Chapter 1

"Eliot. Eliot!" Nate's voice broke through the hitter's thoughts.

Eliot dropped the guy he'd been beating up and stood back, swaying on his feet. He looked around him. The bodies of several men lay scattered in pools of their own blood. He blinked and took a few steps backward, looking down at his hands, stained red.

"Eliot." Sophie spoke softly to him, touching his arm gently.

He jerked away from her, as if burned. "Don't touch me." He gritted through clenched teeth.

"Eliot, you've gone too far this time." Nate stood in front of him. "You need to take a break."

"I'm fine." He growled. But he knew Nate was right. This was the third job this month where he'd been out of control – more out of control than normal. He looked down at the man at his feet, the face was unrecognizable, beaten to a pulp. He hoped deep down that he hadn't actually killed any of them, but he wouldn't have been surprised if he had.

"I, um," he looked up at Nate, a huge wave of guilt — and maybe even fear — washing over him. "I'll be outside."

Sophie looked disapprovingly at Eliot's back as he walked away. She turned to Nate. "He needs help. I don't know what we can do.

"Force him to have time off?" Nate shook his head at his own question and offered her his arm as they followed Eliot out.

Eliot stepped outside and took a deep breath of the fresh night air, closing his eyes for a moment. He knew he'd lost it in there. The guilt of it was weighing on him and he realized he was incredibly exhausted.

"Dude, are you okay?" Hardison's voice was next to him.

Eliot opened his eyes and glanced at the hacker, not meeting his gaze. "I'm fine." He replied quietly.

"You're covered in blood."

Eliot looked down at his hands. "It's not mine."

Hardison stared at him, making no comment.

Nate and Sophie approached them. "Let's get out of here."

"Where's Parker?"

"Waiting for you guys." Parker appeared next to them out of nowhere.

They climbed into the van and Parker handed Eliot a towel. "You're okay, right?"

Eliot nodded with a growl. He was sick and tired of people asking him that.

"I think we should take a little break." Sophie spoke up from the front seat. "Maybe a week or two."

"Good idea." Hardison agreed, glancing in the rearview mirror at Eliot.

"The hell am I supposed to do for a week or two?" Eliot demanded, trying to wipe all the blood off his hands.

"I don't know." Hardison looked over at Sophie. "Go to the gym, pick up girls, whatever it is that you do to relax, man."

Eliot cursed under his breath. "Just drop me off."

"What, here?"

"Yeah, here, Hardison."

Hardison pulled the van over and looked back at Eliot. "Man, don't –"

"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot flung the van door open. "Just shut up!" He jumped out of the van, catching a glimpse of Parker's concerned face before slamming the door closed. He looked around him, getting his bearings and took off down the street. Soon enough he approached one of his favorite bars and without a second thought, pushed his way through the door. Hardison was right, as much as he hated to admit it. What he needed was a few stiff drinks and a good fuck with a stranger. He went directly up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, followed by another and another.

"Rough day at the office?" A sultry feminine voice spoke close to him, almost too close. He looked over and found himself face to face with a young blonde. She was dressed in a short, low-cut hot black number which clung tightly to her body, accentuating her every asset, of which she had many.

"Yeah, something like that." He downed another shot and held up the empty shot glass. "You want one?"

She smiled, brown eyes glinting in the dim bar lights. "As long as a handsome man is buying."

He bought both of them a round of shots, then another. They chased the second round with a third and fourth and Eliot was beginning to feel the buzz. Normally, he wouldn't have put himself in a situation where he was off his game, unable to pay complete attention to his surroundings, but tonight he didn't care.

The blonde sidled up to him, running her hand lightly down his arm. "What do you say we take the party back to my place?"

He downed his last shot, dropped cash on the bar and stood up. "Perfect."

She giggled and took his arm as they exited the bar, both stumbling out onto the sidewalk. She hailed a cab and he listened closely to the address she gave, filing it away in the memory banks of his brain in case he had to have it later. He hadn't done this in a while, going home with a stranger. He couldn't even remember what her name was. Michelle… no, maybe it was Maria? He shrugged mentally. It didn't matter; he'd forget her by tomorrow anyway.

