Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Two Horse Job │Part 1

The car screeched to a stop in front of the burning barn, the flames licking the sky as horses screamed in terror. One horse bolted from the inferno, its coat glistening with sweat and smoke, racing past Willie as he stumbled, barely making it into Aimee's arms.

"Dad! Dad! Are you alright? The other horses?" Aimee's voice trembled with urgency.

Willie coughed, his voice hoarse from the smoke. "It's too late."

Aimee glanced at the barn, its structure collapsing under the flames. "Yeah," Aimee whispered, eyes haunted.

<>

I stood quietly behind Nate, leaning against the wall, watching Eliot as we met our latest client.

"Nine dead," Willie said, voice rough and low. "One horse survived—Baltimore, with smoke in his lungs. My family's been training horses since the Civil War. Never had anything like this."

Nate sat forward, hands clasped. "But you didn't own any of those horses, right?"

Before Willie could respond, Eliot cut in. "That's not how it works. Trainers raise them, break them, race them, but they don't own them. It's a rich man's game."

Willie's eyes hardened. "I always dreamed of having my own horses. So, when this Wall Street guy, Mr. Foss, came to town, offering me 10% ownership—real ownership—I took the deal. Six months later, the horses aren't running to Foss' liking. And now...now they're gone."

Eliot leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "He burned nine horses, Nate. Nine of them. To get his investment back."

Willie clenched his fists. "He's running around blaming me for the fire. Bad enough I lost my stable. No one'll hire me again. I'm uninsurable."

I straightened up, pushing off the wall, my voice calm but edged. "Foss is up for a two-million-dollar insurance payout. We can get you a piece of that money."

Willie's eyes flashed with anger. "I don't want a dime of Foss' damn money."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"They scream," Willie said quietly, voice breaking. "In a fire, the horses scream. Foss only has one horse left alive—Baltimore. Get him for me, and I'll take care of him. That's all I want. For that son of a bitch to never be in the horse business again. Nothing more."

Before any of us could respond, the door opened, and a blonde woman stormed in, her eyes locking onto Eliot with pure hostility. "You called him?"

Willie didn't flinch. "We need him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, no, we don't."

Eliot sighed. "I forgot how much I love these Southern welcomes."

The woman crossed her arms, still glaring at him. "Eight years. No phone calls, no letters, and you think you deserve a homecoming parade?"

Eliot's voice softened. "How's your husband, Aimee?"

Her face darkened. "Gone. Seems I have a weakness for men with one foot out the door." Without another word, she turned and walked out, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

Willie muttered a quick apology before following her.

Nate turned to Eliot, "So when you said you knew the family, you meant you knew the family. Please tell me you weren't engaged to her."

Eliot shifted awkwardly. "No...may have given her a promise ring, or..."

I couldn't help but snort at that, and Nate raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

Eliot sighed. "So that..."

Nate waved him off, standing up. "No, never mind. Look, there's no way we're going to do this if I have to worry about you being stupid because you're too involved with..."

Eliot cut him off, voice firm. "I'm not involved. I want to help Willie. Did you hear the guy's story? Scout's honor." he raised his hand towards his brows.

Nate shook his head. "Wrong hand."

As Nate walked out of the office, I patted Eliot on the back, amused. "Come on," I said as we followed Nate outside.

<Leverage Offices, Conference Room>

Hardison paced the room confidently while the screens behind him flashed with charts and profiles. "Alan Foss, hedge-fund manager for Smith & Marken in New York. He made $40 million in the last two years. And apparently, he's decided to spend some of it on high-profile hobbies. Started with high-stakes poker, now owning racehorses."

Parker stared in horror at the screen where a picture of Foss's remaining horse, Baltimore, was displayed. She raised her hand abruptly. "I think I have a fever. Can I be excused from this one?"

Sophie, seated nearby, raised an eyebrow "Oh, come here. Let me feel your head."

I chuckled from where I stood, arms crossed. "What's the matter, Parker? You scared of horses?"

Parker's eyes didn't move from the screen as she mumbled, her voice far away. "I once saw a horse kill a clown."

<Flashback>
Camden, Illinois, 20 years ago

A boy brightly dressed as a clown is being chased in circles by a kid in a massive horse costume. "Bobbie, no! No! Ugh! Aah! No! I'll give you more money! No! Aah! Aaaah!" The clown's scream faded as the horse charged at him.

Snapping out of it, Parker simply said, "I just really don't like horses."

Nate waved her off. "Moving on."

Hardison picked up where he left off. "Six months ago, Foss poured a pile of cash into buying all the horses from Willie's stable. After the fire, wh—"

Eliot, voice low and filled with unspoken fury, interrupted. "Massacre. It was a massacre."

Sophie glanced at him. "Ooh, you're a bit hot on this one."

Hardison raised both hands defensively. "Okay, hot, yes. Y'all wanna take over the briefings now? I go through a lot of trouble to make these things interesting, with visuals for the visual learners and sound for the auditory learners, but y'all just—"

Parker cut him off, eyes lighting up as she saw something on the screen. "Hey, IYS. Your old insurance company holds the policy on Foss' horses."

Sophie glanced over at Nate. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Nate answered, a glint of something almost predatory in his eyes. "No. In fact, if I can stick it to my old bosses, even better."

Hardison, back on track, pointed to the screen where a profile of Baltimore appeared. "Our mission is to take Foss' last surviving horse and deliver it to Eliot's friend Willie. Meet Baltimore. Three wins, two places, insured for $200,000." He clicked the presentation shut, looking around the room. "Thank you very much, that concludes this briefing. Appreciate your attention. Now, how do we get the damn horse?"

I tapped a finger thoughtfully on my arm, raising an eyebrow. "Well, what do we know about Foss' schedule?"

Hardison's fingers flew over his keyboard, and a moment later, he pulled up Foss's online calendar. "According to his schedule, he's attending a big race... at Kensington Racetrack this weekend."

Nate hummed, already formulating a plan. "Miss Devereaux, how is your 'southern belle'?"

Sophie's lips curled into a confident, almost mischievous smile. "Oh, darling, she's as sweet as ever."