rose_the_hat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rose_the_hat) wrote2020-09-29 09:28 pm
rose_the_hat) wrote2020-09-29 09:28 pm
King Nothing 1/5
Title: King Nothing
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rose_the_hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count 31,000-ish
Summary: In which Jensen is a powerful mob boss who has been kidnapped and Jared is his Enforcer willing to do anything to get him back
Warnings:allusions to past molestation and prostitution; graphic torture; blink-and-you-miss-it bottom Jared; PTSD
Notes:This is a companion piece to The Power Behind The Throne from Jared's POV. Yes, you do need to read/have read that to understand this.
I never planned on writing from Jared’s POV, so any inconsistencies you may notice from the previous story and this one, just chalk them up to me doing a little retconning or Jared being an unreliable narrator.
Huge thanks tojdl71 for doing the beta and being an awesome cheerleader and support even when I kept sending her the same parts multiple times to read.
Fic title and chapter titles are all Metallica songs.
Jared has a love/hate relationship with Date Night. He loves that it’s just he and Jensen but hates that he has to act formal and disinterested. Just a bodyguard, nothing more. The atmosphere of The Roadhouse BBQ joint is way more relaxed than the usual black-tie places they go to. Sam Ferris, who owns it, was only able to start the restaurant because of a loan from Jensen’s Organization. The Roadhouse is a fucking reconverted wood barn with sawdust on the floor and the food is served on butcher’s paper. It’s a real down-home kind of rustic atmosphere that Jared absolutely hates. No class at all and the food isn’t even that great and it’s overpriced. But Jensen loves it and Jared loves watching him lick sauce off his fingers.
“I wanna hear some Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. I gotta piss.” Jensen stands, stretches, patting his tummy in satisfaction and heads toward the restrooms.
Jared watches him go struggling to contain the stupid happy grin that wants to break out. Jensen wants to hear some Seger; Jared will damn well play it for him. Jensen loves his classic rock from the seventies. Jared’s musical tastes tend more toward heavy metal: Iron Maiden, Metallica, and Judas Priest. He strolls over to the jukebox, pulling a handful of coins from his pocket. He’s not sure there will be any Seger in a place like this. The juke is full of old C&W music: Hank Williams, Tammy Wynette, plenty of Garth Brooks, George Strait, and Johnny Cash. He finds some Eagles, Skynard, Mellencamp, and next to that is Seger. Jared shoves some quarters in the slot and pokes the numbers for Night Moves. He was definitely gonna employ some night moves on Jensen tonight. He’d play with those cute nipples, eat that perfect ass; then fuck him slow, deep and hard, the way they both liked. He needed to get off that train of thought real fast or he was gonna march into that bathroom and fuck Jensen in the stall.
He glances back over his shoulder to watch Jensen head into the Mens. Inwardly sighing at how fucking gorgeous his man is. The older he gets the more gorgeous he becomes and Jensen was fucking beautiful right from the start. Jared can admit when he first got with Jensen it was to further his own dream of becoming a mobster. After meeting Jensen it became about so much more than that; it was about impressing him, and making himself indispensable to Jensen. He never thought they would fall in love.
Jared had thought Petey would never get out of the joint. He went up for auto theft, and served two and a half years of a three year sentence. Jared was on his knees with a john’s sour-tasting prick in his mouth when Petey found him. Jared had been in a sort of trance, a kind of self-hypnosis he employed to get through these encounters; he took his mind away. He imagined he was on a beach in Aruba with the hottest guy in the world; imagined waves crashing, tropical birds singing, and the sun blasting off white sand. He thought he had imagined Petey swooping in like some dark avenging angel and coming to his aid, too, but he was actually there, and he was beating the ever-loving shit out of the john. Petey forgot his strength when he was mad and could easily kill this guy. He just got out of prison and Jared didn’t want him getting sent right back on account of him.
Jared snapped out of his daze. “Petey! Stop it! Stop it! I’m sorry! Don’t kill ‘im!”
Everything sounded very loud in the dingy alley; the meaty thwacks and grunts as fist collided with flesh and bone, Petey’s shouts, the john’s sniveling and crying; it was a cacophony that would surely bring someone soon, even in this shitty part of town.
“I’m sorry Petey! I didn’t know what to do!”
Petey stopped his assault on the john who was bleeding and looked to be unconscious. He turned to Jared and did something he never had. He hugged Jared, hugged him so tight Jared thought his ribs would crack. He’d missed Petey, too; Petey who was part brother and part father figure. He buried his snotty tear-streaked face against Petey’s chest.
“I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me, Petey,” Jared cried in shame. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Petey broke the embrace and looked him up and down. There was no recrimination, no censure in his grey green eyes, just fondness and understanding. “You got fuckin’ tall, Kid. Not as tall as me but youah prob’ly still growin’.”
Jared felt like crying again. It was so good to hear Petey’s deep voice and Brooklyn accent. It felt like home. He sniffed, swiped an arm across his eyes, and tried to get himself under control. He tried to meet Petey’s eyes but couldn’t. He was mortified. Why couldn’t Petey have found him at any other time, like when he was at the library?
Petey slung an arm around Jared’s scrawny shoulders and walked him out of the alley and away from the unconscious john. “It’s okay, Kid,” he said in a soft confidential voice. “You did what ya hadda do. I get it. Things’ll get betta now. I even got a line on a job.”
“What kind of job?” Jared asked.
“Woahkin’ on a loadin’ dock; unda the table kinda gig. Guy I did some favors for in the joint said for me to see a guy named Kane. He’ll put us to woahk. See, Jay, I know all about doing what ya hafta. Don’t worry about it no moah.” He affectionately ruffled Jared’s greasy, shaggy hair.
Petey and Jared, who were soon known as Big ‘n Little, were put to work on the loading dock for a trucking company called Transportation Solutions. It didn’t take Jared long to realize that it wasn’t as above board as it appeared. Petey didn’t care. They were getting paid. Not a lot, but enough to have an actual apartment; Kane hooked them up once more, and ate pretty regularly. They weren’t eating Wagyu and caviar or drinking 25 year old single malt Scotch but they were getting by. Getting by was enough for Petey. Not for Jared. He wanted more and he was going to get it. Transportation Solutions was just a starting point.
Jared knew gangsters, practically had a degree in them because he read every book, every article, he could about them; so he recognized the name of the CEO of Transportation Solutions, Jensen Ackles, the son of Iron Alan Ackles, leader of the Ackles Organization crime syndicate. Alan Ackles had been brought up on arson, drug trafficking, and racketeering charges over the years but nothing seemed to stick. Jensen himself had been accused of murdering a whorehouse madam a couple of years ago but that charge didn’t stick either. The Ackles were made of Teflon it seemed. Teflon, just like John Gotti. Oh, how Jared wanted to belong to that violent and elegant world.
For the first time they had a semblance of a life. Petey even had a honey for a year and a half, but that blew up when he found out she was cheating on him practically the entire time. Jared tried his best to comfort his friend. He got drunk with him on cheap red wine and listened to him rant and wail about her. He was tempted to hunt her down and take her out for causing his best and only friend this kind of pain. He didn’t however. Petey still loved her and wouldn’t want her hurt. He couldn’t even go after the dude she was cheating with because Petey had beat the piss out of him. So Jared drank and listened and sympathized as best he could. Jared had his own hook ups, no one he got serious about. It felt good to fuck because he wanted to not because he needed cash to eat. It was a life but Jared wanted more. So he kept his eyes and ears open, waiting for an opportunity to advance.
They had been working at the loading dock for a little over two years when Kane strolled up to them during break time. He was a compact man, sturdy legs and muscled arms, with a perpetual scowl on his face but he was a cool dude. Tough, no doubt, but also approachable—if the scowl didn’t scare you off that was.
“Big. Little,” Kane greeted looking them up and down, blue gaze assessing. They were both big dudes; Petey stood six foot eight for fucks sake. It was unreal. Jared’s own height was six foot five, not too bad, but he couldn’t seem to fill out his lithe frame, even all the time spent lifting shit didn’t seem to bulk him up. Petey was still rangy as well but seemed to have some muscles. Jared thought a proper diet would go a long way to help them both out.
“Hey ya,” Petey greeted back and nudged Jared with an elbow.
“Hi, Mr. Kane.”
