rose_the_hat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rose_the_hat) wrote2020-08-24 02:42 pm
rose_the_hat) wrote2020-08-24 02:42 pm
The Power Behind The Throne 4/5
Title: The Power Behind The Throne
Author: Rose_the_Hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~ 29,000
Summary: In which Jensen is a powerful mob boss and Jared is his Enforcer…and so much more.
Notes: This is the product of reading too many M/M mafia romances and listening to too much Type O Negative. Apologies in advance for all the Type O references and for putting the late great Peter Steele in this
Beta’d by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jdl71
4 - Life Is Killing Me
PART 3
The trapdoor opens again an interminable time later. Jensen’s head snaps up. The light from above shoots daggers into his eyes. Above him a man stands looking down at him. Jensen is sure there is some heavy handed symbolism there. His heart thuds in his chest. The light coming from above isn’t as bright as before. He can only make out the shadow of a man, not overly tall, not overly short, not heavy or thin. Just…average. It could be any man. Jensen gazes up, holds a hand over his eyes to try and see as much as he can. A polite inquiry as to whom he has the pleasure of being in the company of dies on his lips.
“Hello, Pretty Jenny. My, how the mighty have fallen.”
Jensen thinks he might recognize the voice. He chafes at the old nickname but understands his captor is trying to get a rise out of him. Jensen will not rise to any bate put before him. Control. He is always in control of himself. He puts a polite smile on his face as he asks, “I think we know each other. So, how about you just tell me who you are and what you want.”
“Always so cool and polite. But that is something of your trademark. Yes, Pretty Jenny, we do know each other. Not as well as I would have liked but that will change.” His captor laughs.
Jensen resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s obvious to Jensen his captor thinks of himself as some kind of melodramatic Bond villain.
The light dims slightly and as Jensen’s eyes adjust he can almost make out who is looking down on him. His captor is male, looks to be average height and build, with short brown hair and a square jaw.
“Remember me? Misha Collins.”
Misha Collins, yes Jensen remembers. He used to run the prostitution rackets but that was years ago. What the hell could Misha want by kidnapping him after all these years? How many had it been? He and Jared had been together at least five possibly six years when Jared made his first and only request of him.
“Yes, I remember you,” Jensen replies. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Collins dodges the question. “I always wondered what you looked like under your designer suits. Not bad,” Collins purrs. “Your stomach is a little soft, but, well, you’re not as young as you used to be.”
Jensen will not take the bait. He will not feel bad for his physique. He never had rock hard abs the way Jared does, but Jensen doesn’t have his love of working out either. Jared loves this body, worships it nightly; Jared’s opinion and Jensen’s own are the only ones that matter. This is just another tactic to humiliate him. It will not work. He will not break.
“Your cock is a little smaller than I expected.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. These attempts to goad and needle him are very juvenile. “Cut the bullshit and say what the fuck you want, Collins.”
“I have what I want: you.”
The lights go out and Jensen hears Collins departing. He sighs in frustration. Collins is going to drag this out. He thinks he holds all the cards. Jensen supposes he can afford to let him think so for a little while longer. He sits back down, groping for his bottle of water. He locates it and shakes it, trying to figure how much of the tiny bottle he has left. He’s been rationing carefully, but still eight ounces doesn’t go very far. Jensen’s best guess about how long he’s been here is maybe three days now, possibly four. Misha must have him in some out of the way place if Jared hasn’t found him yet. And Jared will find him.
Jensen was drifting toward sleep, Jared’s arms firmly around him, body still thrumming with pleasure from the orgasm Jared gave him.
“This is kinda our anniversary,” Jared said, fingers stroking along Jensen’s treasure trail.
“What?” Jensen replied with a little laugh. He hadn’t thought Jared the sentimental type.
“Yeah. Six years since the first time we met.”
“To be fair that wouldn’t make this our anniversary. We didn’t get together until six months or so later.”
Jared laughed indulgently and squeezed Jensen briefly. “Don’t lie. You were mine the moment you laid eyes on me.”
“Christ, you’re arrogant,” Jensen muttered.
“You didn’t say it was a lie though.”
Jared had him there. When Jared spoke again, his voice was hesitant, something so unfamiliar it put Jensen on alert.
“Can I ask something of you?”
Jensen turned in Jared’s arms, brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes, eyes that appeared—Could it be?—a touch fearful? “You can. You know you can.”
“I want—,” He broke off abruptly and looked away. Jensen reached out and cupped Jared’s cheek, and, with gentle pressure, forced the other man to look at him. Their gazes locked and, yes, that was fear in Jared’s eyes; not only fear but uncertainty as well. He has never seen Jared like this, timid and upset, and all Jensen wanted was to take away the source.
“Anything for you, Jared. It goes both ways. You know that. What do you want?” Jensen already knew whatever Jared asked for his answer would be yes. Not just because he loved this man more than the air he breathed, or the Macallan he drank, but because Jared had never before asked for anything. Whatever his request was was vitally important to him, Jensen will move heaven and earth to see that he got it.
“The prostitution,” Jared’s eyes drifted away from Jensen’s, color rose in his cheeks. “I want you to put a stop to it.”
Of all the things Jensen had thought Jared would ask for, that wouldn’t have been on the list. Over the past six years Jared had made suggestions regarding certain aspects of Jensen’s business, both legal and illegal that had proven good and profitable, but this—eliminating an entire limb of his empire? And a profitable one at that—Jensen didn’t see sense in it.
Jared pulled away from Jensen, pushed the covers off, and climbed out of bed. “Forget it. I didn’t mean it.” His quick movements and the stiff line of his spine proclaimed otherwise.
Jensen followed him even before he was aware he’s doing it. “I didn’t even give you an answer yet.” He touched Jared’s shoulder, hurt when the other man wrenched himself away.
“You did. I get it. It’s too much. I knew that when I asked. It was stupid.” He tossed his head and reached for his discarded slacks on the floor.
“Jared, wait a damn minute here.” Jensen put some bass in his voice, not usually a tone he needed to employ when he and Jared were alone like this.
Jared turned, his pants on one leg.
“What you’re asking takes thought. There are logistics to deal with. Fall out to plan for. Least of which is what happens to my people who run it.”
Jared’s impassive mask was firmly in place as he pulled up his pants and fastened them. Jensen’s heart knocked in his chest. He cannot let Jared walk out of here. If he does something vital will be broken between them.
