Title: King Nothing
Author:
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 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.
2 – Here Comes Revenge
The Ranch is what it looks like from the outside, an abandoned run-down former horse ranch the Ackles Organization bought decades ago. The paddocks are overgrown, the fences rotting and missing in places, the barn is collapsed on the north side, stove in by a tree in a storm years before, and miles away from the nearest neighbor. The house itself is also dilapidated and in bad disrepair, as far as the exterior goes. Inside it is a fortress, heavy locks and steel doors, three feet thick solid concrete walls that were all soundproofed into four individual interrogation cells.
Jared stands beside the table, with his plastic face shield down, rubber apron over his shirt and jeans, black gloves over his big skilled hands. His toybox of shiny metal instruments open on the table beside him. He imagines he looks like the villain in every torture porn flick, but interrogation is dirty work. He may be dressed in Levis and a black tee but he ain’t about to get his clothes splattered with blood or any other bodily fluid. You can’t get that shit out. Just have to throw your clothes away. Wasteful, really.
Pileggi’s big bald head is peppered with fat beads of sweat as Petey and Kane haul him into the cell. Pileggi’s one eye is swollen shut, probably broken orbital bone, maybe even cheekbone. There’s a nasty gash on his forehead and he has a split lip. He was more or less in good condition, like Jared ordered.
“Strap ‘im in,” Jared said coolly, eyes already going over the tools in his arsenal wondering what he should start with.
“I don’t know anything,” Pileggi says, but he sounds mushmouthed. Probably got some missing teeth or maybe a fucked jawbone, those hambones Petey calls fists pack a wallop. It does give Jared an idea; he’ll start with a little Marathon Man action.
Kane and Petey drag him over to the embalming table. Jared chose that for his interrogations because those tables were hard and solid not offering any comfort for a live person. The idea of being alive on an embalming table was sometimes enough to unman people; plus, embalming tables had those handy channels for spilled blood to run into. It was old and made of porcelain and Jared could orient his subject however he wished. He had customized this gem with arm and leg restraints as well as a cap for the head.
Pileggi’s eyes go wide as he takes in it. He drags his feet to inhibit Petey and Kane’s progress. Pointless; Petey could bench press the traitorous old fuck.
“Honest! I was never told anything!”
This guy is fucking lying thought the teeth he’s about to lose. “Hmm-mmm,” Jared says noncommittally pulling out a sickle probe and examining its sharpness. Oh. How silly of him. He’s getting ahead of himself. He puts the probe down and picks up the retractor.
“You can end this even befoah he gets staahted by tellin’ ‘im wheah Mr. Ackles is,” Petey says effortlessly hefting Pileggi onto the table, despite his struggles.
“I don’t know!”
“Open wide,” Jared says holding out a plastic retractor to slip into his mouth.
Pileggi pales. His Adam’s apple bobs as he convulsively swallows. “No,” he shakes his head even as Kane grabs it and brings the leather strap down across his forehead and locks it off tight; then follows with the chin strap.
“Comfy?” Jared asks politely.
“No. Please.”
“Word of advice: just tell him what you know,” Kane says. He pats Pileggi’s right cheek, the possibly broken one. Pileggi flinches and whimpers. Kane grins over at Jared and gives him a wink.
“I don’t know!” Pileggi wails.
Jared jerks his head toward the door, dismissing Petey and Kane. He has work to do.
Petey stood with his head bowed in contrition as Mr. Ackles—privately Jared called him Jensen but wasn’t brave enough yet to address him by his name out loud—bawled them out for the hijacking. He doesn’t yell; his icy timbre and underlying threats get the point across more effectively than shouting. This man is always in control, Jared observes. He wondered if that control extended to the bedroom.
Loath as he was to even think about those two dark years he had “worked” for Kurt Fuller they taught him several things. Men like Jensen, men who shoulder enormous responsibility and are always in control, sometimes need to let it go, long to let it go. Maybe it’s that way for Jensen, or it was possible he liked to always be in control. Either way it played out was cool with Jared. He wanted to be whatever Jensen needed him to be. No, Jared reflected, he didn’t want to only be a plaything for the Big Boss Man. He wanted to be a help, a source of comfort and strength to Jensen.
Was this what falling in love felt like?
Jared remembered how nervous he was the first time he set foot into the mansion. It was nothing to how nervous he was now as he went up the stairs to the third floor. His first night at the Compound and he was heading up to bed the Big Boss Man. He was taking a big risk, but he thought it would pay off. Jensen wanted him and Jared wanted him in return. It went beyond physical attraction. He was in love with Jensen.
He had thought there might be a guard stationed at the bottom of the gently rising stairs, but the way was clear. Stepping onto the third floor felt like stepping on hallowed ground. This was Jensen’s private domain. He opened one door but only saw what appeared to be a games room with a pool table in the center and a poker table near the corner and a wet bar, all very tasteful and masculine. Jared adored it. Behind the next door was a library with floor to ceiling built in bookcases each lined with books. Petey would love it in there. Behind one door was nothing but extra linens and cleaning supplies. The last door had to be Jensen’s bedroom. Jared pressed his ear to the door but heard nothing from within. He had no idea what he would do if Jensen was with another man.
He turned the knob and the door opened silently. Jensen was inside, buttoning the top of his gorgeous sapphire blue silk pajamas. He turned, brows drawn together and luscious mouth pulled down in a scowl, no doubt pissed for someone intruding in his bedroom. Jared’s heart thudded and he struggled to keep his cool and aloof mask in place. If Jensen turned him away Jared thought he might die from humiliation.
He licked his lips and eyed Jensen up and down, saw the growing bulge at the front of his pajama bottoms. He crosses the room with deliberate steps, eyes locked with Jensen’s. When he is inches away from the man he asks the question he already knows the answer to. “We doin’ this, baby?”
Jensen’s beautiful eyes fill with longing so acute it hurts Jared’s heart. He knows in that instant that Jensen longs to let go of his rigidly held control. It’s confirmed when Jensen sinks to his knees and calls him ‘Sir’. Jared vows on what tattered honor he has that he will be exactly what Jensen needs. Use every trick in his extensive arsenal to give Jensen unparalleled pleasure.
Jared has had a lot of sex, but with Jensen it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It went beyond physical need, slaking desire. The absolute trust Jensen put in him was humbling. Jared would never misuse or betray it.
When Jensen rides his cock, that tight hot body moving so gracefully on him, those lust-blackened eyes locked with his, Jared’s heart and mouth run away with him. He babbles that he loves Jensen, he says it over and over and knows every word spilling from his lips is the god’s honest truth. This man is everything Jared has ever wanted but never dared to dream he could have. When Jensen replies, “you too,” in an ardent husk, Jared feels a tightness in his chest, as if his heart, broken at the age of ten when his mother, father, and little newborn baby sister were taken from him, was mending, made whole with Jensen’s love.
Jensen passes out after his third climax, by then Jared had him coming dry. Jared holds his lover tightly in his arms, feeling more at peace with himself, the world, than he ever has. He would do anything, go to the ends of the earth for Jensen, and it would never be enough for all that Jensen has given him: comfort, security, luxury, money, and, now, love. He would kill for Jensen, had, and would again. If it came to it he would also die for him.