“Aah, Little, drop that mister shit. I’m just Kane. Listen, I wanted to have a little chat with you guys. Ty says you’ve worked out real well here. You work hard and keep your mouths shut. I’m gonna assume, since you knew Stuart in prison, Big, you have an idea about who we are and what we do.”
“Yah. He told me some things.”
Jared is giddy inside. He knows Kane is very high up in the Ackles Organization. He may not have Iron Ackles’s ear, but he damn sure has the ear of the son, Jensen. If Kane is talking to them he wants to use them somehow. Maybe if they do good at whatever Kane asks of them they can move up the ranks. Jared wants off this fucking loading dock. He’s tired of sweating his balls off all day to go home to a dumpy apartment with achy muscles, eat a sandwich of cold cuts or a hot dog for dinner, and go to bed on a saggy mattress only to get up and do it again. He wants more for Petey too, Petey who always looked out for him, deserved better.
“I need some guys to help with…collections, if you catch my meaning.”
Jared’s pulse raced. Fuck yeah he knew. Either collecting for loan sharks or maybe bookies. Still low on the totem but better than moving crates of what were probably guns in amongst loads of toilets or other mundane goods. Having to deal with Ty Olsson’s fucking smug face acting so magnanimous. Like he gave them their jobs and they should be grateful when it was Kane who put them to work. Jared didn’t really like Ty. His time working the streets has taught him how to read people. Ty strikes him as an overconfident prick but not only that but greedy. That was a combination of traits Jared could work with. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“We get ya,” Jared says coolly. He swipes his forearm across his sweaty forehead and does his best to appear impatient.
“You’re big fuckers and look like you can handle yourselves in a fight. Wanna come work with my crew from time to time? Just cases where we’ve had some trouble collecting. They catch sight of you two I imagine they’ll cough up what they owe if they have to sell a kidney to do it.”
So Jared and Petey split their time between the loading dock and with Kane’s South Side collections crew. They only had to get physical half a dozen times so far. They got a cut but understood most of the cash went to Mr. Ackles. The extra was enough that they could have steak (not good cuts, but steak was still steak) rather than hamburger all the time.
Jared kept his eyes and ears open. It wasn’t until Iron Alan Ackles died and his son stepped fully into the role of mob leader that Jared began to hear useful things. Hanging around outside an Organization owned pawn shop while Kane was collecting, he overheard two, or maybe it was three, guys talking about the new Mr. Ackles in the alley.
“I’ve worked the rackets a long time. Iron Alan was the best.”
“What ya make of the kid, Freddy?”
“Can’t say. Iron Alan kept his son right by him, even after that wife of his ran off to live in Scandinavia or wherever the fuck. The boy used to come collectin’ from time to time. Now, he has this Kane guy doin’ it. Ya ask me he doesn’t really care for the business if he’s willin’ to shirk responsibility like that, Mark.”
“That a fact? Interesting.”
Jared took note of the musing speculative tone in the speaker’s voice. While Jared dismissed most of that as idle talk, he did file it away for potential future use, and burned the names Freddy and Mark into his memory. The shit he overheard Ty Olsson talking about was a little more than idle.
Jared was coming back to the loading dock after pissing out his morning coffee when he heard hushed voices. He slowed down, kept his steps light and quiet, and listened.
“He ain’t like his old man.” That was a voice Jared didn’t recognize.
“That’s for sure. They call him Pretty Jenny. Hear that shit? We’re supposed to take the kid seriously?” That was Ty and he was talking shit about the new Big Boss Man. Jared could definitely use that information somehow. He wasn’t sure what he would do yet but he would do something. There was an opportunity to be had here. An opportunity that could catapult he and Petey from this loading dock to the upper echelons of the Organization.
“I know. He’s a fucking faggot, too. What does a fag know about anything?”
Jared sneered at that. He was a faggot and could totally show them what a fag knew about kicking ass or even murder. He just bet Mr. Ackles could, too.
Over a period of three weeks Jared overheard more hushed conversations between Ty and a man he learned was Tim Omundson.
“Wouldn’t be hard,” Ty said. “We could work together and pull it off.”
“Shit, I know that’s right,” the man named Tim said. “Named him Dallas’ Most Eligible Bachelor. What the fuck is that about? We’re supposed to believe a guy like that can keep his eyes everywhere? No. No fuckin’ way.”
“I’m telling you man, we ought to get together on this. There is fucking money to be made here.”
These guys were fucking morons. Talk talk talk that’s all they did. They didn’t have balls or brains. Jared would have to loan them his. He had a plan in mind, it had come slow to fruition over the last weeks he had overheard these two schmucks talking. He had to line up the dominoes. And now seemed like as good a time as any.
Jared stepped up to them, making sure his footfalls were heard. The two men stopped their whispering. Jared slipped into his best aww-shucks-I’m-harmless-expression that had served him for years. It wasn’t as convincing as it had been when he was a kid but still, his dewy eyes and dimples seemed to put people at ease. Jared rounded the corner and there were Ty Olsson and Tim Omundson. Ty was a bigger guy, tall like Jared but with more bulk, and short cropped dark hair—receding hair Jared noted. Tim Omundson was an older guy with dark wavy hair streaked with grey and a full beard. Both men eyed Jared but didn’t appear too wary.
“Hey guys,” Jared greets, he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and hunches his shoulders and ducked his head to minimize his height and seem less threatening.
“What the fuck you think you’re doing snooping around here, Little?” Ty barked but there was a faint waver in his voice. He was scared Jared overheard them. Fucking chicken shit. He can talk a big game but won’t ever back it up.
“I wasn’t snooping. I had to fucking piss. Can I have one of those?” Jared asks, indicating the cigarette hanging from Tim’s lips. He doesn’t like cigarettes, he’d rather a nice fat Cuban but he can only dream of that right now. And bumming a cigarette is an easy way to ingratiate himself.
Tim eyes him up and down, before giving a slow nod and handing over his pack of Pyramids. Jared takes out one and puts it to his lips. Tim hands him a cheap plastic Bic lighter. Jared lights up, inhales and blows out a plume of smoke. He will not fucking cough though the shitty tobacco burns his lungs and throat.
“Thanks. Needed that.”
The two seem to relax, like Jared thought they would. Now he’s going to place the first domino. “How would you do it?” Jared asks blithely.
Two sets of eyes lock on to him, he takes another lazy drag off the cigarette, keeping his cool unconcerned visage in place. “You just gonna take a crate of high-powered weapons and hope no one will notice?”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Little?”
“Talking about making money. I’ve heard you guys a few times. Voices, even whispers, carry around here. Lucky I wasn’t Kane. He’d rat right to Pretty Jenny.” The words leave a bad taste in his mouth, or could be the cigarette but they have the desired effect of putting the two men more at ease with him.
They look more closely at him. Jared knows they probably see a young guy, he’d just turned twenty-two but he looks younger, they can set up as a fall guy. That’s what he wants them to think and expects them to do.
“It wouldn’t work, you know? Just taking a crate of weapons. You’d have to hijack the entire load.” He finishes off his cigarette, snuffs it out with the toe of a boot and strolls away, grinning to himself.
He had to keep his hands clean and that meant he couldn’t have Petey in on this plan. Not that he didn’t trust Petey. He trusted him more than anyone in this shithole world, but Petey didn’t always see things Jared’s way. Petey did the things he had to to survive. Jared did them because he liked to. He liked the thrill of being on the wrong side of the law.
Jared was stretching, his back was in fucking knots, when Ty Olsson came onto the loading dock and got him a few days later. It was a bit longer than Jared had accounted for but not by too much.
“Come with me a sec, Little.”
Petey tossed him a curious look. Jared shook his head and shrugged as if he had no idea what Ty wanted with him.
“Okay,” Jared said appropriately puzzled and followed the other man out of the warehouse.
“You said an interesting thing last time. Hijacking a load,” his voice was hushed, interested.
“Yeah. You know as well as anyone those crates are always accounted for. You couldn’t just cart one off on a forklift.”
“And we wasn’t talking about doin’ it that way anyway. Be easy enough to empty a crate out.”
Jesus fucking Christ this guy was dumb. How the hell was he in charge of anything? “You think all the shit moving through here, Pretty Jenny ain’t got eyes on it all? C’mon! Only time a load is out of his control is when it’s on the road.”
