I actually haven't read them, but I watched the first two made-for-TV movies based on them, and was pretty pleased with how they came out. It was years ago, but cute boys solving crimes with a realistic depiction of an imperfect relationship? That hits my happy buttons.
Oh god, trainwreck, trainwreck. I wonder, is telling her about Ivy his subtle way of encouraging her not to pull shit like that anymore... IDK just omg
:pokes: Hey, if they're any good, lemme know.
Thank you! I was going to warn for dysfunctional h/c, but I didn't think there was enough comfort for it to qualify.
And yeah, he's telling her about Ivy mainly to get her to back off, and he feels bad about using Ivy's pain like that, but not bad enough not to do it.
And yeah, he's telling her about Ivy mainly to get her to back off, and he feels bad about using Ivy's pain like that, but not bad enough not to do it.
I dropped my laptop while exploding from joy. I hope you're happy.
Thank you for filling my prompt! You're off to a great start and I can't wait to see what you do with this!
Your Crowley is amazing and I only have one question: When are you taking this from on the Supernatural side?
Also, am I the only one who wants to see Crowley vs. Nicodemus?
Thank you for filling my prompt! You're off to a great start and I can't wait to see what you do with this!
Your Crowley is amazing and I only have one question: When are you taking this from on the Supernatural side?
Also, am I the only one who wants to see Crowley vs. Nicodemus?
wait, i've read this series. the tv movies are amazing, yeah, there are three of them.
third man out
shock to the system
Ice Blues
the books are quite different, quite a bit more dated, and like, uh...i don't like them very much. The guys are much moe cavalier in the books. To illustrate the difference between the books and the tv movies, the writer actually sent mean emails to the people making the movies...so yeah
third man out
shock to the system
Ice Blues
the books are quite different, quite a bit more dated, and like, uh...i don't like them very much. The guys are much moe cavalier in the books. To illustrate the difference between the books and the tv movies, the writer actually sent mean emails to the people making the movies...so yeah
I've heard pretty mixed reviews about the books, but yeah, this is in line with a number of them.
Thank you. It's such an incredibly painful pairing in canon.
Part 2 of 2 or possibly a whole lot, depending on whether I get inspired
(Anonymous) 2011-02-27 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)Crowley was smiling again, dammit. It actually reminded me of Marcone's smile, the one he used when he was talking business, except sleazy. "Alright then. So you want John Marcone's soul back. I can do that. Let's talk terms."
"How about this: you give Marcone back his soul, and I let you out of the circle," I suggested.
Crowley shook his head. "Harry, Harry, what do you take me for? Your..." he waved over the chalk sigils on the floor "little trap is, I grant you, rather unpleasant and inconvenient for me. But it can't hold me forever. Sooner or later, I will get out. Besides, I can afford to sit here for the next month, if I have to, and by then, it will be all over for your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," I protested. I immediately regretted doing so. Crowley was, quite obviously, baiting me, and like an idiot I'd taken it. There he was, grinning in satisfaction at having gotten under my skin, and with what? Some throwaway comment making up a relationship out of whole cloth.
I guess all this running around saving criminal scum was getting to me. I was getting way to defensive about it. And that was enough introspection for one day.
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Crowley said. See what I mean? Baiting. "How about this: John gets his soul back, and in exchange, I get yours. I'll even give you ten years up here before I collect."
"Hell no," I said. No pun intended.
"It's a very generous offer," Crowley said. "One for one exchange with ten years thrown in free? I'm only offering it to you because you've already done me a favor." I swear, he was so goddamned smug I could see it dripping off him.
"That so?" I said.
"Oh yes. You see, there was actually a way our Johnny could have slipped out of his deal. Can't drag him down to Hell if he's already one of us, after all. Nicodemus nearly stole John Marcone out from under my nose with his coin tricks, but then who should come to his rescue but Harry Blackstone Dresden? So you see, if it weren't for you, I'd be out one soul with no recompense whatsoever, and would my face ever be red." Crowley smiled at me, again. I kind of wished I could strangle him, actually. "So I'm willing to deal with you, Harry, because I like you. What are you willing to sacrifice this time to protect John Marcone from the forces of hell?"
