racing raindrops

As much as he had come back for her, there were times when he’d have been glad to pluck her from his flesh like a splinter – as though he’d suffered through one of those in more than three centuries. The ice in her tone bit even through the phone, leaving him begging something for the patience not to snap at the orders that might have been easier coming from Rowan. ”I’ll be back at the office in an hour. If the situation can’t wait until then I’m sure there’s somebody else there who can handle it,” Luc managed with more patience than he’d been sure he had in him.

Silence weighed heavy on the other side of the line. He stopped in front of the doors of the club, as though the slap of the door would having it erupting like cannon fire. It was better not to antagonise her when she was like this. You let the fire die down, unless you were looking to be scorched, that was – and he certainly wasn’t.

Long moments stretched out before the phone clicked and the call was shut off. ”That’s settled then. See you soon, mon chère.” It would be a pleasure, as always. That shiver of anticipation as he walked back into the office building, unsure if it would be frostbite or third degree burns today.

Had his edges not become scorched enough? Obviously not, since both Manny and Ingrid were keeping him on his toes, his balance swinging wildly every time one of them reacted in a way he hadn’t expected. At least Manny was likely unaware of what he was – and, therefore, was far less likely to have the sort of weapon that would prevent him from just popping back up. He’d be the right sort of scorched then, a death feeling like it was almost cleansing under those circumstances. Ingrid on the other hand was painfully aware and he wouldn’t put it past her to have laid her hands on something that would rid her of him for good while he’d been gone. A dragon forged guarantee that her heart wouldn’t sustain any more damage. Perhaps that was arrogance talking, but he had seen her melt once upon a time.

Picturing Ingrid’s heart like ice cubes in a glass of scotch, Luc swept straight past the bartenders setting up the club for the evening’s entertainment and back to his office here. He hadn’t lied to Ingrid, he did plan to be back at the office in an hour. After he’d dealt with their distribution problems here – ones born entirely of Manny. He had to have lost his mind to have agreed to their little side deal. That had always been a bad market, and there were plenty of reasons Hector would’ve turned Manny down had he asked. Luckily for the rabid shifter, he’d been an easier sell – an idiot.

Manny wasn’t going to like it, but as soon as their current load of product had been distributed he was going to start to pull back. He’d helped with the logistics of setting all of this up, getting himself any deeper than that would be a mistake – one that Hector might not let him forget. If he found out about it.

Luc frowned as he settled at his desk, slipping the key into the lock on his desk. Practically anybody who worked at the club could’ve torn it open without breaking a nail, finding the compartment hidden at the bottom of the drawer would be far harder. Half an hour later the bottle of scotch was flagging at half mast and he’d figured out how to put most of this into Manny’s hands – or at least the steadier hands of his little lieutenant, Zach.

”I’m busy,” Luc muttered as the door opened. When it didn’t close again immediately he sat up and froze. It took an effort to move languidly, sliding the pages back into the file without glancing down at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he glanced down at the knife. ”Cutting up limes to help out your staff? You’re a good boss. Looks like you might have slipped though.” In more ways than one.

The frown deepened, becoming a brief look of disgust as Hector tossed the knife down on his desk. Blood was a bitch to get out. ”Customer? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A glib lie that wasn’t going to even get him out the door. ”Is there much of him left?” Given the state of the knife, perhaps not. He was certain Hector wasn’t talking about the Senator, or other one of Ingrid’s clients that had been assigned to him. Manny or one of his people had been fucking mouths. ”Why are you sour about something you would have wanted no part of? You should be glad.” Luc huffed out a chuckle. He should’ve known it would all catch up to him too soon, Manny was the sort of man that people were wary around, which meant they took note of what he was doing (even when it was less deadly not to). ”Sit down and have a drink while your people clean up. I take it someone’s dragging whatever mess you made out?” Probably Kit, it seemed as though all the strong man stuff was left to him or the bear of a bouncer.

Tagged: HECTOR DACRE * Word Count: 898

Hector might have gentrified himself in the years after he’d slaughtered his parents, but beneath the expensive suits the monster he’d vowed to kill that day still lurked. The desire had softened over the years and Luc had genuinely found himself grieving for Hector and the crew when he had believed them all slaughtered. He would have been a fool to believe that Hector was an entirely reformed vampire, though. In the world they lived in a little ruthlessness was required on occasion, just not when it came to your own people. To a friend.

Deciding to deal with Manny without bringing that friend – and business partner – in, was a risk. He was only here because Hector had invited him to partner up again. It was of mutual benefit in a way, Hector having someone else he could trust implicitly here, him seeing his bank balance swell again. Having a small part of the crew back together again was just an added bonus. Manny was the interloper between them – also beneficial in a way, but absolutely an unknown quantity in most others. Luc Fournier had made a name for himself when it came to weapons dealing, a man you could trust, who could probably find you anything you need given enough funds and time. Manny de la Peña was a loose cannon, one just as likely to turn those weapons on you as he was to sell to you.

If Manny had been here to deal with their client things would likely have moved in jagged stops and starts, paranoia adding tone that absolutely wasn’t there to every word out of the man’s mouth. If he’d been here to see Hector walk through the door with a blade dangling from his fingers, he’d probably have blown up, seeing that knife as being aimed at him, even if it wasn’t. Paranoia could be a bitch. Or it could save your life.

Luc had dropped his gaze down to the blade, not considering that he was in any danger from it. He was more pissed at the blood that smeared the wood and the marks that were now scored into it. Payback for a shitty joke? Possibly. Something more sinister. Apparently. Merde.

”That’s a relief,” he said dryly as Hector glibly informed him of what parts he’d obviously carved off of his customer. ”I’d hate to think you’d left too much of a mess.” Any regret he had over a man being dead thanks to his involvement was only momentary. There was far more of it for not having at least shot an email Hector’s way to warn him that he was briefly clambering into bed with Manny, especially since he might be the one missing an eye soon. The scars that could be left on his face would heal, but he’d never tried regrowing an organ before.

Lips pursing, Luc leaned back slowly in his chair as Hector thumped his hands down on his desk – not recoiling, he wasn’t scared enough of Hector for that. ”Yes, glad,” he repeated, his tone far more even than Hector’s. ”I’ve dealt in weapons for a century, what made you think that I’d put all of that behind me? I wouldn’t have been the first to use the club to do outside business either.” The crux of the argument wasn’t that he’d done either of those things, it was that he hadn’t told his partner about it.

Not the desk. The sound of Hector’s nails digging into the wood had him frowning, the crack of a piece tearing free, had Luc grumbling. He glared at Hector over what was left of it. ”You might be a little less up tight if you did. Sit and I’ll explain,” he bit out. Wisely, or so he thought, he reached for the blade, sliding it out of Hector’s reach. There wasn’t much he could do about the freshly made stake in Hector’s hands though. ”Manny was looking to expand his business his interests. The transport network was already in place. It seemed like a good match between who I could match him up with and his new venture. Would you have wanted a part of that with that detective sniffing around you? It was saving you the trouble, that’s all.” The smile was tighter than usual as he spread his hands, but his tone was still light. He doubted it was going to do much to defuse Hector, not when Manny’s mercurial moods had obviously become catching.

Tagged: HECTOR DACRE * Word Count: 749