Librarians Fanfic: By Paths Coincident 3/?
Title: By Paths Coincident 3/?
Author: Honorat
Rating: T
Crossover: Leverage and The Librarians
Characters: Jenkins, Eve Baird, Jacob Stone, Cassandra Cillian, Ezekiel Jones, Parker, Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, Others TBA as needed.
Pairing: Parker/Hardison and starting to be bits of Cassandra/Jake and Cassandra/Eliot
Disclaimer: Dean Devlin, John Rogers, TNT own these characters.
Description: The Librarians discover Leverage International. Jacob Stone and Eliot Spencer have a family past, but they aren’t the only members of the two teams who’ve met before. Expect whiplash between light and dark. Previous chapters HERE.
* * * * *
By Paths Coincident
* * * * *
It was raining as Eve herded her librarian trainees out to Stone’s pickup. Cassandra was the only one prepared for the weather in a bright yellow raincoat with matching boots and umbrella. Eve was too tired to care how wet she got.
Since it was his truck, Stone would drive while Ezekiel, as the one who knew where they were going, would ride up front as navigator. That left the back seat for her and Cassandra.
Ever and unfailingly courteous, Stone handed Cassandra up the high step into his truck, held her umbrella over the doorway so she wouldn’t get wet, then folded it and gave it to her. Eve knew if she hung around her side of the vehicle, he’d show up and help her in as well. She never gave him that opportunity unless she was injured too badly to drag her own self where she wanted to go, so she hopped in the truck and settled herself next to Cassandra.
Cassandra had a funny look on her face, as if she weren’t sure how to feel about the matter.
They had to find parking several blocks from the Brew Pub and splash through the rain glittering in the street lights to get there. Ezekiel inserted himself under half of Cassandra’s umbrella while Eve and Jacob simply endured the wet. Arriving at their destination, the team let Stone take point out of habit. Of all of them, he interfaced with ordinary human beings the best. Ezekiel had no tact whatsoever, Eve was more used to giving orders, and Cassandra had less experience, so they were all glad to let their teammate lead the way with his warm smile and firm handshake.
Tonight, the Brew Pub was crowded, with several groups of people waiting for tables. Evidently it was a popular hangout for Portland locals. Stone approached the young woman recording reservations. Flashing her his most charming smile, he asked, “Can you tell me how long it’ll be for a table for four to be available?”
Eve would admit-in the privacy of her own head only, ever-that Stone was looking particularly dashing tonight in his dark coat and scarf with rain-jeweled hair bringing out the blue of his eyes. But surely that did not account for the behaviour of the young person at the desk.
The girl’s eyes opened wide, as though the request astonished her. Then she frowned, considering, seemed to reach a conclusion, and returned her own bright smile.
“Of course, sir. We have a table ready immediately,” she said, all eager attentiveness. “Right this way. If your party would just follow me.”
Stone glanced back at his team with bemused triumph, and Eve gave him a quizzical stare. Jones looked pleased but innocuous, and Cassandra eyed the young woman skeptically. Obviously, none of them had any idea how they had achieved this precedence over all the other waiting diners.
With her habitual caution, Eve scanned the room for any potential threats, noting all entrances and egresses, cataloguing traffic patterns and scrutinizing the patrons. She also kept an eye on Ezekiel in case his itch to increase his wealth should lead him astray. Being Ezekiel’s guardian far too often involved guarding others from him.
He gave her an angelic grin that had her resolved to tip him upside down and shake out his pockets before they left this place.
Navigating a bit of confusion as several other patrons of the Brew Pub exited at the same time as the Librarian team entered, they were shown to a table that Eve would have described as perfect. While being set in a somewhat private corner, it yet afforded a clear view of the entire room.
The young woman who had led them to the table seemed a bit confused when Stone held Eve’s chair for her instead of taking it himself (Eve scowled at him, but allowed him to seat her), then took the seat with his back to the rest of the room-like Stone had done something wrong or at least unexpected.
Almost . . . Eve frowned . . . almost as if he were already part of a play in which the rest of the team had no part, but he didn’t know his lines or where he was supposed to stand.
She glared at the establishment with even more suspicion. They did not need magical shenanigans on their night out.
“Your waiter will be with you right away,” the helpful employee said, eyeing Stone’s back.
“Thank you,” said Eve, drawing attention back to herself. “May we look at the menu?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” The flustered girl fumbled the folders she’d been clutching.