He had, of course, just offered me a way out. A way to completely screw him over. Accept his terms, then in ten years go find Lasciel's coin again, and he'd have no way to get at me. And all I had to do was become a complete monster.
Okay, it was kind of disturbing that I even thought of that as an option, even an option that I never intended to use. Just one more temptation to resist, I guess. What's one life-changing wish added on to the power Lasciel offered me in the first place? Not enough to tip the scales, ever, I figured.
Back to the task at hand: extract Marcone's soul without endangering mine, or anyone else's. "You don't like Nicodemus, do you," I said, offhand. I wasn't sure where I was going with this, but I figured for now I'd just keep him talking. If he was talking, he wasn't trying to break out.
"You could say Anduriel and I have our disagreements," Crowley said. "Frankly, I find his relationship with Nicodemus disturbing. But then, I'm a demon, not a fallen angel."
An idea struck me. "Political rival?"
"You could say that."
"Need some leverage on him, I bet."
Crowley raised an appraising eyebrow. "You're offering something?"
I took a deep breath. "One coin, one soul."
Interest flashed in his eyes. "You don't have a coin anymore," Crowley said.
"I could get one. I've killed Denarians before."
Crowley gave me an appraising look. "So you have." He paused. "Five. Five blackened denarii for John Marcone's soul."
"Two," I said. I could get three. If Marcone helped. Which he would. I mean, it was his soul on the line, wasn't it?
"Four."
"Three."
"Done," the demon said. "You get me three of those coins within the month, and I relinquish my claim on John Marcone's soul."
"Great," I said.
"Deal is sealed in the usual way," Crowley said.
Oh, shit.
"Fine," I gritted out, and crossed over into the circle- Bob had assured me the circle he'd dictated was, in fact, safe for that purpose.
Marcone, I thought as the demon pulled me into a kiss that would have been much less disturbing if he wasn't such a damn good kisser, you'd better be fucking grateful for this.
"How about this: you give Marcone back his soul, and I let you out of the circle," I suggested.
Crowley shook his head. "Harry, Harry, what do you take me for? Your..." he waved over the chalk sigils on the floor "little trap is, I grant you, rather unpleasant and inconvenient for me. But it can't hold me forever. Sooner or later, I will get out. Besides, I can afford to sit here for the next month, if I have to, and by then, it will be all over for your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," I protested. I immediately regretted doing so. Crowley was, quite obviously, baiting me, and like an idiot I'd taken it. There he was, grinning in satisfaction at having gotten under my skin, and with what? Some throwaway comment making up a relationship out of whole cloth.
I guess all this running around saving criminal scum was getting to me. I was getting way to defensive about it. And that was enough introspection for one day.
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Crowley said. See what I mean? Baiting. "How about this: John gets his soul back, and in exchange, I get yours. I'll even give you ten years up here before I collect."
"Hell no," I said. No pun intended.
"It's a very generous offer," Crowley said. "One for one exchange with ten years thrown in free? I'm only offering it to you because you've already done me a favor." I swear, he was so goddamned smug I could see it dripping off him.
"That so?" I said.
"Oh yes. You see, there was actually a way our Johnny could have slipped out of his deal. Can't drag him down to Hell if he's already one of us, after all. Nicodemus nearly stole John Marcone out from under my nose with his coin tricks, but then who should come to his rescue but Harry Blackstone Dresden? So you see, if it weren't for you, I'd be out one soul with no recompense whatsoever, and would my face ever be red." Crowley smiled at me, again. I kind of wished I could strangle him, actually. "So I'm willing to deal with you, Harry, because I like you. What are you willing to sacrifice this time to protect John Marcone from the forces of hell?"
He had, of course, just offered me a way out. A way to completely screw him over. Accept his terms, then in ten years go find Lasciel's coin again, and he'd have no way to get at me. And all I had to do was become a complete monster.