“You’ll do what you did after the hijacking and move people around. People are loyal to you, they will do what you ask. Those that don’t? I’ll kill them.” Jared sighed and fixed Jensen with a pleading gaze. “I’m not asking you to eradicate hookin’ from all of Texas or even Dallas. Just your part in it. No one will take it as an indication of weakness on your part. Pretty Jenny is gone. I saw to that.” Jared’s eyes were iron as they bored into him. The intimation was there that, without Jared, Jensen wouldn’t be as powerful as he was. Jensen bristled at it; hated the part of him that thought Jared might be right. Jensen may be on the throne but sometimes Jensen thinks its Jared who really held the power.
Jared turned and headed for the door. Jensen followed. He reached out, grabbed a broad shoulder, and turned Jared to face him. Jensen knew if he had been anyone else he would be either dead or bleeding out on the floor.
“Jared, please.” He grasped his wrist tight. Jared could break his hold but Jensen knew that he wouldn’t. “Come back to bed. Don’t leave upset like this.” Don’t leave me, he doesn’t say.
Jared exhaled, shoulders still stiff, looked away from Jensen. Jensen caressed the racing pulse point on Jared’s wrist.
“Jared…” Jensen couldn’t keep the waver out of his voice. Losing Jared would devastate him. He had never been loved by anyone the way Jared loved him. Jared was the first person to see him, and love him as he was. He didn’t want to use Jensen for his own ends, he didn’t see him as a pretty face, and he’s not afraid of Jensen’s lifestyle.
Jared cracked and pulled Jensen into his arms. “Don’t. Shhh,” he said softly, breath warm against his neck where he placed a soft kiss. “Let’s go to bed.”
Jared released him, dropped his pants, and climbed back into bed. When Jensen joined him, he pulled Jensen close, wrapping him tight in his arms.
“How come I’m the little spoon?” Jensen grumbled.
“Because that’s the way I want it,” Jared replied.
Jensen couldn’t stop the smile. “Yes, Sir.”
Jensen wasn’t sure what pulled him from sleep a few hours later. He heard a soft voice and slowly became aware that Jared was talking. As he woke up a little more he started to make sense of words spoken so softly he had to strain to hear them.
“I never wanted to talk about this. Never wanted you to know. Never wanted anyone to know. You ‘sleep, Jense? Fuck, I hope so.” He could hear shame in Jared’s voice. He longed to turn and hold the man in his arms, tell him everything was okay, but Jared would never allow that. He would never want Jensen to see him so low, so vulnerable. Jensen kept himself relaxed his breathing deep and even, eyes closed and listened.
“Petey went away for awhile. To prison. I had no one else. Nothing else. My old pickpocketing and lifting tricks weren’t working. Too many people recognized me. I wasn’t a cute kid anymore. I was sixteen and over six feet tall. I’da ended up in lock up if I got caught or back in the system. I had no choice. This guy. He said I could make some money.”
A bolt of shock went through Jensen as it registered. Jared had been a prostitute. That’s why his eyes always went dead whenever he saw Misha Collins, and that was why Jared was asking him to end the Organization’s involvement in the prostitution rackets. Jensen felt stupid for not putting it together before.
“Guy was a fat sleazy fuck named Kurt Fuller. He’d take most of what I earned and beat the piss outta me for not making more. Without…without Petey I was lost. I hadn’t realized how much I had come to depend on him and his strength. He was my teacher and my protector then he was gone. Fuck I hated him, Jense; I hated Petey for being stupid enough to get caught and leaving me. I fucking hate myself that I was so weak.”
Jensen continued to feign sleep. He knew they would never talk about this, never even acknowledge it. Jared was baring his soul to Jensen right now and he wanted to let Jared now that Jensen would keep it safe. Jared pressed his face tight to Jensen’s neck and Jensen felt hot tears on his skin. It tested his resolve to keep up this charade but Jared would never accept comfort.
“Petey got out. Found me. When he found out what I was doin’….” Jensen felt Jared shake his head and exhale in a sharp warm gust. “Petey had made some contacts in the joint. From there we started working for the loan shark collection crews under Kane. Then I met you, fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I thought I could deal with your prostitution racket. You run it a hell of a lot cleaner than anyone else, but I can’t deal anymore. It eats at me; reminds me of that time. I can’t move past it or forget it. Please do this for me, baby.”
The clock read 4:04 when Jared went silent, and, as was their ritual, slid from bed, dressed, and headed back to his own quarters on the second floor.
Jensen hoped Jared felts some sort of relief after unburdening himself. Jensen has to put a stop to the prostitution rackets within his Organization and he has to do it ASAP. It was not even a question anymore. If doing that would give Jared some peace, Jensen would see that it was done and damn anyone who might question him for it. Then he’d look into Jared’s former pimp: Kurt Fuller who had preyed on a lost, desperate, and lonely Jared. The first step would be to see who, if anyone Fuller was affiliated with. It was no one in his Organization. He would check to see if Fuller was connected with the Italians. If he wasn’t—and, hell, even if he was—that guy was fucking dead.
Jensen was standing behind his desk with Petrus at his left and Jared on his right. The door opened and the five men he summoned walked in. First was Misha Collins, the head of the Prost Rackets, and the men under him: Milo Ventimiglia, known as Milly V, a squirrely nervous looking young guy named Gabriel Tigerman, a robust black man excellently dressed in a pure white suit named Robert Wisdom nicknamed Bobby Wise, and a tall wiry man with a long face named Too-Tall Christopher Heyerdahl. He greeted them all with firm handshakes and motioned them to sit the chairs situated in front of his imposing desk.
“Gentleman, I appreciate you coming so promptly. What I have to say really can’t wait.”
Jensen noticed the men’s gazes flicked to Jared and Petrus before they fixed on him. No doubt thinking about the Dinner Party and wondering if they are about to suffer a similar fate. Jensen had no desire for executions to take place today but knew if any of the men kicked up too much of a fuss Jared would more than likely end them. Jensen wouldn’t care either way except for the stains that would be left on the antique Turkish rug. He was mostly sure Jared wouldn’t do anything without Jensen’s go-ahead but this subject was especially personal to him and Jensen wouldn’t blame Jared if he did.
“As of today we are out of the Prostitution racket.”
“What?” Misha Collins asked dismayed.
“Shut it. Big Boss Man ain’t finished talking.” Jared said. Jensen knew it’s the only warning Jared would give. The next time Collins opened his mouth Jared would execute him.
Collins held out placating hands and remained silent. The other men appeared bemused. The door opened again and in walked his Inner Circle, Kane, Tommy, Jase, and Stevie. They closed the doors behind them and stood in front of them. The five pimps shifted in their seats.
“You are to cease your operations. Immediately.”
The door opened again and in walked Julian Richings, a skeletally thin man in a neat slim-fitted black suit with black hair combed back from his high forehead. He headed up the law firm the Ackles Organization kept on retainer. He crossed the room, moving like a wraith, to stand at the edge of Jensen’s desk.