Jared silently pushed open the door to Jensen’s bedroom. Three years and they are still doing this covert undercover lover shit. It’s kind of annoying, having to creep in and out of his lover’s bedroom every night lest someone suspect that they are anything but boss and employee. Jared understands Jensen’s reasoning, of course. It all stems from the Big Boss Man’s childhood trauma of his mother’s abduction. Abducted because Iron Alan was a powerful figure and Donna had been used as leverage for an attempted take-over. In his way, Jensen is trying to protect Jared from something similar and keeping their relationship on the downlow gives Jensen a measure of comfort. Okay, maybe Jared doesn’t mind the creeping so much. He kinda feels like a ninja and ninjas are awesome.
The bedroom is empty, the plush four poster king size bed turned down for the evening, but light spills out from the ensuite. Jared enters the bedroom and closes the door behind him. He can hear Jensen singing softly from the bathroom. Hearing Jensen sing is a rare treat so Jared doesn’t announce his arrival. Instead moves closer to the cracked door to listen to the whiskey and cigarettes voice of his man.
“It's my private pleasure. Midnight fantasy. Someone to share my wildest dreams with me. Imaginary lover you're mine anytime.” Jensen has his emerald pajama bottoms on shaking that cute little ass as he sings.
Jared grins and pushes open the bathroom door. “Oh, baby, I ain’t imaginary, but I am yours anytime.”
Jensen turns, his face flushing in embarrassment. “You sneaky bastard.”
Jared arches a brow. “Is that how you talk to me? When I came in here, it was with the intent on fucking that ass. Am I gonna have to spank it, too?”
Jensen swallows and his cheeks redden even more. He seems to struggle with himself before locking gazes with Jared. “I don’t know, Sir. Are you?”
He does both.
“Hey, Jared?” Jensen’s voice is a sleepy drawl post orgasm. Unlike most men Jensen doesn’t conk out after sex, he likes to talk. Jared hates it because he always feels so open after making love with Jensen that he will tell him anything he wants to know.
“Hmm?” Jared replies.
“You mentioned once that you killed your foster father. Was that the first time you killed?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you tell me about it? I’ll understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I’m just curious.”
After three years together there isn’t much they don’t know about each other. Jared has never gone in depth about his youth, not because he doesn’t want to, but because Jensen has never before directly asked. Jared will tell him anything he wants to know…except about the two years he was a boy whore. He will never tell him that.
“It all goes back to when I was nine,” Jared begins. “I’ve figured stuff out over the years, the way you do once you have an adult’s eyes.”
Jensen nods, gorgeous green eyes warm with sympathy and understanding. He laces his fingers through Jared’s hair pushing the sweat-damp strands away from his face. Not allowing Jared to hide from him.
“I was an only child for years. I’d always ask my folks when could I have a brother or sister. I think now my mom had trouble conceiving or carrying. I never knew which. When I was nine she got pregnant. We were all so happy. Mom was gonna have a daughter and I was gonna have a baby sister to play with and protect. I’d sit with Mom on the couch and talk to Meggie, Mom and Dad already named her Megan. Tell her all we could do together and the fun we would have.” Jared feels his eyes begin to sting and his throat closing up. “I’d feel her move and respond to me. It was so amazing to me. A real little person, my sister, was inside mom and I loved her so much already.
“Then mom got sick, that’s all I understood at the time. She had to stay in bed for the rest of her pregnancy. They always talked about her blood pressure being too high. I think she probably had preeclampsia and that’s dangerous. She went into labor with Meggie a month early, but Meggie was fine, apart from being kinda small, and Mom was okay. Dad was tired but happy when he came home to tell me about it. He said they’d have to stay at the hospital for a bit before he could bring them home. When time came for them to come home….” Jared stops. He can’t do it. He doesn’t want to go back to the time his life exploded. Jensen isn’t pushing, just watching him with those patient eyes. Jared blinks hard, feels tears spill over his lower lids. Jensen brushes them away.
“They were killed in a head-on collision on the interstate coming home from the hospital,” he says in a strangled voice.
“Oh, Jared. I would do anything to spare you that. I am so sorry.”
Jared sniffs and forces himself to go on. It hurts thinking about this, talking about it, but not as bad as he thought it would. “I ended up in the foster system. From there I ended up with the Armstrongs, Curtis and Alma.”
“And he molested you?”
“Tried or maybe he did. I don’t fuckin’ know. The worst part was how he tried to manipulate me. Said God knew I was a dirty boy who liked men and He had killed my family as punishment.”
“What!” Jensen explodes, face a mask of fury and Jared falls even deeper in love. “That’s just….”
“I know. I didn’t even know I was gay at the time,” Jared shrugs. “Well, I might have. I knew boys were supposed to like girls and get married when you grew up. All I could think about was wanting to kiss and hold hands with Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.”
Jensen smiles his warm knowing smile. “I had a crush on Luke Perry from 90210.”
Jared wants to smile but he can’t his heart is too full of pain. “He would touch me at first. Just little friendly shit: a pat on the back, petted my hair, you know, but it escalated. He’d pat my butt, rub my chest, then my dick. It felt good, ya know? And that confused me. If he was doing something bad to me it should feel bad but it didn’t. Then, he tried to make me touch him. I packed some clothes, a jar of peanut butter and jelly, a loaf of bread, some Kool-Aid and left. You know what happened after that. I met Petey and things were mostly okay. I had someone who looked out for me, taught me things. He kept me fed, found us places to squat in, and he never tried to bad-touch me.
“I still carried the guilt over my family’s death that Armstrong had instilled in me. It mixed with my burgeoning sexual identity as I got older. I’d fuck girls.” Jared shuddered at the memory. “I’d be on them, rutting between their thighs, but if I wanted to cum I’d have to imagine I was with a man. It eventually turned to anger as I got older. When I was fifteen it kinda exploded. I went to where the Armstrongs used to live. They were still there. I cased the joint for a bit. I didn’t really have a plan but knew I wanted to do something. One day I noticed the garage door was up. I went in. Grabbed a tire iron and slipped into the house. Curtis was asleep on the couch in the living room. I bashed his fucking brains in. I kept hitting him and hitting him until his skull was a jigsaw puzzle and his brains were strawberry jelly. I thought it was his blood that splashed on my face and it was but there were also tears. I hadn’t even realized I had been crying. That sick fuck was dead and knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone the way he hurt me was so satisfying.”
Jared realizes he feels a bit lighter after confiding in Jensen. Maybe he would eventually be able to tell Jensen about the two years he sold his body. He just doesn’t want Jensen to think less of him.
Jared held up the tooth he had extracted with a critical eye. “Looks like a little cavity there. Might wanna see your dentist once all this is over.”
Pileggi sobs. Runnels of blood leak from between his gasping lips, viscous and bright.
There was a buzz at the door. Jared scowled and turned away from his subject. He opened the door and was greeted by Stevie Guitar.
“Mr. Padalecki, sir,” There again was that deference Jared was not used to. He played pool and poker with these men but now he was their leader, their boss, it was disorientating. Jared wondered if maybe that deference and Jared’s lack thereof from the beginning—he treated Jensen with respect, of course, but he also treated him like any other guy—was what attracted Jensen to him.
“I am very sorry to interrupt, but we found Mr. Ackles’s cell phone. It was firmly in Marchesi controlled territory with blood on it and around it. In addition, Aldis said one of the locations that pinged on Mr. Ackles’s GPS was related to the Colombians.”
“Italians and Colombians?” Jared asks flummoxed. Jared knew the Ackles Organization and the Italian mob had a peace between them extending back to when Jensen’s mother had been kidnapped and Alan had appealed to the Marchesi’s for help. Family was everything to the Italians and they had stepped in and helped retrieve Donna. Had the Italians broken a decades old peace? And to what end? It didn’t feel right to Jared. It felt like misdirection, but he would be damned if he ignored any possible lead. Jensen had no direct dealings with Colombian drug lords. Mad Mike Rosenbaum dealt with them and relayed anything of import back to Jensen.