Okay, it was kind of disturbing that I even thought of that as an option, even an option that I never intended to use. Just one more temptation to resist, I guess. What's one life-changing wish added on to the power Lasciel offered me in the first place? Not enough to tip the scales, ever, I figured.
Back to the task at hand: extract Marcone's soul without endangering mine, or anyone else's. "You don't like Nicodemus, do you," I said, offhand. I wasn't sure where I was going with this, but I figured for now I'd just keep him talking. If he was talking, he wasn't trying to break out.
"You could say Anduriel and I have our disagreements," Crowley said. "Frankly, I find his relationship with Nicodemus disturbing. But then, I'm a demon, not a fallen angel."
An idea struck me. "Political rival?"
"You could say that."
"Need some leverage on him, I bet."
Crowley raised an appraising eyebrow. "You're offering something?"
I took a deep breath. "One coin, one soul."
Interest flashed in his eyes. "You don't have a coin anymore," Crowley said.
"I could get one. I've killed Denarians before."
Crowley gave me an appraising look. "So you have." He paused. "Five. Five blackened denarii for John Marcone's soul."
"Two," I said. I could get three. If Marcone helped. Which he would. I mean, it was his soul on the line, wasn't it?
"Four."
"Three."
"Done," the demon said. "You get me three of those coins within the month, and I relinquish my claim on John Marcone's soul."
"Great," I said.
"Deal is sealed in the usual way," Crowley said.
Oh, shit.
"Fine," I gritted out, and crossed over into the circle- Bob had assured me the circle he'd dictated was, in fact, safe for that purpose.
Marcone, I thought as the demon pulled me into a kiss that would have been much less disturbing if he wasn't such a damn good kisser, you'd better be fucking grateful for this.
I actually hadn't pinned things down from the Supernatural side exactly, but sometime pre season 5.
I have posted the rest of their deal just now, and now I need to see if the massive long story bunny bites hard enough to distract me from all the other fic I'm trying to write!
I have posted the rest of their deal just now, and now I need to see if the massive long story bunny bites hard enough to distract me from all the other fic I'm trying to write!
Re: Part 2 of 2 or possibly a whole lot, depending on whether I get inspired
(Anonymous) 2011-02-27 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)....oh man I really hope you write this sucker up- this has the potential to be totally epic.
The Quest For the Three Blackened Denarians- and Harry smacking John Marcone upside the head for being as epically stupid as to actually sell his soul to a demon
The Quest For the Three Blackened Denarians- and Harry smacking John Marcone upside the head for being as epically stupid as to actually sell his soul to a demon
Just finished reading it, and I so hope the bunny has a bite like Jaws because I would love to see more!
Lovely job on part two, by the way. Now I kind of want Crowley/Harry, maybe with a side of Crowley/Harry/Marcone. Loved the animosity between Nic and Crowley!
I was just wondering because of the whole Lilith thing and then there is that whole big thing in season 6.
Lovely job on part two, by the way. Now I kind of want Crowley/Harry, maybe with a side of Crowley/Harry/Marcone. Loved the animosity between Nic and Crowley!
I was just wondering because of the whole Lilith thing and then there is that whole big thing in season 6.
Oooh- Now I just wanna see a Dean reacting to the fact that there are actually people out in the world that are taller than Sam.
OH SHIT, THE LILITH THING. I knew I was forgetting something. Good thing I didn't pin down that Supernatural canon in the text, hmmm? I guess this must take place early season 5? Hmm.
(Dammit, I should have gotten Crowley to try to get Harry to kill Lucifer. Talk about epic! Guess that's what happens when I try writing at the speed of thought wihthout thinking it through first. Ah well ;))
Also, Season 6 doesn't exist. The series was CLEARLY supposed to end at season 5, because anything after the apocalypse is anti-climax. Season 6 is just a vehicle for delivering to us Winchestery goodness and also Castiel watching porn, and I refuse to admit that any actual PLOT actually happened.
Except that Crowley can still have taken over Hell, because that's cool.
