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rainbowfic2016-06-24 01:35 am
sarcasticsra) wrote in rainbowfic2016-06-24 01:35 am
Fire Opal, 10 + TARDIS Blue, 5 + stain + charcoal.
Author: Sara
Colors: Fire Opal, 10. Fury + TARDIS Blue, 5. An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.
Supplies: Stain ("The best defense against the atom bomb is not to be there when it goes off."), Charcoal (hai, Alex.)
Word Count: 2,830
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Vaguely described death threats aimed at children, fairly gruesome, albeit brief, violent imagery.
Story: Polyfaceted, title of this is A Superior Hunting Instinct.
Summary: Nicoletta's favorite FBI agent has a problem.
Notes: So apparently writing Corlionis has turned into an annual thing now, or something. Sigh. Takes place sometime in early 2031.
Nicoletta hasn’t been this goddamned bored listening to someone talk since high school. The meeting she’s in is dry as hell, and it’s not even really her meeting; Gisella is taking point on this one, while she and Isabella shadow in case she needs help. On top of that, it’s not for anything particularly interesting or lucrative, just necessary--the buying and selling of storage space. Strictly speaking, it’s even entirely legal--or at least this portion of the deal is. That may change when it’s determined what exactly will be stored in these storage spaces, but at this point, that feels like eons away.
Of course, it doesn’t help that these guys they’re dealing with are newer to the game and still trying to make a name for themselves. That makes them eager to impress, turning what would have been a thirty-minute meeting into an hour-and-a-half-long affair. She’s seriously considering stabbing someone in the eye. Maybe even herself.
She glances across the table at her sister and Gisella, who both look roughly as bored as she feels. Isabella has her tablet angled in front of her, periodically tapping at it. She was taking notes for the contract she’ll draw up later, but since Nicoletta is pretty sure they haven’t actually said anything noteworthy in at least twenty minutes, she tilts her head slightly in curiosity. Isabella smirks back at her and angles it just enough that she can see the screen.
Nicoletta laughs out loud. She’s playing a word scramble.
Her laugh startles the main guy--Franks, his first name is Gene or Eugene, something like that--out of his fucking monologue just long enough that Gisella can leap in with, “All excellent points, and we will most certainly keep them in mind, but I think that ought to cover everything for now. Isabella here will draw up the first draft of the contract, and we can meet again in a week, perhaps?”
“Oh, uh, well, okay,” says Franks. “There was just one last thing I wanted to mention. There’s a couple feds sniffing around some related transactions, though not this one just yet. We can, of course, handle them for you, if you’d like.”
Nicoletta’s patience has definitely worn thin by this point, so she almost snaps at him to stop being so fucking stupid, but Isabella beats her to the punch with, “There’s nothing to handle.” Nicoletta doesn’t think she’s projecting the you moron silently added to that sentence. “This deal is clean. Let them waste their time; it’ll keep them away from anything actually important.”
“Ah. Okay. Good point.” Franks nods and stands, and his two associates do as well. Nicoletta has not bothered to try remembering their names. They all shake hands and finally, finally, the three of them leave the dingy little conference room that makes up part of the frankly unimpressive office that Franks and his cohorts have set up shop in. Gisella pauses a moment to say something to the receptionist, and then they head for the elevator.
“I almost stabbed someone out of boredom,” Nicoletta declares in Italian as they make their way out of the building. Isabella, who has her phone to her ear to call them a car, stifles a laugh.
Gisella glances over at her. “I thought to try to end the meeting sooner, but it seemed like that might end up proving counterproductive.”
“Entirely possible,” Nicoletta says. “These guys are good contacts, and cultivating that relationship can be tricky. You have to let them know we’ll be setting the terms, because of course we will, but you can’t dismiss them entirely. That leaves you open to a lot of annoying petty shit. It’s not hard to handle, but it’s a pain in the ass, especially if you have more important shit to do.”
Isabella ends her call just as they reach the exit. “Yeah, you did good by making sure you were the one to end it. I might’ve called it a little sooner, but it’s kind of something you have to get a feel for over time--how much time to let them ramble and feel heard versus getting what the fuck you came for and getting the fuck out.”