“Now, I have ownership in a few legal and above board high-class escort services. What I am willing to do, is sell you my interest in those businesses. If you so wish, you can leave the Organization entirely and pursue other avenues of employment. If you choose to leave you will not receive any protection from police or other authorities my Organization provides. You cannot remain in my employ and dabble in hooking on the side. If you do, and make no mistake, I will find out if you do, well then….” He motioned to Jared and Petrus and let the allusion hang there.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ackles, sir,” the small man, Gabe, spoke, eyes ping-ponging from Jared to Petrus and back to Jensen then back to Jared and Petrus.
“Yes, Mr. Tigerman?”
“I doubt I could afford to buy you out in the escort business, but I would like to remain, sir. I’m not sure what I can offer. I’ve dealt with the girls most of my time in your Organization.”
“Everyone can always offer something. By staying you offer your loyalty and I always value that. You work on the west side, correct?”
Gabe relaxed marginally at Jensen’s words. “Yes, sir.”
“Which means you work for Tommy Blue. Have a little talk with him. He’ll find a new position for you.”
“Sir,” Bobby Wise’s said in his deep mellow voice. “If we buy out your interest in an escort service would we still be in the Organization?”
“No,” Jensen said. “You’ll be on your own with your own business. The Ackles Organization is ceasing any and all prostitution activity, but you will remain in good standing with me. Should you ever need a favor of any kind, all you need do is ask.
“I’m not going to dick around on price. The cost to buy out my interest in each escort service is a flat half-million. You can all buy in together, or if you are so inclined and able, you can buy one of the firms for yourself. Mr. Richings here will facilitate the business end of those transactions.”
“Sir, how many escort businesses are available for purchase?” Milly V. asked.
“I have controlling interest in six throughout Texas. Any and all are available for you to purchase. I’m giving you five first crack at them. After this meeting adjourns I’ll entertain offers from others. I mean to have this accomplished as quick as possible. Make your decisions, gentlemen.”
Too-Tall Heyerdahl spoke first. “I would like to take you up on your offer, sir.”
“I would as well, Mr. Ackles,” Bobby Wise said
Julian opened his briefcase and pulled out contracts.
“You just expect us to make a decision like this without any thought?” Misha said. “You’ve given us no warning or reason.”
Jensen had a moment where he was waiting for Jared to draw his gun from the holster strapped to his shoulder and internally lamented the stains that would soon be on his Turkish rug. His mother sent him that.
“You address Mr. Ackles with respect,” this came from Petrus.
From the corner of his eye Jensen saw Jared shifting. Jensen came from behind his desk, around the front and put himself between Jared and Misha. Jared wouldn’t pull his gun if Jensen was in the way. He heard Jared’s sharp exhalation.
“The Big Boss Man doesn’t owe you or anyone else reason for his decisions,” Jared spat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Collins was quick to apologize. “I just…” He paused appearing to gather himself. “I think this is stupid and unfair. We do a good business, steady business, and make you a lot of money for you.”
“You can think whatever you will, Mr. Collins, but my decision has been made. Are you taking my offer or should I consider this your resignation?”
“Yeah. I was fine before I started working for you and I can be again.” Collins turned and crossed the room but was stopped short by the wall of Jensen’s Inner Circle. “You said we were allowed to leave.”
“You are,” Jensen said. “Just remember, you walk out of here you will be on your own. I have eyes and ears everywhere, so if I find out you’ve been blabbing to the authorities you can expect a little visit from my Enforcers.”
“Noted. Can I go now?”
Jensen nodded. Tommy Blue and Lazy Jase stepped aside and Misha strode out the door.
Ultimately, Bobby Wise, Milly V, and Too-Tall each bought out Jensen’s interest in an escort service. Gabe took a legitimate job at Jensen’s oil company in the tech support division. The three remaining escort services he sold off to the Italians.
Jensen hadn’t stopped at pulling the Ackles Organization out of the skin trade. He did Jared one better.
In a situation similar to just a few short years ago, Jensen presented a small prettily wrapped package to Jared. The man took it, a smirk tilted up his lips, flashing a hint of those dimples. “It’s not my birthday or Christmas,” he said opening the package. The smirk turned into a full grin. He pulls off the top of the box and inside sat a heavy gold ring with a fat ruby in its center. He didn’t need to ask if Jared recognized the ring that used to belong to his former pimp. A quick investigation of Fuller turned up no association with the Italians. He had his own operation; it was seedy at best and hideously depraved at worst. The world and underworld were better off without him in it.
Jensen watched as Jared’s throat worked as he swallowed. He gazes at Jensen with eyes that shimmered with a film of tears. It made Jensen’s chest tighten to see a man usually cold and unaffected struggling with emotions he had denied for over a decade. Jensen knew not to offer comfort. Jared would refuse and shut down. Jensen licked his lips and tried to formulate a response that would convey the depth of his love for this man.
“I promised you anything and always keep my word.”
Jared dropped the box and lunged at Jensen. He wrapped his arms around so tightly around Jensen he could barely draw breath. Jared’s mouth covered Jensen’s, tongue thrusting into his mouth, a welcome invader. Jensen looped his arms around Jared’s neck and kissed him harder, sucking on his tongue, as he pulled Jared toward the bed.
Later, he would tell Jared the whole story. How he tracked Fuller down. How Fuller screamed, cried, and begged for mercy, how Jensen cut the finger, along with the ring, off with a pair of pruning shears, not to mention other pieces of his anatomy before shoving said pieces down his throat and leaving him to choke on them. Jared would like that even more than the ring.
Jensen fell into a light doze, daydreaming about all the fun and interesting ways Jared will kill Misha when he finds him. His personal favorite is that Jared will see how long Misha can survive hooked up to IVs while Jared chops off one limb at a time. Jensen himself would love to help but he doesn’t feel very well. He’s hungry and his thirst is raging. He knows he’s already dehydrated. He’s stretched his little eight ounce bottle of water as far as he can. There’s only one swallow left, if that. He’s started suffering from muscle cramps. He gets up and walks around as much as he can, but he also discovered he gets dizzy and has to sit down. His stubble is filling out and itches like hell. When he’s not meditating on his own well being he’s worrying about Jared and the rest of his guys. How long has it been now? Five days? Six? It can’t be longer than that. Can it? Something serious must be going down if they haven’t found him yet. The fear gnawing at his guts almost makes him forget his hunger.
“Aww, Sleeping Beauty.”
The patronizing voice pulls Jensen from his happy daydreams. He gets to his feet, though the effort greatly taxes him. His quads threaten to cramp up on him and his head spins. Misha stands at the mouth of the pit with a steaming venti Starbucks coffee cup in hand.