Cassandra smiled at her sympathetically. Ezekiel yawned. And Stone, of course, turned with his dazzling grin and said, “Let me help you with those, darlin’.”
The poor child looked like she wasn’t sure what to do, so Stone plucked the menus from her hands and dealt them out to his team.
“Th-th-thank you,” she stammered turning a blotchy red. Then she fled. There was no other word to accurately describe her precipitate departure.
“Well, that was kind of odd,” Cassandra said.
Stone smirked at her with those bright eyes that always made Eve convinced he was five years old and into mischief.
“Read your menu, Casanova!” she ordered.
“Casanova was also a librarian in the Count Waldstein's household,” Stone said, opening the folder.
“Is there any piece of historical trivia that you do not have on the tip of your tongue?” Ezekiel asked.
Stone looked at him as though he was unbelievable and shook his head. Of course not. Eve sighed.
They had barely had a chance to glance at the Brew Pub’s menus before another of its employees materialized at their table. Eve had never before patronized an establishment where the service was quite so . . . well, servile.
“Hello there,” said the dark-haired girl, her white smile lighting up her face. “My name is Amy, and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
This one, since she was standing behind Stone, seemed immune to whatever it was about him that had the other woman so blitzed.
It had been a long day. Eve had fought a mummy. Even after her shower, she couldn’t shake the sensation that there were still mummy molecules in her lungs. “Just bring me the best single malt whiskey you’ve got,” she sighed.
“Look, Ezekiel!” Cassandra exclaimed, examining the beverage menu. “They have a drink just for you. ‘Thief Juice: It’s a mouth crime’!”
Amy snorted. “I think I should warn you-that item is something of an in-joke here at the Brew Pub. I’m pretty sure our chef came close to murdering my boss when he put it on the menu. It’s the boss’s personal brew, so it’s probably made with lasers and possibly the blood of an alien. It’s really quite dreadful.”
“Even better!” Stone shot Ezekiel a cheerfully homicidal grin. “He’ll definitely have that!”
“Yeah,” Ezekiel decided. “I’m the adventurous sort. I’ll give it a go.”
The minute she heard Stone’s voice, Amy froze. And when he turned to order a beer, her dusky skin turned a shade paler. She didn’t stammer like the previous girl, but she backed up a step and apologized, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize it was you.” Her hand flew up to touch her hair.
The Librarians in Training exchanged puzzled glances. Stone appeared as baffled as the rest of them. Eve narrowed her eyes and wondered what fresh supernatural doohickey thingummy they were going to end up disarming instead of enjoying a peaceful meal.
“It’s okay, Amy,” said a voice Eve would have sworn was Stone’s, except his mouth hadn’t moved. “I’ll take this table, tonight.”
Eve had been so focused on the situation with their waitress, she hadn’t noticed the three people approaching. A rookie mistake with the potential to be fatal.
Cassandra gave a little gasp and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes going wide.
“Whoa!” Ezekiel exclaimed looking back and forth between the man sitting at their table and the new arrivals.
One of the three looked exactly like Jacob Stone.
It said something about the life she had been leading that Eve’s first thoughts were that this was either a bizarre manifestation of some sort of magic-a shapeshifter or an illusion-or that this was actually Stone travelling from the past or the future. No, not from the past. Her mind immediately dismissed that theory. Nothing Stone was now could ever have once been the duplicate that stood before them. Her next thought was that she did not ever want to know what could turn a man like Stone into such a person as the man who wore his face.
Jacob Stone moved large and loose in the world, his features mobile, a keen enjoyment of everything sparkling off of him. For all of his strength and his exuberance in a fight, Stone was a gentle soul. There was a banked pain in his eyes, but it was the pain of a good man who cared too much, of a private man who dared too little. And life among the Librarians in Training had eased some of that. If he did not yet trust them entirely, he was infinitely trustworthy.
This man, this stranger with Stone’s face-she’d seen men like him too many times before. He moved like a predator, still and controlled, with violence seething under his skin, his face giving away nothing, his swift gaze cataloguing threats. She saw him unerringly note each of the weapons she wore concealed. But it was his eyes that distinguished him the most from Stone. They were a soldier’s eyes-eyes that had recorded too much horror. She’d seen that kind of unrelenting pain in the eyes of men and women in her command, when the memories of things they had witnessed, of things they had experienced, and perhaps most of all of things they had done approached the unbearable. She had seen eyes like that in her own mirror.
But what puzzled her was the recognition she saw in his face. Stone’s double was looking at her as if he were seeing a ghost.