“Right you are, kid.”
Jared bridled at that. He didn’t mind Petey calling him “kid” but anyone else could fuck right off for doing it. He wasn’t a kid and hadn’t been in a long fucking time.
“And you need to line up a buyer. Know anyone?”
“I could find a few.” Ty is probably trying to sound noncommittal here but Jared can read between the lines. He wouldn’t know how to get rid of the goods once he’s got them. Fuck. Jared has to do everything. Doesn’t matter. It’s better this way. The more control he has over the pieces the easier it is to anticipate movements.
“I know a guy. Or rather, Petey does. Evan Seinfield. Petey knew him in the joint. Biker. Rides with the Iron Crusaders MC. They’d take all the firepower we can offer.” That’s all bullshit but Ty doesn’t need to know that. He just needs to think there is a ready buyer for the hijacked load. Without that he won’t move.
That greedy light flashes in Ty’s beady eyes. Jared knows he’s got the hook in good. “I’ll see what Tim says. The guns are his area.”
The next time he meets with Ty, Tim is with him. There is a shipment of weapons going into this camouflage load of fixtures, and Tim is on the dock to oversee the operation.
Petey is running the forklift and Jared moves to stand close but not too close to the conspirators.
“Ty told you what I said?” Jared asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the guys load the crates into the tractor trailer.
“He did. Said you could hook us up with a buyer. What would the split be?”
“Me n’ Petey will take twenty-five percent of the profits, you and Tim can split however you see fit.”
“You and Big want twenty-five each?” Ty says, incredulous.
“No. Just twenty-five. We’ll split it between us. We’re not the ones assuming any risk. Our share should be the smallest.”
Ty smiled his magnanimous patronizing smile. “You got sense, Little.
Jared shrugs modestly. You got an overinflated ego, Jared thinks. Makes you easy to manipulate.
“The next shipment is due in two weeks. Six crates. AK’s and AR 9’s. Coming in near Galveston and going west. A short easy run.”
“Short run or not there will be a tracker,” Jared says. “It’ll need to be disabled. By the time anyone realizes you’ve missed a checkpoint everything will be over.”
“You don’t miss a trick do ya?” Ty said. “How come a smart guy like you just works a loading dock and shaking people down?” Ty eyes Jared speculatively.
“Me n’ Petey are just trying to get by is all.” He flashes his eyes, eyes that he knows look guileless and soulful. His social worker used to call them puppy-dog eyes.
The dominoes are in place and soon he’ll be ready to knock them down. But before he does that he to get Petey involved now because when the time comes to knock the dominos down he will need Petey’s help and see about meeting with the Big Boss Man himself, Jensen Ackles.
They got paid and decided to treat themselves and ordered pizza. They were lounging on the dumpy chairs, a pizza each and a six pack to split when Jared lines up another domino.
“Petey, I gotta talk to you. Need some advice.”
Pete finishes his beer. “Aww shit, Jay. You didn’t get some girl pregnant did ya? I fuckin’ told you, wrap it up every time and don’t listen to ‘er when she says she’s on the Pill.”
“What? No. Why you always think that?”
“You think I’m stupid, Kid? I smell it on ya.”
Petey’s nose can’t be that good because Jared knows he smells of jizz and lube when he strolls in after a hookup, but he’s been doing that less and less these days. He has more important things on his mind than his libido. “Anyway,” Jared says. “It’s about some dudes at the loading dock. They’re talking shit about the new Mr. Ackles.”
“Ah, Jay. People always talk shit about their bosses.”
“Yeah. Maybe but I don’t think Mr. Ackles is the kind of guy who would tolerate it if he knew. Know what I mean?”
Petey took a huge bite of a new pizza slice and looked thoughtful. “Youah prob’ly right.”
“And besides, it isn’t just all idle shit talk.” Jared leans in, lowers his voice even though it is just he and Petey in their apartment. “Some guys are talking about going into business for themselves.” He gives Petey a significant look.
Petey puts his slice down and slowly chews the last bite in his mouth. Jared knows he’s putting it together. Jared knows what people think when they look at Petey, or hear him speak. They think he’s a dumb palooka but he is far from it. He’s a simple guy, likes simple things, but he was not dumb. “Fuck. You thinkin’ we should tell Kane?”
Jared had hoped Petey would say that. He shakes his head. “Kane’s always got someone around him. Maybe we can trust them maybe we can’t. I think we should go right to the Big Boss Man himself, but I don’t wanna be a rat, Petey. You know what happens to rats.”
“It ain’t rattin’ when it’s to the boss about his own guys plottin’ against him. Besides, if anyone fucks with you they fuck with me. Kane been in on this talk, too?”
“Nah. He seems loyal to Mr. Ackles. Think if we’d ask he’d take us to see ‘im?”
Fucking Christ, Jared was nervous as an altar boy surrounded by priests as he and Petey climbed out of the luxury SUV. There were three other vehicles in the central turn-around, all sleek and black ready to be called into service; a Lincoln, a Mercedes, and a BMW. He gazed in awe at the pristinely white three story mansion with the six columns reaching up high. He hadn’t thought such places existed outside of movies and books. He dragged his eyes away from the house to take in the exquisitely kept grounds; the trees were manicured into perfect spherical shapes, the lawn lush and green, the flowerbeds burst with colors of pink, red, and white.
“This way, guys,” Kane said and led them up the porch.
Jared just about swooned as the wide front doors were opened and his eyes were bombarded by the glossy marbled tile foyer with an honest to god glittering crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Directly ahead was a wide gently rising staircase that ventured off into two directions. To the left of the foyer was what looked like the living room. Did rich people call it that? Maybe it had a fancier name, like drawing room or a sitting room. Jared’s eyes hungrily feasted on the stylish but inviting furnishings; plush oversized couches and chairs; heavy coffee and end tables, Tiffany lamps. Light poured in from the many windows. The woodwork was all rich and dark. The walls were papered in a tasteful understated pale green damask pattern. The floors were oak and polished to a mirror shine. To the right of the foyer were a set of doors, one closed another open to reveal what appeared to be a formal dining room. Everything exuded elegance, wealth, and power. He would give his left nut to call a place like this ‘home’.
Kane led them down a short hallway to a heavy oak door. “Be polite and respectful. Mr. Ackles appreciates that,” he advised before rapping on the door.
“Come in.”
Jared’s stomach fluttered; he was lightheaded and shaky. He better not pass the fuck out that was not the impression he wanted to make on his boss. Fuck! He worked for Jensen Ackles but it never felt real before since they interacted with Kane. Jensen Ackles one of the most powerful men in the underworld and Jared was fucking desperate to impress him.
He wished he was more properly attired in a nice pair of slacks and a button-up instead of ripped and faded jeans and a wife beater. He hopes Mr. Ackles won’t judge him too harshly. They’ve spent years scratching and clawing for what little they have.
He thought he was prepared to meet Mr. Ackles, had done a little research into him, seen his pictures in the papers but none of it had prepared him for the man himself. He knows people call Mr. Ackles ‘pretty’ but that isn’t the case. Mr. Ackles isn’t pretty. He isn’t handsome. He is fucking beautiful. The most gorgeous and breathtaking man Jared has ever seen. He’s unreal; a work of art in the flesh. Tall and slender, beguiling large green eyes, creamy complexion dotted with charming freckles, sinful mouth that Jared aches to taste. His blond hair is short and shaved at the sides and back but with a little length on top; perfect to grab hold of while fucking that mouth. He needs to not be thinking that way about his boss.
Mr. Ackles gets to his feet and Jared takes in his clothes. Jared loves fine things because he never had them. Mr. Ackles’s suit must be over five thousand dollars, a charcoal grey, not as severe as black would be, and a dove grey shirt and blue-grey tie. His loafers were without a doubt premium Italian leather. He dismisses Kane and looks Petey up and down, then turns his gaze to Jared.
