The whine of the jet slowly wheeling away from the hangar was enough to quell all other sounds in the plane. It gave Damien the opportunity to sit and watch the scene playing out in the hangar.
The Italian woman was on the ground, bleeding and Nathan Ford was holding Eliot back. The younger man’s face was twisted in a familiar expression of rage and the tendons in his neck stood out fiercely, but somehow the wiry, tall frame of the dark haired man was enough to stop Eliot Spencer.
It was a ridiculous thing that Damien was seeing. He could still remember how impossible to stop the retrieval specialist was, how even a room full of armed men couldn’t do more than slow him down a little.
The sight of Eliot stepping back, still ragingly angry and turn to do Nathan Ford’s bidding, stunned Damien. More than just the long hair and the fact that Spencer worked with a team now, it was the fact that the specialist didn’t mow Ford down in his way to Damien that took him aback.
Through all the years Eliot worked as his enforcer, his weapon of destruction, all Moreau could do was point him at a target or a problem and let him go. He rarely interfered because the risk of finding himself in the path of destruction Eliot could cause was always a concern. He could never, would never dare to put himself in his way and try to stop Eliot Spencer once the chips were down. And this time they were down.
He regretted sending people to kill Eliot, he never really thought he could actually do it, actually succeed. Not with something as straightforward as the kill box the warehouse was supposed to be. The man always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to traps, he was also one of the very few men Moreau knew who simply refused to be beaten down, a man that just wouldn’t stay down and die. It was an irrational fire in the man that meant he’d survive even if he didn’t really want to.
When he sent Chapman he thought his men would either kill Eliot and whoever he worked with or send a strong enough message that he wasn’t going to be conned by anybody.
What he didn’t expect or really think was even possible to happen, was for Eliot to take it personally. Usually the man shook off attempts on his life in the spirit of professionalism. What he saw in Eliot’s body language was nowhere near professional distance. He was enraged and ready to kill Damien on the spot.
Standing there with his gun drawn and Eliot bearing down on him Moreau was painfully aware that he only had one chance. If he shot Eliot, he had to kill him on the spot, because he wouldn’t get another opportunity.
Nathan Ford was a surprise then, he stood between Damien and Eliot and didn’t even twitch away from the gun, willingly making himself a living shield. It was with a curious sense of tightness in his chest that he switched his target to the woman and pulled the trigger. He understood now how all those people felt, gun didn’t really give him that much of an advantage with Eliot bearing down on him with murder in his eyes.
There weren’t many people who pulled a gun on Eliot and lived. It seemed such an unbroken rule. Eliot was like a gun himself, You could point it and fire, but could never stop the bullet.
And yet, as the plane rolled with greater speed Damien saw the older man call out and Spencer, whole body tensed, jerked back as if on a leash and abandoned his goal to go and help the downed woman. It was a stunning yet chilling sight. To have as much power over a man as dangerous and violent as Eliot Spencer was something Damien had never quite managed. He’d honed the edge of ruthlessness , the sheer refusal to lie down and die, and trained that scarily devious mind, to be the most terrifying and above all effective enforcer in the world.
Now it seemed this Nathan Ford, this unknown quantity that Moreau thought was only an inconvenience, managed to do something Damien thought just wasn’t possible. He’d tamed the animal that Moreau helped create.