Prompt Post: ROUND TWO
ROUND TWO IS CLOSED
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
“These are marvelous,” Xavier said. “Hank really has an eye for lighting.”
Great. Now Xavier was an art critic too. “Mind on business,” Erik said. “We’re looking for killers, not the next great American artist.” His eyes moved over the pictures, trying to catch every detail. There were only two that featured Shaw-the ones in front of the old hotel. The first picture was the one McCoy had shown them: Shaw, smirking and talking to another man-someone blurred and in the shadows. The second picture drew Erik’s attention. The man lurking the shadows must have taken a step forward, because some of his features were recognizable. “What the hell,” Erik muttered.
Xavier was at Erik’s side in an instant. “Did you find something?”
“This man.” Erik tapped the photo with his index finger. “The one Shaw is talking to. I know of him. His nickname is Riptide and he’s an enforcer for Andrel Worden.”
A crease appeared between Charles’s eyes. “Who?”
“Andrel Worden.” Erik slid a desk drawer open and began rummaging around in it. In a moment, he’d found what he was looking for-an old newspaper clipping of a middle-aged man with tanned skin and graying hair. Erik held it up. “He’s the head of the local branch of the Russian mafia.”
Xavier looked as confused as Erik felt. “Your serial killer is working with the mafia?”
“He’s not my serial killer,” Erik said sharply.
Charles inclined his head in acknowledgement. “It’s odd, though. Serial killers usually continue killing for their own pleasure. Hiring one-”
“It’s not common.” Erik glanced down at the picture of Shaw. “But Shaw isn’t your common killer.”
Xavier bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked like a child who’d just been invited to play a game of cops and robbers. He beamed and made no attempt to hide his eagerness. “So if we find this Riptide…”
“We might find Shaw,” Erik said. Then he narrowed his eyes and mentally slapped himself over the head. He’d accidentally used a plural pronoun, just like Xavier. It was a minor slip, saying “we” instead of “I”. But it was still a slip. Xavier wouldn’t let it go.
Erik caught the flicker of triumph in Xavier’s eyes. He was pleased with himself.
Fuck, Erik thought. The kid would probably just get himself killed trying to follow Erik around anyway. Best to keep him close, for his own safety.
“All right. You want to work together? This is the part when we go over the rules.” Erik held up a finger. “One-you keep your mouth shut.”
Xavier said, “Erik, I think-”
“Second-don’t call me Erik. Third-if I tell you to duck or run or hide, you do it. No questions asked. If something happens, I will not have time to worry about your skinny ass from whoever is trying to kill us.”
“My ass is the first thing you’d worry about?” Xavier even managed to keep a straight face as he said it.
Erik frowned and ignored the question. “Things tend to happen when I’m not expecting them, so I’ve just learned to always expect them. Rule four-this is my case. I am in charge. You may be the fed’s new little dog, but right now I’m the one holding the leash.”
Xavier’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “All right. But I get to dictate at least one rule of my own.”
“Rule number five-”
“Call me Charles.”
Erik gave him an incredulous look. “What?”
“Call me Charles,” Xavier repeated. “And if our cover is that I’m your new partner-”
“Assistant.”
“Assistant, then. But people will think it’s odd that we’re working together and you won’t use my first name.”
It was a valid point. Erik forced his lips to shape the word. It sounded odd. Too personal. “Charles, then,” he said reluctantly.
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