Their eyes lock and Jared feels as if he has been struck by lightning. He thinks Mr. Ackles felt it too because there was a flash of desire in those eyes. Jensen wants him. Jared wants him right back, he wants everything Mr. Ackles could offer: wealth, fine clothes, plenty of delicious food, protection, and power. Jared is so fucking tired of wearing second or third-hand jeans and t shirts and eating cheap lunch meat on day-old white bread. He’ll take what he can get and never complain because it’s the best he can have right now. Petey seems satisfied for the most part, but Petey is a simple guy. He likes nature and working on old cars. Jared likes cars as well; he likes them fine and fast, Alfa Romeros, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and Aston Martins. Ferraris and Lambos are too ugly and flashy. Jared will take classy over trash any day. Mr. Ackles is pure class born and bred in wealth and finery Jared could only dream of…until today. Mr. Ackles wants him and Jared will do whatever it takes to show him how useful he can be. He’s got a toe in the door, and he’s going to kick it in.
As they are leaving Mr. Ackles presses a neat fold of bills into their hands. Five hundred dollars! Its not a lot but more than either he and Petey have seen at one time. Maybe he can buy some better clothes, dress for the role he wants and he might just get it.
Back at their little apartment, Jared takes out the crisp bills again. He brings them to his nose and sniffs; loving the smell of new money but loving even more the lingering scent of Mr. Ackles’s cologne. He peels the bills apart to count them. His brows come together when a slip of paper tumbles out. He picks it up. Nine digits are written on it. That thunderstruck feeling courses through him again. This is Mr. Ackles’ phone number, probably his direct line, and he gave it to Jared.
He wants to call immediately but he can’t. He has to line up the last couple of dominos. When he knocks them down it will lead him straight to Mr. Ackles, maybe even his bed.
“Petey! Petey! It’s going down now!”
“What? Slow down, Jay.” Petey says regarding him with puzzled concern.
“The load. They are hijacking it right now. I saw Tim take the tracker off the truck. They would only do that if the truck isn’t going where it’s supposed to.”
“Aww shit,” Petey said.
“We gotta do something. C’mon,” Jared says and hurries toward the nearest exit. If he’s planned it right Ty and Tim will be in the parking lot, waiting for Jared and Petey to accompany them to the rendezvous with the buyer.
“What can we do, Jay?” Petey asks but follows Jared off the loading dock and out to the parking lot.
“Let’s follow the truck. We can take the shipment back.”
“Youah crazy.” Petey says but he’s still following Jared.
Jared grins over at him. “Help me, Petey. We can do this. These guys aren’t that smart. And imagine how Mr. Ackles will reward us.”
“I guess I gotta. You don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout drivin’ a rig. Who is drivin’ it now, do ya know?”
He didn’t know but it didn’t really matter either because Jared would kill them, too. Exactly as planned, he saw Tim getting into the passenger seat of a black Cadillac. Jared can see Ty in the driver’s seat and the engine is on. Jared pulls out a gun as they near the black car.
“Whahe the fuck did you get that?” Petey exclaims.
“Does it matter?” Jared strides up to the SUV, aims his silenced .38, and pulls the trigger twice, taking out Ty and Tim. Their faces, before Jared blew them away, registered surprise but not unwelcome. Why would he, he believed Jared was there to lead him to the rendezvous with Evan Seinfield.
“You crazy mothahfucka,” Petey says. Jared thinks Petey might even be having a little fun. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.
The dominoes fall as Jared planned. They take the semi back at an out of the way truck stop called the Dixie Boy. They pile Ty, Tim, and the two men who had been in the cab of the rig into the trunk of the Cadillac, it was a tight fit, and leave it parked at a lot in Ackles Organization territory, where the bodies will be found by the right people. For an extra touch Jared carves the word TRAITOR across their foreheads.
When they are back on the road Jared calls the number Mr. Ackles gave him. As he suspected, it was Mr. Ackles’s private line. When he answers the phone in the sexiest growl Jared has ever heard he has to hide the chub he pops from Petey.
As Petey is driving the rig to the rendezvous point Mr. Ackles gave them, he turns to Jared, a grin tugging at his lips. “You crazy little shit. You put this whole gawdamn thing togetha, didn’t ya? Don’t lie to me. You did. I see it on ya face.”
Jared throws his head back and laughs.
Night Moves ends and Jared looks at his watch, the vintage Paul Newman Daytona Rolex Jensen gave him for their fifteenth. Jensen had been gone awhile. Jared didn’t wanna bug him if he was taking a shit but his stomach was starting to clench and he felt shaky inside. It was a feeling he would not ignore. Something was wrong.
He stands and heads to the restrooms, already pulling his phone out to call the guys. He pushes inside the Mens and his stomach drops through the floor. The stall doors are all partially open and he cannot see Jensen’s Balenciaga sneakers anywhere. He does see a fucking hypodermic needle on the floor. He smashes his thumb to Petey’s contact page. His old friend answers after one ring.
“I’m at The Roadhouse. Someone took Jense. Call the rest of the Inner Circle and get them here now!”
“Jared,” Peter’s voice is sharp and hard, but that’s not what stops Jared from hanging up, it’s the fact that Peter used his actual name. Usually Peter will call him Kid or Jay. “Listen t’me. Youah upset and not thinkin’ cleah. You wait foah us. You heah me, Jared?”
He knew Peter was right. He was so fucking on edge and shaky right now. It was all he could do to not pull his gun and start asking questions. He could hear Peter moving, hear him shouting for the others at the Compound.
“Petey….” His voice is brittle. He feels so fucking helpless and useless. He hears the voices of the others, hears car doors opening.
“Jared, weah leavin’ right now.”
He can hear engines starting and tires squealing. “Someone drugged him and took him from me, Pete. And I…I let it happen.” His eyes sting and his throat closes up. “Pete, I gotta do something.”
“No. What you gotta do is fuckin’ wait. I know you, Jared, youah probably a cunt’s haiah from shootin’ up the joint. You can’t do that. Fuhst it’ll bring the wrong kind of attention, second that attention will complicate things. But it will scaah the people theah and they won’t be able to tell us anythin’ useful.”
It felt as though he was caught in the grasp of a giant, Polyphemus maybe, and the Cyclops was squeezing his breath out. His heart is pounding harder than it ever has. His mouth tastes metallic from the sudden dump of adrenaline. He knows what Petey is saying is the truth.
Jensen is his entire world and if something happened to him Jared would not be able to go on. He will do anything to get him back alive. And if he doesn’t…well, he’ll take out anyone even remotely responsible for his death then eat a bullet himself. There wasn’t a Jared if there wasn’t Jensen.
Once Peter and the rest of the IC were at The Roadhouse it was easier for Jared to find his cool. His friends, his fellow soldiers, Jensen’s friends, were here to help him. Each wore similar tight expressions of worry and anger. It was Lazy Jase who asked the prudent question, the one Jared himself hadn’t thought of and hated that he hadn’t thought of first.
“Where the fuck is Pileggi? He drove y’all didn’t he?”
Five pairs of eyes locked onto Jared. How fucking stupid was he to not notice sooner that Jensen’s longtime chauffeur was suddenly missing as well? Petey was right. He wasn’t thinking clearly. That shit had to stop right fucking now. He closed his eyes and exhaled, finding that dark empty well of coldness inside; it was a little harder because his life had been so full of warmth and love for the past fifteen years, but that source was gone and in danger now. Who else knew where Jensen and Jared would be tonight? No one but Pileggi. Not even anyone in the IC knew where Jensen and Jared went on date night. Jared learned from his poker and pool games with the IC that they thought Jensen went out to get a nice piece of ass a couple of times a month, and Jared went along as his bodyguard. Jared would happily drive them, in the gorgeous midnight blue Bentley Jensen had given him for his thirtieth birthday, but Jensen always insisted on Pileggi in case either of them wanted to drink. Now Pileggi and Jensen were both gone. Jared was willing to bet that motherfucker had sold Jensen out and fled. Jared cracked his neck and exhaled.
“Yes. Find him and bring his ass to The Ranch. Kane, get Aldis and Lindberg working on tracing the GPS signal in Jensen’s phone.”
The IC nod in grim unison and get back in their cars. Pete stares down at him, grey-green eyes awash in concern. “He’ll be okay. He’s a tough bastahd.” He claps Jared on the shoulder with one broad hand and gives him a gentle shake.
“I will walk into Hell and dethrone the Devil to get him back. And when I do, nowhere on earth, Heaven or Hell will be safe for the motherfucker who took him from me.”
Peter visibly shivers and crosses himself before heading back to his old Mustang. Jared gets in the Cadillac and heads toward The Ranch. He has preparations to make.