The cab dropped them off at the address the girl gave and Eliot was met with a towering apartment building. It was nicer than he'd thought a girl like her could afford. Then again, he didn't really know her, so what did he really know about her or how much money she had.

"Nice, right?" She smiled at him.

"Yeah." He nodded. He could tell she was completely drunk on her feet at this point and he put an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off her heels as they walked through the main door. She clung to him, perhaps a bit too much for his liking, but he let her. He'd be gone in a few hours anyway. They stepped into the elevator and she pressed the button for the seventh floor and turned to him, suddenly pressing her lips to his before the doors even closed. He kissed her back, throwing out his concerns and ignoring the warning bells in his head. They almost fell out of the elevator when the doors opened and she stumblingly led him down the hall, fishing for her keys and giggling. She pulled him into her apartment, dropping her purse as she let the door close. She stumbled in her heels and he caught her, laying her down on her couch, his hand running up her leg, lifting the edge of her dress even higher than it already was.

"Fuck me now." She whispered to him, pulling at his pants.

He tried to ignore the buzzed feeling in his head, the fact that his vision was a little blurry should have concerned him, but he paid no attention. He undid his pants, kicking them off and pushing himself between her legs. He closed his eyes as he entered her. God it felt good, like he hadn't done this in forever. He blocked out all thought, focusing on the girl underneath him as he roughly thrust into her. Perhaps he was being too rough, fucking her too hard, but he wasn't hearing any complaints on her end, just fast, gasping breaths and satisfied moans.

His phone suddenly went off and he cursed loudly. Of all things to interrupt…

"Ignore it." She begged, clutching at his arm.

"Can't." He replied. The only calls he got were from his team, and since they'd all agreed to take a week or two off, this call concerned him. He pulled out of the blonde and reached into the pocket of his jeans for his cell, answering it quickly. "What?"

"Eliot," Hardison's voice came through, sounding rushed and panicked. "Don't have… time."

Eliot stood up straight, suddenly alert. "What happened?"

"Trouble." Hardison's voice crackled, as if his phone were losing reception. "The team… Moreau… Get help."

The line went dead.

"Fuck!" Eliot threw his phone at the wall.

"I thought that's what we were doing?" The girl smiled at him from where she was still sprawled on the couch.

"I have to go." He pulled his pants on and reached for his boots, silently fuming. This was seriously the last straw.

"What?!" The girl objected, sitting up. "We're not done!"

"I. Have. To. Go." He ground out from between clenched teeth, snatching up his phone from where he'd thrown it. "Uh, by, Marilyn."

"It's Monica."

He shook his head, grabbed his shirt and ran out the door. Hardison had sounded scared and the fact that the hacker had said"Moreau" did not make Eliot feel any better about the situation. Instead of waiting for the elevator, Eliot took the stairs, running down them faster than was safe and nearly crashing through the door on the ground level. Dashing out into the street, he hailed a cab. He jumped in as one pulled up and quickly gave the driver an address that was a few blocks down from Leverage headquarters. If Moreau really was involved, he wanted to make sure not to lead any henchmen directly to where the team worked. On the way, he tried calling the rest of the team's phones. No one was answering. "Dammit!"

"Is everything alright, sir?" The cabbie looked at him in the rear view mirror.

Eliot ran a hand over his face. "Just hurry up!" He barked. It dawned on him that there was one thing he hadn't tried yet. Pulling his earbud out of his pocket, he put it into his ear.

"Nate?" Nothing. "Sophie?" Still nothing. "Parker? Hardison?" Silence. "Dammit."

"Um, here's your stop, sir."

