"So...you have a friend in INTERPOL?" Raelyn asked as she sharpened a fighting knife while sitting atop his coffee table.
"He's not a friend," Eliot corrected. "He's...an associate." He knew he had to be careful with his words regarding Sterling. If she knew Eliot hated him, she could kill him...or worse, sleep with him.
"That's sounds hinky," she said, sensing his unease.
He started pacing. "Just try to reign it in, alright? He's about as snarky as you are, and with how reckless you are, he could get you thrown in prison. He'd probably enjoy it, too. Almost as much as-Nevermind. Weapons away."
She looked up at him with a furrowed brow. "And we're working with this guy?"
"It's better than working against him," he muttered. He stood in front of her. "This is really important."
She was back at examining the knife she had been sharpening. "I know, Dad. Parker will be fine."
"No, not that. Raelyn, look at me." He took the knife from her to force her to obey. "This man cannot find out who you are." He took her chin and squeezed it to show her how serious he was. "Cannot. You need to focus. No slip ups. Period. Top priority. Okay? I will take you off this job if I think there's any danger of him finding out. Do you understand me?
"Yeah."
"Raelyn."
"Yes, sir."
He kissed her forehead and finally let go of her chin. "Now gimme your belt."
"But-"
He gave her a look, silently telling her this wasn't a discussion. She removed the thick, wide belt that she often wore from beneath the waistband of her pants; it held about a dozen knives. "Stand up, spread your legs, put your hands behind your head."
"Dad!"
"Now."
With a growl, she followed orders. He patted her down and started removing weapons from her person. Four different from her pant legs. He dug a Swiss Army Knife from her pocket. "Come on! That's barely a-"
"Quiet," he ordered as he continued. He pulled another knife from her waistband. And a pistol. She grimaced. He glared at it restraining the need to yell. He looked her in the eye. "If you bring this into my house ever again, I will use it on you. Am I clear?"
She nodded. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. "Yes, sir," she said through her teeth.
He patted over her back and pulled a small blade from the back of her bra. He looked at her chest and then back up at her face. "Do you want me to do this part or do you want to handle it?"
She relaxed her arms momentarily and started to stick her hand inside the front of her shirt. He took hold of her wrist. "Can I trust you?"
"No!" she snapped. He squeezed her wrist in warning. "Dad, seriously. I'm reaching in to pull out the blade I have tucked in here when I could have just told you I didn't have anything and waited for you to find out."
He let go of her. "Fine." She produced the final hidden blade, and he took it from her. "You'll get these back when the job starts." She sighed, watching him stow her armory in the hidden compartment in the coffee table.
There was a knock at the front door. He pointed a serious finger at her. "Best behavior." He left her behind in the living room and went to answer the door. He walked slowly, trying to figure out how he was going to play this.
"Sterling...I was really hoping you wouldn't show."
Sterling nodded. "I was hoping you wouldn't answer the door. So who is this associate of yours? Old army buddy?"
"Nope." Sterling stepped forward, but Eliot didn't move. "This is your warning, Sterling: Do not cross her; I may not be able to kill you since I'm reformed. She has no such qualms."
Sterling raised an eyebrow. "She? Mikel?"
Eliot sputtered. "Like she'd ever agree to this." He finally stepped aside and granted Sterling access.
"Okay, this is...Jamie, where'd you go?" When they got to the living room, it was empty.
"Jamie," Sterling repeated quietly like he was mulling something over.
"Kitchen," Raelyn called, and the tell-tale sound of a beer being opened was heard.
"She's comfortable," Sterling commented.
They continued into the kitchen. "This is Jamie Andrews. Jamie, this is-"
"You!" Raelyn slammed her beer down on the counter, surprisingly without breaking it. The next thing Eliot knew, Raelyn had her braid wrapped around Sterling's neck. Her hand shook as she pulled it tighter.
Far too amused at the sight, Eliot quipped, "I see you've met."
"This son-of-a-bitch has fucked up six different jobs for me. Almost gotten my best covers blown, almost gotten me thrown in prison!"
"It's my job!" Sterling joked. "You've killed-"
She leaned down close to his ear. "That's my job."
She straightened and pulled harder. Sterling flailed and got hold of a large kitchen knife. He brought it towards the braid, but Eliot grabbed his wrist. "Jimmy, I'm going to gift you with a warning: if you slice a single hair, she's going to kill you, and I'm going to have to let her."
Hand shaking, Sterling dropped the knife like it injured him. Eliot stood there with a smug look on his face...until Sterling started changing colors. "Alright, Andrews, that's enough." Raelyn exhaled sharply and didn't change position. "Jamie," Eliot warned, raising his voice. When she still didn't relent, he stepped behind her and took hold of the back of her waistband. He put his head next to hers and growled just loud enough for her to hear, "I said...that's enough."
She let go, and Sterling crumpled to the floor, wheezing. "Sterling, make yourself comfortable," Eliot said quickly as he yanked Raelyn into the living room.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded. She said nothing, just glared at him, her arms crossed and her mouth puckered in defiance. "Can you do this job?" he demanded.
"He can hear you," she said, barely audible.
"Yes. Or. No."
She glanced down at her feet. "Yeah."
"You're sure?" She nodded. He got barely inches from her face. "Then you will never ignore orders like that again. Am I clear?"
"Yes."