Gisella nods, clearly absorbing that. Nicoletta smiles to herself. Boring meetings or not, watching Gisella mature in the business is worth it.
Their car pulls up to the curb, and they get inside. “Anyway, now that the meeting from hell is over, I say we get lunch. Sushi sound good to you guys?”
“I love sushi,” Gisella says. “There’s this tiny little shop not far from my nonna’s that’s truly excellent.”
“Works for me,” Isabella says, and once Gisella gives their driver the address, they’re off.
---
“I really think this case is a dead end,” Alex tells Eric, one of the new guys he’s working with for the time being, while George is out with bronchitis. “These guys are 90% legal, and what’s not legal isn’t going to be found the way we’re going about it. We either need a new angle or to just cut them loose.”
Eric nods, about to answer, when Andy walks by. “Mail call,” he says, dropping three large manilla envelopes on his desk and two on Eric’s.
“I agree with you, which is why I requested some records last week. I think at least one of these could be a disaffected former member of the organization, and if we can find them...” Eric says, opening his envelopes. Alex nods thoughtfully and opens the top one of his pile, freezing once he opens the folder.
It’s not a file. It’s a folder of four pictures--two of each of his daughters going to and from school, gun sights printed over their faces.
“Is that--whoa, you okay, man?” Eric asks, and wordlessly Alex shows him the photos.
“Fuck.”
Alex takes the pictures back and pulls out his cell, heading straight for Howard’s office. “Yeah, Stephen? Okay, please don’t panic, but I need you to head to the school and get the girls. I’m going to have some agents meet you there. Once you’ve got them, they’re going to take you someplace safe, okay?” He pauses. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything tonight. Love you.” He puts the photos in front of Howard, giving him a pointed look. Howard nods and gets on his phone without waiting a beat.
---
“Okay, goal for today is to keep the meeting under an hour,” Nicoletta says as they make their way into the conference room.
The conference room itself is empty when they walk in, but she can hear some discussion in the room that adjoins it. “You’re certain it was received?”
“Loud and clear. Harlow and his ilk will think twice about coming after us again.”
“Excellent.” Franks and his associates walk into the conference room, and Nicoletta smiles, deceptively sweet.
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” she says. “What was that about Agent Harlow?”
“Have you heard of him? He’s FBI, organized crime. He was one of the ones investigating our business.”
“The investigation we told you to leave alone?” Gisella asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes, and we were going to, but the situation escalated. We felt it couldn’t be ignored.”
“Interesting. And what did you do?” Isabella asks.
“We made it clear what he could stand to lose if he pursued the investigation,” says Associate #1, smugly.
“He has two daughters that go to public school. Can you believe that?” Associate #2 laughs derisively.
Isabella drops her face into her hands, Gisella sighs, and Nicoletta leans in, smiling all the sweeter. “Oh. Does he.”
---
“How much longer do we have to stay here, Daddy?” Maddie asks him over breakfast.
“We’ve already missed five days of school. That’s a lot,” Selena adds.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s going to be a little while longer,” Alex tells them both. “You know how my job sometimes makes me work late? Sometimes it also means we have to stay other places for a while. But I’m working as hard as I can so we can all go home, I promise.”
“We can stay here longer if you don’t want to work so late,” Maddie says, eyes hopeful.
Selena lights up. “Yeah! I’m sure if we explain to our teachers, it’ll be fine.”
Helplessly, he glances up at his husband. Stephen, across from the breakfast table, only gives him a knowing smirk, which is no help at all.
“I’ll have some vacation time soon,” Alex finally says. “Then we can spend as much time together as you want.”
The girls don’t look totally mollified by that, but they do finish their breakfasts and head off to their temporary rooms for the day.
“So how is it really going?” Stephen asks him.
“We’re a little at a loss,” Alex admits. “We can’t figure out why an organization like the one we were investigating would do something so out of character. There’s got to be a reason they upped their game.”
“Any chance they’re working with someone they want to impress? Kind of sounds like Chris at work--every single time the big clients are in town, his personality takes a 180.”
“We thought about that, but the most likely contenders for that category would be the Corlionis, and Corlionis don’t threaten kids. It’s about the only thing I can honestly say I respect about them.”
Stephen shrugs. “Maybe they don’t know that.”