“Run ‘em down. Tommy Blue has dealt with the Italians a time or two in business matters. Have him check with his contacts and see what they say. Bring in Mad Mike to check out this Colombian shit.” Jared rakes and hand through his hair and winces. The bloody rubber glove pulls. “None of this feels right.”
“Agreed,” Stevie Guitar replies. “It’s a wild goose chase.”
“It is but check ‘em out just the same. Get back to me with the intel.”
Stevie Guitar bowed his head and stepped back. “Yes, sir.”
Jared closed the door and turned back to his subject who was blubbering; liquid gurgles interspersed with unintelligible words.
“Is it me?” Jared asks thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong questions. I believe you when you say you don’t know where Jensen is.” He removes the retractor from Pileggi’s mutilated mouth. Hey, Jared never went to dental school, but he tried his best here. “I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts you know who has him.” Jared eschews the dental tools for a good ol’ scalpel. He holds it in Pileggi’s line of sight, the light winks off the blade, so pretty and sharp. “So, I’ll ask once, nicely, who did you sell Jensen to?”
The spark of guilt in Pileggi’s pain-shrouded eyes let Jared know he’s on the right track. Yeah, this motherfucker sold Jensen out to someone. “Why? Jensen has been good to you. Alan was good to you, too.”
Pileggi spits; blood and saliva splashes against the plastic shield. “That asshole gave all you young faggot punks a chance but never me! I’d been here for decades but the old fuck and the pretty fag boy just wanted me to haul their asses around. Even you! And who are you?” He rakes his eyes disdainfully over Jared. Pain seems to have been eclipsed by anger for now. “Just another young faggot punk! Pretty Jenny always talks about loyalty. But where did my loyalty get me? Nowhere! I was overlooked, so yeah, I looked for someone who would appreciate me.”
“Your loyalty got you a cushy job as chauffeur and a fucking well paid one at that. If Alan and Jensen didn’t see worth in you beyond that, that’s because there was none.”
“Fuck you. He may think I’m no one but a damn chauffeur, but I see shit. I see that you and Pretty Jenny are fucking. If I’d known all I had’a do to move up the ladder was bang the boss I’d tried years ago. That big fucker with the black hair fuck Jenny, too? What’s the matter? Your cock not big enough for that slut?”
Red fills Jared’s vision. Fury pounds through him like a stallion at the Kentucky Derby but he cannot act rashly. Pileggi is talking now and Jared will not stop him no matter what he hears. He’s not gonna let him run his mouth about his man for too much longer. Time is fucking wasting. He moves to the end of the embalming table, pats Pileggi’s booted foot amiably before plucking at the laces.
“What…what’re you doin’?” His voice lost that spiteful tone as fear crept back in, wary eyes following Jared.
“Me? Oh, nothing,” Jared says glibly. “It’s warm in here isn’t it? These boots are awful heavy. Your feet must be sweltering.” Jared gets a boot unlaced and tugs it off. The sweat-soaked sock soon follows. He gently caresses the bottom of his big foot with the scalpel. It twitches and jerks as Jared moves to the heel and then up to the thick tendon. Pileggi’s breathing picks up and Jared presses the blade hard against the tendon.
“If you wanna walk without a limp again you tell me now: who has Jensen?”
“It was Misha! Misha Collins! He said he’d make me one of the top guys in his organization if I helped him! I just wanted something more.” Pileggi pathetically sobs. “You’ll lemme go now, right? I told you everything.”
“Sure. I’ll let you go.” He smiles his dimpled charming smile then plunges the scalpel deep into the side of Pileggi’s neck and twists. “Straight to hell!” He hollers.
Pileggi’s heavy body bucks as blood gouts from the gash in thick crimson spurts with his racing heart. His bound hands flex and move as if to try and stem the flow of his lifeblood. Pileggi gags and gasps gurgling cries, eyes searching about frantically. There is no savior, no mercy, to be had here, just the waiting arms of Death.
Jared turns from the dying man, throws the scalpel down, and rips off his apron. He strides to the door and throws it open. Outside the Inner Circle guys are all ready and waiting to be of service. They gaze at him with a new esteem, a different kind of respect. It comes over Jared in a flood. This is how they look at Jensen, how they treat him, as a friend but also at a distance. That realization is compounded with the fact that they now regard Jared as the Big Boss Man in Jensen’s absence. When Jensen had named Jared as his Second in Command and successor in the event of his death or retirement, it had always seemed an abstract idea to Jared, being in charge. There was no doubt about it now, he was in charge.
“Misha fucking Collins has him,” Jared growls. “You guys are Jensen’s most trusted, I know you have your own rackets to run, but getting Jensen back has to be our priority.”
The four men nod, faces grave. “Little J—,” Kane pauses, corrects himself. “Jared, the guys that work under us are all loyal to us, to Jensen. They can handle the rackets while we concentrate on this.”
“Anyone else know Jensen is missing?” Jared asks.
“No, sir,” Stevie says.
“I’m a fucking criminal, all my life,” Jared says. “I know jack shit about running Jensen’s legitimate business.”
“Jared, I can act in Jensen’s stead with regard to Ackles Enterprises,” Tommy Blue says. “I earned my MBA and I’m already COO and President. You can trust that everything will be okay while you are working to find Jensen.”
Jared feels heartened. “Bring me that fucking sonofabitch bastard. I want you to round up anyone and everyone in Collins’ gang and interrogate them.” Jared dismissed them with an upward nod of his head. As they leave Jared pulls out his phone and dials up the Organization’s hackers, Aldis Hodge and Chad Lindberg.
“Hey, Little Jay,” Aldis greets cheerily after a couple of rings.
“Aldis, I got some work for you. All very confidential and of extreme importance.”
“Sir?” Aldis’ voice lost that cheerfulness.
“Jensen has been taken by some wannabe mob headed by Misha Collins. I need you to find out everything you can. Anything he might have his fingers in, any properties he might have, where his money comes from, where it goes. Anything and everything about that motherfucker.”
“On it, Boss,” Aldis says and Jared can already hear him clicking away on keyboards.
“Aldis, I don’t need to tell you that Jensen’s disappearance goes no further than you and Lindberg.”
“No, sir, you don’t. We got this.”
“I want regular updates,” Jared says before ending the call.
At a loss for what else to do now but wait for his men to get back to him, Jared heads outside. The sun blasts him like a furnace. He gazes around and observes Petey sitting in his ’65 Mustang chowin’ down on a burger. Jared crosses the dooryard and joins him.
“Hey ya, Kid,” Petey greets as Jared folds himself into the car. “How aah ya?” He motions for Jared to help himself to the greasy Whataburger bag and Starbucks coffee.
“I’m fuckin’ tired, Petey.”
“You need to get some sleep.”
Jared sighs as he unwraps a burger. “How can I? I need to be doing something.” He takes a huge bite and chews mechanically but tastes nothing. He’ll need strength and for that he needs to eat. He’s much more interested in the venti coffee.
Pete takes another huge bite. “Ya have been,” he says through a mouthful of burger. “Ya got Pileggi to spill his guts.”
He had but it seemed to have taken a very long time. Now it was going to take even longer to run down Collins. Jared takes a gulp of his coffee. “Can you believe all this shit is because of that fucker Misha Collins?” Jared asks.
“Naw. He nevah seemed smaaht enough to run his own racket. That he only did well because shit had already been established by Jensen’s family befoah him. But I’d bet he neva felt that way. Self impoahtant.”