Jensen aches for a taste of dark bitter brew maybe with a shot of espresso to give it a little oomph. He almost moans at the thought but he can’t. Misha is fucking with him. Instead he falls back to his Ice Cold persona and stares up.
“Nothing else to do with my time, so I was catching up on my sleep. I’ve been a very busy man for most of my life.”
“I’ve been busy, too,” Misha says cryptically. He takes a sip of his coffee. Jensen swallows convulsively, swears he can feel the burn off coffee on his tongue.
“I’ve been busy building up everything you destroyed. I had a great setup! Then you had a fit of consciousness and destroyed everything I worked to build.”
“You didn’t build it. Neither did I. My grandfather built it. My father continued it, and I expanded it. You just profited from it,” Jensen corrects.
Misha seethes above him and Jensen feels a little pleasure from that. Misha gestures with a hand and a moment later the giant shadow of a man appears to his right, tall and powerfully built. Jensen’s stomach drops. That giant shadow looks so similar is height and build to Petrus. It can’t be Petrus. Cannot be. There are other tall muscular men out there and Petrus is his friend; Jared’s friend. The Big Man hands Misha something then melts back into the shadows.
A moment later, Jensen realizes what the Big Man have Misha: a sandwich. Jensen’s stomach gives a low growl and his mouth waters.
Misha unwraps his sandwich and takes a huge bite. “What I have now,” he says through a full mouth, “I have built through my own effort. My own Organization.”
Jensen struggles to rein in his hunger and doubts. “Your own Organization,” he remarks flatly. He highly doubts Misha is capable of building an Organization like the Ackles’ in the few short years since he left Jensen’s employ. Misha has neither the intelligence nor connections to grow that big that fast. Jensen’s connections, forged almost a century ago when his grandfather started out as a bootlegger, wind through network of mayors, to the governor, and stretch all the way to fucking Washington to senators and congressmen.
“Yes. And I should tell you I don’t go by Misha anymore.” He takes another bite of his sandwich and chews.
Jensen tries not to think about what kind of sandwich it is. He’d love a good BLT, heavy on the bacon, maybe a little grease soaked into the bread for extra flavor.
“I’ve reclaimed my birth name: Dmitri Krushnic and reconnected with my marginalized Russian brethren.”
Russian. Petrus is Russian. At least on his father’s side. Jensen ignores the slithery voice of doubt trying to creep in.
Misha envisions himself as some kind of Russian mob boss. Good Lord it’s even more ridiculous than Jensen had supposed. He’s just a goddamn up jumped pimp. He’s probably surrounded himself with thugs, unintelligent thugs, promising them anything and everything to get them to follow him.
“I’m very happy for you, Dmitri. Everyone needs to feel like they belong.” Jensen thinks back to those minor incursions on Ackles territory, he believes he has found out who was behind them.
“You condescending prick,” Misha sneers. He wads his sandwich wrapper up and tosses it into Jensen’s pit. Jensen wants to fall on it and lick whatever crumbs might be hidden inside. “Still so high and mighty. I will break you.”
Jensen can’t help it. He busts out laughing. Who does Misha think he is Ivan fucking Drago? “I will break you”? Seriously?
“Laugh!” Misha shouts over Jensen’s laughter. He tosses the coffee cup into the pit in a burst of petulance. The cup explodes as it hits the bottom of the pit splattering coffee. Jensen struggles not to collapse and crawl around to lick up the little puddles of coffee. “Laugh all you want, Jenny. Would you like to know what’s in store for you?”
Jensen supposes this is where Collins is going to go full Bond villain and explain his grand plan. Jesus, he really is banal. Jensen waves a hand in a circular gesture, trying not to eye the coffee cup. “Oh, sure, by all means. Give me something to look forward to. Impart your grand plan to me.” He feels a bit dizzy and leans back against the wall of his pit, but plays it off casually by crossing his arms over his chest and right ankle over his left.
“Oh, it is. You cut off my livelihood. Put me out of business. I’ve spent these years building it back up from nothing! Nothing! That alone should be testament to my genius! But, oh, no. You, Pretty Jenny Ackles will be my crown jewel. I’m going to break through that Ice Cold exterior. I’m going to break you, and once I’ve done that, I’m gonna turn you out. It won’t be my elite clientele you’ll service. It will be the dregs. Pretty Jenny Ackles who thinks he’s too good for the whoring business, a whore himself, and a cheap one at that! Poetic Justice!”
Jensen throws back his head and laughs. Laughs and laughs, deep within his belly, laughs so hard tears leak from his eyes. The whole idea reeks of delusions of grandeur. At the core of everything Misha is just a disgruntled former employee. It’s all too fucking funny.
High above Misha fumes, shaking with his fury. “Shut up!”
The juvenile response sends Jensen into another gale of laughter.
“I’ve got you and soon I’m going to take everything else you have!”
Jensen gets his laughter under control and considers the man holding him prisoner. “You can try,” Jensen challenges, voice icy and dangerous. “You think my men would follow you? Men I’ve known for half my life? Men whose loyalty to me is unfailing, cultivated over decades and battle tested? Can you say the same about your own men? How long have the goons you’ve recruited worked for you? Three years? Probably less. Do you know anything about them? You think they are loyal to you? Would they walk through fire for you?” Jensen has at least six men he can count on who will do that for him, and one who would do anything anything for him.
“Maybe not but they’ll kill for me…and have. That’s all I need them to do.” Jensen makes out a flash of white teeth.
He knows bait when he hears it, he will not rise to it, though his heart aches, wondering if Jared is alive. If the rest of his guys are okay: Kane, Tommy Blue, Stevie and Lazy Jase. They have to be okay. They will come for him. If there is breath in their bodies they will come. And Jared, fucking Jared would rise from the dead to help Jensen. Jensen has to believe in that, if nothing else.
“I’ve been in this business a lot of years, Collins. Let me give you some wisdom, as you seem sorely lacking in that department. Loyalty cannot be bought. Neither can respect. I doubt you have either from the men working for you.”
Collins goes eerily silent, staring down at him. Jensen stands tall, keeping his head up and back straight, staring right back even though he feels like he’s going to fall down. This little exchange has exhausted him and his head spins but he cannot show weakness. If he even gives an inch Collins will know he’s gaining ground.
“I actually believe you,” Collins says softly, a touch bewildered and disappointed. “You won’t break.” He seems to rally then, stiffening his spine. Jensen knows artifice when he sees it. “I don’t really give a good goddamn. I’ll leave you to die down there and take over your Organization that way. I’ll leave your fucking body on the lawn of your compound. We’ll find out how loyal your soldiers are to you when you’re dead! Either way I win!”