“Maybe,” Alex says, thoughtfully. He stands up, finishing his coffee. “I’m going to head by the house today, see if it looks like anyone’s been there. You need anything?”
Stephen shakes his head. “I don’t, but if you grab another one of Maddie’s sketchbooks and Selena’s other iPod charger, you’ll be their hero. More than you already are, I mean.”
“Not that I deserve to be,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m at work twenty hours a day and get them randomly sequestered away because of it.”
“Hey.” Stephen stands and pulls him in. “None of us blame you for your job. You make time for us. We’re just greedy and want even more because we love you so much.” He kisses him, and Alex smiles into it, leaning against him.
He sighs, happy despite himself. “I don’t know what I did to get so lucky--”
“All that good karma from your job, probably,” Stephen says, grinning.
Alex rolls his eyes but grins back, kissing him again. “All right. I’m off. I’ll see you tonight.”
---
Alex decides to circle around the back way, just in case, and he pulls up at the block behind his. After parking his car, he makes his way through the alley to his house, and heads inside through the back door. He’s pretty sure no one is watching the house, but it never hurts to be cautious.
Nothing inside looks like it’s been disturbed since they left. As he’s passing through the living room, though, he does see through his window that there’s a large wooden crate on his stoop, and he frowns. That definitely wasn’t there the day before. He opens his front door, glancing around outside as he does: there’s no one around. A closer look at the crate tells him it should be easy to open from the top, and he takes a minute to go grab his crowbar from the basement.
Crowbar in hand, he hesitates for a moment, eyeing the crate. It could be a bomb, he supposes, given everything, although he kind of doubts it. For one thing, it should be obvious to anyone who planned and made this delivery that no one has been home in days, meaning there’s no guarantee when or even if it would be opened, and certainly no guarantee on who would open it. Calling the bomb squad would be the safe thing to do, but it would also be the long thing to do, and Alex is a little tired of waiting around and playing it safe while his family is stuck in a federal safe house.
“Fuck it,” he says aloud, and sets about opening it.
Once he has the top nails free, the front falls open kind of like a drawbridge. The smell hits him almost faster than the sight: there in front of him, plain as day, is the head of Eugene ‘the Genie’ Franks, impaled on what what seems to be an honest-to-god pike planted in a block of concrete. Taped to the side of the crate that is now on the ground is a copy of one of the pictures he was sent with a frowny face drawn over it in bright pink sharpie.
Sighing, and rubbing his face with his left hand, he pulls out his cell phone and calls Howard.
---
“You’re goddamn lucky this was just a head on a stick and not something more explosive, you know that?” Howard says, looking over the photos of the crate’s contents taken after he called in everyone. “Next time a mysterious package arrives on your doorstep, your first call is to the bomb squad, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Alex says. “I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to wait that long.”
“It’s obviously another threat,” Eric adds, shaking his head.
“Well,” he says, making a face, “I’m pretty sure it’s not, actually.”
“Really?” Howard looks interested. “Someone leaves a disembodied head at my door, my first thought would be to watch my neck. You have different friends?”
“Friends, no, but--okay, look.” He pulls out a copy of an affidavit from several years ago. “We made both Nicoletta and Isabella Corlioni write out statements of their whereabouts when we questioned them about the Morettis. Look at the color of the pen Nicoletta used. It was part of her personal fuck you to the whole proceedings.”
Howard raises an eyebrow, rifling through the pictures on his desk until he finds the picture he’s looking for. “Neon pink. It’s the exact damn color of the frowny face.”
“Yeah. Nothing remotely substantial or provable in court, but I’m pretty sure it’s more than a coincidence.”
“That still doesn’t explain how it isn’t a threat,” Eric says, brow furrowing. “Nicoletta Corlioni sending you a head on a stick doesn’t exactly scream ‘goodwill gesture.’”
“Okay, um, you know how, when you have a cat, sometimes it’ll kill things and present them to you? Because it thinks you’re a terrible hunter and wants to take care of you?” Alex asks. “I think that’s kind of what this is. Nicoletta Corlioni is a lot of things, but if she were working with Franks and found out he threatened my kids, she would be--displeased, to say the least. She’ll fuck with me, she’ll fuck with you, she’ll fuck with all of us, but she would never fuck with kids.” He rubs his temple. “That, and I think she sort of likes me. Not in any real significant way, but she’s referred to me as ‘her favorite fib’ before, so there’s that.”