Jared nods. He finishes off the coffee and goes for another one. “When I get my fuckin’ hands on him…” Jared trails off, already envisioning all the delightful ways he will interrogate the bastard. Jared slouches down in the seat, tilts his head back, and closes his tired eyes. “’S weird,” he slurs.
“What?” Pete inquires, taking the hot cup of coffee from Jared’s relaxing grip.
“The guys. They’re actin’ like ‘m Jensen. ‘M not the Big Boss Man. Nev’r wan’ed t’ be,” Jared murmurs before dropping off to sleep.
“Hey’a, Little,” Kane says blue eyes regarding Jared with suspicion. “I know you’re new to the Compound, but this whole floor is Jensen’s private living space and is off limits, even to us Inner Circle guys without his permission. He know you’re up here?”
Jared suppresses the smirk. He has Jensen’s permission all right. He’s fucked Jensen on the pool table a few times now. “Yeah. Big Boss Man said it’d be alright for me to play pool if I wanted. It’s a gorgeous table.” What he doesn’t say, will never say, is how beautiful Jensen looked bent over it while Jared feasted on his ass.
Kane nods and comes fully into the games room. “It is. I’ve been friends with Jensen since college. Kinda take things a bit for granted now. You play much?” Kane takes up a cue.
“Oh yeah. Hustlin’ pool is how I kept my belly full growing up.” Not exactly a lie but not the whole truth either.
Kane grins and puts the cue back. “I don’t feel like getting my ass handed to me by a kid tonight. Anyway, it’s our poker night.” Kane crosses to the round mahogany poker table in the corner.
“Our?” Jared asks.
“Me, Stevie, Lazy Jase, and Tommy. You’re Inner Circle now, so, how ‘bout it, Little? Deal ya in for a hand? Ante starts at five hundred. We play for real money, though,” Kane cautioned.
“Is Jensen going to join us?” Jared asks approaching the table. The mahogany wood was glossy, the table top was dark leather with tooling around the edges. The pedestal was heavily hand-carved with a vine pattern. There were brass cup holders and chip racks. There were five leather high backed chairs that matched the table top. It was an exquisite piece of furniture. Not that that should surprise Jared but somehow it still did. He felt he would always be the broke kid from the streets, never used to the finery he was now surrounded by.
“Doubt it. He was headed to the library when I came up.” Jared had sent Petey up there when he said he wanted something to read. He hoped he hadn’t got his friend in trouble.
“Hey! Oh, we got some new blood?” Stevie Guitar says as he enters the room.
“Fucking sharks are circlin’,” Lazy Jase says sauntering in after him.
“Hey, Little,” Tommy Blue greets, slapping him on the back and eyeing him up and down. “Maybe not. He’s got about an inch on me.”
“You know that how?” Kane says opening a fresh pack of cards and beginning to expertly shuffle them. “Take your cock out, Little, Tommy Blue, and lets measure.”
“Oh fuck you, Kane,” Tommy says taking a seat at the table.
“I’m flattered, really, but I don’t swing that way. Thought you were fuckin’ Mad Mike?” Kane counters.
“Don’t presume,” Stevie says sitting down. “Mad Mike could be fuckin’ him.” The four men laugh.
Jared stands there awkwardly, feeling like an interloper. These men have been friends for years, they are important to Jensen and Jared wants them to like him. More importantly, he wants their respect and to be included. Just because Jensen has brought him, and Petey, into his Inner Circle doesn’t mean that they will automatically accept them. Jared hasn’t been to school since he was nine so his socialization is really kind of crap. He can imitate the behaviors of others and has a certain degree of surface charm when he needs it but to be included with these men will take more than that.
“You gonna play pool, Little, or you wanna play a hand with us?” Kane asks.
“I’ll play,” Jared says approaching the poker table somewhat timidly. “If you’re sure it’s okay. I don’t wanna intrude.”
“C’mon, Little, sit your skinny ass down,” Kane says.
“I’m lean, not skinny,” Jared retorts and takes the one empty seat at the table. “There is a difference. And don’t be checking out my ass, shorty.”
The four men exchange stunned looks. For a second Jared thinks he has crossed some invisible barrier, made some unforgivable faux pas. He was weighing the thought of apologizing and beating a hasty retreat when Kane speaks.
“Oh, fuck off you lanky ass motherfucker. You, Big Pete, Tommy Blue, fuck, even Jensen are fucking giants, and you all can suck my fat cock,” Kane says scowling as he slaps down the cards.
Tommy Blue, Lazy Jase, and Stevie Guitar all explode into a riot of laughter and Jared allows himself to relax.
It became a regular thing, Jared would play poker, pool, or darts a couple of times a month with the other IC guys. They all filter into the games room at ten or ten-thirty, and ice cold beers were cracked open. Not for Jared however, he never drank anything as common as beer. He had a bottle of 15 year old Glenfiddich and heavy crystal tumbler beside him and was lighting a Cuban cigar as the other IC members strolled in for their evening of male-bonding. Cards were dealt and bets were made and the shit-talking began then settled into more familiar conversation and a little gossiping.
“Where did Jensen spirit away to last night?” Stevie Guitar asked tossing in his ante.
The previous evening had been a Date Night of sorts for Jensen and Jared. They had gone to Fearing’s and had an exquisite meal. Then come back to the Compound and had exquisite sex.
“Why do you even fuckin’ ask?” Kane said glancing at his cards. “Two.” He discarded and Jared dealt him two new cards. “Little Jay is like a fuckin’ Sphinx. Sees everything tells nothing. Why y’all think Jensen takes Jay with ‘im?”
“Because I don’t gossip like you nosy bastards,” Jared imparted. He drew on his cigar and exhaled the smoke. “I fuckin’ swear sometimes playin’ with you guys is little more than an old biddy’s sewing circle.”
This drew jeers from his companions; beer bottle caps and pretzels, corn chips or other snacks were tossed at him.
“You are no fun, Little Jay,” Lazy Jase said.
“Yeah, tell us a little about the man Jensen’s seeing. What’s he look like?”
“Why are you assuming it’s just one man?” Tommy asks. “Three.” He discards and Jared deals him three new cards. “Jensen is a handsome man, rich as Croesus, and still reasonably young. He may be seeing a few guys. I think if Jensen ever got serious he’d move his man here to the Compound. Jensen knows this is the safest place. He’d want his partner here.”
“You and Mike still in the Honeymoon phase of your relationship?” Jared asked deftly shifting attention away from Jensen’s love life. “He decorating that little house all pretty for you?”
“Can it really be called a Honeymoon phase when Mikey and I have been off and on for years now?”
“Well, you’re definitely on now,” Stevie says. “Shackin’ up together.”
“Livin’ in sin!” Jared crows.
“I thought you were better than that, Tommy,” Kane says seriously. “Better make an honest man outta Mike.”
“You guys are such shits,” Tommy Blue says, color rising in his cheeks.
“What about you, Little Jay? You got some sweet thing tucked away somewhere?” Lazy Jase asks.
“Please, look at him,” Stevie says. “He’s a fucking sex god with that body and that mane. ‘Course he’s got some hot little number stashed away at some penthouse somewhere. Probably a big-titted blonde with legs up to her chin and an ass like a peach.”
Jared smiles enigmatically as he looks at his cards. He has a tall blond with an ass like a peach, no doubt. He glances at the Philippe Patek watch on his wrist that Jensen gave him for their anniversary; twelve years now.
“Looka that shit-eating grin,” Kane says. “He’s got a sweet little piece alright. What she look like?”
