This chapter's theme is "Leader of the Broken Hearts" by Papa Roach. Rather an apt theme for Nate, don't you think?

Next week is the week we get the violence I warned for previously – just FYI. For this week, let's raise Nate's blood pressure, shall we?

Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Careless Words

Nate was the only one who managed to sleep on the plane, which was why he was the only one awake when his phone buzzed.

It was early evening when the plane Hardison had arranged – and Nate no longer cared how exactly the Hacker got jets to fly on his say-so under who-knew-what pretenses, as long as it worked – landed in Caracas. It took less than an hour for the group to break into the security booth to retrieve footage from the airport so Hardison could confirm the arrival of the plane that had been carrying Eliot and Molly. He was able to catch a single frame of them being transferred off the plane into a van; Molly looked unconscious and Eliot scarcely better, and nobody said a word about whether or not they were still breathing. Hardison could follow them as far as the van speeding off airport property, which meant they were here in the city somewhere.

But by this point, the team had been running without stopping for the better part of twenty-four hours, and most of it without sleep after getting started in the middle of the night. Nate made sure they got settled in a hotel suite and convinced the others to take a nap.

Which is to say, he asked Sophie politely and sensibly, bribed Parker with future chocolate, and glared Hardison into submission.

Parker was the only one who resisted before curling up on the huge bed next to where Hardison had sprawled into a lanky, boneless heap which had started snoring even before he was fully horizontal.

"You're not doing that thing again, are you?"

Nate raised his eyebrows. "Thing?"

"That...BD...BM...that thing where you're thinking we can't save Eliot and it makes you freeze." Parker frowned.

"Oh." He suppressed a smile. "No. I'm not doing that."

"Then what are you doing? If we're all asleep, you have to be doing something."

"I will be. I promise."

She looked closely at him, and Nate wondered if this was how locks felt when she appeared.

"You're not supposed to freeze."

Nate nodded. "I know that. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. We all freeze sometimes. But you usually only freeze for forty-five seconds when it's really bad. Not a whole hour and a half. And that did gave Hardison time to figure out where we were going, but still. It was weird."

Nate blinked. "You've timed how long I freeze for?"

"Yeah?" She shrugged. "Sophie freezes for twenty seconds but only when she's not actively grifting – she never freezes when she's grifting – Eliot freezes for five seconds if he doesn't have a concussion and thirteen if he does, and Hardison freezes for twenty-two seconds if he's grifting and about seven if he's on his computer."

Nate didn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. "And how long do you freeze for?"

"Eighteen seconds or however long my rope is."

Nate was sure there was some kind of metaphor in that. He filed the information away in his head to consider later.

"Well, this was something different."

"Yeah. We didn't have Eliot to fix you."

"Eliot doesn't fix me," Nate said, almost without thinking about it. "If anything, Sophie pulls me out of it when I get...distracted."

"No." Now Parker was looking at him like he was a particularly dim puppy – or Maggie. "Sophie fixes you when you're brooding and doing that solo drinking thing all night. But when we're on a job and somebody needs to reboot your brain, it's usually Eliot. He kinda punches your lights on again."

Nate wanted to argue with that, but he found himself stopping. In a crisis, when things had gone to hell, it might be Sophie who kept Nate grounded, he knew that – but Parker was right. It was Eliot who spurred him back into action more often than not. Eliot who knew exactly what to say, or what to ask, or even how to glare, and it made Nate's brain go clear and quiet so he could think again.

Parker leaned forward and poked Nate's shoulder.

"Ha! I did it, too! Okay, now I can nap and you won't freeze." And she flopped onto the giant bed, tucked her head under a pillow, and apparently went straight to sleep.

Nate ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. At this rate, he might never completely understand Parker.

But that didn't make her any less insightful.

Damn.

Nate turned back to the sitting room and surrounded himself with Hardison's two laptops and three notepads. Later they would buy a printer so he could put up all the relevant information on a wall, but for now he could work with his notes. Yellow notepads and pens worked just as well in a pinch.

Nate skimmed through the information Hardison had already gathered on their primary target, the lead Russian who had orchestrated everything – Pavel Tretiak, known internationally as 'Borzoi' after a type of Russian Wolfhound. The files on Borzoi were extensive from what Hardison had grabbed off however-many different systems; he was a well known underground figure, but only a few agencies had ever matched a picture and real identity to the Borzoi of the Russian mob. Pavel Tretiak was a successful property owner and broker with holdings in several different countries, connections to diplomatic and political entities the world over, and a distinguished military past. Borzoi, on the other hand, was was a clever, elusive, dirty player for the Russians, moving drugs, people, and weapons across borders with impunity.