Howard leans back in his chair, clearly taking that all in. “Nicoletta Corlioni sent you a welcome home present,” he says finally. “In the form of a decapitated head. I’m kind of glad I don’t have your life, Harlow.”
Alex sighs. “You know, I get that.”
---
“Nic, Is, Gisella--how’s that storage deal coming?” Torey asks.
“Complicated, unfortunately,” Isabella says.
“Complicated? It was a simple fucking deal,” David says.
“Not so much,” Isabella says, rolling her eyes. “They had some feds poking around, decided to ‘send them a message’ by, oh, threatening one of the agent's kids.”
Torey’s eyes narrow, Johnny and L look pissed, Maria’s jaw tenses, even David rolls his eyes, and that’s before Nicoletta adds, “Special Agent Alex Harlow’s kids.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Johnny says. “How fuckin’ stupid d’ya gotta be?”
Torey eyes her. “Do I want to know the details?”
“Probably not,” she says sweetly.
“It involves a pike,” Isabella adds.
“A pike?” L asks, and she turns that sweet smile on him. He shakes his head.
“It wasn’t, however, entirely unprofitable, as it happens,” Gisella speaks up. “While Mr. Franks, of course, is now… out of commission,” she says, with a smirk at Nicoletta, who smirks back, “it turns out his receptionist was actually his wife. She has total power of attorney, including over his business endeavors. I convinced her it would be in her best interests to sign this.” She pulls out the contract, setting it on the table. “She’s closing up shop soon, so we will still need a new contact, but we’ll have some time to find one.”
Nicoletta nods approvingly at Gisella, and Torey looks impressed. “Good work, Gisella. Since you did so well with this, how about you handle that search? I think you’ll be well-suited to it.”
Gisella nods, looking pleased.
Maria asks, “Should we be worried about any legal fallout?”
“Always, with this idiot,” Leo mutters.
“Watch it, Leo,” Nicoletta says, and she gives him an evil grin. “I still have an extra pike.”
Colors: Fire Opal, 10. Fury + TARDIS Blue, 5. An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.
Supplies: Stain ("The best defense against the atom bomb is not to be there when it goes off."), Charcoal (hai, Alex.)
Word Count: 2,830
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Vaguely described death threats aimed at children, fairly gruesome, albeit brief, violent imagery.
Story: Polyfaceted, title of this is A Superior Hunting Instinct.
Summary: Nicoletta's favorite FBI agent has a problem.
Notes: So apparently writing Corlionis has turned into an annual thing now, or something. Sigh. Takes place sometime in early 2031.
Nicoletta hasn’t been this goddamned bored listening to someone talk since high school. The meeting she’s in is dry as hell, and it’s not even really her meeting; Gisella is taking point on this one, while she and Isabella shadow in case she needs help. On top of that, it’s not for anything particularly interesting or lucrative, just necessary--the buying and selling of storage space. Strictly speaking, it’s even entirely legal--or at least this portion of the deal is. That may change when it’s determined what exactly will be stored in these storage spaces, but at this point, that feels like eons away.
Of course, it doesn’t help that these guys they’re dealing with are newer to the game and still trying to make a name for themselves. That makes them eager to impress, turning what would have been a thirty-minute meeting into an hour-and-a-half-long affair. She’s seriously considering stabbing someone in the eye. Maybe even herself.
She glances across the table at her sister and Gisella, who both look roughly as bored as she feels. Isabella has her tablet angled in front of her, periodically tapping at it. She was taking notes for the contract she’ll draw up later, but since Nicoletta is pretty sure they haven’t actually said anything noteworthy in at least twenty minutes, she tilts her head slightly in curiosity. Isabella smirks back at her and angles it just enough that she can see the screen.
Nicoletta laughs out loud. She’s playing a word scramble.
Her laugh startles the main guy--Franks, his first name is Gene or Eugene, something like that--out of his fucking monologue just long enough that Gisella can leap in with, “All excellent points, and we will most certainly keep them in mind, but I think that ought to cover everything for now. Isabella here will draw up the first draft of the contract, and we can meet again in a week, perhaps?”