“That motherfucker ain’t gonna tell shit,” Stevie Guitar says tossing a couple of chips into the pot. “Raise. He’s like Jensen that way. Keeps his shit private. Can’t fault ‘im on that.”
“Ever think Jensen’ll ever get married?” Tommy says. “Now it’s legal and all?” He lays his cards down.
Jared’s heart thuds in his chest. Gay marriage became the law of the land a few months ago. It wasn’t anything Jared had ever considered before, but to be married to Jensen, to belong to each other forever in a concrete, legal way, was so fucking seductive.
“Doubt it,” Kane says. “That shit with his mom when he was little left a stain on him. It’s why he don’t ever talk about his relationships. He and his man can have a private ceremony but marriage licenses are public record. If Jensen tied the knot with his fella the press would be all over it. Everybody would want to know who finally nabbed Dallas’ three-time Most Eligible Bachelor. Jensen don’t want that kind of attention. His fella might not want it either.”
“There are such things as confidential marriage licenses.” Lazy Jace says. “Raise,” he tosses in another couple of green chips.
“Not in Texas,” Stevie says. “Fold.”
Jared tosses in five chips. “Raise. Call. And I don’t think we should be talking about the Big Boss Man’s private life behind his back.”
The others laugh. “We’d talk about it in front of him if the bastard would deign to play with us but he likes to have his book club with Big Pete.”
Jared was glad Jensen and Pete had become friends. Pete was a deep thinker. He needed someone he could talk about literary symbolism and shit with. Jared considered himself smart and well-read, but that would never be him. To him a great white whale was just a fucking whale, not a symbol of self fulfilling prophesy or something and blue wallpaper was never going to be a symbol of the protagonists depression. It was just wallpaper.
Jared slaps down his hand of cards. “Four of a kind! Pay the fuck up, assholes!” He shouts in victory.
It was wrong to be in their room, their bed, alone. He knows Petey is right. Jared needs sleep. The little cat nap he grabbed in the car didn’t do any good, all that did was make him realize how tired he really was and knot up the muscles in his back and neck. The guys were doing everything, running down any lead, however remote. Legwork had never been his specialty anyway; hits and interrogations were what he dealt in. All he could do right now was sleep. Feeling lost, Jared trudges over to the walk-in closet. He grabs one of Jensen’s Burberry shirts. He strips out of his clothes and puts on Jensen’s shirt. Then he goes over to the bed and faceplants into Jensen’s pillow, breathing in the well-loved and familiar scent of his cologne and shampoo. His heart aches as he falls asleep.
It always awed Jared how Jensen so easily surrendered to him. Jensen was bent over the bed, his arms bound behind his back with soft black rope in a maze of knots and wrapped tight from wrists all the way up to his shoulders. The dark rope was gorgeous against Jensen’s pale freckled skin. Jared wished they had a spreader bar, but other than dildos and vibrators they weren’t much for toys or other equipment. Jared’s power, Jensen’s surrender, was what they used instead and it was more intoxicating.
He thrust deep into Jensen, his baby so tight around him. Jared couldn’t hold on anymore and slammed home one final time before emptying inside the man he loved. He collapsed atop Jensen, but didn’t stay. He had been tied for a good while now. Jared needed to free him, give him a nice massage and cuddle him. Jared pulled out and his cum flooded out of Jensen’s abused hole and trickled down his creamy muscled thighs.
Jared goes to untie the knots, undoing his handiwork. His brows come together in a puzzled frown. Jensen wasn’t moving. Something was wrong. Jared’s heart pounded out of control and icy fear replaced the lazy warm afterglow. He grasped Jensen’s shoulder and turned him over. Jensen’s green eyes were blank and glazed, but somehow accusatory, his mouth hung open and slack. He was dead. His love was dead! Jared couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was. He blinked hard but when he opened his eyes once more the vision was worse, so much worse. Jensen was a decaying corpse on the bed, skin rotted away, eyes gone, just empty dark holes. Jared threw back his head and screamed.
Jared jackknifed up in the bed, eyes wide and staring. His heart thudding against his ribs so hard it hurt. A nightmare. Just a horrific nightmare. Jensen wasn’t dead and rotting. He was asleep beside him in bed. Jared exhales and turns, Jensen’s name on his lips. It hits him again. Jensen had been kidnapped by Misha or under Misha’s orders four days ago. His throat closes up on a scream. His eyes sting and blur as tears spill from his eyes.
What the fuck was he doing in bed, sleeping when Jensen was god knew where with god knew what being done to him. Jared bolts out of bed. The clock indicates Jared had only been asleep for three hours. More than enough.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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 to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Fic title and chapter titles are all Metallica songs.
2 – Here Comes Revenge
The Ranch is what it looks like from the outside, an abandoned run-down former horse ranch the Ackles Organization bought decades ago. The paddocks are overgrown, the fences rotting and missing in places, the barn is collapsed on the north side, stove in by a tree in a storm years before, and miles away from the nearest neighbor. The house itself is also dilapidated and in bad disrepair, as far as the exterior goes. Inside it is a fortress, heavy locks and steel doors, three feet thick solid concrete walls that were all soundproofed into four individual interrogation cells.
Jared stands beside the table, with his plastic face shield down, rubber apron over his shirt and jeans, black gloves over his big skilled hands. His toybox of shiny metal instruments open on the table beside him. He imagines he looks like the villain in every torture porn flick, but interrogation is dirty work. He may be dressed in Levis and a black tee but he ain’t about to get his clothes splattered with blood or any other bodily fluid. You can’t get that shit out. Just have to throw your clothes away. Wasteful, really.
Pileggi’s big bald head is peppered with fat beads of sweat as Petey and Kane haul him into the cell. Pileggi’s one eye is swollen shut, probably broken orbital bone, maybe even cheekbone. There’s a nasty gash on his forehead and he has a split lip. He was more or less in good condition, like Jared ordered.
“Strap ‘im in,” Jared said coolly, eyes already going over the tools in his arsenal wondering what he should start with.
“I don’t know anything,” Pileggi says, but he sounds mushmouthed. Probably got some missing teeth or maybe a fucked jawbone, those hambones Petey calls fists pack a wallop. It does give Jared an idea; he’ll start with a little Marathon Man action.
Kane and Petey drag him over to the embalming table. Jared chose that for his interrogations because those tables were hard and solid not offering any comfort for a live person. The idea of being alive on an embalming table was sometimes enough to unman people; plus, embalming tables had those handy channels for spilled blood to run into. It was old and made of porcelain and Jared could orient his subject however he wished. He had customized this gem with arm and leg restraints as well as a cap for the head.
Pileggi’s eyes go wide as he takes in it. He drags his feet to inhibit Petey and Kane’s progress. Pointless; Petey could bench press the traitorous old fuck.
“Honest! I was never told anything!”
This guy is fucking lying thought the teeth he’s about to lose. “Hmm-mmm,” Jared says noncommittally pulling out a sickle probe and examining its sharpness. Oh. How silly of him. He’s getting ahead of himself. He puts the probe down and picks up the retractor.
“You can end this even befoah he gets staahted by tellin’ ‘im wheah Mr. Ackles is,” Petey says effortlessly hefting Pileggi onto the table, despite his struggles.
“I don’t know!”
“Open wide,” Jared says holding out a plastic retractor to slip into his mouth.
Pileggi pales. His Adam’s apple bobs as he convulsively swallows. “No,” he shakes his head even as Kane grabs it and brings the leather strap down across his forehead and locks it off tight; then follows with the chin strap.