From what Nate could see, Pavel Tretiak and Borzoi lived almost completely separate lives. It was only because Hardison was Hardison that Nate was sure they were the same person at all.

But this was the man who had taken Eliot and Molly, so this was the man Nate was going to take apart, piece by piece.

The more he read on the target, the more plans he invented and dismissed just as quickly. There was no merit in approaching Pavel Tretiak, after all – the man had put too much into maintaining his reputation as a businessman and not a criminal. No amount of blackmail or grifting was going to make Tretiak flinch without Eliot present in the opening gambit to sell it.

Which meant they had to meet Borzoi on his own terms.

But the problem was that Nate wasn't quite sure he could lead the team in pretending to be the sorts of clients currently lining up on the deep web to buy Borzoi's 'merchandise.' Hardison's stint as the 'Ice Man' had proved that there was a significant gap between what his team could present and what they really knew how to do. Sophie had the best chance of faking a role as an international criminal convincingly enough, but without knowing who else was going to be involved, there was no way to be certain she wouldn't be blown the instant she walked in the room. The same went for himself. They'd run up against too many mobs, gangs, criminals, and big players like Damien Moreau to be certain they wouldn't be recognized by someone.

There was always the option of a straight-up rescue attempt, assuming they could figure out where Borzoi was keeping Eliot and Molly, but that was even more fraught with disaster. Parker might be able to sneak into the most well-guarded buildings on the planet, but she couldn't fight her way through a hail of bullets. And he couldn't send her alone, and he couldn't send the others with her. That sort of fight was exactly what Nate had spent years keeping Sophie and Hardison and Parker from having to face in the first place.

Nate needed his Hitter.

Damn Borzoi to hell.

He was looking through public ownership records, trying to identify a list of possible places Borzoi could be keeping Eliot and Molly when his phone buzzed.

Nate peered over his shoulder through the open door to see if Parker or Hardison had heard, but all he saw was feet and a pile of blankets. The other door was shut, Sophie presumably sleeping in there as well.

Nate picked up his phone and felt his blood run cold at the simple text.

"Hello Nate."

-==OOO==-

Nate accepted the glass, perching on the edge of the chair in the corner of the hotel bar, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on every possible entrance.

"Fancy meeting you here," Sterling said, smirking.

"Yeah." Nate threw back the shot. "What do you want?"

"Oh, not much." Sterling was doing his very best to look casual and relaxed. "Just thought I'd take some time. See the sights. You know how it is."

His false nonchalance fooled Nate not at all. He'd never been close to Jim Sterling, but he knew the man all too well.

"Since I've only been here for about three hours, I'm assuming you've been on my tail since Boston."

"Not exactly." Sterling leaned back. "I was...in the neighborhood. Got a little heads-up from an informant that one of my old friends was in town." He shrugged. "Figured I should pay a little visit. Make sure any American citizens aren't in over their heads in this...politically unstable situation."

Nate's patience was running thin. It usually did around Sterling. "I'll be sure to alert the State Department if I need help. Was that it?"

"Not quite." Sterling leaned on the table. "Tell me, Nate. Where exactly is your little guard dog, Eliot Spencer?"

Nate forgot how to breathe.

Sterling's lazy smirk widened. "Or...in fact, is it possible that you don't know?"

"Sterling."

"Is it possible," Sterling blithely ignored the threat in Nate's growl, "that the only reason you're here at all is because you're...looking for your lost puppy?"

Nate swallowed with an effort.

"Because if you are," Sterling said, voice smooth and deadly, "I'm afraid you might be too late. The dogcatchers down here are...very efficient."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nate had to force the words through grit teeth.

"Well." Sterling was openly enjoying having Nate's full, undivided, and increasingly furious attention. "Imagine a puppy with...let's call it something of a reputation. Eventually that reputation's going to catch up to the poor little thing. And when the dogcatchers finally get their hooks in him..." He gave a downright evil smile. "You know what happens to bad dogs, Nate."

"Eliot's not dead." Nate managed to say it with conviction, and not whisper it with fear.

Sterling shrugged. "Unfortunately, we both know it's only a matter of time."

Nate clenched his hands. "What. Do. You. Want."

