Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Morning After Job | Part 3

The pub door swung open, and Eliot and Hardison strode inside, mid-argument.

"You don't even drive 25 in a 25-mile-an-hour zone," Eliot muttered, shaking his head.

Hardison shot him a glare. "Say what? Say one more thing. Say... say one more thing." His hands were already gesturing, emphasizing his irritation.

I leaned back in my chair, eyeing them both in their police uniforms. "Where were you guys? Playing pool?"

Hardison scoffed. "No place you would ever want to go."

Sophie barely spared them a glance. "Is that the immunity agreement?"

Hardison handed her the file, and with a satisfied nod, Sophie rose to leave.

But Eliot frowned, arms crossing over his chest. "Hey, something about this doesn't make sense."

Sophie paused just long enough to throw him a pointed look. "Oh, you want to know what doesn't make sense? Trying to pull off the Cuban sandwich without a dead hooker."

Hardison's head snapped up. "Did she just say Cuban sandwich? Hey! It's the Vegas wake-up call! It's Vegas, man."

"Shut up," Eliot grumbled.

I narrowed my eyes, glancing between them. "What exactly do you mean something about this doesn't make sense?"

<>

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

Nate straightened, exhaling as he moved toward the door. "Okay." He reached for the handle, "Hello. Okay."

The door swung open, Sophie strode inside without hesitation, her heels clicking against the floor. Nate gestured vaguely between her and the man sitting at the table. "Uh, Mark Vector. Uh, Karen Regan, Justice Department."

Sophie barely spared a glance in Vector's direction. "Let's skip the pleasantries, shall we?"

Nate nodded, moving to step in beside her. "So, the dead girl is, uh... she's upstairs. But there are these mitigating, uh, factors. In fact—"

"The less I see, the better," Sophie cut him off smoothly. "Shall we?"

Nate hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Okay."

Vector, who had been watching the exchange with wary eyes, finally spoke up. "How do I know she can get me out of this? That she can get me a new deal?"

Nate lifted a hand, a silent plea for patience. "Just—"

Sophie reached into her bag and tossed a thick folder onto the table. "On July 17th, you agreed to assist the U.S. government in a money-laundering probe." She stated crisply. "You identified clients engaged in these crimes, including Patrick Calderone and J.J. Hughes." She tapped the file. "Is this your signature?"

Vector's eyes flicked to the document. "Yeah, it's my signature."

Sophie leaned in, her gaze sharp. "Now, I can walk you out of here a free man, but you're gonna have to do better than ratting out a couple of wannabe gangsters. To get immunity from this sordid affair, you're going to have to give me a game-changer." She paused, letting her words settle for the effect. "You're gonna have to give me Damien Moreau."

Vector's scoff was instant. "You gotta be kidding me, lady."

Sophie arched a brow. "What, you think I'm joking? You think we didn't know you were holding out on us?" Her voice sharpened. "Playtime is over, Jack."