With hunger crawling around in his belly like a wild rat, Jensen wishes he hadn’t stepped between Misha and Jared all those years ago.
Author: Rose_the_Hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~ 29,000
Summary: In which Jensen is a powerful mob boss and Jared is his Enforcer…and so much more.
Notes: This is the product of reading too many M/M mafia romances and listening to too much Type O Negative. Apologies in advance for all the Type O references and for putting the late great Peter Steele in this
Beta’d by
jdl714 - Life Is Killing Me
PART 3
The trapdoor opens again an interminable time later. Jensen’s head snaps up. The light from above shoots daggers into his eyes. Above him a man stands looking down at him. Jensen is sure there is some heavy handed symbolism there. His heart thuds in his chest. The light coming from above isn’t as bright as before. He can only make out the shadow of a man, not overly tall, not overly short, not heavy or thin. Just…average. It could be any man. Jensen gazes up, holds a hand over his eyes to try and see as much as he can. A polite inquiry as to whom he has the pleasure of being in the company of dies on his lips.
“Hello, Pretty Jenny. My, how the mighty have fallen.”
Jensen thinks he might recognize the voice. He chafes at the old nickname but understands his captor is trying to get a rise out of him. Jensen will not rise to any bate put before him. Control. He is always in control of himself. He puts a polite smile on his face as he asks, “I think we know each other. So, how about you just tell me who you are and what you want.”
“Always so cool and polite. But that is something of your trademark. Yes, Pretty Jenny, we do know each other. Not as well as I would have liked but that will change.” His captor laughs.
Jensen resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s obvious to Jensen his captor thinks of himself as some kind of melodramatic Bond villain.
The light dims slightly and as Jensen’s eyes adjust he can almost make out who is looking down on him. His captor is male, looks to be average height and build, with short brown hair and a square jaw.
“Remember me? Misha Collins.”
Misha Collins, yes Jensen remembers. He used to run the prostitution rackets but that was years ago. What the hell could Misha want by kidnapping him after all these years? How many had it been? He and Jared had been together at least five possibly six years when Jared made his first and only request of him.
“Yes, I remember you,” Jensen replies. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Collins dodges the question. “I always wondered what you looked like under your designer suits. Not bad,” Collins purrs. “Your stomach is a little soft, but, well, you’re not as young as you used to be.”
Jensen will not take the bait. He will not feel bad for his physique. He never had rock hard abs the way Jared does, but Jensen doesn’t have his love of working out either. Jared loves this body, worships it nightly; Jared’s opinion and Jensen’s own are the only ones that matter. This is just another tactic to humiliate him. It will not work. He will not break.
“Your cock is a little smaller than I expected.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. These attempts to goad and needle him are very juvenile. “Cut the bullshit and say what the fuck you want, Collins.”
“I have what I want: you.”
The lights go out and Jensen hears Collins departing. He sighs in frustration. Collins is going to drag this out. He thinks he holds all the cards. Jensen supposes he can afford to let him think so for a little while longer. He sits back down, groping for his bottle of water. He locates it and shakes it, trying to figure how much of the tiny bottle he has left. He’s been rationing carefully, but still eight ounces doesn’t go very far. Jensen’s best guess about how long he’s been here is maybe three days now, possibly four. Misha must have him in some out of the way place if Jared hasn’t found him yet. And Jared will find him.
Jensen was drifting toward sleep, Jared’s arms firmly around him, body still thrumming with pleasure from the orgasm Jared gave him.
“This is kinda our anniversary,” Jared said, fingers stroking along Jensen’s treasure trail.
“What?” Jensen replied with a little laugh. He hadn’t thought Jared the sentimental type.
“Yeah. Six years since the first time we met.”
“To be fair that wouldn’t make this our anniversary. We didn’t get together until six months or so later.”
Jared laughed indulgently and squeezed Jensen briefly. “Don’t lie. You were mine the moment you laid eyes on me.”
“Christ, you’re arrogant,” Jensen muttered.
“You didn’t say it was a lie though.”
Jared had him there. When Jared spoke again, his voice was hesitant, something so unfamiliar it put Jensen on alert.
“Can I ask something of you?”
Jensen turned in Jared’s arms, brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes, eyes that appeared—Could it be?—a touch fearful? “You can. You know you can.”
“I want—,” He broke off abruptly and looked away. Jensen reached out and cupped Jared’s cheek, and, with gentle pressure, forced the other man to look at him. Their gazes locked and, yes, that was fear in Jared’s eyes; not only fear but uncertainty as well. He has never seen Jared like this, timid and upset, and all Jensen wanted was to take away the source.
“Anything for you, Jared. It goes both ways. You know that. What do you want?” Jensen already knew whatever Jared asked for his answer would be yes. Not just because he loved this man more than the air he breathed, or the Macallan he drank, but because Jared had never before asked for anything. Whatever his request was was vitally important to him, Jensen will move heaven and earth to see that he got it.
“The prostitution,” Jared’s eyes drifted away from Jensen’s, color rose in his cheeks. “I want you to put a stop to it.”
Of all the things Jensen had thought Jared would ask for, that wouldn’t have been on the list. Over the past six years Jared had made suggestions regarding certain aspects of Jensen’s business, both legal and illegal that had proven good and profitable, but this—eliminating an entire limb of his empire? And a profitable one at that—Jensen didn’t see sense in it.
Jared pulled away from Jensen, pushed the covers off, and climbed out of bed. “Forget it. I didn’t mean it.” His quick movements and the stiff line of his spine proclaimed otherwise.
Jensen followed him even before he was aware he’s doing it. “I didn’t even give you an answer yet.” He touched Jared’s shoulder, hurt when the other man wrenched himself away.
“You did. I get it. It’s too much. I knew that when I asked. It was stupid.” He tossed his head and reached for his discarded slacks on the floor.
“Jared, wait a damn minute here.” Jensen put some bass in his voice, not usually a tone he needed to employ when he and Jared were alone like this.
Jared turned, his pants on one leg.
“What you’re asking takes thought. There are logistics to deal with. Fall out to plan for. Least of which is what happens to my people who run it.”
Jared’s impassive mask was firmly in place as he pulled up his pants and fastened them. Jensen’s heart knocked in his chest. He cannot let Jared walk out of here. If he does something vital will be broken between them.
“You’ll do what you did after the hijacking and move people around. People are loyal to you, they will do what you ask. Those that don’t? I’ll kill them.” Jared sighed and fixed Jensen with a pleading gaze. “I’m not asking you to eradicate hookin’ from all of Texas or even Dallas. Just your part in it. No one will take it as an indication of weakness on your part. Pretty Jenny is gone. I saw to that.” Jared’s eyes were iron as they bored into him. The intimation was there that, without Jared, Jensen wouldn’t be as powerful as he was. Jensen bristled at it; hated the part of him that thought Jared might be right. Jensen may be on the throne but sometimes Jensen thinks its Jared who really held the power.