"Listen. I still owe you one, but I'm doing this for free." Sterling dropped the superior smile and sipped at his drink. "Your stunt in San Lorenzo may have cleared your slate, but Interpol is still very interested in the rest of your little group. And we're not the only ones. Don't be an idiot."

"Is that a threat in there somewhere?"

"Not yet," Sterling said, still calm and collected. "But it could be. I have enough right now to grab your three other puppies and put them on planes to some places that would love to adopt them. Don't throw their lives away for somebody who's already dead. And who probably wasn't worth saving in the first place."

Nate closed his eyes. It took every ounce of his self-control not to flip the table over and smash Sterling's head into the nearest wall.

"Seems I've hit a nerve," Sterling said.

Nate dragged in a breath around shaking that seemed it would choke him.

"Let's keep this simple, then, shall we?" Sterling tipped a measure into the glass at Nate's elbow as confidently as if they were chatting over a chessboard, and not as if Nate were barely keeping himself from homicidal urges. "Take your little group and head back to the States, and I'll pretend I never saw you. Do that, and I might even look into the problem of your little puppy myself."

Nate pushed his eyes open. "Do you know where Eliot is?"

"No." Nate could see the honesty in it. "And in this cesspool of a city, you won't find him, either." He raised his glass as if in a toast. "Seems a waste, don't you think?"

"Looking for him?"

"Getting yourself killed, you and your team." Sterling met Nate's eyes with flint and steel in his own. "Isn't it Eliot's job to keep that from happening? And you'd throw it all away. For a man who's probably dead...and should be if he isn't yet."

Nate rose, slowly. "Get out."

Sterling threw back the rest of his drink and stood, putting his hands in his pockets and affecting a boyish smile.

"Go home, Nate. Or I'll send my dogcatchers after your team." He had the audacity to wink. "If you want, I can even send you some names of people who could fill your vacancy. Of course, none of them will be quite as infamous as Eliot Spencer...but maybe that's not such a bad thing." He took two steps back. "I know I'd sleep better at night if you weren't putting all your faith in that murderer."

"Get. Out."

"Always a pleasure." Sterling gave a jaunty wave and turned to leave. "I'll give you two hours, Nate, before I sic my team on yours. Be gone when we come knocking."

Nate managed to hold still until Sterling was clear of the restaurant and out of sight.

Then he hurled his glass to the ground and Sterling's into the nearest wall.

-==OOO==-

"Everybody up!" Nate yelled as he slammed the door back into the hotel suite.

To the team's credit, the doorframe hadn't even stopped vibrating before the other three were awake and in the room, tense and ready.

"What is it, Nate?" Sophie asked. Other than her slightly-more-tousled-than-usual hair, she looked as put-together as always. Beside her, Hardison was poking at Parker's hair, which stuck up in multiple directions.

"Sterling's here," Nate said, and he didn't bother to keep the bite of his anger from his tone. "He...had some interesting things to say."

"Great, 'cause that's all we need on top of everything else," Hardison said. "Do we get a break? Something to make this whole thing slightly less deadly and impossible? No. We get Sterling creeping out of the woodwork. Perfect."

"What'd he want?" Parker asked.

Nate considered how much of the discussion he even wanted them to know, but just as quickly threw caution to the wind; they didn't have time for it.

"He told me if we don't give up on Eliot and clear out, he's going to arrest us."

Sophie shook her head. "Why bother? What's in it for him?"

"As if he could catch us," Parker said, snorting. Then she stopped. "Oh, wait. Evil Nate. Maybe he could catch us."

"Not a chance," Nate told her. "Honestly, I'm not sure what's in it for him at this point. He knew Eliot had been taken, though. Before I said anything about it."

He let out a breath.

"Sterling said that he thinks Eliot might already be dead. That we'll get ourselves killed if we keep trying."

Hardison rocked back on his heels. "And you believe him?"

"It's not about if I believe him," Nate said. "It's about what we have to do...for the sake of the team." He looked away for a moment. "Sterling being here changes the game. Makes it even more dangerous. Now it's not just Russians and guns. Now it's Interpol and somebody I might not be able to beat."

"You're suggesting we save ourselves?" Sophie asked. "Leave Eliot and run while we've got the chance?"

"I'm suggesting that this complicates things, and maybe we need to decide again if we're willing to take the risk now that the risk is coming from two sides."

"It's Eliot," Parker said, crossing her arms. "What else is there to talk about?"

Hardison nodded. "For real. And also? Sterling is scary, but he is not scarier than the mob. He's all Lawful Neutral, and you can always negotiate with Lawful Neutral. It's the Chaotic Evil you gotta watch out for."

