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“Saw you coming from a mile away. I knew it was only a matter of time before you would be back.”

It had been twenty minutes of non stop poor dialog that wasn’t fit for some cheesy late night local cable programming. Celadon eyes dropped down to glance at his silver Patek Philippe wrapped wrist which confirmed it. Something about the look on the man’s face was begging for Lyonel to make a move. If only the not so wise guy stood half as much of a chance of returning the favor it would be worth entertaining.

“You need to learn how to play the game, son. Down here we play hard ball.”

A brief stare down with the southern version of what a bad diet and poor stress management skills did to a middle aged man provided Lyonel very little competition and increasing boredom at best. Harlan Price would never change. The Grecian Formula dependent turkey was puffing his ego up with each line of advice that spilled from his whisker framed lips. It was quite apparent that Lyon was not looking to find the nearest chamber of commerce or a lecture. Yet the sound of the southern drawl continued to roll at him in the modest office. It offered up the increasing reminder that it had been quite a while since the killer had tasted the salty-sweet, cholesterol heavy blood that the south had to offer.

“I been at this longer than you been free from your momma’s apron strings, boy.” The telephone chirped once but was ignored as the body that would usually answer it postured to seem more important than it would really ever be. “You obviously have a piggy bank somewhere. I can make you more money than you have ever set eyes on. How about you bust it open and make an investment. I can teach you how to win big and fast or you can continue to sit on your *** and watch from the dugout. About time you left the Canadian wilderness and get down to business.”
“Harlan, you can’t afford to lose any more of that hot air you are releasing.” Lyonel called it like he saw it. “Your heart is crying for mercy. It's disgusting to see what you have done to yourself.” The throbbing bulge over the sweat shine of his left temple was betraying him. “You won’t live to see next week if you keep making noise.” Harlan was known to be thick headed when it suited him and a threat or two backed by a world of promise usually would set him back on course. “In fact tomorrow is looking grim if you don’t get to telling me why you aren’t paying your bills like you normally do. This is the second client we have in common who is sending me down here to see you.” A brief shift of his shoulders had the spans of the wide set settling. There was no question that he would get what he came for. He always did. “I get tired of excuses. This isn’t news to you. You have more of them than I can afford spending my time listening to. Names, Harlan. Who is interfering with your current payment plan?”
“You have no idea what you are stepping into.” A brash chuckle broke free from cheeks that reminded him of the legendary Dizzy Gillespie when a sudden cough choked off the sound of brief amusement.

Talk about a set of jowls. H.T. Price had more than enough and Lyonel was left to stare at how far they could actually inflate. A thick fingered hand balled up and tried to cover up the view of a set of front teeth still missing from their last encounter. Harlan tried to bite off more than he could chew and Lyon’s fist just happened to get in the way when he did.

“But, sure, I will tell ya. Be more than happy to give you directions on where to take care of business, son. It would be my pleasure.” The sound of the chair held down by the world on Harlan’s shoulders creaked as he leaned forward and folded his freckled adorned meathooks and set them down on the desk. “First things first. Let me give you a little history on the son of a ***** that has been bleeding me dry so you know exactly who you are dancing with. Hope you packed your finest shoes and your lucky charms. You are going to need them.”

“We got nothing to discuss.”

Sometimes it paid to be the patient silent type. Lyonel found the duration of his trip over the Canadian border was fading quickly. Georgia wasn’t all that bad but if he was going to be hanging outside the comfort zone of Harper Rock then he could list at least five other places he would rather be than where he was currently sitting. Each that quickly came to mind were all about pleasure and nothing to do with the business at hand. Go figure.

The swirl of late silver rolling back and forth between his fingers reminded him that someone lost more than a few coins because of the southern businessman across the table from him. A few rounds of twenty one questions had Lyon winning the option to look behind door number one what he found was a bruised up peach of a guy that looked like he would be more comfortable in the boroughs of New York than he did behind the suit and tie that had twenty four hours of creases firmly setting in. It was a lengthy discussion but he had enough to go on that he could put the guy out of his misery if he felt it was necessary. Unfortunately that made things messy and really in the end it was too damn easy.

