"Eliot," Sterling greeted coldly, opening up the front door to his house in Burbank.
"Sterling," Eliot replied, matching the man's cold mannerisms and tone perfectly.
"James," Abby spoke up, interrupting the deadlocked stares of hatred.
"Abigail," he stated, breaking eye contact with Eliot for only a second; not a single bone in his body trusted the criminal. "Olivia's upstairs, second door on the right." He stood aside to let the girl in and she excitedly ran up the stairs to greet her friend. "Care to come in?" he asked but not any part of his manner was inviting.
Eliot remained where he was; he trusted the Interpol agent just as much as he trusted him. Less since Sterling had drugged him in Dubai.
"I've got a proposition," Sterling explained, then stepped inside and made his way into his study, leaving the front door wide open and Eliot still standing outside.
The hitter waited, contemplating for a few moments, before following Sterling inside, firmly shutting the door behind him and carefully clocking the layout and exits.
"Drink?" Sterling asked, pouring himself a glass of bourbon from an intricate decanter as Eliot walked into his office.
Eliot crossed his arms; a signal of a definite no.
"Can't say I'm surprised," the agent noted smugly, putting the lid back on the jug and placing it back in its home on the bookshelf. "I'll get straight to the point; I need your area of expertise for a case I'm working."
Eliot said nothing.
"We've had intel come forward that De La Court has been trying to make some headway in the States." He took a long sip of his drink, waiting for Eliot's silence to conclude.
"De La Court as in the arms dealer?" Eliot confirmed; they were the first words he had spoken since entering the house.
"You're familiar with him?" Sterling asked in response, though he was hardly surprised. "How would you take him down?"
"You can't," Eliot snorted.
"Can't?" Now the agent was surprised. "Your team took down Damien Moreau and you're worried about a small time weapon's mogul?"
Eliot snorted again. "You think that matters? You think you can just take down an arms dealer and his network," he snapped his fingers, "just like that?"
"I'm not talking about taking down his network, just him. Stop him before his network reaches the States." There was condescension and pretentiousness in his voice, as he tried to assert his superior intelligence.
"Why you tellin' me this?"
"Like I said, your area of expertise." He took another sip of bourbon. "How would you take him down?"
"I wouldn't," Eliot stated firmly. "Not without a decent plan, not without the team and sure as hell not with you."
"Suit yourself," he tilted his head and sipped back the last of his drink. "I'll see you in a week then?"
"Don't mess with her," Eliot warned. He didn't think it was necessary but still, it didn't hurt to be transparent .
"No? Really?" Sterling's reply was painfully sarcastic.
Eliot didn't react as he walked out of the man's study and back out to the foyer. "Abby," he called out and, giggling, she came running down the stairs with Olivia close behind.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Nice room," Abby praised, spinning around as she admired Olivia's décor.
A large, four poster bed, accentuated by soft purple furnishings, sat in the middle of the room between two large windows and opposite the door. A dresser, covered in make-up, nail polish and hair accessories sat between one of the windows and the walk in robe and, unsurprisingly, an antique chess board sat in the room's final corner, it's deep coloured wood matching, almost perfectly, the skirting and finishes of the rest of the house.
"Thanks," Olivia smiled, jumping on to the bed. She pushed herself up against the headboard, sat cross-legged and placed a pillow in her lap.
Abby followed suit and sat cross legged at the food of the bed.
"So what's it like livin' your dad?" Abby asked and Olivia began to play with the piping on the cushion.
"It's great, you know, great, but, um, we're still getting used to it. I don't think he has any clue how to raise a teenage daughter. Did you find that? With your uncle?"
Abby pondered for a moment, pursing her lips. "Not really," she replied, slowly shaking her head. "I mean, everything's not perfect, he can get in these moods sometimes where he's just a huge grump and he's kinda overprotective but, I think we're both really comfortable."
Olivia looked disappointed.
"But Eliot practically raised my ma, and raised me when I was a kid, your dad didn't have that," she said quickly.
"Yeah, I guess," the other girl shrugged. "You wanna know what the worst part is?"
"What?" Abby asked cautiously.
"He can't cook!" she declared and then smiled.
Abby let out a small laugh. "Not even a little?"
"He burnt the package pasta sauce. If that's not an indication of his poor cooking skills I don't know what is," she laughed then turned her attention to Abigail. "So have you seen Kyle yet?" Her eyes were full of curiosity and intrigue. Abby shifted her weight and nodded. "Oh?" Olivia pressed.
"Once, since I punched him in the face," Abby smirked; despite the social norms, she was sort of proud of what she'd done. "We actually, ah, got kidnapped together."
"What!"
"These guys wanted to get to Eliot and the team, I was there, Kyle was there. We're both fine but, ah, it was weird."
"Sounds it."
"Yeah kinda," Abby nodded, shifting to try and make herself more comfortable. "What about you? Any boys at your new school?"
Olivia blushed. "There's this one guy, he's the quarterback, he's gorgeous and has no idea I exist."
"Hang on, don't you go to some school for the elite? They have football teams?"
"Apparently, now I didn't know this, elite schools aren't just for chess prodigies, they're also for the sporting elite."
"That kinda sucks."
"Tell me about it, here I was thinking I was going to go to school and finally get to be the cool one! Instead, I'm still the chess geek."
Abby felt her pain. "You know what I think? Come college, we'll be the cool kids."
"Dear god I hope so!" Olivia smiled.
"And you know what else?" Abby continued, raising her eyebrows slyly. "This week, we're gonna get that guy to like you."
"How on earth are you going to do that?"
"I live with a bunch of grifters and thieves, you pick up a few things here and there," Abby smiled.
"But, but, you can't just make people do what you want?" she replied, still enthusiastic but with lack of understanding.
In her world, the chess world, you couldn't control opponent's pieces or actions. You could control your own, react to your opponent's moves and still win, but you couldn't control them. That was how she understood life; black and white and matter of factly.
In Abby's world however she was used to talking with others in a manner different, and saw the world differently to Olivia; for her, the way you moved your pieces, the way you acted and your actions could easily influence someone to do something else.
"Watch me!" Abby grinned in response as her uncle yelled out from down the stairs. Still smiling, she jumped up off the bed and began to enthusiastically run out the room.
"Oh believe me, I will!" she replied, matching Abby's enthusiasm and followed her, giggling out of the room.
Abby bounded quickly down the stairs and then, upon reaching the bottom, slid in her socks across the marble floor towards her uncle.
"Havin' fun there?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she smiled.
"Imma head off, you sure you're okay here for the week?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be fine, we're gonna have fun and I know you're probably gonna be ten minutes away anyway," she grinned.
"Probably," he agreed. "And promise me you ain't gonna do anythin' stupid and you'll text me wherever you're going?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she whined.
"Promise?" he asked again, raising his brow.
"I promise okay," she obliged, giving him a loving hug.
"I'll see you in a week then?" he confirmed.
"Yes DyaDya, you will see me in a week," she agreed kissing him on the cheek.