“Comfy?” Jared asks politely.
“No. Please.”
“Word of advice: just tell him what you know,” Kane says. He pats Pileggi’s right cheek, the possibly broken one. Pileggi flinches and whimpers. Kane grins over at Jared and gives him a wink.
“I don’t know!” Pileggi wails.
Jared jerks his head toward the door, dismissing Petey and Kane. He has work to do.
Petey stood with his head bowed in contrition as Mr. Ackles—privately Jared called him Jensen but wasn’t brave enough yet to address him by his name out loud—bawled them out for the hijacking. He doesn’t yell; his icy timbre and underlying threats get the point across more effectively than shouting. This man is always in control, Jared observes. He wondered if that control extended to the bedroom.
Loath as he was to even think about those two dark years he had “worked” for Kurt Fuller they taught him several things. Men like Jensen, men who shoulder enormous responsibility and are always in control, sometimes need to let it go, long to let it go. Maybe it’s that way for Jensen, or it was possible he liked to always be in control. Either way it played out was cool with Jared. He wanted to be whatever Jensen needed him to be. No, Jared reflected, he didn’t want to only be a plaything for the Big Boss Man. He wanted to be a help, a source of comfort and strength to Jensen.
Was this what falling in love felt like?
Jared remembered how nervous he was the first time he set foot into the mansion. It was nothing to how nervous he was now as he went up the stairs to the third floor. His first night at the Compound and he was heading up to bed the Big Boss Man. He was taking a big risk, but he thought it would pay off. Jensen wanted him and Jared wanted him in return. It went beyond physical attraction. He was in love with Jensen.
He had thought there might be a guard stationed at the bottom of the gently rising stairs, but the way was clear. Stepping onto the third floor felt like stepping on hallowed ground. This was Jensen’s private domain. He opened one door but only saw what appeared to be a games room with a pool table in the center and a poker table near the corner and a wet bar, all very tasteful and masculine. Jared adored it. Behind the next door was a library with floor to ceiling built in bookcases each lined with books. Petey would love it in there. Behind one door was nothing but extra linens and cleaning supplies. The last door had to be Jensen’s bedroom. Jared pressed his ear to the door but heard nothing from within. He had no idea what he would do if Jensen was with another man.
He turned the knob and the door opened silently. Jensen was inside, buttoning the top of his gorgeous sapphire blue silk pajamas. He turned, brows drawn together and luscious mouth pulled down in a scowl, no doubt pissed for someone intruding in his bedroom. Jared’s heart thudded and he struggled to keep his cool and aloof mask in place. If Jensen turned him away Jared thought he might die from humiliation.
He licked his lips and eyed Jensen up and down, saw the growing bulge at the front of his pajama bottoms. He crosses the room with deliberate steps, eyes locked with Jensen’s. When he is inches away from the man he asks the question he already knows the answer to. “We doin’ this, baby?”
Jensen’s beautiful eyes fill with longing so acute it hurts Jared’s heart. He knows in that instant that Jensen longs to let go of his rigidly held control. It’s confirmed when Jensen sinks to his knees and calls him ‘Sir’. Jared vows on what tattered honor he has that he will be exactly what Jensen needs. Use every trick in his extensive arsenal to give Jensen unparalleled pleasure.
Jared has had a lot of sex, but with Jensen it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It went beyond physical need, slaking desire. The absolute trust Jensen put in him was humbling. Jared would never misuse or betray it.
When Jensen rides his cock, that tight hot body moving so gracefully on him, those lust-blackened eyes locked with his, Jared’s heart and mouth run away with him. He babbles that he loves Jensen, he says it over and over and knows every word spilling from his lips is the god’s honest truth. This man is everything Jared has ever wanted but never dared to dream he could have. When Jensen replies, “you too,” in an ardent husk, Jared feels a tightness in his chest, as if his heart, broken at the age of ten when his mother, father, and little newborn baby sister were taken from him, was mending, made whole with Jensen’s love.
Jensen passes out after his third climax, by then Jared had him coming dry. Jared holds his lover tightly in his arms, feeling more at peace with himself, the world, than he ever has. He would do anything, go to the ends of the earth for Jensen, and it would never be enough for all that Jensen has given him: comfort, security, luxury, money, and, now, love. He would kill for Jensen, had, and would again. If it came to it he would also die for him.
Jared silently pushed open the door to Jensen’s bedroom. Three years and they are still doing this covert undercover lover shit. It’s kind of annoying, having to creep in and out of his lover’s bedroom every night lest someone suspect that they are anything but boss and employee. Jared understands Jensen’s reasoning, of course. It all stems from the Big Boss Man’s childhood trauma of his mother’s abduction. Abducted because Iron Alan was a powerful figure and Donna had been used as leverage for an attempted take-over. In his way, Jensen is trying to protect Jared from something similar and keeping their relationship on the downlow gives Jensen a measure of comfort. Okay, maybe Jared doesn’t mind the creeping so much. He kinda feels like a ninja and ninjas are awesome.
The bedroom is empty, the plush four poster king size bed turned down for the evening, but light spills out from the ensuite. Jared enters the bedroom and closes the door behind him. He can hear Jensen singing softly from the bathroom. Hearing Jensen sing is a rare treat so Jared doesn’t announce his arrival. Instead moves closer to the cracked door to listen to the whiskey and cigarettes voice of his man.
“It's my private pleasure. Midnight fantasy. Someone to share my wildest dreams with me. Imaginary lover you're mine anytime.” Jensen has his emerald pajama bottoms on shaking that cute little ass as he sings.
Jared grins and pushes open the bathroom door. “Oh, baby, I ain’t imaginary, but I am yours anytime.”
Jensen turns, his face flushing in embarrassment. “You sneaky bastard.”
Jared arches a brow. “Is that how you talk to me? When I came in here, it was with the intent on fucking that ass. Am I gonna have to spank it, too?”
Jensen swallows and his cheeks redden even more. He seems to struggle with himself before locking gazes with Jared. “I don’t know, Sir. Are you?”
He does both.
“Hey, Jared?” Jensen’s voice is a sleepy drawl post orgasm. Unlike most men Jensen doesn’t conk out after sex, he likes to talk. Jared hates it because he always feels so open after making love with Jensen that he will tell him anything he wants to know.
“Hmm?” Jared replies.
“You mentioned once that you killed your foster father. Was that the first time you killed?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you tell me about it? I’ll understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I’m just curious.”
After three years together there isn’t much they don’t know about each other. Jared has never gone in depth about his youth, not because he doesn’t want to, but because Jensen has never before directly asked. Jared will tell him anything he wants to know…except about the two years he was a boy whore. He will never tell him that.
“It all goes back to when I was nine,” Jared begins. “I’ve figured stuff out over the years, the way you do once you have an adult’s eyes.”
Jensen nods, gorgeous green eyes warm with sympathy and understanding. He laces his fingers through Jared’s hair pushing the sweat-damp strands away from his face. Not allowing Jared to hide from him.
“I was an only child for years. I’d always ask my folks when could I have a brother or sister. I think now my mom had trouble conceiving or carrying. I never knew which. When I was nine she got pregnant. We were all so happy. Mom was gonna have a daughter and I was gonna have a baby sister to play with and protect. I’d sit with Mom on the couch and talk to Meggie, Mom and Dad already named her Megan. Tell her all we could do together and the fun we would have.” Jared feels his eyes begin to sting and his throat closing up. “I’d feel her move and respond to me. It was so amazing to me. A real little person, my sister, was inside mom and I loved her so much already.