Author:
rose_the_hatPairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count 31,000-ish
Summary: In which Jensen is a powerful mob boss who has been kidnapped and Jared is his Enforcer willing to do anything to get him back
Warnings:allusions to past molestation and prostitution; graphic torture; blink-and-you-miss-it bottom Jared; PTSD
Notes:This is a companion piece to The Power Behind The Throne from Jared's POV. Yes, you do need to read/have read that to understand this.
I never planned on writing from Jared’s POV, so any inconsistencies you may notice from the previous story and this one, just chalk them up to me doing a little retconning or Jared being an unreliable narrator.
Huge thanks to
jdl71 for doing the beta and being an awesome cheerleader and support even when I kept sending her the same parts multiple times to read.Fic title and chapter titles are all Metallica songs.
Jared has a love/hate relationship with Date Night. He loves that it’s just he and Jensen but hates that he has to act formal and disinterested. Just a bodyguard, nothing more. The atmosphere of The Roadhouse BBQ joint is way more relaxed than the usual black-tie places they go to. Sam Ferris, who owns it, was only able to start the restaurant because of a loan from Jensen’s Organization. The Roadhouse is a fucking reconverted wood barn with sawdust on the floor and the food is served on butcher’s paper. It’s a real down-home kind of rustic atmosphere that Jared absolutely hates. No class at all and the food isn’t even that great and it’s overpriced. But Jensen loves it and Jared loves watching him lick sauce off his fingers.
“I wanna hear some Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. I gotta piss.” Jensen stands, stretches, patting his tummy in satisfaction and heads toward the restrooms.
Jared watches him go struggling to contain the stupid happy grin that wants to break out. Jensen wants to hear some Seger; Jared will damn well play it for him. Jensen loves his classic rock from the seventies. Jared’s musical tastes tend more toward heavy metal: Iron Maiden, Metallica, and Judas Priest. He strolls over to the jukebox, pulling a handful of coins from his pocket. He’s not sure there will be any Seger in a place like this. The juke is full of old C&W music: Hank Williams, Tammy Wynette, plenty of Garth Brooks, George Strait, and Johnny Cash. He finds some Eagles, Skynard, Mellencamp, and next to that is Seger. Jared shoves some quarters in the slot and pokes the numbers for Night Moves. He was definitely gonna employ some night moves on Jensen tonight. He’d play with those cute nipples, eat that perfect ass; then fuck him slow, deep and hard, the way they both liked. He needed to get off that train of thought real fast or he was gonna march into that bathroom and fuck Jensen in the stall.
He glances back over his shoulder to watch Jensen head into the Mens. Inwardly sighing at how fucking gorgeous his man is. The older he gets the more gorgeous he becomes and Jensen was fucking beautiful right from the start. Jared can admit when he first got with Jensen it was to further his own dream of becoming a mobster. After meeting Jensen it became about so much more than that; it was about impressing him, and making himself indispensable to Jensen. He never thought they would fall in love.
Jared had thought Petey would never get out of the joint. He went up for auto theft, and served two and a half years of a three year sentence. Jared was on his knees with a john’s sour-tasting prick in his mouth when Petey found him. Jared had been in a sort of trance, a kind of self-hypnosis he employed to get through these encounters; he took his mind away. He imagined he was on a beach in Aruba with the hottest guy in the world; imagined waves crashing, tropical birds singing, and the sun blasting off white sand. He thought he had imagined Petey swooping in like some dark avenging angel and coming to his aid, too, but he was actually there, and he was beating the ever-loving shit out of the john. Petey forgot his strength when he was mad and could easily kill this guy. He just got out of prison and Jared didn’t want him getting sent right back on account of him.
Jared snapped out of his daze. “Petey! Stop it! Stop it! I’m sorry! Don’t kill ‘im!”
Everything sounded very loud in the dingy alley; the meaty thwacks and grunts as fist collided with flesh and bone, Petey’s shouts, the john’s sniveling and crying; it was a cacophony that would surely bring someone soon, even in this shitty part of town.
“I’m sorry Petey! I didn’t know what to do!”
Petey stopped his assault on the john who was bleeding and looked to be unconscious. He turned to Jared and did something he never had. He hugged Jared, hugged him so tight Jared thought his ribs would crack. He’d missed Petey, too; Petey who was part brother and part father figure. He buried his snotty tear-streaked face against Petey’s chest.
“I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me, Petey,” Jared cried in shame. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Petey broke the embrace and looked him up and down. There was no recrimination, no censure in his grey green eyes, just fondness and understanding. “You got fuckin’ tall, Kid. Not as tall as me but youah prob’ly still growin’.”
Jared felt like crying again. It was so good to hear Petey’s deep voice and Brooklyn accent. It felt like home. He sniffed, swiped an arm across his eyes, and tried to get himself under control. He tried to meet Petey’s eyes but couldn’t. He was mortified. Why couldn’t Petey have found him at any other time, like when he was at the library?
Petey slung an arm around Jared’s scrawny shoulders and walked him out of the alley and away from the unconscious john. “It’s okay, Kid,” he said in a soft confidential voice. “You did what ya hadda do. I get it. Things’ll get betta now. I even got a line on a job.”
“What kind of job?” Jared asked.
“Woahkin’ on a loadin’ dock; unda the table kinda gig. Guy I did some favors for in the joint said for me to see a guy named Kane. He’ll put us to woahk. See, Jay, I know all about doing what ya hafta. Don’t worry about it no moah.” He affectionately ruffled Jared’s greasy, shaggy hair.
Petey and Jared, who were soon known as Big ‘n Little, were put to work on the loading dock for a trucking company called Transportation Solutions. It didn’t take Jared long to realize that it wasn’t as above board as it appeared. Petey didn’t care. They were getting paid. Not a lot, but enough to have an actual apartment; Kane hooked them up once more, and ate pretty regularly. They weren’t eating Wagyu and caviar or drinking 25 year old single malt Scotch but they were getting by. Getting by was enough for Petey. Not for Jared. He wanted more and he was going to get it. Transportation Solutions was just a starting point.
Jared knew gangsters, practically had a degree in them because he read every book, every article, he could about them; so he recognized the name of the CEO of Transportation Solutions, Jensen Ackles, the son of Iron Alan Ackles, leader of the Ackles Organization crime syndicate. Alan Ackles had been brought up on arson, drug trafficking, and racketeering charges over the years but nothing seemed to stick. Jensen himself had been accused of murdering a whorehouse madam a couple of years ago but that charge didn’t stick either. The Ackles were made of Teflon it seemed. Teflon, just like John Gotti. Oh, how Jared wanted to belong to that violent and elegant world.
For the first time they had a semblance of a life. Petey even had a honey for a year and a half, but that blew up when he found out she was cheating on him practically the entire time. Jared tried his best to comfort his friend. He got drunk with him on cheap red wine and listened to him rant and wail about her. He was tempted to hunt her down and take her out for causing his best and only friend this kind of pain. He didn’t however. Petey still loved her and wouldn’t want her hurt. He couldn’t even go after the dude she was cheating with because Petey had beat the piss out of him. So Jared drank and listened and sympathized as best he could. Jared had his own hook ups, no one he got serious about. It felt good to fuck because he wanted to not because he needed cash to eat. It was a life but Jared wanted more. So he kept his eyes and ears open, waiting for an opportunity to advance.
They had been working at the loading dock for a little over two years when Kane strolled up to them during break time. He was a compact man, sturdy legs and muscled arms, with a perpetual scowl on his face but he was a cool dude. Tough, no doubt, but also approachable—if the scowl didn’t scare you off that was.
“Big. Little,” Kane greeted looking them up and down, blue gaze assessing. They were both big dudes; Petey stood six foot eight for fucks sake. It was unreal. Jared’s own height was six foot five, not too bad, but he couldn’t seem to fill out his lithe frame, even all the time spent lifting shit didn’t seem to bulk him up. Petey was still rangy as well but seemed to have some muscles. Jared thought a proper diet would go a long way to help them both out.
“Hey ya,” Petey greeted back and nudged Jared with an elbow.
“Hi, Mr. Kane.”
“Aah, Little, drop that mister shit. I’m just Kane. Listen, I wanted to have a little chat with you guys. Ty says you’ve worked out real well here. You work hard and keep your mouths shut. I’m gonna assume, since you knew Stuart in prison, Big, you have an idea about who we are and what we do.”