Jared turned and headed for the door. Jensen followed. He reached out, grabbed a broad shoulder, and turned Jared to face him. Jensen knew if he had been anyone else he would be either dead or bleeding out on the floor.
“Jared, please.” He grasped his wrist tight. Jared could break his hold but Jensen knew that he wouldn’t. “Come back to bed. Don’t leave upset like this.” Don’t leave me, he doesn’t say.
Jared exhaled, shoulders still stiff, looked away from Jensen. Jensen caressed the racing pulse point on Jared’s wrist.
“Jared…” Jensen couldn’t keep the waver out of his voice. Losing Jared would devastate him. He had never been loved by anyone the way Jared loved him. Jared was the first person to see him, and love him as he was. He didn’t want to use Jensen for his own ends, he didn’t see him as a pretty face, and he’s not afraid of Jensen’s lifestyle.
Jared cracked and pulled Jensen into his arms. “Don’t. Shhh,” he said softly, breath warm against his neck where he placed a soft kiss. “Let’s go to bed.”
Jared released him, dropped his pants, and climbed back into bed. When Jensen joined him, he pulled Jensen close, wrapping him tight in his arms.
“How come I’m the little spoon?” Jensen grumbled.
“Because that’s the way I want it,” Jared replied.
Jensen couldn’t stop the smile. “Yes, Sir.”
Jensen wasn’t sure what pulled him from sleep a few hours later. He heard a soft voice and slowly became aware that Jared was talking. As he woke up a little more he started to make sense of words spoken so softly he had to strain to hear them.
“I never wanted to talk about this. Never wanted you to know. Never wanted anyone to know. You ‘sleep, Jense? Fuck, I hope so.” He could hear shame in Jared’s voice. He longed to turn and hold the man in his arms, tell him everything was okay, but Jared would never allow that. He would never want Jensen to see him so low, so vulnerable. Jensen kept himself relaxed his breathing deep and even, eyes closed and listened.
“Petey went away for awhile. To prison. I had no one else. Nothing else. My old pickpocketing and lifting tricks weren’t working. Too many people recognized me. I wasn’t a cute kid anymore. I was sixteen and over six feet tall. I’da ended up in lock up if I got caught or back in the system. I had no choice. This guy. He said I could make some money.”
A bolt of shock went through Jensen as it registered. Jared had been a prostitute. That’s why his eyes always went dead whenever he saw Misha Collins, and that was why Jared was asking him to end the Organization’s involvement in the prostitution rackets. Jensen felt stupid for not putting it together before.
“Guy was a fat sleazy fuck named Kurt Fuller. He’d take most of what I earned and beat the piss outta me for not making more. Without…without Petey I was lost. I hadn’t realized how much I had come to depend on him and his strength. He was my teacher and my protector then he was gone. Fuck I hated him, Jense; I hated Petey for being stupid enough to get caught and leaving me. I fucking hate myself that I was so weak.”
Jensen continued to feign sleep. He knew they would never talk about this, never even acknowledge it. Jared was baring his soul to Jensen right now and he wanted to let Jared now that Jensen would keep it safe. Jared pressed his face tight to Jensen’s neck and Jensen felt hot tears on his skin. It tested his resolve to keep up this charade but Jared would never accept comfort.
“Petey got out. Found me. When he found out what I was doin’….” Jensen felt Jared shake his head and exhale in a sharp warm gust. “Petey had made some contacts in the joint. From there we started working for the loan shark collection crews under Kane. Then I met you, fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I thought I could deal with your prostitution racket. You run it a hell of a lot cleaner than anyone else, but I can’t deal anymore. It eats at me; reminds me of that time. I can’t move past it or forget it. Please do this for me, baby.”
The clock read 4:04 when Jared went silent, and, as was their ritual, slid from bed, dressed, and headed back to his own quarters on the second floor.
Jensen hoped Jared felts some sort of relief after unburdening himself. Jensen has to put a stop to the prostitution rackets within his Organization and he has to do it ASAP. It was not even a question anymore. If doing that would give Jared some peace, Jensen would see that it was done and damn anyone who might question him for it. Then he’d look into Jared’s former pimp: Kurt Fuller who had preyed on a lost, desperate, and lonely Jared. The first step would be to see who, if anyone Fuller was affiliated with. It was no one in his Organization. He would check to see if Fuller was connected with the Italians. If he wasn’t—and, hell, even if he was—that guy was fucking dead.
Jensen was standing behind his desk with Petrus at his left and Jared on his right. The door opened and the five men he summoned walked in. First was Misha Collins, the head of the Prost Rackets, and the men under him: Milo Ventimiglia, known as Milly V, a squirrely nervous looking young guy named Gabriel Tigerman, a robust black man excellently dressed in a pure white suit named Robert Wisdom nicknamed Bobby Wise, and a tall wiry man with a long face named Too-Tall Christopher Heyerdahl. He greeted them all with firm handshakes and motioned them to sit the chairs situated in front of his imposing desk.
“Gentleman, I appreciate you coming so promptly. What I have to say really can’t wait.”
Jensen noticed the men’s gazes flicked to Jared and Petrus before they fixed on him. No doubt thinking about the Dinner Party and wondering if they are about to suffer a similar fate. Jensen had no desire for executions to take place today but knew if any of the men kicked up too much of a fuss Jared would more than likely end them. Jensen wouldn’t care either way except for the stains that would be left on the antique Turkish rug. He was mostly sure Jared wouldn’t do anything without Jensen’s go-ahead but this subject was especially personal to him and Jensen wouldn’t blame Jared if he did.
“As of today we are out of the Prostitution racket.”
“What?” Misha Collins asked dismayed.
“Shut it. Big Boss Man ain’t finished talking.” Jared said. Jensen knew it’s the only warning Jared would give. The next time Collins opened his mouth Jared would execute him.
Collins held out placating hands and remained silent. The other men appeared bemused. The door opened again and in walked his Inner Circle, Kane, Tommy, Jase, and Stevie. They closed the doors behind them and stood in front of them. The five pimps shifted in their seats.
“You are to cease your operations. Immediately.”
The door opened again and in walked Julian Richings, a skeletally thin man in a neat slim-fitted black suit with black hair combed back from his high forehead. He headed up the law firm the Ackles Organization kept on retainer. He crossed the room, moving like a wraith, to stand at the edge of Jensen’s desk.