For a moment their gazes knotted together in a tangle of her confusion and his uncanny recognition. Then, with a professional reassertion of self-control, the stranger shifted his focus to their historian.
“Jake Stone,” he said, holding out his hand. “Isn’t that a kick in the teeth!”
Stone’s face, as he stood to take the other’s hand, was a mixture of astonishment and joy.
“Eliot! You’re alive! Guys, you remember the cousins I used to bar fight with on Christmas Eve? This is the best one of them!” He pulled the other man into an enthusiastic, if somewhat one-sided, hug. However, after a moment of stiff bemusement, his cousin raised an arm to awkwardly return the gesture.
“You left home when you were 18,” said the young dark-skinned man who accompanied Stone’s cousin. “What were you doing in bars often enough to have a tradition?”
“Being a bad influence, eh Jake?”
Side by side, the resemblance between the two of them was remarkable. Stone’s cousin might have been just a touch narrower in the face and was obviously in fighting trim, but Eve didn’t think she could have distinguished between them, separately, other than by Stone’s much shorter hair. No wonder they’d thrown the Brew Pub employees into such a dither.
“This,” Stone gestured around at the restaurant. “This is what you’re doing now?”
“In part,” his cousin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I try to keep Hardison here from serving anchovies with pineapple, and otherwise insure that he doesn’t bankrupt the place with lousy food.”
“Hey!” the young man, Hardison, looked indignant. “Just because you’re a high and mighty chef doesn’t mean my culinary inventions are from the Dark Side.”
Ignoring his colleague, Stone’s cousin asked, “So, what brings you to Portland?”
Eve knew Stone had not told his family what he was now doing for employment.
He’d shrugged, saying, “It’s better they still think I’m working in the oil industry.”
However, the situation might become a little awkward if he found himself living in the same city as his cousin without admitting at least some of what he was doing there. Considering the man still enduring Stone’s arm around his shoulders, Eve decided that surely their secret scholar would feel able to admit his artistic connections to a man who dressed in a floral apron, who tossed shoulder length locks to reveal turquoise and silver beads braided in his hair, and who worked as a chef. For all that his body language shouted ex-military, Stone’s cousin’s camouflage bespoke a man distancing himself from that past.
After a brief hesitation, Stone seemed to come to a similar conclusion. “I’m . . . um . . . I’m employed with a . . . with a small historical foundation archiving their collection of rare books and art here in Portland.”
“The Metropolitan Library, right?” spoke up the blonde girl who made up the other part of the trio. Both Hardison and Stone’s cousin glared at her.
“That’s . . . correct,” said Stone slowly, “but how . . .”
“Oooh, rare art! Sophie likes art,” the girl said with a smile that was somehow just a bit off.
With what was obviously the ease of long practice, Stone’s cousin intervened. “I always knew you had it in you, class valedictorian! Now how about you introduce me to your colleagues? Friends?”
His smile at them all held some of Stone’s familiar charm with much less warmth. Eve got the impression that he was asking the question like something disagreeable that nevertheless must be done.
“Oh! Of course! Pardon my manners.” Stone gestured to Cassandra first. “This is Cassandra Cillian. She’s the scientific part of the team.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” said Stone’s double, his smile now as warm as his cousin’s. He took the hand Cassandra offered, but instead of shaking it, he bowed a kiss over it. “Portland is certainly a more beautiful city tonight than it has ever been before.”
Seriously? Two of them? Eve resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Cassandra did not look displeased with the compliment. “Portland is certainly a more interesting city tonight,” she said.
Stone looked unsure whether to be happy or worried that his cousin was getting along so well with her. “Cassie, this is Eliot Spencer, the lost sheep of the family.”
At the mention of his full name, the minute relaxation Stone’s cousin had undergone reversed to high alert tension. Gone was any pretence that this meeting was simply a happy coincidence of relatives getting back in touch.
Eve’s reflexes had her on her feet, battle-ready, her veins running 99 proof adrenaline, all her attention on the man who no longer looked like merely a restaurant chef. Her hand instinctively hovered over the place her gun was concealed, and with choking horror she realized it was missing.
Their eyes locked like the sights of weapons.
He had been the first to recognize her, because she had never before seen his face. However, that name-Eliot Spencer-was one Colonel Eve Baird, NATO Counter-terrorism, knew far too well.
Eliot Spencer, enforcer for Damien Moreau, who bankrolled terrorists and moved nuclear materials for Iran, whom no law enforcement agency could touch--if she was his ghost, he was her murderer.