(Dammit, I should have gotten Crowley to try to get Harry to kill Lucifer. Talk about epic! Guess that's what happens when I try writing at the speed of thought wihthout thinking it through first. Ah well ;))
Also, Season 6 doesn't exist. The series was CLEARLY supposed to end at season 5, because anything after the apocalypse is anti-climax. Season 6 is just a vehicle for delivering to us Winchestery goodness and also Castiel watching porn, and I refuse to admit that any actual PLOT actually happened.
Except that Crowley can still have taken over Hell, because that's cool.
Logging in because the are you human test sucks.
BUT, BUT MAYBE HARRY WAS THE REASON IT TOOK LILITH SO LONG TO GET AROUND TO BOTHERING SAM AND DEAN! And to be fair Crowley might not have known that Lilith was going to be able to actually summon Lue. She was more concern with just wrecking people's stuff than actually getting the big guys out of the cage.
I only watch it for Crowley anymore, honestly, because I know in my heart that they aren't going to bring Gabriel back. Which makes me way sadder than it should.
BUT, BUT MAYBE HARRY WAS THE REASON IT TOOK LILITH SO LONG TO GET AROUND TO BOTHERING SAM AND DEAN! And to be fair Crowley might not have known that Lilith was going to be able to actually summon Lue. She was more concern with just wrecking people's stuff than actually getting the big guys out of the cage.
I only watch it for Crowley anymore, honestly, because I know in my heart that they aren't going to bring Gabriel back. Which makes me way sadder than it should.
Yes the nuns were intentional. I... have a problem with really really bad puns.
Also I am given to understand, some people find nuns hot anyway..
Also I am given to understand, some people find nuns hot anyway..
Well, I meant that, didn't Lilith hold ALL the crossroads contracts? So maybe Crowley wouldn't have the standing to give a soul back until she's dead? Except nevermind, because Sam and Dean did trap that one demon and made her give back the soul of Mr. Saved-his-wife-from-cancer. Okay, whew. I take it back, this takes place during, like, season 3 or something before Crowley's even bothering the Winchesters. I think that's where things lined up when I was trying to line up the two series- Season 1 occurs around the time of Dead Beat, I think, if you're going roughly by airing dates and publication dates. But there's wiggle room on the Dresden side, so things can be jerked around for convenience. (like, maybe the Meg in Chicago episode should take place when Murphy and/or Harry are under suspicion and that's why they didn't catch the things she summoned?)
(Why am I trying to reconcile all these tiny details when major portions of, like, the LAWS OF REALITY conflict between the two serieses? ah well)
I actually just mainlined the entire series (Supernatural, I mean) for the first time, over the course of the past month or so. I think I'll keep following it for Castiel, and also because sometimes Dean is tied up and hurt and stuff and I'm a kinky bitch who likes watching boys who look like Dean tied up and tortured. I am also a major fan of Crowley, but then came along that gorramn bullshit with the burning the bones and WHAT. NO.
Hi. I made the request with the nun punnery above.
Damn that was good.
This was not only hot, it was brainly! Brainy. And hot. And at no time was I not aware of who was who, which in a M/m/m threesome when two of the people are the same person, is a minor miracle in the much larger miracle that is this fic.
Also, did I mentioned the hot? And the thinky?
In long and in short....
I am unlikely to have firstborns; would you accept a virtual homemade cheesecake, or a Debauched Chocolate Chestnut Torte?
Damn that was good.
This was not only hot, it was brainly! Brainy. And hot. And at no time was I not aware of who was who, which in a M/m/m threesome when two of the people are the same person, is a minor miracle in the much larger miracle that is this fic.
Also, did I mentioned the hot? And the thinky?
In long and in short....
I am unlikely to have firstborns; would you accept a virtual homemade cheesecake, or a Debauched Chocolate Chestnut Torte?
Also, I think Crowley would TOTALLY get off on watching Harry/Marcone.
And I should shut up now.
And I should shut up now.
The employee entrance to Executive Priority wasn't as fancily decorated as the public entrance, but it was a close call. Not tacky, just very tastefully telling you how lucky you were to even be allowed to grace the former service elevator with your presence.