“Now, I have ownership in a few legal and above board high-class escort services. What I am willing to do, is sell you my interest in those businesses. If you so wish, you can leave the Organization entirely and pursue other avenues of employment. If you choose to leave you will not receive any protection from police or other authorities my Organization provides. You cannot remain in my employ and dabble in hooking on the side. If you do, and make no mistake, I will find out if you do, well then….” He motioned to Jared and Petrus and let the allusion hang there.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ackles, sir,” the small man, Gabe, spoke, eyes ping-ponging from Jared to Petrus and back to Jensen then back to Jared and Petrus.
“Yes, Mr. Tigerman?”
“I doubt I could afford to buy you out in the escort business, but I would like to remain, sir. I’m not sure what I can offer. I’ve dealt with the girls most of my time in your Organization.”
“Everyone can always offer something. By staying you offer your loyalty and I always value that. You work on the west side, correct?”
Gabe relaxed marginally at Jensen’s words. “Yes, sir.”
“Which means you work for Tommy Blue. Have a little talk with him. He’ll find a new position for you.”
“Sir,” Bobby Wise’s said in his deep mellow voice. “If we buy out your interest in an escort service would we still be in the Organization?”
“No,” Jensen said. “You’ll be on your own with your own business. The Ackles Organization is ceasing any and all prostitution activity, but you will remain in good standing with me. Should you ever need a favor of any kind, all you need do is ask.
“I’m not going to dick around on price. The cost to buy out my interest in each escort service is a flat half-million. You can all buy in together, or if you are so inclined and able, you can buy one of the firms for yourself. Mr. Richings here will facilitate the business end of those transactions.”
“Sir, how many escort businesses are available for purchase?” Milly V. asked.
“I have controlling interest in six throughout Texas. Any and all are available for you to purchase. I’m giving you five first crack at them. After this meeting adjourns I’ll entertain offers from others. I mean to have this accomplished as quick as possible. Make your decisions, gentlemen.”
Too-Tall Heyerdahl spoke first. “I would like to take you up on your offer, sir.”
“I would as well, Mr. Ackles,” Bobby Wise said
Julian opened his briefcase and pulled out contracts.
“You just expect us to make a decision like this without any thought?” Misha said. “You’ve given us no warning or reason.”
Jensen had a moment where he was waiting for Jared to draw his gun from the holster strapped to his shoulder and internally lamented the stains that would soon be on his Turkish rug. His mother sent him that.
“You address Mr. Ackles with respect,” this came from Petrus.
From the corner of his eye Jensen saw Jared shifting. Jensen came from behind his desk, around the front and put himself between Jared and Misha. Jared wouldn’t pull his gun if Jensen was in the way. He heard Jared’s sharp exhalation.
“The Big Boss Man doesn’t owe you or anyone else reason for his decisions,” Jared spat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Collins was quick to apologize. “I just…” He paused appearing to gather himself. “I think this is stupid and unfair. We do a good business, steady business, and make you a lot of money for you.”
“You can think whatever you will, Mr. Collins, but my decision has been made. Are you taking my offer or should I consider this your resignation?”
“Yeah. I was fine before I started working for you and I can be again.” Collins turned and crossed the room but was stopped short by the wall of Jensen’s Inner Circle. “You said we were allowed to leave.”
“You are,” Jensen said. “Just remember, you walk out of here you will be on your own. I have eyes and ears everywhere, so if I find out you’ve been blabbing to the authorities you can expect a little visit from my Enforcers.”
“Noted. Can I go now?”
Jensen nodded. Tommy Blue and Lazy Jase stepped aside and Misha strode out the door.
Ultimately, Bobby Wise, Milly V, and Too-Tall each bought out Jensen’s interest in an escort service. Gabe took a legitimate job at Jensen’s oil company in the tech support division. The three remaining escort services he sold off to the Italians.
Jensen hadn’t stopped at pulling the Ackles Organization out of the skin trade. He did Jared one better.
In a situation similar to just a few short years ago, Jensen presented a small prettily wrapped package to Jared. The man took it, a smirk tilted up his lips, flashing a hint of those dimples. “It’s not my birthday or Christmas,” he said opening the package. The smirk turned into a full grin. He pulls off the top of the box and inside sat a heavy gold ring with a fat ruby in its center. He didn’t need to ask if Jared recognized the ring that used to belong to his former pimp. A quick investigation of Fuller turned up no association with the Italians. He had his own operation; it was seedy at best and hideously depraved at worst. The world and underworld were better off without him in it.
Jensen watched as Jared’s throat worked as he swallowed. He gazes at Jensen with eyes that shimmered with a film of tears. It made Jensen’s chest tighten to see a man usually cold and unaffected struggling with emotions he had denied for over a decade. Jensen knew not to offer comfort. Jared would refuse and shut down. Jensen licked his lips and tried to formulate a response that would convey the depth of his love for this man.
“I promised you anything and always keep my word.”
Jared dropped the box and lunged at Jensen. He wrapped his arms around so tightly around Jensen he could barely draw breath. Jared’s mouth covered Jensen’s, tongue thrusting into his mouth, a welcome invader. Jensen looped his arms around Jared’s neck and kissed him harder, sucking on his tongue, as he pulled Jared toward the bed.
Later, he would tell Jared the whole story. How he tracked Fuller down. How Fuller screamed, cried, and begged for mercy, how Jensen cut the finger, along with the ring, off with a pair of pruning shears, not to mention other pieces of his anatomy before shoving said pieces down his throat and leaving him to choke on them. Jared would like that even more than the ring.
Jensen fell into a light doze, daydreaming about all the fun and interesting ways Jared will kill Misha when he finds him. His personal favorite is that Jared will see how long Misha can survive hooked up to IVs while Jared chops off one limb at a time. Jensen himself would love to help but he doesn’t feel very well. He’s hungry and his thirst is raging. He knows he’s already dehydrated. He’s stretched his little eight ounce bottle of water as far as he can. There’s only one swallow left, if that. He’s started suffering from muscle cramps. He gets up and walks around as much as he can, but he also discovered he gets dizzy and has to sit down. His stubble is filling out and itches like hell. When he’s not meditating on his own well being he’s worrying about Jared and the rest of his guys. How long has it been now? Five days? Six? It can’t be longer than that. Can it? Something serious must be going down if they haven’t found him yet. The fear gnawing at his guts almost makes him forget his hunger.
“Aww, Sleeping Beauty.”
The patronizing voice pulls Jensen from his happy daydreams. He gets to his feet, though the effort greatly taxes him. His quads threaten to cramp up on him and his head spins. Misha stands at the mouth of the pit with a steaming venti Starbucks coffee cup in hand.
