Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The 12 Step Job│ Part 3

Dring.

The bell above the bar door jingled as we stepped inside, the warm scent of stale beer and grilled food wafting through the air. Behind the counter stood the waitress we'd spotted with Hurley earlier in the week. She was wiping down a glass, her cheerful demeanor lighting up the dim room.

"Hey, how can I help you lovely people?" she greeted with a smile that seemed far too genuine for this line of work.

I stepped forward, my voice calm but firm. "Yeah, we're here to ask about a man by the name Jack Hurley."

Her face lit up with recognition. "Oh yes, Jack. I know him."

I nodded toward the door. "Mind if we converse outside?"

The waitress hesitated but then shrugged. "Sure."

We followed her out into the alley behind the bar, the muted bustle of the street providing a quieter backdrop for the conversation.

"He just called, actually," she began, crossing her arms. "Sounded kind of rough."

Eliot leaned against the brick wall, his gaze sharp. "Yeah, well, we saw how he was treating you at the bar the other day, and, ah..."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, that? No. He wasn't harassing me. He bought me a car. He was just trying to convince me to take it."

Hardison blinked, his surprise evident. "He bought you a car?"

She nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Mine broke down. Jack was just trying to help."

I stepped forward, extending my hand. "Thank you for your time."

She shook it warmly, "Sure. Take care."

Hardison waved as we turned to head back to the car. "Bye."

The atmosphere shifted the moment we were back in the vehicle. Eliot slammed the door shut and sighed, clearly frustrated. "Well, that's a dead end. Who's next on the list?"

Hardison, already scrolling through the GPS, smirked. "A stripper at Gary's Hideaway."

Leverage HQ

After running through the list of people Hurley had been involved with, a pattern emerged. Despite his shady dealings, he'd used some of the money to help those around him—particularly strippers.

I leaned back in my chair, flipping through the files again. "He's not all bad. I mean, he did give some of the money to people in need."

Though, deep down, I knew that didn't change the fact that the money wasn't his to give.

Eliot, standing by the counter with a coffee in hand, smirked. "You ever notice how all bad guys know at least one stripper?"

Sophie's phone rang, cutting through the banter. She answered it with her usual grace. "Hello?"

Hardison, seated at his computer, couldn't resist a jab. "And you know at least a hundred, Eliot, so what does that say about you?"

Eliot shrugged, a grin on his face. "Hey, I'm a bad guy."

Sophie's expression shifted as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. Her lips pressed into a tight line. "I'll be right there." She hung up and grabbed her purse in one fluid motion.

Eliot frowned, his senses immediately on high alert. "What? What's wrong?"

Sophie exhaled, "It's the rehab center. He tried to go over the wall."