“Then mom got sick, that’s all I understood at the time. She had to stay in bed for the rest of her pregnancy. They always talked about her blood pressure being too high. I think she probably had preeclampsia and that’s dangerous. She went into labor with Meggie a month early, but Meggie was fine, apart from being kinda small, and Mom was okay. Dad was tired but happy when he came home to tell me about it. He said they’d have to stay at the hospital for a bit before he could bring them home. When time came for them to come home….” Jared stops. He can’t do it. He doesn’t want to go back to the time his life exploded. Jensen isn’t pushing, just watching him with those patient eyes. Jared blinks hard, feels tears spill over his lower lids. Jensen brushes them away.
“They were killed in a head-on collision on the interstate coming home from the hospital,” he says in a strangled voice.
“Oh, Jared. I would do anything to spare you that. I am so sorry.”
Jared sniffs and forces himself to go on. It hurts thinking about this, talking about it, but not as bad as he thought it would. “I ended up in the foster system. From there I ended up with the Armstrongs, Curtis and Alma.”
“And he molested you?”
“Tried or maybe he did. I don’t fuckin’ know. The worst part was how he tried to manipulate me. Said God knew I was a dirty boy who liked men and He had killed my family as punishment.”
“What!” Jensen explodes, face a mask of fury and Jared falls even deeper in love. “That’s just….”
“I know. I didn’t even know I was gay at the time,” Jared shrugs. “Well, I might have. I knew boys were supposed to like girls and get married when you grew up. All I could think about was wanting to kiss and hold hands with Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.”
Jensen smiles his warm knowing smile. “I had a crush on Luke Perry from 90210.”
Jared wants to smile but he can’t his heart is too full of pain. “He would touch me at first. Just little friendly shit: a pat on the back, petted my hair, you know, but it escalated. He’d pat my butt, rub my chest, then my dick. It felt good, ya know? And that confused me. If he was doing something bad to me it should feel bad but it didn’t. Then, he tried to make me touch him. I packed some clothes, a jar of peanut butter and jelly, a loaf of bread, some Kool-Aid and left. You know what happened after that. I met Petey and things were mostly okay. I had someone who looked out for me, taught me things. He kept me fed, found us places to squat in, and he never tried to bad-touch me.
“I still carried the guilt over my family’s death that Armstrong had instilled in me. It mixed with my burgeoning sexual identity as I got older. I’d fuck girls.” Jared shuddered at the memory. “I’d be on them, rutting between their thighs, but if I wanted to cum I’d have to imagine I was with a man. It eventually turned to anger as I got older. When I was fifteen it kinda exploded. I went to where the Armstrongs used to live. They were still there. I cased the joint for a bit. I didn’t really have a plan but knew I wanted to do something. One day I noticed the garage door was up. I went in. Grabbed a tire iron and slipped into the house. Curtis was asleep on the couch in the living room. I bashed his fucking brains in. I kept hitting him and hitting him until his skull was a jigsaw puzzle and his brains were strawberry jelly. I thought it was his blood that splashed on my face and it was but there were also tears. I hadn’t even realized I had been crying. That sick fuck was dead and knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone the way he hurt me was so satisfying.”
Jared realizes he feels a bit lighter after confiding in Jensen. Maybe he would eventually be able to tell Jensen about the two years he sold his body. He just doesn’t want Jensen to think less of him.
Jared held up the tooth he had extracted with a critical eye. “Looks like a little cavity there. Might wanna see your dentist once all this is over.”
Pileggi sobs. Runnels of blood leak from between his gasping lips, viscous and bright.
There was a buzz at the door. Jared scowled and turned away from his subject. He opened the door and was greeted by Stevie Guitar.
“Mr. Padalecki, sir,” There again was that deference Jared was not used to. He played pool and poker with these men but now he was their leader, their boss, it was disorientating. Jared wondered if maybe that deference and Jared’s lack thereof from the beginning—he treated Jensen with respect, of course, but he also treated him like any other guy—was what attracted Jensen to him.
“I am very sorry to interrupt, but we found Mr. Ackles’s cell phone. It was firmly in Marchesi controlled territory with blood on it and around it. In addition, Aldis said one of the locations that pinged on Mr. Ackles’s GPS was related to the Colombians.”
“Italians and Colombians?” Jared asks flummoxed. Jared knew the Ackles Organization and the Italian mob had a peace between them extending back to when Jensen’s mother had been kidnapped and Alan had appealed to the Marchesi’s for help. Family was everything to the Italians and they had stepped in and helped retrieve Donna. Had the Italians broken a decades old peace? And to what end? It didn’t feel right to Jared. It felt like misdirection, but he would be damned if he ignored any possible lead. Jensen had no direct dealings with Colombian drug lords. Mad Mike Rosenbaum dealt with them and relayed anything of import back to Jensen.
“Run ‘em down. Tommy Blue has dealt with the Italians a time or two in business matters. Have him check with his contacts and see what they say. Bring in Mad Mike to check out this Colombian shit.” Jared rakes and hand through his hair and winces. The bloody rubber glove pulls. “None of this feels right.”
“Agreed,” Stevie Guitar replies. “It’s a wild goose chase.”
“It is but check ‘em out just the same. Get back to me with the intel.”
Stevie Guitar bowed his head and stepped back. “Yes, sir.”
Jared closed the door and turned back to his subject who was blubbering; liquid gurgles interspersed with unintelligible words.
“Is it me?” Jared asks thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong questions. I believe you when you say you don’t know where Jensen is.” He removes the retractor from Pileggi’s mutilated mouth. Hey, Jared never went to dental school, but he tried his best here. “I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts you know who has him.” Jared eschews the dental tools for a good ol’ scalpel. He holds it in Pileggi’s line of sight, the light winks off the blade, so pretty and sharp. “So, I’ll ask once, nicely, who did you sell Jensen to?”
The spark of guilt in Pileggi’s pain-shrouded eyes let Jared know he’s on the right track. Yeah, this motherfucker sold Jensen out to someone. “Why? Jensen has been good to you. Alan was good to you, too.”
Pileggi spits; blood and saliva splashes against the plastic shield. “That asshole gave all you young faggot punks a chance but never me! I’d been here for decades but the old fuck and the pretty fag boy just wanted me to haul their asses around. Even you! And who are you?” He rakes his eyes disdainfully over Jared. Pain seems to have been eclipsed by anger for now. “Just another young faggot punk! Pretty Jenny always talks about loyalty. But where did my loyalty get me? Nowhere! I was overlooked, so yeah, I looked for someone who would appreciate me.”
“Your loyalty got you a cushy job as chauffeur and a fucking well paid one at that. If Alan and Jensen didn’t see worth in you beyond that, that’s because there was none.”
“Fuck you. He may think I’m no one but a damn chauffeur, but I see shit. I see that you and Pretty Jenny are fucking. If I’d known all I had’a do to move up the ladder was bang the boss I’d tried years ago. That big fucker with the black hair fuck Jenny, too? What’s the matter? Your cock not big enough for that slut?”
Red fills Jared’s vision. Fury pounds through him like a stallion at the Kentucky Derby but he cannot act rashly. Pileggi is talking now and Jared will not stop him no matter what he hears. He’s not gonna let him run his mouth about his man for too much longer. Time is fucking wasting. He moves to the end of the embalming table, pats Pileggi’s booted foot amiably before plucking at the laces.
“What…what’re you doin’?” His voice lost that spiteful tone as fear crept back in, wary eyes following Jared.