Jensen aches for a taste of dark bitter brew maybe with a shot of espresso to give it a little oomph. He almost moans at the thought but he can’t. Misha is fucking with him. Instead he falls back to his Ice Cold persona and stares up.
“Nothing else to do with my time, so I was catching up on my sleep. I’ve been a very busy man for most of my life.”
“I’ve been busy, too,” Misha says cryptically. He takes a sip of his coffee. Jensen swallows convulsively, swears he can feel the burn off coffee on his tongue.
“I’ve been busy building up everything you destroyed. I had a great setup! Then you had a fit of consciousness and destroyed everything I worked to build.”
“You didn’t build it. Neither did I. My grandfather built it. My father continued it, and I expanded it. You just profited from it,” Jensen corrects.
Misha seethes above him and Jensen feels a little pleasure from that. Misha gestures with a hand and a moment later the giant shadow of a man appears to his right, tall and powerfully built. Jensen’s stomach drops. That giant shadow looks so similar is height and build to Petrus. It can’t be Petrus. Cannot be. There are other tall muscular men out there and Petrus is his friend; Jared’s friend. The Big Man hands Misha something then melts back into the shadows.
A moment later, Jensen realizes what the Big Man have Misha: a sandwich. Jensen’s stomach gives a low growl and his mouth waters.
Misha unwraps his sandwich and takes a huge bite. “What I have now,” he says through a full mouth, “I have built through my own effort. My own Organization.”
Jensen struggles to rein in his hunger and doubts. “Your own Organization,” he remarks flatly. He highly doubts Misha is capable of building an Organization like the Ackles’ in the few short years since he left Jensen’s employ. Misha has neither the intelligence nor connections to grow that big that fast. Jensen’s connections, forged almost a century ago when his grandfather started out as a bootlegger, wind through network of mayors, to the governor, and stretch all the way to fucking Washington to senators and congressmen.
“Yes. And I should tell you I don’t go by Misha anymore.” He takes another bite of his sandwich and chews.
Jensen tries not to think about what kind of sandwich it is. He’d love a good BLT, heavy on the bacon, maybe a little grease soaked into the bread for extra flavor.
“I’ve reclaimed my birth name: Dmitri Krushnic and reconnected with my marginalized Russian brethren.”
Russian. Petrus is Russian. At least on his father’s side. Jensen ignores the slithery voice of doubt trying to creep in.
Misha envisions himself as some kind of Russian mob boss. Good Lord it’s even more ridiculous than Jensen had supposed. He’s just a goddamn up jumped pimp. He’s probably surrounded himself with thugs, unintelligent thugs, promising them anything and everything to get them to follow him.
“I’m very happy for you, Dmitri. Everyone needs to feel like they belong.” Jensen thinks back to those minor incursions on Ackles territory, he believes he has found out who was behind them.
“You condescending prick,” Misha sneers. He wads his sandwich wrapper up and tosses it into Jensen’s pit. Jensen wants to fall on it and lick whatever crumbs might be hidden inside. “Still so high and mighty. I will break you.”
Jensen can’t help it. He busts out laughing. Who does Misha think he is Ivan fucking Drago? “I will break you”? Seriously?
“Laugh!” Misha shouts over Jensen’s laughter. He tosses the coffee cup into the pit in a burst of petulance. The cup explodes as it hits the bottom of the pit splattering coffee. Jensen struggles not to collapse and crawl around to lick up the little puddles of coffee. “Laugh all you want, Jenny. Would you like to know what’s in store for you?”
Jensen supposes this is where Collins is going to go full Bond villain and explain his grand plan. Jesus, he really is banal. Jensen waves a hand in a circular gesture, trying not to eye the coffee cup. “Oh, sure, by all means. Give me something to look forward to. Impart your grand plan to me.” He feels a bit dizzy and leans back against the wall of his pit, but plays it off casually by crossing his arms over his chest and right ankle over his left.
“Oh, it is. You cut off my livelihood. Put me out of business. I’ve spent these years building it back up from nothing! Nothing! That alone should be testament to my genius! But, oh, no. You, Pretty Jenny Ackles will be my crown jewel. I’m going to break through that Ice Cold exterior. I’m going to break you, and once I’ve done that, I’m gonna turn you out. It won’t be my elite clientele you’ll service. It will be the dregs. Pretty Jenny Ackles who thinks he’s too good for the whoring business, a whore himself, and a cheap one at that! Poetic Justice!”
Jensen throws back his head and laughs. Laughs and laughs, deep within his belly, laughs so hard tears leak from his eyes. The whole idea reeks of delusions of grandeur. At the core of everything Misha is just a disgruntled former employee. It’s all too fucking funny.
High above Misha fumes, shaking with his fury. “Shut up!”
The juvenile response sends Jensen into another gale of laughter.
“I’ve got you and soon I’m going to take everything else you have!”
Jensen gets his laughter under control and considers the man holding him prisoner. “You can try,” Jensen challenges, voice icy and dangerous. “You think my men would follow you? Men I’ve known for half my life? Men whose loyalty to me is unfailing, cultivated over decades and battle tested? Can you say the same about your own men? How long have the goons you’ve recruited worked for you? Three years? Probably less. Do you know anything about them? You think they are loyal to you? Would they walk through fire for you?” Jensen has at least six men he can count on who will do that for him, and one who would do anything anything for him.
“Maybe not but they’ll kill for me…and have. That’s all I need them to do.” Jensen makes out a flash of white teeth.
He knows bait when he hears it, he will not rise to it, though his heart aches, wondering if Jared is alive. If the rest of his guys are okay: Kane, Tommy Blue, Stevie and Lazy Jase. They have to be okay. They will come for him. If there is breath in their bodies they will come. And Jared, fucking Jared would rise from the dead to help Jensen. Jensen has to believe in that, if nothing else.
“I’ve been in this business a lot of years, Collins. Let me give you some wisdom, as you seem sorely lacking in that department. Loyalty cannot be bought. Neither can respect. I doubt you have either from the men working for you.”
Collins goes eerily silent, staring down at him. Jensen stands tall, keeping his head up and back straight, staring right back even though he feels like he’s going to fall down. This little exchange has exhausted him and his head spins but he cannot show weakness. If he even gives an inch Collins will know he’s gaining ground.
“I actually believe you,” Collins says softly, a touch bewildered and disappointed. “You won’t break.” He seems to rally then, stiffening his spine. Jensen knows artifice when he sees it. “I don’t really give a good goddamn. I’ll leave you to die down there and take over your Organization that way. I’ll leave your fucking body on the lawn of your compound. We’ll find out how loyal your soldiers are to you when you’re dead! Either way I win!”
With hunger crawling around in his belly like a wild rat, Jensen wishes he hadn’t stepped between Misha and Jared all those years ago.