Or maybe that was just me feeling out of place. Nah. Couldn't be. Other-guy, who said his name was George, and I had gotten Grabby-guy, Paul, into the elevator and then ridden up three stories to the employee floor. I'd asked George what sort of self-respecting mobster goon was named 'George' and he'd told me his parents hadn't considered this as a career path when they were naming him. Which...okay. I was being a smart ass. I just wasn't used to getting it back. Especially not from Marcone's goons. They tended to either be very polite at me, or ignore me entirely.
“Just through here.” George nodded his head to the right at an open doorway.
“Great.” We hauled Paul, who was still sort of incoherent, through the doorway and into what, I swear to you, looked like a school nurses' station. Only much, much nicer. The 'nurse' looked up from some paperwork, saw Paul between the two of us and jumped into action. Within a minute or so she had Paul down on an exam table, his pants leg cut open along the outside and was examining the wound. She and George were occupied, so I let myself out.
Not out of the building, mind. Just out of the nurses station.
Marcone's little...tiff or whatever was going on had ruined both my morning and my breakfast. I was just going to correct half the problem. Marcone being Marcone, I knew he had food for his employees here. Hell, he probably had all their meals catered and weighed and balanced by a nutritionist for optimum vitamins and fiber. Or whatever people were supposed to worry about these days.
I wound my way through halls, passing women and men here or there, acting like I belonged. You'd be amazed how many people will hesitate to say something to you if you look like you have the right to be where you are. I wasn't having any luck locating the kitchen or cafeteria and was weighing stopping the next person and asking them, playing the 'new employee' card when the scent of freshly brewed coffee rolled over me.
My stomach did a happy little backflip and I followed my nose to the sweet nectar.
It wasn't in the kitchen. When I opened the door blocking my way to the coffee I found myself in Marcone's empty office. It was a side door, one you couldn't even see from the inside since it closed flush to the wall and didn't have an inside handle. I could see the larger, impressive door that I had been ushered through the few times I'd been here on the other side of the room. I glanced around, confirming that the office was completely empty before I let the door shut behind me. After all, I could always just break it down if I needed to.
The coffee was steaming in a plain blue mug sitting to one side of the desk blotter. Right beside a bagel. I grinned and crossed the space in two steps, dropping into Marcone's fancy chair with a very satisfying 'plop'. Two birds, one stone, etcetera. I was going to get breakfast and annoy Marcone all at the same time. My day was looking up.
Of course it couldn't have been a plain bagel, no. He had some weird flavored bagel. Jalapeno and cheddar, maybe. It was okay, but eating it with my boots up on Marcone's desk, sipping his coffee made it taste wonderful. I didn't expect that George would forget about me for long and a search of the building would ensue. Eventually they'd think to check the boss' office and I'd get kicked out. So I wasn't really surprised when the front door opened and some random goon walked in, followed closely by Marcone and Hendricks.
I smiled wide at them and let one hand rest on my stomach as I sipped the very last of Marcone's coffee. “Hi there Johnny!” I practically chirped at him, too bright, too happy. Really, the coffee was excellent and the look that passed through Marcone's eyes, frustrated and angry made it all worth it. “We need to have a talk.” The goon smirked, ugly, and turned his head toward Marcone.
“Who's the skirt, Marcone?” 'Skirt'? What, really? Did I fall into a movie somewhere along the line?
“Excuse me?” I rolled back and dropped my feet off the desk, setting the mug down as I rose. Goon took a step back as I walked around the desk. I'm not imposing, but it does surprise an awful lot of people when they realize just how tall I am. He caught himself and took two steps toward me. Compensating I guess.
I saw Hendricks shift out of the corner of my eye, like a continent drifting and then Marcone was at my side, one arm slipping around my waist, turning me to face him.
“Harry. I wasn't expecting you so early.” And then the bastard took a hold of the back of my head with his free hand and kissed me. There was nothing to it. It was cold. Perfunctory. I tensed to pull back so I could knock him flat on his ass and his grip on my waist tightened. Marcone leaned in, putting his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Play along. Please.” It was the please that shocked me. I didn't think he knew how to use the word. I decided not to slam my knee into his groin, or my heel into his foot and break it. I even figured I could hold off on setting his suit on fire. Just for a minute.
