

He met the cold look his questions earned him with an added layer of warmth. In the short time he’d been in the hotel he hadn’t managed to melt the other ice maiden’s heart but this one was bitter towards Maddox, he had a chance here. J.J. hummed at her blunt response, tilting his head a moment. ”I imagine you do. I’m a pretty good listener, if you ever wanna unburden them.” He raised a hand, tapped his own shoulder. A decent place to lean on, if you didn’t mind what you said being stamped out in newsprint the next day. Chances with this one had been low but oh, maybe he had her on the line after all. J.J. tapped a finger against the back of the card as she spun it. ”Business up front, personal on the back,” he promised. Wasn’t much point in just directing them to the office when he was barely ever there.

Throwing his head back, J.J. bellowed out a laugh. The LG would’ve had a fit over that. He’d never really liked the idea, even if had opened some doors for him. The dutiful son was the one he’d had nothing to do with. ”Glad to hear it,” he assured her. J.J. let his hand linger a second longer, even if she’d pumped his hand with the sort of confidence few women mustered up. ”Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Leah.” He started to straighten up as their hands parted, fingers patting at his pocket to make sure his trusty notebook was there. ”That’s what I’m planning to find out. A man like that’s gotta stepped on a few toes building up his little empire. He seems the Howard Hughes type to me – you know, a real secret squirrel. Dirty business dealings, dodgy partners, money schemes, there’s gotta be something of the sort.” J.J. propped his elbows back on his knees, studying her sideways. ”You wanna get out of here and tell me a little bit about that business he don’t want people prying into, Leah?” Charm always seemed to work better when you didn’t have someone glaring at your from a mountain of glass and steel.

Tagged: LEAH SIVAN * Word Count: 883