(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)
2. Martin Riggs
"Welcome to Leverage International."
It's a long time since I've seen my brother, and I sure didn't expect to find him in a place like this when I did see him again. It's a fancy, swanky type of an office on top of a brew pub up in Portland, Oregon. Not the kind of place you expect to find a man that used to be a criminal, but I'm happy to say, Jonah's back to batting for the good guys again now, though he's still using that other name.
"So, you're Quinn's brother?" asks the pretty blonde that comes bounding over to us the second we clear the door.
"Yes, ma'am," I tell her, wondering just how close she's going to get as she stares first at me then at him, then repeats the process. I'm about to ask her when she makes an unimpressed sound and shrugs her shoulders.
"I thought you said you were identical," she says to Jonah. "Not even close."
The next second she's gone and I barely see the going of her.
"You have to excuse Parker," Jonah tells me. "She's... an acquired taste."
"She's... She's Parker?" I check. "Like best thief in the world? That Parker?"
"That's my girl," says a voice from behind a computer. "Hey, man," says its owner, throwing up a wave.
"Hey," I reply in kind, looking to Jonah for some kind of explanation.
"Alec Hardison. Hacker," he explains.
I nod along, but the name means nothing to me. Hackers have their uses when they're on the right side of the law, but I'm not into all that technical stuff. Hand me a gun and point me at the bad guy, that's more my style. Works for a soldier or for a cop. Of course, this place is probably the last place you'd expect to find a man of the law on any normal day.
"So, this is the famous Martin Riggs."
The guy that walks out stating my name isn't so much a stranger, though he doesn't seem aware of the fact we met before. Eliot Spencer is known by his name and his reputation, by people on both sides of the line. Not many have fought him and come out alive unless he needed for them to live. I'll admit, when I was on the receiving end of his particular brand of skills, he was pulling for the good guys, but I did walk away... eventually.
"You never told him?" I checked with Jonah.
He shifts awkwardly in place, wearing that look I recall from the old days, when our momma was trying to figure which of our hides to tan for stealing cookies before dinner or something.
"Told me what?" asks Eliot, standing in front of us now, all puffed-up and manly with his arms folded over his chest.
It's impossible not to grin when I let slip the truth.
"Er, you and me, we met before," I tell him. "Funny story actually, we got into a hell of a fight, man."
Eliot looks from me to Jonah and he doesn't look too happy. I'm not exactly quaking in my boots. I've been here before with this guy, and this time, we're technically on the same team, or close to it.
"When Sterling wanted to hire me for that job five years back," says Jonah, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wasn't exactly able-bodied at the time."
"So, he tagged in a sub," I finish for him, one hand raised like a volunteer. "Yes, sir. You fought me in that hangar. I'm the one who owed you for the dental work," I explain.
His brain's working out how he missed that, I can see it all over his face. Slowly, he puts it together, how the truth I'm telling him makes sense of some things he couldn't quite figure out before. I'm not sure whether I expect a punch in the gut or a compliment for the con we pulled. It's almost more of a surprise when he offers me his hand to shake.
"So, we're buddies now, right?"
Eliot doesn't answer me, just shakes my hand as a slow smile spreads across his lips, and then he walks away.
"Friendly," I mutter, wiping my hand on my jeans just in case.
"He's not really the sociable type," says Jonah with a smirk, "but then, neither were you last I heard."
We haven't talked much in the last ten years or more. Since he turned to the dark side, for lack of a better phrase, I didn't want to deal with him. It's tough with brothers though. You can say that you're done each and every time, that this is the last favour, the last conversation. Doesn't work. Brothers are never done.
"So, for the first time in living memory, you called me," Jonah reminds me, gesturing for me to join him on the couch. "What's up?"
"Well, there's a situation I could use some help with, and apparently, that's what you guys do now," I tell him. "Me and Murtaugh, our hands are tied by the law, but you..."
"We don't have that problem," says Parker, appearing as if from nowhere on my arm of the couch, smiling like it's going out of style. "How can we help?"