* * * * *
TBC
Author: Honorat
Rating: T
Crossover: Leverage and The Librarians
Characters: Jenkins, Eve Baird, Jacob Stone, Cassandra Cillian, Ezekiel Jones, Parker, Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, Others TBA as needed.
Pairing: Parker/Hardison and starting to be bits of Cassandra/Jake and Cassandra/Eliot
Disclaimer: Dean Devlin, John Rogers, TNT own these characters.
Description: The Librarians discover Leverage International. Jacob Stone and Eliot Spencer have a family past, but they aren’t the only members of the two teams who’ve met before. Expect whiplash between light and dark. Previous chapters HERE.
* * * * *
By Paths Coincident
* * * * *
It was raining as Eve herded her librarian trainees out to Stone’s pickup. Cassandra was the only one prepared for the weather in a bright yellow raincoat with matching boots and umbrella. Eve was too tired to care how wet she got.
Since it was his truck, Stone would drive while Ezekiel, as the one who knew where they were going, would ride up front as navigator. That left the back seat for her and Cassandra.
Ever and unfailingly courteous, Stone handed Cassandra up the high step into his truck, held her umbrella over the doorway so she wouldn’t get wet, then folded it and gave it to her. Eve knew if she hung around her side of the vehicle, he’d show up and help her in as well. She never gave him that opportunity unless she was injured too badly to drag her own self where she wanted to go, so she hopped in the truck and settled herself next to Cassandra.
Cassandra had a funny look on her face, as if she weren’t sure how to feel about the matter.
They had to find parking several blocks from the Brew Pub and splash through the rain glittering in the street lights to get there. Ezekiel inserted himself under half of Cassandra’s umbrella while Eve and Jacob simply endured the wet. Arriving at their destination, the team let Stone take point out of habit. Of all of them, he interfaced with ordinary human beings the best. Ezekiel had no tact whatsoever, Eve was more used to giving orders, and Cassandra had less experience, so they were all glad to let their teammate lead the way with his warm smile and firm handshake.
Tonight, the Brew Pub was crowded, with several groups of people waiting for tables. Evidently it was a popular hangout for Portland locals. Stone approached the young woman recording reservations. Flashing her his most charming smile, he asked, “Can you tell me how long it’ll be for a table for four to be available?”
Eve would admit-in the privacy of her own head only, ever-that Stone was looking particularly dashing tonight in his dark coat and scarf with rain-jeweled hair bringing out the blue of his eyes. But surely that did not account for the behaviour of the young person at the desk.
The girl’s eyes opened wide, as though the request astonished her. Then she frowned, considering, seemed to reach a conclusion, and returned her own bright smile.
“Of course, sir. We have a table ready immediately,” she said, all eager attentiveness. “Right this way. If your party would just follow me.”
Stone glanced back at his team with bemused triumph, and Eve gave him a quizzical stare. Jones looked pleased but innocuous, and Cassandra eyed the young woman skeptically. Obviously, none of them had any idea how they had achieved this precedence over all the other waiting diners.
With her habitual caution, Eve scanned the room for any potential threats, noting all entrances and egresses, cataloguing traffic patterns and scrutinizing the patrons. She also kept an eye on Ezekiel in case his itch to increase his wealth should lead him astray. Being Ezekiel’s guardian far too often involved guarding others from him.
He gave her an angelic grin that had her resolved to tip him upside down and shake out his pockets before they left this place.
Navigating a bit of confusion as several other patrons of the Brew Pub exited at the same time as the Librarian team entered, they were shown to a table that Eve would have described as perfect. While being set in a somewhat private corner, it yet afforded a clear view of the entire room.
The young woman who had led them to the table seemed a bit confused when Stone held Eve’s chair for her instead of taking it himself (Eve scowled at him, but allowed him to seat her), then took the seat with his back to the rest of the room-like Stone had done something wrong or at least unexpected.
Almost . . . Eve frowned . . . almost as if he were already part of a play in which the rest of the team had no part, but he didn’t know his lines or where he was supposed to stand.
She glared at the establishment with even more suspicion. They did not need magical shenanigans on their night out.
“Your waiter will be with you right away,” the helpful employee said, eyeing Stone’s back.
“Thank you,” said Eve, drawing attention back to herself. “May we look at the menu?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” The flustered girl fumbled the folders she’d been clutching.
Cassandra smiled at her sympathetically. Ezekiel yawned. And Stone, of course, turned with his dazzling grin and said, “Let me help you with those, darlin’.”