“Nice. You wanna talk business or what?” Goon was definitely not a goon. None of Marcone's men spoke to him that way. Not more than once at any rate. His voice was nasal, obnoxious, with an accent I didn't recognize.
“Mr. Morelli. Would you go through into the conference room? I will join you there momentarily.” Morelli-not-a-goon snorted and shook his head.
“I'm disappointed, Marcone. I didn't take you for the type to get distracted by a broad.” But he followed Hendricks through a pair of glass doors into what I assumed must be the conference room. 'Broad'. Yeesh. Someone was stuck in the 40's. As soon as the door closed between us, I stepped on Marcone's foot. Not hard, just set my foot on top of his, so he could feel it there.
“You can either let me go, or I can make you let me go.”
“Really Harry. Your sense of drama is misplaced at the best of times.” Marcone stepped back, sliding his foot out from under mine and glanced down at the scuff marks I'd left on his shiny loafer. “And your timing is certainly questionable.”
“Not my fault. I was having a really good morning until your business splattered all over my sidewalk.” He shook his head and walked around behind his desk. I'd left a nice smattering of crumbs across the top and a couple coffee rings on a notepad. Just in case I left before seeing Marcone in person. “What the hell's going on?”
“Morelli is my opposite number from Boston. There's been some tension between our two groups, but we're smoothing it out.”
“Does this smoothing out have anything to do with the fire fight in broad fucking daylight in the middle of the city?” No one as slick as Marcone would ever actually say 'duh', but the look he gave me clearly did. “Great. Do you mind smoothing it out in dark alleys in the middle of the night or out on the docks like you people are supposed to?”
“I'm dealing with it, Harry. Morelli will be in town for a week or two. In the mean time all hostilities will cease. I won't let it spill out into the streets again.”
“It better not.”
Or maybe that was just me feeling out of place. Nah. Couldn't be. Other-guy, who said his name was George, and I had gotten Grabby-guy, Paul, into the elevator and then ridden up three stories to the employee floor. I'd asked George what sort of self-respecting mobster goon was named 'George' and he'd told me his parents hadn't considered this as a career path when they were naming him. Which...okay. I was being a smart ass. I just wasn't used to getting it back. Especially not from Marcone's goons. They tended to either be very polite at me, or ignore me entirely.
“Just through here.” George nodded his head to the right at an open doorway.
“Great.” We hauled Paul, who was still sort of incoherent, through the doorway and into what, I swear to you, looked like a school nurses' station. Only much, much nicer. The 'nurse' looked up from some paperwork, saw Paul between the two of us and jumped into action. Within a minute or so she had Paul down on an exam table, his pants leg cut open along the outside and was examining the wound. She and George were occupied, so I let myself out.
Not out of the building, mind. Just out of the nurses station.
Marcone's little...tiff or whatever was going on had ruined both my morning and my breakfast. I was just going to correct half the problem. Marcone being Marcone, I knew he had food for his employees here. Hell, he probably had all their meals catered and weighed and balanced by a nutritionist for optimum vitamins and fiber. Or whatever people were supposed to worry about these days.
I wound my way through halls, passing women and men here or there, acting like I belonged. You'd be amazed how many people will hesitate to say something to you if you look like you have the right to be where you are. I wasn't having any luck locating the kitchen or cafeteria and was weighing stopping the next person and asking them, playing the 'new employee' card when the scent of freshly brewed coffee rolled over me.
My stomach did a happy little backflip and I followed my nose to the sweet nectar.
It wasn't in the kitchen. When I opened the door blocking my way to the coffee I found myself in Marcone's empty office. It was a side door, one you couldn't even see from the inside since it closed flush to the wall and didn't have an inside handle. I could see the larger, impressive door that I had been ushered through the few times I'd been here on the other side of the room. I glanced around, confirming that the office was completely empty before I let the door shut behind me. After all, I could always just break it down if I needed to.