“Yah. He told me some things.”
Jared is giddy inside. He knows Kane is very high up in the Ackles Organization. He may not have Iron Ackles’s ear, but he damn sure has the ear of the son, Jensen. If Kane is talking to them he wants to use them somehow. Maybe if they do good at whatever Kane asks of them they can move up the ranks. Jared wants off this fucking loading dock. He’s tired of sweating his balls off all day to go home to a dumpy apartment with achy muscles, eat a sandwich of cold cuts or a hot dog for dinner, and go to bed on a saggy mattress only to get up and do it again. He wants more for Petey too, Petey who always looked out for him, deserved better.
“I need some guys to help with…collections, if you catch my meaning.”
Jared’s pulse raced. Fuck yeah he knew. Either collecting for loan sharks or maybe bookies. Still low on the totem but better than moving crates of what were probably guns in amongst loads of toilets or other mundane goods. Having to deal with Ty Olsson’s fucking smug face acting so magnanimous. Like he gave them their jobs and they should be grateful when it was Kane who put them to work. Jared didn’t really like Ty. His time working the streets has taught him how to read people. Ty strikes him as an overconfident prick but not only that but greedy. That was a combination of traits Jared could work with. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“We get ya,” Jared says coolly. He swipes his forearm across his sweaty forehead and does his best to appear impatient.
“You’re big fuckers and look like you can handle yourselves in a fight. Wanna come work with my crew from time to time? Just cases where we’ve had some trouble collecting. They catch sight of you two I imagine they’ll cough up what they owe if they have to sell a kidney to do it.”
So Jared and Petey split their time between the loading dock and with Kane’s South Side collections crew. They only had to get physical half a dozen times so far. They got a cut but understood most of the cash went to Mr. Ackles. The extra was enough that they could have steak (not good cuts, but steak was still steak) rather than hamburger all the time.
Jared kept his eyes and ears open. It wasn’t until Iron Alan Ackles died and his son stepped fully into the role of mob leader that Jared began to hear useful things. Hanging around outside an Organization owned pawn shop while Kane was collecting, he overheard two, or maybe it was three, guys talking about the new Mr. Ackles in the alley.
“I’ve worked the rackets a long time. Iron Alan was the best.”
“What ya make of the kid, Freddy?”
“Can’t say. Iron Alan kept his son right by him, even after that wife of his ran off to live in Scandinavia or wherever the fuck. The boy used to come collectin’ from time to time. Now, he has this Kane guy doin’ it. Ya ask me he doesn’t really care for the business if he’s willin’ to shirk responsibility like that, Mark.”
“That a fact? Interesting.”
Jared took note of the musing speculative tone in the speaker’s voice. While Jared dismissed most of that as idle talk, he did file it away for potential future use, and burned the names Freddy and Mark into his memory. The shit he overheard Ty Olsson talking about was a little more than idle.
Jared was coming back to the loading dock after pissing out his morning coffee when he heard hushed voices. He slowed down, kept his steps light and quiet, and listened.
“He ain’t like his old man.” That was a voice Jared didn’t recognize.
“That’s for sure. They call him Pretty Jenny. Hear that shit? We’re supposed to take the kid seriously?” That was Ty and he was talking shit about the new Big Boss Man. Jared could definitely use that information somehow. He wasn’t sure what he would do yet but he would do something. There was an opportunity to be had here. An opportunity that could catapult he and Petey from this loading dock to the upper echelons of the Organization.
“I know. He’s a fucking faggot, too. What does a fag know about anything?”
Jared sneered at that. He was a faggot and could totally show them what a fag knew about kicking ass or even murder. He just bet Mr. Ackles could, too.
Over a period of three weeks Jared overheard more hushed conversations between Ty and a man he learned was Tim Omundson.
“Wouldn’t be hard,” Ty said. “We could work together and pull it off.”
“Shit, I know that’s right,” the man named Tim said. “Named him Dallas’ Most Eligible Bachelor. What the fuck is that about? We’re supposed to believe a guy like that can keep his eyes everywhere? No. No fuckin’ way.”
“I’m telling you man, we ought to get together on this. There is fucking money to be made here.”
These guys were fucking morons. Talk talk talk that’s all they did. They didn’t have balls or brains. Jared would have to loan them his. He had a plan in mind, it had come slow to fruition over the last weeks he had overheard these two schmucks talking. He had to line up the dominoes. And now seemed like as good a time as any.
Jared stepped up to them, making sure his footfalls were heard. The two men stopped their whispering. Jared slipped into his best aww-shucks-I’m-harmless-expression that had served him for years. It wasn’t as convincing as it had been when he was a kid but still, his dewy eyes and dimples seemed to put people at ease. Jared rounded the corner and there were Ty Olsson and Tim Omundson. Ty was a bigger guy, tall like Jared but with more bulk, and short cropped dark hair—receding hair Jared noted. Tim Omundson was an older guy with dark wavy hair streaked with grey and a full beard. Both men eyed Jared but didn’t appear too wary.
“Hey guys,” Jared greets, he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and hunches his shoulders and ducked his head to minimize his height and seem less threatening.
“What the fuck you think you’re doing snooping around here, Little?” Ty barked but there was a faint waver in his voice. He was scared Jared overheard them. Fucking chicken shit. He can talk a big game but won’t ever back it up.
“I wasn’t snooping. I had to fucking piss. Can I have one of those?” Jared asks, indicating the cigarette hanging from Tim’s lips. He doesn’t like cigarettes, he’d rather a nice fat Cuban but he can only dream of that right now. And bumming a cigarette is an easy way to ingratiate himself.
Tim eyes him up and down, before giving a slow nod and handing over his pack of Pyramids. Jared takes out one and puts it to his lips. Tim hands him a cheap plastic Bic lighter. Jared lights up, inhales and blows out a plume of smoke. He will not fucking cough though the shitty tobacco burns his lungs and throat.
“Thanks. Needed that.”
The two seem to relax, like Jared thought they would. Now he’s going to place the first domino. “How would you do it?” Jared asks blithely.
Two sets of eyes lock on to him, he takes another lazy drag off the cigarette, keeping his cool unconcerned visage in place. “You just gonna take a crate of high-powered weapons and hope no one will notice?”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Little?”
“Talking about making money. I’ve heard you guys a few times. Voices, even whispers, carry around here. Lucky I wasn’t Kane. He’d rat right to Pretty Jenny.” The words leave a bad taste in his mouth, or could be the cigarette but they have the desired effect of putting the two men more at ease with him.
They look more closely at him. Jared knows they probably see a young guy, he’d just turned twenty-two but he looks younger, they can set up as a fall guy. That’s what he wants them to think and expects them to do.
“It wouldn’t work, you know? Just taking a crate of weapons. You’d have to hijack the entire load.” He finishes off his cigarette, snuffs it out with the toe of a boot and strolls away, grinning to himself.
He had to keep his hands clean and that meant he couldn’t have Petey in on this plan. Not that he didn’t trust Petey. He trusted him more than anyone in this shithole world, but Petey didn’t always see things Jared’s way. Petey did the things he had to to survive. Jared did them because he liked to. He liked the thrill of being on the wrong side of the law.
Jared was stretching, his back was in fucking knots, when Ty Olsson came onto the loading dock and got him a few days later. It was a bit longer than Jared had accounted for but not by too much.
“Come with me a sec, Little.”
Petey tossed him a curious look. Jared shook his head and shrugged as if he had no idea what Ty wanted with him.
“Okay,” Jared said appropriately puzzled and followed the other man out of the warehouse.
“You said an interesting thing last time. Hijacking a load,” his voice was hushed, interested.
“Yeah. You know as well as anyone those crates are always accounted for. You couldn’t just cart one off on a forklift.”
“And we wasn’t talking about doin’ it that way anyway. Be easy enough to empty a crate out.”
Jesus fucking Christ this guy was dumb. How the hell was he in charge of anything? “You think all the shit moving through here, Pretty Jenny ain’t got eyes on it all? C’mon! Only time a load is out of his control is when it’s on the road.”
“Right you are, kid.”
Jared bridled at that. He didn’t mind Petey calling him “kid” but anyone else could fuck right off for doing it. He wasn’t a kid and hadn’t been in a long fucking time.