“Oh, uh, well, okay,” says Franks. “There was just one last thing I wanted to mention. There’s a couple feds sniffing around some related transactions, though not this one just yet. We can, of course, handle them for you, if you’d like.”
Nicoletta’s patience has definitely worn thin by this point, so she almost snaps at him to stop being so fucking stupid, but Isabella beats her to the punch with, “There’s nothing to handle.” Nicoletta doesn’t think she’s projecting the you moron silently added to that sentence. “This deal is clean. Let them waste their time; it’ll keep them away from anything actually important.”
“Ah. Okay. Good point.” Franks nods and stands, and his two associates do as well. Nicoletta has not bothered to try remembering their names. They all shake hands and finally, finally, the three of them leave the dingy little conference room that makes up part of the frankly unimpressive office that Franks and his cohorts have set up shop in. Gisella pauses a moment to say something to the receptionist, and then they head for the elevator.
“I almost stabbed someone out of boredom,” Nicoletta declares in Italian as they make their way out of the building. Isabella, who has her phone to her ear to call them a car, stifles a laugh.
Gisella glances over at her. “I thought to try to end the meeting sooner, but it seemed like that might end up proving counterproductive.”
“Entirely possible,” Nicoletta says. “These guys are good contacts, and cultivating that relationship can be tricky. You have to let them know we’ll be setting the terms, because of course we will, but you can’t dismiss them entirely. That leaves you open to a lot of annoying petty shit. It’s not hard to handle, but it’s a pain in the ass, especially if you have more important shit to do.”
Isabella ends her call just as they reach the exit. “Yeah, you did good by making sure you were the one to end it. I might’ve called it a little sooner, but it’s kind of something you have to get a feel for over time--how much time to let them ramble and feel heard versus getting what the fuck you came for and getting the fuck out.”
Gisella nods, clearly absorbing that. Nicoletta smiles to herself. Boring meetings or not, watching Gisella mature in the business is worth it.
Their car pulls up to the curb, and they get inside. “Anyway, now that the meeting from hell is over, I say we get lunch. Sushi sound good to you guys?”
“I love sushi,” Gisella says. “There’s this tiny little shop not far from my nonna’s that’s truly excellent.”
“Works for me,” Isabella says, and once Gisella gives their driver the address, they’re off.
“I really think this case is a dead end,” Alex tells Eric, one of the new guys he’s working with for the time being, while George is out with bronchitis. “These guys are 90% legal, and what’s not legal isn’t going to be found the way we’re going about it. We either need a new angle or to just cut them loose.”
Eric nods, about to answer, when Andy walks by. “Mail call,” he says, dropping three large manilla envelopes on his desk and two on Eric’s.
“I agree with you, which is why I requested some records last week. I think at least one of these could be a disaffected former member of the organization, and if we can find them...” Eric says, opening his envelopes. Alex nods thoughtfully and opens the top one of his pile, freezing once he opens the folder.
It’s not a file. It’s a folder of four pictures--two of each of his daughters going to and from school, gun sights printed over their faces.
“Is that--whoa, you okay, man?” Eric asks, and wordlessly Alex shows him the photos.
“Fuck.”
Alex takes the pictures back and pulls out his cell, heading straight for Howard’s office. “Yeah, Stephen? Okay, please don’t panic, but I need you to head to the school and get the girls. I’m going to have some agents meet you there. Once you’ve got them, they’re going to take you someplace safe, okay?” He pauses. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything tonight. Love you.” He puts the photos in front of Howard, giving him a pointed look. Howard nods and gets on his phone without waiting a beat.
“Okay, goal for today is to keep the meeting under an hour,” Nicoletta says as they make their way into the conference room.
The conference room itself is empty when they walk in, but she can hear some discussion in the room that adjoins it. “You’re certain it was received?”
“Loud and clear. Harlow and his ilk will think twice about coming after us again.”
“Excellent.” Franks and his associates walk into the conference room, and Nicoletta smiles, deceptively sweet.
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” she says. “What was that about Agent Harlow?”
“Have you heard of him? He’s FBI, organized crime. He was one of the ones investigating our business.”