"Nate," Sophie said. "What about Molly?"

"Sterling didn't mention her. At all. Didn't even reference her existence." Nate moved to stand over the little table covered with his notes and papers. "Which brings up a different question – how did he know about Eliot?"

"Well, that crap's all over the deep web now," Hardison said. "If Sterling's got anybody monitoring us, they'd have found it."

"And none of that mentions Molly. Right." Nate glanced over at his primary notebook. "But Hardison, just because they're selling Eliot doesn't mean they're being honest about it. Sterling has a point. He could already be dead. Borzoi's not the kind of guy to mess around with someone as dangerous as Eliot."

"Well, he was alive seven hours ago," Hardison returned. "And apparently pissed off as usual."

Nate had seen the picture Hardison had found of Eliot in chains and looking murderous, but not particularly worse for the wear. He shook his head, partly to dislodge the image of the strongest man he knew crouching on a filthy floor like a dog.

"Nate." Sophie moved as if to take his hand, but dropped it a moment later. "What else did Sterling say? Something's got you rattled. We always knew it was possible we'd be too late for Eliot."

"We won't, though," Parker said fiercely under her breath.

Sophie ignored her. "But that's not enough to have you reacting like this. Neither is Sterling threatening to arrest us again. That's not usually enough to make you blink. So what's different? What else did he tell you?"

Nate swallowed. "Sterling wanted me to be off-balance, so he said...some things about Eliot. About what kind of man he is."

"And you told him to shove it," Hardison said. "So skip past that part."

Nate gave Hardison a half-smile at that. "Sterling implied…" And we're not the only ones. "That this whole thing might be a setup. That Borzoi is looking to cash in on more than just Eliot. That we might all be at risk."

There was something else in what Sterling had said. Something else that poked at Nate, but he couldn't quite find it. Jim Sterling had always had a unique gift for throwing Nate's focus and making him claw it back in slow, tattered pieces. Especially when angry.

"Listen." Nate sat down on the nearest chair. "Eliot's job has always been the safety of this team. It's always been up to him to watch our backs and get us out of whatever we get into. But he's not here, so it's up to me to do that in his place. And...if Eliot were here right now, what do you think he'd be telling us?"

Sophie perched on the arm of the chair. "That we won't be any good for anyone if we get caught up in this web. That we have to stay safe, no matter what."

"And then," Hardison said, "like I told you before, he'd sneak off in the night and do the heroing on his own."

"Right."

Nate looked at his hands. Looked up at his team.

"I don't really know if I can protect you the way he would. I'll try, but if there's a trap here, we might be walking right into it. I think Sterling believes we can't do this without getting ourselves caught. And he might be right."

If it had been anybody else delivering that whisper of a warning, Nate might not have paid it any mind. But it was Sterling. And if Nate knew anything about his former partner, other than that he was still a complete and utter bastard, it was that Sterling did not underestimate threats.

"Do you really think Eliot would forgive any of us if one of us gets killed trying to save him?"

Sophie put her hand on Nate's arm, stroking it gently.

"No. You're right, Nate. I think he wouldn't. I think he would die to protect us."

"He would," Parker said. "But he can't. So this time, it's up to us to protect him."

"Yeah, but who's going to protect us in the meantime?" Nate asked her.

And Parker glared at him again, with that same aren't-you-so-stupid expression that was just as bracing and piercing as any of Eliot's open-your-mouth-and-prepare-to-eat-your-own-kidney glares. "So we all agree not to die. And we protect each other. And we get Eliot back and then he can be mad, but not too mad, because we'll all be safe. Right?"

"Parker." Hardison sighed. "It might not be that simple."

"Nothing's simple," she said. She looked back to Nate. "Except the only thing that matters."

Nate let out a breath. "Family again, Parker?"

"Family."

Nate chuckled. "Eliot's going to kill us all when he gets back. Especially me. For getting you all into this."

"But he'll be back," Hardison said. "So it's okay."

"You said we were going to steal an Eliot," Sophie said. She rose. "So let's quit talking about it and get to work. Eliot's not going to steal himself."

Nate smirked. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. But it's better if we beat him to it."

He reached for one of his notebooks and started to scribble.

"Okay. We've got less than two hours to clear out of here before Sterling comes knocking, so Hardison, start making other arrangements. We're going to need lots of them. In the meantime, let's talk about Phase One."