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| Fandom: | Houston Knights |
| Series: | Other Authors |
| Rating: | NC-17 (sort of) |
| Pairing: | Joe/Levon |
| Archive: | Starwinder's |
| Title: | The Shoot |
| Author: | Glo |
| e-mail: | Goglow@mailcity.com |
| Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters who may appear in these stories are the property of the author.< | |
The Shoot
By Glo
Houston is a big city, in a big state. Lots of people, lots of crime. A tough police force of men and women who lived in the shadow of the legends of Texas Rangers from times past. Rangers were still around, of course. Doing their jobs, loners, but good at what they did. In a city like Houston, though, it was the cops, plainclothes and uniformed, that kept the peace, solved the crimes, protected and enforced...
The first whispers started surfacing in late March. There was trouble coming knocking at Houston's door. Snitches started acting skittish, telling of power challenges up high in the world of crime lords. Of strangers who were coming in, mostly by train. They all wore dark suits, dark glasses, had dark hair and wore dark black shiny shoes. Most seemed to have tailor problems, resulting in unsightly bulges near their armpits.
*********************
"Goddamn it, Lafiamma, don't you do that!" Levon Lundy barked as his partner backed away, chuckling. Getting goosed in the bullpen was the last thing the cowboy needed here of all places. Sometimes that boy just has no sense at all. Levon checked around the room but all the other detectives there were engrossed in their own work piles, long since used to sharp words and biting retorts from the Lafiamma - Lundy tag team.
Their recently changed relationship was great in bed, at home, but this was definitely not the place to be indulging in petting or the like. Levon cocked an eye at Joey who was settling into his desk chair now, a look of assumed innocence writ large on his face. Cain't do nothing with that boy, well, not here anyway. Levon lowered his eyebrows crossly and fixed Joe Lafiamma with a stern glare: jest you wait 'til we git home boy.
Jeesh, no sense of humor, Joey thought with an internal smile. Something I'm really gonna have to work on. Along with that tasty golden body. Mmmm. He began to feel hard, just thinking about it. That slowed him down, no, Levon's right, this ain't the place, he decided as he tentatively crossed his legs to subdue the beast between them.
Joe's world was a happy one just now. He hadn't had a chance to tell Levon yet. Well, actually, he had had chances, just wasn't sure how to say that some of his family was coming to town for a visit. Here in Houston! He smiled, just thinking of the reunions to come. If it was just his aunt, then OK, but Uncle Mikey was coming and some others. Joe wasn't altogether sure how Levon would take to meeting Mike Lafiamma, no less the rest. Might be better to just kind of let it slide by. Meet with the family, then tell Levon later.
*****************
The murmurs were starting to take on a life of their own, as informers began calling their contacts in law enforcement in downtown Houston, because the airplanes were starting to land now. More suits, dark glasses. No bulges, though, not with metal detectors at each terminal in Hobby Airport.
The word was that the visitations had spawned a run of extra long, black limos, too. Meeting the planes. The drivers wore uniforms and caps, but all seemed to be in need of the same tailor. Their uniform jackets just didn't hang quite right from the shoulders.
Planes, trains, and automobiles. It would have been funny if anyone cared to laugh. No one was laughing.
Local crime slowed. Statistics began to show a real drop in criminal acts, especially gang related and anything to do with drugs or gun running. It was almost as if the locals were waiting to see what the invaders were going to do, where they might try to elbow in, force a move, make a show of force.
So far, though, the limos vanished faster than unmarked police cars could follow. Leaving lots of question marks behind.
**********************
"Levon, I gotta go to a meet tonight, I'm gonna be late. I'll sleep over at my apartment instead of coming out to the ranch." Joe listened to his partner's reply on the other end of the line. Levon wanted to know if he needed backup.
"Naw, this ain't nothing big. Just talk to some folks." Joe paused, listened again, then added, "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, OK? Love you." He smiled at the response and closed his small pocket cell phone. Turning, he looked back at his uncle and nodded. "E fatto." [It's done.]
Michaelangelo Lafiamma pushed out his lower lip, then nodded back slowly. "Joey, you don't think it wise to tell Lundy about us being here?" He gestured to the other men in the hotel room suite, all dressed, like him and like Joey, in dark suits, dark shoes.
"Uncle Mikey, Levon and me, we're just starting to work things out, get a good partnership going. He might freak out on me if he met up with La Famiglia before he really trusts me."
"Trust is important, Joseph, I hope this doesn't betray his in you." Mike lifted his head to signal an end to the conversation. "Let's get this done, let's join the others."
Joe and his uncle walked over to the group and fit themselves in among them, Mike taking center stage, Joe standing at his right hand.
"Pronti?" asked the photographer politely. When it was clear all were settled, he added, "Dica formaggio!" ["ready?"......"say cheese!"]
Three things happened simultaneously. The camera flash went off. The group of men obediently repeated "formaggio" showing smiles in a series of white teeth against slightly olive skin. And the door crashed in, free of it's hinges, it hit the floor with a dull booming sound.
As the room flooded with police, all in flak jackets, one voice could be heard raised above all the rest: "JOE!"
And then the answer: "LEVON!"
***********************
The whole passel of indignant Italians had shown their identification papers, Joe Lafiamma had flashed his badge, and the police raid turned into a polite exchange of apologies and backsteps. The team of Lafiamma and Lundy were not going to hear the last of this for some time to come, Levon knew.
Lundy was scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, shooting angry looks at his partner from under the brim of his hat, pulled low over his face, as they watched the police team wander down the hall toward the stairs. A few acid comments drifted back towards them.
A hotel repair man was standing a few feet away, staring at the fallen door.
"If'n you'd only tole me what was happening, tole somebody! Ain't you heard nuthin 'bout what was being said 'round the station. The turf war ever'body was predicting?"
"'Course I heard about that!" Lafiamma yelled back, then subsided against the hotel hallway wall where they were having their private confrontation. In lower tones he said, "No reason to connect it to my family's visit! We don't get together all that often and Uncle Mikey wanted a family portrait for his birthday," Joe paused for a deep breath, then continued, "and you know I can't go back to Chicago..."
"So, Chicago came to you!" Lundy finished. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, Joey, I just can not believe this is happening. Word on the street was there was gonna be a major shoot."
"Yeah, well," Joey smiled slyly back at his partner, "there was a shoot, a photo shoot."
THE END