“The investigation we told you to leave alone?” Gisella asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes, and we were going to, but the situation escalated. We felt it couldn’t be ignored.”
“Interesting. And what did you do?” Isabella asks.
“We made it clear what he could stand to lose if he pursued the investigation,” says Associate #1, smugly.
“He has two daughters that go to public school. Can you believe that?” Associate #2 laughs derisively.
Isabella drops her face into her hands, Gisella sighs, and Nicoletta leans in, smiling all the sweeter. “Oh. Does he.”
“How much longer do we have to stay here, Daddy?” Maddie asks him over breakfast.
“We’ve already missed five days of school. That’s a lot,” Selena adds.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s going to be a little while longer,” Alex tells them both. “You know how my job sometimes makes me work late? Sometimes it also means we have to stay other places for a while. But I’m working as hard as I can so we can all go home, I promise.”
“We can stay here longer if you don’t want to work so late,” Maddie says, eyes hopeful.
Selena lights up. “Yeah! I’m sure if we explain to our teachers, it’ll be fine.”
Helplessly, he glances up at his husband. Stephen, across from the breakfast table, only gives him a knowing smirk, which is no help at all.
“I’ll have some vacation time soon,” Alex finally says. “Then we can spend as much time together as you want.”
The girls don’t look totally mollified by that, but they do finish their breakfasts and head off to their temporary rooms for the day.
“So how is it really going?” Stephen asks him.
“We’re a little at a loss,” Alex admits. “We can’t figure out why an organization like the one we were investigating would do something so out of character. There’s got to be a reason they upped their game.”
“Any chance they’re working with someone they want to impress? Kind of sounds like Chris at work--every single time the big clients are in town, his personality takes a 180.”
“We thought about that, but the most likely contenders for that category would be the Corlionis, and Corlionis don’t threaten kids. It’s about the only thing I can honestly say I respect about them.”
Stephen shrugs. “Maybe they don’t know that.”
“Maybe,” Alex says, thoughtfully. He stands up, finishing his coffee. “I’m going to head by the house today, see if it looks like anyone’s been there. You need anything?”
Stephen shakes his head. “I don’t, but if you grab another one of Maddie’s sketchbooks and Selena’s other iPod charger, you’ll be their hero. More than you already are, I mean.”
“Not that I deserve to be,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m at work twenty hours a day and get them randomly sequestered away because of it.”
“Hey.” Stephen stands and pulls him in. “None of us blame you for your job. You make time for us. We’re just greedy and want even more because we love you so much.” He kisses him, and Alex smiles into it, leaning against him.
He sighs, happy despite himself. “I don’t know what I did to get so lucky--”
“All that good karma from your job, probably,” Stephen says, grinning.
Alex rolls his eyes but grins back, kissing him again. “All right. I’m off. I’ll see you tonight.”
Alex decides to circle around the back way, just in case, and he pulls up at the block behind his. After parking his car, he makes his way through the alley to his house, and heads inside through the back door. He’s pretty sure no one is watching the house, but it never hurts to be cautious.
Nothing inside looks like it’s been disturbed since they left. As he’s passing through the living room, though, he does see through his window that there’s a large wooden crate on his stoop, and he frowns. That definitely wasn’t there the day before. He opens his front door, glancing around outside as he does: there’s no one around. A closer look at the crate tells him it should be easy to open from the top, and he takes a minute to go grab his crowbar from the basement.
Crowbar in hand, he hesitates for a moment, eyeing the crate. It could be a bomb, he supposes, given everything, although he kind of doubts it. For one thing, it should be obvious to anyone who planned and made this delivery that no one has been home in days, meaning there’s no guarantee when or even if it would be opened, and certainly no guarantee on who would open it. Calling the bomb squad would be the safe thing to do, but it would also be the long thing to do, and Alex is a little tired of waiting around and playing it safe while his family is stuck in a federal safe house.
“Fuck it,” he says aloud, and sets about opening it.
Once he has the top nails free, the front falls open kind of like a drawbridge. The smell hits him almost faster than the sight: there in front of him, plain as day, is the head of Eugene ‘the Genie’ Franks, impaled on what what seems to be an honest-to-god pike planted in a block of concrete. Taped to the side of the crate that is now on the ground is a copy of one of the pictures he was sent with a frowny face drawn over it in bright pink sharpie.