The coffee was steaming in a plain blue mug sitting to one side of the desk blotter. Right beside a bagel. I grinned and crossed the space in two steps, dropping into Marcone's fancy chair with a very satisfying 'plop'. Two birds, one stone, etcetera. I was going to get breakfast and annoy Marcone all at the same time. My day was looking up.
Of course it couldn't have been a plain bagel, no. He had some weird flavored bagel. Jalapeno and cheddar, maybe. It was okay, but eating it with my boots up on Marcone's desk, sipping his coffee made it taste wonderful. I didn't expect that George would forget about me for long and a search of the building would ensue. Eventually they'd think to check the boss' office and I'd get kicked out. So I wasn't really surprised when the front door opened and some random goon walked in, followed closely by Marcone and Hendricks.
I smiled wide at them and let one hand rest on my stomach as I sipped the very last of Marcone's coffee. “Hi there Johnny!” I practically chirped at him, too bright, too happy. Really, the coffee was excellent and the look that passed through Marcone's eyes, frustrated and angry made it all worth it. “We need to have a talk.” The goon smirked, ugly, and turned his head toward Marcone.
“Who's the skirt, Marcone?” 'Skirt'? What, really? Did I fall into a movie somewhere along the line?
“Excuse me?” I rolled back and dropped my feet off the desk, setting the mug down as I rose. Goon took a step back as I walked around the desk. I'm not imposing, but it does surprise an awful lot of people when they realize just how tall I am. He caught himself and took two steps toward me. Compensating I guess.
I saw Hendricks shift out of the corner of my eye, like a continent drifting and then Marcone was at my side, one arm slipping around my waist, turning me to face him.
“Harry. I wasn't expecting you so early.” And then the bastard took a hold of the back of my head with his free hand and kissed me. There was nothing to it. It was cold. Perfunctory. I tensed to pull back so I could knock him flat on his ass and his grip on my waist tightened. Marcone leaned in, putting his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Play along. Please.” It was the please that shocked me. I didn't think he knew how to use the word. I decided not to slam my knee into his groin, or my heel into his foot and break it. I even figured I could hold off on setting his suit on fire. Just for a minute.
“Nice. You wanna talk business or what?” Goon was definitely not a goon. None of Marcone's men spoke to him that way. Not more than once at any rate. His voice was nasal, obnoxious, with an accent I didn't recognize.
“Mr. Morelli. Would you go through into the conference room? I will join you there momentarily.” Morelli-not-a-goon snorted and shook his head.
“I'm disappointed, Marcone. I didn't take you for the type to get distracted by a broad.” But he followed Hendricks through a pair of glass doors into what I assumed must be the conference room. 'Broad'. Yeesh. Someone was stuck in the 40's. As soon as the door closed between us, I stepped on Marcone's foot. Not hard, just set my foot on top of his, so he could feel it there.
“You can either let me go, or I can make you let me go.”
“Really Harry. Your sense of drama is misplaced at the best of times.” Marcone stepped back, sliding his foot out from under mine and glanced down at the scuff marks I'd left on his shiny loafer. “And your timing is certainly questionable.”
“Not my fault. I was having a really good morning until your business splattered all over my sidewalk.” He shook his head and walked around behind his desk. I'd left a nice smattering of crumbs across the top and a couple coffee rings on a notepad. Just in case I left before seeing Marcone in person. “What the hell's going on?”
“Morelli is my opposite number from Boston. There's been some tension between our two groups, but we're smoothing it out.”
“Does this smoothing out have anything to do with the fire fight in broad fucking daylight in the middle of the city?” No one as slick as Marcone would ever actually say 'duh', but the look he gave me clearly did. “Great. Do you mind smoothing it out in dark alleys in the middle of the night or out on the docks like you people are supposed to?”
“I'm dealing with it, Harry. Morelli will be in town for a week or two. In the mean time all hostilities will cease. I won't let it spill out into the streets again.”
“It better not.”
Page 79 of 177
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