The poor child looked like she wasn’t sure what to do, so Stone plucked the menus from her hands and dealt them out to his team.
“Th-th-thank you,” she stammered turning a blotchy red. Then she fled. There was no other word to accurately describe her precipitate departure.
“Well, that was kind of odd,” Cassandra said.
Stone smirked at her with those bright eyes that always made Eve convinced he was five years old and into mischief.
“Read your menu, Casanova!” she ordered.
“Casanova was also a librarian in the Count Waldstein's household,” Stone said, opening the folder.
“Is there any piece of historical trivia that you do not have on the tip of your tongue?” Ezekiel asked.
Stone looked at him as though he was unbelievable and shook his head. Of course not. Eve sighed.
They had barely had a chance to glance at the Brew Pub’s menus before another of its employees materialized at their table. Eve had never before patronized an establishment where the service was quite so . . . well, servile.
“Hello there,” said the dark-haired girl, her white smile lighting up her face. “My name is Amy, and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
This one, since she was standing behind Stone, seemed immune to whatever it was about him that had the other woman so blitzed.
It had been a long day. Eve had fought a mummy. Even after her shower, she couldn’t shake the sensation that there were still mummy molecules in her lungs. “Just bring me the best single malt whiskey you’ve got,” she sighed.
“Look, Ezekiel!” Cassandra exclaimed, examining the beverage menu. “They have a drink just for you. ‘Thief Juice: It’s a mouth crime’!”
Amy snorted. “I think I should warn you-that item is something of an in-joke here at the Brew Pub. I’m pretty sure our chef came close to murdering my boss when he put it on the menu. It’s the boss’s personal brew, so it’s probably made with lasers and possibly the blood of an alien. It’s really quite dreadful.”
“Even better!” Stone shot Ezekiel a cheerfully homicidal grin. “He’ll definitely have that!”
“Yeah,” Ezekiel decided. “I’m the adventurous sort. I’ll give it a go.”
The minute she heard Stone’s voice, Amy froze. And when he turned to order a beer, her dusky skin turned a shade paler. She didn’t stammer like the previous girl, but she backed up a step and apologized, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize it was you.” Her hand flew up to touch her hair.
The Librarians in Training exchanged puzzled glances. Stone appeared as baffled as the rest of them. Eve narrowed her eyes and wondered what fresh supernatural doohickey thingummy they were going to end up disarming instead of enjoying a peaceful meal.
“It’s okay, Amy,” said a voice Eve would have sworn was Stone’s, except his mouth hadn’t moved. “I’ll take this table, tonight.”
Eve had been so focused on the situation with their waitress, she hadn’t noticed the three people approaching. A rookie mistake with the potential to be fatal.
Cassandra gave a little gasp and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes going wide.
“Whoa!” Ezekiel exclaimed looking back and forth between the man sitting at their table and the new arrivals.
One of the three looked exactly like Jacob Stone.
It said something about the life she had been leading that Eve’s first thoughts were that this was either a bizarre manifestation of some sort of magic-a shapeshifter or an illusion-or that this was actually Stone travelling from the past or the future. No, not from the past. Her mind immediately dismissed that theory. Nothing Stone was now could ever have once been the duplicate that stood before them. Her next thought was that she did not ever want to know what could turn a man like Stone into such a person as the man who wore his face.
Jacob Stone moved large and loose in the world, his features mobile, a keen enjoyment of everything sparkling off of him. For all of his strength and his exuberance in a fight, Stone was a gentle soul. There was a banked pain in his eyes, but it was the pain of a good man who cared too much, of a private man who dared too little. And life among the Librarians in Training had eased some of that. If he did not yet trust them entirely, he was infinitely trustworthy.
This man, this stranger with Stone’s face-she’d seen men like him too many times before. He moved like a predator, still and controlled, with violence seething under his skin, his face giving away nothing, his swift gaze cataloguing threats. She saw him unerringly note each of the weapons she wore concealed. But it was his eyes that distinguished him the most from Stone. They were a soldier’s eyes-eyes that had recorded too much horror. She’d seen that kind of unrelenting pain in the eyes of men and women in her command, when the memories of things they had witnessed, of things they had experienced, and perhaps most of all of things they had done approached the unbearable. She had seen eyes like that in her own mirror.
But what puzzled her was the recognition she saw in his face. Stone’s double was looking at her as if he were seeing a ghost.