Eliot paid for the cab and jumped out, rushing toward the condo. He had to get into the office. Even though he didn't know a damn thing about computers and in fact sucked horribly at trying to use them, he had to find Hardison's to try and find out some information.
He headed around the back way, up the fire escape and into the emergency exit door on the third floor. They always kept that door open, just in case, and Eliot was glad they did. As he got to the door of the office, he looked around, making sure no one else was there before entering the office and closing and locking the door behind him.

Going directly into Hardison's office, he sat down at the hacker's desk and stared at the computer screen in front of him. It was asking for a password.

"Fuck." How was he supposed to know what a world-renowned hacker like Hardison had as his password? He typed in a couple of possibilities and came up empty. Nothing worked. He stood up so fast that he knocked over the desk chair, before storming off into the main briefing room. Maybe something was up on the big screens. He brought up the screens and searched through all the open browser windows, like Hardison had shown him. Still nothing. All he could find were links related to research they'd done for their last job.

He tried the comms again. Silence. He tried calling their phones. Nothing.

"God damn it!" He yelled at the empty office, kicking over one of the chairs in his anger. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?!"

After punching a hole in the wall, he stood still, breathing hard, trying to focus. Everything was turning red. All he could think about was that one word Hardison had said. Moreau. If he really was behind this, the team could already be dead. That thought made Eliot even angrier. He pulled out his phone and punched in a few numbers. It was all he could do to not squeeze his phone to bits as he waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?"

"I'm looking for Moreau."

"Please hold."

Eliot waited, impatiently pacing back and forth.

"This is Moreau."

Eliot stopped pacing, eyes flashing angrily. "What the hell have you done with my team?"

"Nice to talk to you, too, Spencer." Moreau laughed dryly, "I'm so sorry something happened to your team. What makes you think I know anything it?"

"Don't fuck with me." Eliot growled.

Moreau laughed again. "Maybe we should talk about this in person. Boston Park Plaza Hotel. 10 o'clock."

The line went dead and Eliot stared at his phone, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. It was already 9:30, the hotel Moreau had named was across town. He had to leave now if he was supposed to get there on time. Muttering curses under his breath, he stormed out of the office and made his way out the way he'd come in. He went around to the back alley where his Challenger was parked and jumped in.

When he got about two blocks away, he parked his car and slowly stepped out into the street. He had to check out the place before just barging straight in and throwing punches. Knowing Moreau, all entrances would be monitored. He probably already knew that Eliot was there.

"Fuck." Eliot muttered to himself.

There was no getting around this. He walked up to the main doors and was immediately approached by two men in suits. He could see the guns in their shoulder holsters, hidden to those who didn't know how to look. One of the men reached forward for Eliot's arm. Eliot reacted instantly, grabbing the man's wrist in his iron grip and twisting it painfully behind the man's back. He heard the cock of a gun and looked over to see the other man pointing a pistol at him. He could easily take the man out, but instead he let go of the first man and took a step back, holding out his hands to show he was unarmed.

"I'm just here to talk to Moreau."

The man who had reached for him glared silently and Eliot could see the fear in both men's eyes.

"Walk." The man with the gun said coldly.

Eliot did as he was instructed, walking into the hotel lobby in front of the two men. He was directed towards the elevator and escorted in. He knew the man still had a gun on him, but he wasn't worried. The elevator dinged when they reached the top floor and Eliot was greeted with two more armed men as he stepped out into the hall. He could take on all four men, no problem, but that wouldn't prove anything or help out his team, so he resigned to being escorted down the hall to the Presidential suite. Two more men guarded the door. One stepped forward in front of Eliot.

"Gotta check him for weapons."

"Don't have any." Eliot told him. He couldn't really mention the fact that he didn't need any because he himself was a weapon.

The man stopped short, looking Eliot over skeptically. "Sure, and I suppose you've come here just to talk?" He laughed derisively and stepped up to pat Eliot down.

Eliot bit his tongue and held back his initial instinct to beat the man senseless. After nodding to the other two men that Eliot was clean, the hotel door opened and Eliot was escorted inside. They stopped in what looked like a lavishly decorated living area and Eliot stood still, waiting.