“So, you can head on back to where you came from and let whoever pays you to find out what is really none of your damn business that they will get their money when we get what we are due. Sounds like a winning plan to me.” The slip and slide of material moving over the quality leather beneath it didn’t trigger a response from the taller than average killer. “Need help finding the door just let me know.”
“How about we settle this nice and neat.” The door behind him opened and closed. Lyonel felt the coolness of the coin sink between two fingers as his hand closed to hold it tight. “Two million clears H.T. Price from any ties and what you do with him after the fact is up to you.”

The body behind him was hardly a threat but it didn’t mean he was comfortable with the heat of a human looming behind him. He knew they were still prone to getting all sorts of wild ideas about pulling some stupid moves. In his favor one bullet wasn’t going to kill him. Not even two come to think of it. He sat cool as can be where he had been. Time was ticking away but one thing was for sure and that was the fact that he was going to be paid even if his client was still empty handed. Lyon settled back like a man with all the options in the world. Of course he did. Compared to the two now in his company that had limited luck at making it out of the office alive he was golden.

Footsteps weighed in the dark recesses of his mind while he waited. Closer they came until he heard their brief pause at the doors behind him. Once again in motion he sized them up. Approximately a hundred pounds worth of warm female was coming up behind him. Perhaps a few extra was onboard the package to spare but certainly not enough to stress himself over. However, manners still in tact, he was inclined to rise up from his seat to full height. Adjusting his shoulders just enough that he felt the material over his shoulders caress his joints as they moved. Whoever it was seemed to be insistent on taking up her own issues with the man that still breathed freely on the opposite side of the desk.

Celadon orbs drifted just enough that they discovered a spirited dancer, or what appeared to be so, demanding her center stage. It certainly was a game changer in killer’s mind as soon he shifted his focus back to the one who the young female favored in features. His dismissal was rather unexpected but well timed. Lyonel nodded towards the one who would appear to be too young to be calling the end to any of her father’s business meetings. What a grievous error it was that a child could reveal a parent's ultimate weakness. The awareness was instant. She was in fact his blood. How tightly she was emotionally bound to him did not matter in the least. There was no question they were close enough that she could stomp in and halt his current dealings with ease. A display of power was present and the one who held it was standing at the door waiting for the anticipated results.

“I believe we can continue this later.” His wrist rolled enough that the pricy sparkle wrapped around it reminded him no amount of money could change the course of events heading her father’s way. Time was not on his side. Not anymore. “I will see myself out. I know how to reach you.”

Lyonel pocketed the coin in his hand and stepped around the female with a respectable distance. She had a fiery presence. Nothing that the one seated behind the desk could ever contend with let alone manage. His eyes dropped to the golden head as he stepped into the doorway. The costume reminded him of someone else equally spirited. What was it about these hell bent souls that were on fire and at war with the world that called to him? He wondered if that was his curse, his weakness identified. Breathtaking warm blooded birds of paradise that shifted into Phoenix’s to the sounds of Tchaikovsky, Adam, Copeland and Khachaturian to name a few. The dazzling shimmer of her dress reminded him he had a few calls to make, those he needed to check in on. Distance was always a threat at tarnishing what he took pride in keeping safe. Without another word his long, confident and business like stride carried him down the nearest hallway heading towards the main doors he was granted access earlier.

S t o r m T r a c k e r

Lyonel kept a stride that was nearly impossible to break unless he felt like it. His fingers disappeared only long enough to retrieve the keys to the transportation he didn’t plan on leaving behind on the outside drive of the estate he was done with for the time being. The doors opened behind him that he had closed seconds before. He was being called out by the debtor’s daughter. Even that didn’t shake him to look back through the fine rain that cooled the evening air.

“A storm is coming.” His announcement was an understatement. “You planning on chasing it?”

