"Correct," Manny agreed.
Morgan nodded and even Nik looked up and met Josh's passion-filled gaze. In that simple summation Josh had evidently moved in Nik's eyes from son of a murderer to a member of the team.
"I'll check in with the forensics team," Nik said and pulled out his cell.
"I'll make more coffee," Morgan added.
"I'll read that report from Lee and Adam," Josh said simply. He turned quickly and walked around the corner to the computer room.
Manny was torn. Part of him wanted to go after Josh and provide some sort of—hell if he knew—comfort maybe? Jeez, he was getting soft with his thirtieth birthday looming. He made some kind of non-committal noise and crossed to the safe, one press of his thumb later his beloved Glock was in his hand. He went into his own room and pulled a bag from under the bed and carefully set everything out on a wide towel. Cloth rags, solvent, a small brush, and lint-free cloth.
His dad had taught him to shoot. He was only eight but he had already practiced with a .22, both a pistol and a rifle, to learn proper form. By the age of fourteen he had progressed to a .380 Auto caliber Beretta and with the muscles of a teenager he could outshoot most. He was fascinated with the workings of the weapons, the history of them, and the warnings from history when they were abused. He had never actually used a gun to kill, he was far too accurate for that, and in fact he had only pulled his weapon in anger twice since joining Sanctuary. That wasn't entirely accurate. His Glock .45 caliber was never used in anger. He had a cold precision about him when the cool steel was in his hands.
Cleaning the gun enabled him to think about the things going on around him. Being away from Sanctuary felt odd but even Jake finally had to admit he was the best person for the job. What he didn't know about guns wasn't worth writing about and he had the family connection. His great-great-grandfather had left Italy with nothing more than his name and a contact in San Diego; what he passed down, ultimately to Manny's uncle, had been a network of crime that even Manny, with all the computers he had, couldn't get his head around. All he knew was that by his dad taking him and his mom and sister up to Seattle, Manny had at least had some semblance of a normal childhood.
Add in that he was some kind of genius, according to every test available, and Manny had his place in the world. The man who had killed his father was gone. No one cared about Manny Sullivan, ensconced in the Sanctuary Foundation in Albany. He bet though, that with the background story that he and Jake had concocted, he would be of some interest to the Bullens.
Vincenzio. Mannet. Luis. Altosinno. He said the four separate names that labeled him in his head. They had been left behind a long time ago.
"Vincenzio Altosinno, pleased to meet you," he muttered again and wiped at a stray speck of oil until the cold steel was bright and blemish-free in his hands.
"Vincenzio Altosinno, yes, my grandfather was a great man, yes it's a terrible shame we lost the old ways, yes I am perfectly capable and happy to deal weapons with you. No, of course I don't have a conscience, Altosinno sons have it removed at birth."
Manny sighed and gathered together the cleaning supplies, carefully placing them in the bag they originally came from. Lying about who he was would be way past hard and nearing impossible. He wasn't Vincenzio anymore. He felt more real as Manny than he did as Vincenzio and wasn't that ironic. Playing the role of Vincenzio now made him realize the lies he had built to become Manny. He didn't want to be thinking that way.
Still, it wouldn't be for long. Just enough to plant cameras and maybe get some downloads from computers—nothing he hadn't done before. Just. Before, he'd impersonated a janitor, or an admin guy, or a postman. Never the sole remaining Altosinno family member.
Never himself.
"Hey," Josh's voice was behind him at the door and Manny looked up, irritated. "I knocked," Josh explained.
"You didn't answer."
"Maybe because it's my room," Manny snapped.
Immediately he felt remorse for being a dick but it was too late to pull it back now. To his credit, Josh's expression didn't change and he clearly wasn't moving. "Come in,"
Manny finally said. He waved at the bed and indicated Josh should sit. He did, causing Manny to move slightly as the bed dipped. Idly, he turned his Glock over in his hands and waited for whatever Josh was going to say.
Josh had never seen anything as freaking hot as Manny Sullivan and his gun. The man held it and turned it and each move was done with economy of motion and precision. He loved those bits in cowboy films when the victorious gun-slingers twirled their just-used revolvers and slid them into a holster. It was something so sexy and confident and in charge. He almost forgot the question he wanted to ask and instead realized he was staring like a starving man at a steak dinner. Jeez. How long had it been since he'd wanted just for the sake of wanting? Not only had Eric turned out to be an asshole liar who was using him but the contact between them was so old and staid. Manny's lithe body promised sin and Josh barely restrained himself from leaning over and tasting.
"Hello?" Manny was saying as he waved a hand in front of Josh's face. Damn man had a smirk on his face as well. "You had a question."
"Where do you holster your gun?"
"You came in to ask me that?" Manny sounded amused. Josh even opened his mouth to retract the question but