“And you need to line up a buyer. Know anyone?”
“I could find a few.” Ty is probably trying to sound noncommittal here but Jared can read between the lines. He wouldn’t know how to get rid of the goods once he’s got them. Fuck. Jared has to do everything. Doesn’t matter. It’s better this way. The more control he has over the pieces the easier it is to anticipate movements.
“I know a guy. Or rather, Petey does. Evan Seinfield. Petey knew him in the joint. Biker. Rides with the Iron Crusaders MC. They’d take all the firepower we can offer.” That’s all bullshit but Ty doesn’t need to know that. He just needs to think there is a ready buyer for the hijacked load. Without that he won’t move.
That greedy light flashes in Ty’s beady eyes. Jared knows he’s got the hook in good. “I’ll see what Tim says. The guns are his area.”
The next time he meets with Ty, Tim is with him. There is a shipment of weapons going into this camouflage load of fixtures, and Tim is on the dock to oversee the operation.
Petey is running the forklift and Jared moves to stand close but not too close to the conspirators.
“Ty told you what I said?” Jared asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the guys load the crates into the tractor trailer.
“He did. Said you could hook us up with a buyer. What would the split be?”
“Me n’ Petey will take twenty-five percent of the profits, you and Tim can split however you see fit.”
“You and Big want twenty-five each?” Ty says, incredulous.
“No. Just twenty-five. We’ll split it between us. We’re not the ones assuming any risk. Our share should be the smallest.”
Ty smiled his magnanimous patronizing smile. “You got sense, Little.
Jared shrugs modestly. You got an overinflated ego, Jared thinks. Makes you easy to manipulate.
“The next shipment is due in two weeks. Six crates. AK’s and AR 9’s. Coming in near Galveston and going west. A short easy run.”
“Short run or not there will be a tracker,” Jared says. “It’ll need to be disabled. By the time anyone realizes you’ve missed a checkpoint everything will be over.”
“You don’t miss a trick do ya?” Ty said. “How come a smart guy like you just works a loading dock and shaking people down?” Ty eyes Jared speculatively.
“Me n’ Petey are just trying to get by is all.” He flashes his eyes, eyes that he knows look guileless and soulful. His social worker used to call them puppy-dog eyes.
The dominoes are in place and soon he’ll be ready to knock them down. But before he does that he to get Petey involved now because when the time comes to knock the dominos down he will need Petey’s help and see about meeting with the Big Boss Man himself, Jensen Ackles.
They got paid and decided to treat themselves and ordered pizza. They were lounging on the dumpy chairs, a pizza each and a six pack to split when Jared lines up another domino.
“Petey, I gotta talk to you. Need some advice.”
Pete finishes his beer. “Aww shit, Jay. You didn’t get some girl pregnant did ya? I fuckin’ told you, wrap it up every time and don’t listen to ‘er when she says she’s on the Pill.”
“What? No. Why you always think that?”
“You think I’m stupid, Kid? I smell it on ya.”
Petey’s nose can’t be that good because Jared knows he smells of jizz and lube when he strolls in after a hookup, but he’s been doing that less and less these days. He has more important things on his mind than his libido. “Anyway,” Jared says. “It’s about some dudes at the loading dock. They’re talking shit about the new Mr. Ackles.”
“Ah, Jay. People always talk shit about their bosses.”
“Yeah. Maybe but I don’t think Mr. Ackles is the kind of guy who would tolerate it if he knew. Know what I mean?”
Petey took a huge bite of a new pizza slice and looked thoughtful. “Youah prob’ly right.”
“And besides, it isn’t just all idle shit talk.” Jared leans in, lowers his voice even though it is just he and Petey in their apartment. “Some guys are talking about going into business for themselves.” He gives Petey a significant look.
Petey puts his slice down and slowly chews the last bite in his mouth. Jared knows he’s putting it together. Jared knows what people think when they look at Petey, or hear him speak. They think he’s a dumb palooka but he is far from it. He’s a simple guy, likes simple things, but he was not dumb. “Fuck. You thinkin’ we should tell Kane?”
Jared had hoped Petey would say that. He shakes his head. “Kane’s always got someone around him. Maybe we can trust them maybe we can’t. I think we should go right to the Big Boss Man himself, but I don’t wanna be a rat, Petey. You know what happens to rats.”
“It ain’t rattin’ when it’s to the boss about his own guys plottin’ against him. Besides, if anyone fucks with you they fuck with me. Kane been in on this talk, too?”
“Nah. He seems loyal to Mr. Ackles. Think if we’d ask he’d take us to see ‘im?”
Fucking Christ, Jared was nervous as an altar boy surrounded by priests as he and Petey climbed out of the luxury SUV. There were three other vehicles in the central turn-around, all sleek and black ready to be called into service; a Lincoln, a Mercedes, and a BMW. He gazed in awe at the pristinely white three story mansion with the six columns reaching up high. He hadn’t thought such places existed outside of movies and books. He dragged his eyes away from the house to take in the exquisitely kept grounds; the trees were manicured into perfect spherical shapes, the lawn lush and green, the flowerbeds burst with colors of pink, red, and white.
“This way, guys,” Kane said and led them up the porch.
Jared just about swooned as the wide front doors were opened and his eyes were bombarded by the glossy marbled tile foyer with an honest to god glittering crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Directly ahead was a wide gently rising staircase that ventured off into two directions. To the left of the foyer was what looked like the living room. Did rich people call it that? Maybe it had a fancier name, like drawing room or a sitting room. Jared’s eyes hungrily feasted on the stylish but inviting furnishings; plush oversized couches and chairs; heavy coffee and end tables, Tiffany lamps. Light poured in from the many windows. The woodwork was all rich and dark. The walls were papered in a tasteful understated pale green damask pattern. The floors were oak and polished to a mirror shine. To the right of the foyer were a set of doors, one closed another open to reveal what appeared to be a formal dining room. Everything exuded elegance, wealth, and power. He would give his left nut to call a place like this ‘home’.
Kane led them down a short hallway to a heavy oak door. “Be polite and respectful. Mr. Ackles appreciates that,” he advised before rapping on the door.
“Come in.”
Jared’s stomach fluttered; he was lightheaded and shaky. He better not pass the fuck out that was not the impression he wanted to make on his boss. Fuck! He worked for Jensen Ackles but it never felt real before since they interacted with Kane. Jensen Ackles one of the most powerful men in the underworld and Jared was fucking desperate to impress him.
He wished he was more properly attired in a nice pair of slacks and a button-up instead of ripped and faded jeans and a wife beater. He hopes Mr. Ackles won’t judge him too harshly. They’ve spent years scratching and clawing for what little they have.
He thought he was prepared to meet Mr. Ackles, had done a little research into him, seen his pictures in the papers but none of it had prepared him for the man himself. He knows people call Mr. Ackles ‘pretty’ but that isn’t the case. Mr. Ackles isn’t pretty. He isn’t handsome. He is fucking beautiful. The most gorgeous and breathtaking man Jared has ever seen. He’s unreal; a work of art in the flesh. Tall and slender, beguiling large green eyes, creamy complexion dotted with charming freckles, sinful mouth that Jared aches to taste. His blond hair is short and shaved at the sides and back but with a little length on top; perfect to grab hold of while fucking that mouth. He needs to not be thinking that way about his boss.
Mr. Ackles gets to his feet and Jared takes in his clothes. Jared loves fine things because he never had them. Mr. Ackles’s suit must be over five thousand dollars, a charcoal grey, not as severe as black would be, and a dove grey shirt and blue-grey tie. His loafers were without a doubt premium Italian leather. He dismisses Kane and looks Petey up and down, then turns his gaze to Jared.
Their eyes lock and Jared feels as if he has been struck by lightning. He thinks Mr. Ackles felt it too because there was a flash of desire in those eyes. Jensen wants him. Jared wants him right back, he wants everything Mr. Ackles could offer: wealth, fine clothes, plenty of delicious food, protection, and power. Jared is so fucking tired of wearing second or third-hand jeans and t shirts and eating cheap lunch meat on day-old white bread. He’ll take what he can get and never complain because it’s the best he can have right now. Petey seems satisfied for the most part, but Petey is a simple guy. He likes nature and working on old cars. Jared likes cars as well; he likes them fine and fast, Alfa Romeros, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and Aston Martins. Ferraris and Lambos are too ugly and flashy. Jared will take classy over trash any day. Mr. Ackles is pure class born and bred in wealth and finery Jared could only dream of…until today. Mr. Ackles wants him and Jared will do whatever it takes to show him how useful he can be. He’s got a toe in the door, and he’s going to kick it in.