The keys to what could fly from zero to sixty before a human could inhale waited for him to take control. The young woman who was making demands for his attention was oblivious to the business at hand and it was for the best. Even the slightest chance Daddy’s girl could be the southern king pin’s wild card didn’t stop him from hitting the keypad that would unlock the sleek door for easier access. He wasn’t concerned if she had a few heavy hands in tow. He had the reflexes to take the first bullet with ease. The killer would be on top of whatever took issue with him while his back was turned before they were stupid enough to try a second time. One on one, five against his left hand. She could join in if she was feeling inspired when the rest started dropping like flies. It didn’t make a difference she was in a dress or wearing a set of combat boots that she hiked on at the last minute before trailing him out of the door.

His reputation stood for being the last one the wise wanted to mess with on their best day. He didn’t need the powers that may be worth something back on his home ground of Harper Rock, Canada to settle his disputes. When it came down to it Lyon had a killer core that was capable of pulverizing the unseen challenger into several inches of unbroken ground with his bare hands if it ever went that far. It was a fact he rarely used the nifty abilities available to him on his usual turf. Even then he believed in the approach that proved far more effective than grunting and tossing around his muscle. A man with intellect and self-control could get by just fine. Lacking those two characteristics and coming at him meant the man who was nice as hell could and would get damn mean. She was asking for it. Who was he to tell the woman used to getting what she wanted that it was the last thing she needed.

“If you are up for it then get in.”

His celadon eyes caught her just as his right leg slid into the car and guided the unusual height of his body into folding down into the body hugging Aspid GT-21 Invictus driver seat. The engine came to life and the power beneath him gave him a small charge as he counted down the seconds she had left to jump in or get left behind. Lyon predicted that would ruin her father’s night more than it would his own. Racing off the grounds with an empty passenger seat was no different than he had arrived. The storm was heading north and he was riding it for all it was worth.

With the silence broken and the introduction initiated Lyon had reason to glance over at the young woman that filled the passenger's seat with enough scent to leave the interior smelling less like the custom leather beneath each of them and more like Fiji. Tropical waters came to mind as the hint of subtle apple found its way into the mix with each word she said. With the casual offering of friendly contact she surrendered far more than she was aware of.

No sign of fear came from the tone of her voice or the stretch of those youthful fingers that wouldn’t know what a callus was let alone stood a prayer's chance in hell of any sort of closed quarters defense. Pampered they were, both the right and the left. All of that was thanks to the high end blend of coconut and kiwi butter that layered her skin from head to toe and cemented the genuine smile on her worry free face. Lab 31. It didn’t come cheap. A pretty penny filled her pores so that the impurities of the world around her couldn’t find their way in and leave wrinkles in her time. The high end beauty products elite chemists couldn’t prevent everything from leaving a mark on their loyal customers. Just like anything else there was an exception and Ms. Demi was completely unaware there she was sitting right next to it.

A killer. One lacking a pulse and owner of a several year appetite finely sustained on just what she held in copious amounts inside her healthy, pliable veins. While the fruit she had likely ingested less than an hour ago lined the inside of her stomach he was reminded that killers always had a way in. He took the petite hand in his cool grip and absorbed the heat it provided for the single shake he gave it. He wouldn’t bother with the verbal dance of dodge and excuse to get out of the contact that she was expecting. She was the one that hopped into his car not the other way around. She wanted a hint of what she was sharing space with who was he to deny her...or him the mild amusement it may or may not provide.

Demi, as she identified herself to be, seemed rather comfortable in the position she was in which could be attributed to many things. Any of which would be a guess on his part. Sitting in a strangers car could be considered bold and reckless. So could the fact that she counted on him to aid her at getting a rise out of her father for slighting her over whatever it was they had plans for that he brushed off for business. Humans really made it far more tempting the more oblivious they were about who they were trying to bait and hook. At least that is the picture that he was coming up with while taking a second to inspect the warm hand extended his direction that he effectively released.

“Lyon.” It was his name, well sort of. What else did she need to know about the one that was driving her north and closer to the deadly West? Nothing as far as he was concerned.“Hope you don’t have anywhere you need to be for a while. I have some unfinished business that I can’t exactly put off.” He delivered a nod to the bag in her possession. “Good thing you packed ahead of time.” His celadon orbs pulled eerily slow from her face towards the unpredictable storm they were racing towards. Any signs of lingering light faded as he increased the speed of the car.