In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Aren't I Always"

The early afternoon was warm, the air thick with humidity as he strode down to his car. The Porsche's silver paint glimmered in the sun, the lock chirping before he fell into the driver's seat.

Grimacing, he pressed a hand against the cut. It was aching, which was of course unsurprising, but it wasn't a distraction he cared to have during this meeting with Dimitri. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

It had been worth it.

He could still taste her in his mouth, still feel her body against his. Memories floated to the surface, and he allowed himself a last moment to indulge in her—in remembering how she looked, the sounds she made, the smell of her skin.

There had been something untamed about her this time. Something unleashed. He wished he could stick around to see what he'd let out of its cage.

Then his phone rang, making him scowl. Opening his eyes, he locked those thoughts away tightly. Last night had been fun, but it had been last night. Today he had work to do.

Digging his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, he frowned lightly at the dried blood still stuck in the small seams of the phone. He'd had it for about two months anyway, and made a mental note to have Leon transfer the data to a new one.

He answered the phone. "What?"

"And here I was thinking you'd be in a good mood," Leon said.

He was, but what did that have to do with anything? Remi pulled away from the curb, gunning the engine. "Now why would you think that?"

"Because getting laid generally has that effect," Leon offered, making Remi smirk before his second launched into business. "Moira called and told me what Anya said."

Remi waited for a beat, then prompted, "And?"

"And..." Leon sighed. "I'm not in love with the idea but Moira made a very... passionate case."

"Yeah." Remi narrowed his eyes at the truck following him. "Yeah, she did with me too."

There was a long silence from Leon. Then: "You don't think—"

"No," Remi snapped. "I don't. That's not the point. My point is I've got stitches in my side, Dimitri's kid is responsible and I would like something for my troubles. To soothe my ruffled feathers."

"Since when can a low-level street thug ruffle your feathers?"

Remi sighed deeply. "Since I don't like fucking bleeding all over Charlie's furniture?" He grimaced. "And since street thugs only follow orders."

He could almost imagine the disapproving glare Leon was wearing, but all the other man did was say, "Okay. So you still haven't told me what you want to do."

"And you haven't told me what you think."

"Does it matter?" Leon asked snidely, his attitude beginning to make Remi think that Leon was the one who needed to get laid.

"If it didn't matter, I wouldn't ask," Remi hissed, passing a crossover going twenty below the speed limit for reasons completely beyond him. When he was back in his lane, he said, "She had a point. Anya's tired of living under Dimitri's thumb—"

"So, what?" Leon interrupted. "You think she'd trade that for living under yours?"

"At least my thumb doesn't have antiquated ideas about women and working." Remi resisted the urge to snarl at his second, knowing Leon didn't respond well to emotion. His second much preferred the world of numbers and facts. Logic was the only way to deal with him.