Sighing, and rubbing his face with his left hand, he pulls out his cell phone and calls Howard.
“You’re goddamn lucky this was just a head on a stick and not something more explosive, you know that?” Howard says, looking over the photos of the crate’s contents taken after he called in everyone. “Next time a mysterious package arrives on your doorstep, your first call is to the bomb squad, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Alex says. “I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to wait that long.”
“It’s obviously another threat,” Eric adds, shaking his head.
“Well,” he says, making a face, “I’m pretty sure it’s not, actually.”
“Really?” Howard looks interested. “Someone leaves a disembodied head at my door, my first thought would be to watch my neck. You have different friends?”
“Friends, no, but--okay, look.” He pulls out a copy of an affidavit from several years ago. “We made both Nicoletta and Isabella Corlioni write out statements of their whereabouts when we questioned them about the Morettis. Look at the color of the pen Nicoletta used. It was part of her personal fuck you to the whole proceedings.”
Howard raises an eyebrow, rifling through the pictures on his desk until he finds the picture he’s looking for. “Neon pink. It’s the exact damn color of the frowny face.”
“Yeah. Nothing remotely substantial or provable in court, but I’m pretty sure it’s more than a coincidence.”
“That still doesn’t explain how it isn’t a threat,” Eric says, brow furrowing. “Nicoletta Corlioni sending you a head on a stick doesn’t exactly scream ‘goodwill gesture.’”
“Okay, um, you know how, when you have a cat, sometimes it’ll kill things and present them to you? Because it thinks you’re a terrible hunter and wants to take care of you?” Alex asks. “I think that’s kind of what this is. Nicoletta Corlioni is a lot of things, but if she were working with Franks and found out he threatened my kids, she would be--displeased, to say the least. She’ll fuck with me, she’ll fuck with you, she’ll fuck with all of us, but she would never fuck with kids.” He rubs his temple. “That, and I think she sort of likes me. Not in any real significant way, but she’s referred to me as ‘her favorite fib’ before, so there’s that.”
Howard leans back in his chair, clearly taking that all in. “Nicoletta Corlioni sent you a welcome home present,” he says finally. “In the form of a decapitated head. I’m kind of glad I don’t have your life, Harlow.”
Alex sighs. “You know, I get that.”
“Nic, Is, Gisella--how’s that storage deal coming?” Torey asks.
“Complicated, unfortunately,” Isabella says.
“Complicated? It was a simple fucking deal,” David says.
“Not so much,” Isabella says, rolling her eyes. “They had some feds poking around, decided to ‘send them a message’ by, oh, threatening one of the agent's kids.”
Torey’s eyes narrow, Johnny and L look pissed, Maria’s jaw tenses, even David rolls his eyes, and that’s before Nicoletta adds, “Special Agent Alex Harlow’s kids.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Johnny says. “How fuckin’ stupid d’ya gotta be?”
Torey eyes her. “Do I want to know the details?”
“Probably not,” she says sweetly.
“It involves a pike,” Isabella adds.
“A pike?” L asks, and she turns that sweet smile on him. He shakes his head.
“It wasn’t, however, entirely unprofitable, as it happens,” Gisella speaks up. “While Mr. Franks, of course, is now… out of commission,” she says, with a smirk at Nicoletta, who smirks back, “it turns out his receptionist was actually his wife. She has total power of attorney, including over his business endeavors. I convinced her it would be in her best interests to sign this.” She pulls out the contract, setting it on the table. “She’s closing up shop soon, so we will still need a new contact, but we’ll have some time to find one.”
Nicoletta nods approvingly at Gisella, and Torey looks impressed. “Good work, Gisella. Since you did so well with this, how about you handle that search? I think you’ll be well-suited to it.”
Gisella nods, looking pleased.
Maria asks, “Should we be worried about any legal fallout?”
“Always, with this idiot,” Leo mutters.
“Watch it, Leo,” Nicoletta says, and she gives him an evil grin. “I still have an extra pike.”
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Seriously just. Do not threaten kids around the Corlionis. Especially not around Nic. Especially not when she can make you hurt. Amazing.