As they are leaving Mr. Ackles presses a neat fold of bills into their hands. Five hundred dollars! Its not a lot but more than either he and Petey have seen at one time. Maybe he can buy some better clothes, dress for the role he wants and he might just get it.
Back at their little apartment, Jared takes out the crisp bills again. He brings them to his nose and sniffs; loving the smell of new money but loving even more the lingering scent of Mr. Ackles’s cologne. He peels the bills apart to count them. His brows come together when a slip of paper tumbles out. He picks it up. Nine digits are written on it. That thunderstruck feeling courses through him again. This is Mr. Ackles’ phone number, probably his direct line, and he gave it to Jared.
He wants to call immediately but he can’t. He has to line up the last couple of dominos. When he knocks them down it will lead him straight to Mr. Ackles, maybe even his bed.
“Petey! Petey! It’s going down now!”
“What? Slow down, Jay.” Petey says regarding him with puzzled concern.
“The load. They are hijacking it right now. I saw Tim take the tracker off the truck. They would only do that if the truck isn’t going where it’s supposed to.”
“Aww shit,” Petey said.
“We gotta do something. C’mon,” Jared says and hurries toward the nearest exit. If he’s planned it right Ty and Tim will be in the parking lot, waiting for Jared and Petey to accompany them to the rendezvous with the buyer.
“What can we do, Jay?” Petey asks but follows Jared off the loading dock and out to the parking lot.
“Let’s follow the truck. We can take the shipment back.”
“Youah crazy.” Petey says but he’s still following Jared.
Jared grins over at him. “Help me, Petey. We can do this. These guys aren’t that smart. And imagine how Mr. Ackles will reward us.”
“I guess I gotta. You don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout drivin’ a rig. Who is drivin’ it now, do ya know?”
He didn’t know but it didn’t really matter either because Jared would kill them, too. Exactly as planned, he saw Tim getting into the passenger seat of a black Cadillac. Jared can see Ty in the driver’s seat and the engine is on. Jared pulls out a gun as they near the black car.
“Whahe the fuck did you get that?” Petey exclaims.
“Does it matter?” Jared strides up to the SUV, aims his silenced .38, and pulls the trigger twice, taking out Ty and Tim. Their faces, before Jared blew them away, registered surprise but not unwelcome. Why would he, he believed Jared was there to lead him to the rendezvous with Evan Seinfield.
“You crazy mothahfucka,” Petey says. Jared thinks Petey might even be having a little fun. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.
The dominoes fall as Jared planned. They take the semi back at an out of the way truck stop called the Dixie Boy. They pile Ty, Tim, and the two men who had been in the cab of the rig into the trunk of the Cadillac, it was a tight fit, and leave it parked at a lot in Ackles Organization territory, where the bodies will be found by the right people. For an extra touch Jared carves the word TRAITOR across their foreheads.
When they are back on the road Jared calls the number Mr. Ackles gave him. As he suspected, it was Mr. Ackles’s private line. When he answers the phone in the sexiest growl Jared has ever heard he has to hide the chub he pops from Petey.
As Petey is driving the rig to the rendezvous point Mr. Ackles gave them, he turns to Jared, a grin tugging at his lips. “You crazy little shit. You put this whole gawdamn thing togetha, didn’t ya? Don’t lie to me. You did. I see it on ya face.”
Jared throws his head back and laughs.
Night Moves ends and Jared looks at his watch, the vintage Paul Newman Daytona Rolex Jensen gave him for their fifteenth. Jensen had been gone awhile. Jared didn’t wanna bug him if he was taking a shit but his stomach was starting to clench and he felt shaky inside. It was a feeling he would not ignore. Something was wrong.
He stands and heads to the restrooms, already pulling his phone out to call the guys. He pushes inside the Mens and his stomach drops through the floor. The stall doors are all partially open and he cannot see Jensen’s Balenciaga sneakers anywhere. He does see a fucking hypodermic needle on the floor. He smashes his thumb to Petey’s contact page. His old friend answers after one ring.
“I’m at The Roadhouse. Someone took Jense. Call the rest of the Inner Circle and get them here now!”
“Jared,” Peter’s voice is sharp and hard, but that’s not what stops Jared from hanging up, it’s the fact that Peter used his actual name. Usually Peter will call him Kid or Jay. “Listen t’me. Youah upset and not thinkin’ cleah. You wait foah us. You heah me, Jared?”
He knew Peter was right. He was so fucking on edge and shaky right now. It was all he could do to not pull his gun and start asking questions. He could hear Peter moving, hear him shouting for the others at the Compound.
“Petey….” His voice is brittle. He feels so fucking helpless and useless. He hears the voices of the others, hears car doors opening.
“Jared, weah leavin’ right now.”
He can hear engines starting and tires squealing. “Someone drugged him and took him from me, Pete. And I…I let it happen.” His eyes sting and his throat closes up. “Pete, I gotta do something.”
“No. What you gotta do is fuckin’ wait. I know you, Jared, youah probably a cunt’s haiah from shootin’ up the joint. You can’t do that. Fuhst it’ll bring the wrong kind of attention, second that attention will complicate things. But it will scaah the people theah and they won’t be able to tell us anythin’ useful.”
It felt as though he was caught in the grasp of a giant, Polyphemus maybe, and the Cyclops was squeezing his breath out. His heart is pounding harder than it ever has. His mouth tastes metallic from the sudden dump of adrenaline. He knows what Petey is saying is the truth.
Jensen is his entire world and if something happened to him Jared would not be able to go on. He will do anything to get him back alive. And if he doesn’t…well, he’ll take out anyone even remotely responsible for his death then eat a bullet himself. There wasn’t a Jared if there wasn’t Jensen.
Once Peter and the rest of the IC were at The Roadhouse it was easier for Jared to find his cool. His friends, his fellow soldiers, Jensen’s friends, were here to help him. Each wore similar tight expressions of worry and anger. It was Lazy Jase who asked the prudent question, the one Jared himself hadn’t thought of and hated that he hadn’t thought of first.
“Where the fuck is Pileggi? He drove y’all didn’t he?”
Five pairs of eyes locked onto Jared. How fucking stupid was he to not notice sooner that Jensen’s longtime chauffeur was suddenly missing as well? Petey was right. He wasn’t thinking clearly. That shit had to stop right fucking now. He closed his eyes and exhaled, finding that dark empty well of coldness inside; it was a little harder because his life had been so full of warmth and love for the past fifteen years, but that source was gone and in danger now. Who else knew where Jensen and Jared would be tonight? No one but Pileggi. Not even anyone in the IC knew where Jensen and Jared went on date night. Jared learned from his poker and pool games with the IC that they thought Jensen went out to get a nice piece of ass a couple of times a month, and Jared went along as his bodyguard. Jared would happily drive them, in the gorgeous midnight blue Bentley Jensen had given him for his thirtieth birthday, but Jensen always insisted on Pileggi in case either of them wanted to drink. Now Pileggi and Jensen were both gone. Jared was willing to bet that motherfucker had sold Jensen out and fled. Jared cracked his neck and exhaled.
“Yes. Find him and bring his ass to The Ranch. Kane, get Aldis and Lindberg working on tracing the GPS signal in Jensen’s phone.”
The IC nod in grim unison and get back in their cars. Pete stares down at him, grey-green eyes awash in concern. “He’ll be okay. He’s a tough bastahd.” He claps Jared on the shoulder with one broad hand and gives him a gentle shake.
“I will walk into Hell and dethrone the Devil to get him back. And when I do, nowhere on earth, Heaven or Hell will be safe for the motherfucker who took him from me.”
Peter visibly shivers and crosses himself before heading back to his old Mustang. Jared gets in the Cadillac and heads toward The Ranch. He has preparations to make.
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its public now! https://rose-the-hat.livejournal.com/49713.html
and its all on my A03 as well
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718133
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I still love LJ too. Its easier for me to find fics I like to read here and interact with people.
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