For a moment their gazes knotted together in a tangle of her confusion and his uncanny recognition. Then, with a professional reassertion of self-control, the stranger shifted his focus to their historian.
“Jake Stone,” he said, holding out his hand. “Isn’t that a kick in the teeth!”
Stone’s face, as he stood to take the other’s hand, was a mixture of astonishment and joy.
“Eliot! You’re alive! Guys, you remember the cousins I used to bar fight with on Christmas Eve? This is the best one of them!” He pulled the other man into an enthusiastic, if somewhat one-sided, hug. However, after a moment of stiff bemusement, his cousin raised an arm to awkwardly return the gesture.
“You left home when you were 18,” said the young dark-skinned man who accompanied Stone’s cousin. “What were you doing in bars often enough to have a tradition?”
“Being a bad influence, eh Jake?”
Side by side, the resemblance between the two of them was remarkable. Stone’s cousin might have been just a touch narrower in the face and was obviously in fighting trim, but Eve didn’t think she could have distinguished between them, separately, other than by Stone’s much shorter hair. No wonder they’d thrown the Brew Pub employees into such a dither.
“This,” Stone gestured around at the restaurant. “This is what you’re doing now?”
“In part,” his cousin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I try to keep Hardison here from serving anchovies with pineapple, and otherwise insure that he doesn’t bankrupt the place with lousy food.”
“Hey!” the young man, Hardison, looked indignant. “Just because you’re a high and mighty chef doesn’t mean my culinary inventions are from the Dark Side.”
Ignoring his colleague, Stone’s cousin asked, “So, what brings you to Portland?”
Eve knew Stone had not told his family what he was now doing for employment.
He’d shrugged, saying, “It’s better they still think I’m working in the oil industry.”
However, the situation might become a little awkward if he found himself living in the same city as his cousin without admitting at least some of what he was doing there. Considering the man still enduring Stone’s arm around his shoulders, Eve decided that surely their secret scholar would feel able to admit his artistic connections to a man who dressed in a floral apron, who tossed shoulder length locks to reveal turquoise and silver beads braided in his hair, and who worked as a chef. For all that his body language shouted ex-military, Stone’s cousin’s camouflage bespoke a man distancing himself from that past.
After a brief hesitation, Stone seemed to come to a similar conclusion. “I’m . . . um . . . I’m employed with a . . . with a small historical foundation archiving their collection of rare books and art here in Portland.”
“The Metropolitan Library, right?” spoke up the blonde girl who made up the other part of the trio. Both Hardison and Stone’s cousin glared at her.
“That’s . . . correct,” said Stone slowly, “but how . . .”
“Oooh, rare art! Sophie likes art,” the girl said with a smile that was somehow just a bit off.
With what was obviously the ease of long practice, Stone’s cousin intervened. “I always knew you had it in you, class valedictorian! Now how about you introduce me to your colleagues? Friends?”
His smile at them all held some of Stone’s familiar charm with much less warmth. Eve got the impression that he was asking the question like something disagreeable that nevertheless must be done.
“Oh! Of course! Pardon my manners.” Stone gestured to Cassandra first. “This is Cassandra Cillian. She’s the scientific part of the team.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” said Stone’s double, his smile now as warm as his cousin’s. He took the hand Cassandra offered, but instead of shaking it, he bowed a kiss over it. “Portland is certainly a more beautiful city tonight than it has ever been before.”
Seriously? Two of them? Eve resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Cassandra did not look displeased with the compliment. “Portland is certainly a more interesting city tonight,” she said.
Stone looked unsure whether to be happy or worried that his cousin was getting along so well with her. “Cassie, this is Eliot Spencer, the lost sheep of the family.”
At the mention of his full name, the minute relaxation Stone’s cousin had undergone reversed to high alert tension. Gone was any pretence that this meeting was simply a happy coincidence of relatives getting back in touch.
Eve’s reflexes had her on her feet, battle-ready, her veins running 99 proof adrenaline, all her attention on the man who no longer looked like merely a restaurant chef. Her hand instinctively hovered over the place her gun was concealed, and with choking horror she realized it was missing.
Their eyes locked like the sights of weapons.
He had been the first to recognize her, because she had never before seen his face. However, that name-Eliot Spencer-was one Colonel Eve Baird, NATO Counter-terrorism, knew far too well.
Eliot Spencer, enforcer for Damien Moreau, who bankrolled terrorists and moved nuclear materials for Iran, whom no law enforcement agency could touch--if she was his ghost, he was her murderer.
* * * * *
TBC