“Me? Oh, nothing,” Jared says glibly. “It’s warm in here isn’t it? These boots are awful heavy. Your feet must be sweltering.” Jared gets a boot unlaced and tugs it off. The sweat-soaked sock soon follows. He gently caresses the bottom of his big foot with the scalpel. It twitches and jerks as Jared moves to the heel and then up to the thick tendon. Pileggi’s breathing picks up and Jared presses the blade hard against the tendon.
“If you wanna walk without a limp again you tell me now: who has Jensen?”
“It was Misha! Misha Collins! He said he’d make me one of the top guys in his organization if I helped him! I just wanted something more.” Pileggi pathetically sobs. “You’ll lemme go now, right? I told you everything.”
“Sure. I’ll let you go.” He smiles his dimpled charming smile then plunges the scalpel deep into the side of Pileggi’s neck and twists. “Straight to hell!” He hollers.
Pileggi’s heavy body bucks as blood gouts from the gash in thick crimson spurts with his racing heart. His bound hands flex and move as if to try and stem the flow of his lifeblood. Pileggi gags and gasps gurgling cries, eyes searching about frantically. There is no savior, no mercy, to be had here, just the waiting arms of Death.
Jared turns from the dying man, throws the scalpel down, and rips off his apron. He strides to the door and throws it open. Outside the Inner Circle guys are all ready and waiting to be of service. They gaze at him with a new esteem, a different kind of respect. It comes over Jared in a flood. This is how they look at Jensen, how they treat him, as a friend but also at a distance. That realization is compounded with the fact that they now regard Jared as the Big Boss Man in Jensen’s absence. When Jensen had named Jared as his Second in Command and successor in the event of his death or retirement, it had always seemed an abstract idea to Jared, being in charge. There was no doubt about it now, he was in charge.
“Misha fucking Collins has him,” Jared growls. “You guys are Jensen’s most trusted, I know you have your own rackets to run, but getting Jensen back has to be our priority.”
The four men nod, faces grave. “Little J—,” Kane pauses, corrects himself. “Jared, the guys that work under us are all loyal to us, to Jensen. They can handle the rackets while we concentrate on this.”
“Anyone else know Jensen is missing?” Jared asks.
“No, sir,” Stevie says.
“I’m a fucking criminal, all my life,” Jared says. “I know jack shit about running Jensen’s legitimate business.”
“Jared, I can act in Jensen’s stead with regard to Ackles Enterprises,” Tommy Blue says. “I earned my MBA and I’m already COO and President. You can trust that everything will be okay while you are working to find Jensen.”
Jared feels heartened. “Bring me that fucking sonofabitch bastard. I want you to round up anyone and everyone in Collins’ gang and interrogate them.” Jared dismissed them with an upward nod of his head. As they leave Jared pulls out his phone and dials up the Organization’s hackers, Aldis Hodge and Chad Lindberg.
“Hey, Little Jay,” Aldis greets cheerily after a couple of rings.
“Aldis, I got some work for you. All very confidential and of extreme importance.”
“Sir?” Aldis’ voice lost that cheerfulness.
“Jensen has been taken by some wannabe mob headed by Misha Collins. I need you to find out everything you can. Anything he might have his fingers in, any properties he might have, where his money comes from, where it goes. Anything and everything about that motherfucker.”
“On it, Boss,” Aldis says and Jared can already hear him clicking away on keyboards.
“Aldis, I don’t need to tell you that Jensen’s disappearance goes no further than you and Lindberg.”
“No, sir, you don’t. We got this.”
“I want regular updates,” Jared says before ending the call.
At a loss for what else to do now but wait for his men to get back to him, Jared heads outside. The sun blasts him like a furnace. He gazes around and observes Petey sitting in his ’65 Mustang chowin’ down on a burger. Jared crosses the dooryard and joins him.
“Hey ya, Kid,” Petey greets as Jared folds himself into the car. “How aah ya?” He motions for Jared to help himself to the greasy Whataburger bag and Starbucks coffee.
“I’m fuckin’ tired, Petey.”
“You need to get some sleep.”
Jared sighs as he unwraps a burger. “How can I? I need to be doing something.” He takes a huge bite and chews mechanically but tastes nothing. He’ll need strength and for that he needs to eat. He’s much more interested in the venti coffee.
Pete takes another huge bite. “Ya have been,” he says through a mouthful of burger. “Ya got Pileggi to spill his guts.”
He had but it seemed to have taken a very long time. Now it was going to take even longer to run down Collins. Jared takes a gulp of his coffee. “Can you believe all this shit is because of that fucker Misha Collins?” Jared asks.
“Naw. He nevah seemed smaaht enough to run his own racket. That he only did well because shit had already been established by Jensen’s family befoah him. But I’d bet he neva felt that way. Self impoahtant.”
Jared nods. He finishes off the coffee and goes for another one. “When I get my fuckin’ hands on him…” Jared trails off, already envisioning all the delightful ways he will interrogate the bastard. Jared slouches down in the seat, tilts his head back, and closes his tired eyes. “’S weird,” he slurs.
“What?” Pete inquires, taking the hot cup of coffee from Jared’s relaxing grip.
“The guys. They’re actin’ like ‘m Jensen. ‘M not the Big Boss Man. Nev’r wan’ed t’ be,” Jared murmurs before dropping off to sleep.
“Hey’a, Little,” Kane says blue eyes regarding Jared with suspicion. “I know you’re new to the Compound, but this whole floor is Jensen’s private living space and is off limits, even to us Inner Circle guys without his permission. He know you’re up here?”
Jared suppresses the smirk. He has Jensen’s permission all right. He’s fucked Jensen on the pool table a few times now. “Yeah. Big Boss Man said it’d be alright for me to play pool if I wanted. It’s a gorgeous table.” What he doesn’t say, will never say, is how beautiful Jensen looked bent over it while Jared feasted on his ass.
Kane nods and comes fully into the games room. “It is. I’ve been friends with Jensen since college. Kinda take things a bit for granted now. You play much?” Kane takes up a cue.
“Oh yeah. Hustlin’ pool is how I kept my belly full growing up.” Not exactly a lie but not the whole truth either.
Kane grins and puts the cue back. “I don’t feel like getting my ass handed to me by a kid tonight. Anyway, it’s our poker night.” Kane crosses to the round mahogany poker table in the corner.
“Our?” Jared asks.
“Me, Stevie, Lazy Jase, and Tommy. You’re Inner Circle now, so, how ‘bout it, Little? Deal ya in for a hand? Ante starts at five hundred. We play for real money, though,” Kane cautioned.
“Is Jensen going to join us?” Jared asks approaching the table. The mahogany wood was glossy, the table top was dark leather with tooling around the edges. The pedestal was heavily hand-carved with a vine pattern. There were brass cup holders and chip racks. There were five leather high backed chairs that matched the table top. It was an exquisite piece of furniture. Not that that should surprise Jared but somehow it still did. He felt he would always be the broke kid from the streets, never used to the finery he was now surrounded by.
“Doubt it. He was headed to the library when I came up.” Jared had sent Petey up there when he said he wanted something to read. He hoped he hadn’t got his friend in trouble.
“Hey! Oh, we got some new blood?” Stevie Guitar says as he enters the room.
“Fucking sharks are circlin’,” Lazy Jase says sauntering in after him.
“Hey, Little,” Tommy Blue greets, slapping him on the back and eyeing him up and down. “Maybe not. He’s got about an inch on me.”
“You know that how?” Kane says opening a fresh pack of cards and beginning to expertly shuffle them. “Take your cock out, Little, Tommy Blue, and lets measure.”
“Oh fuck you, Kane,” Tommy says taking a seat at the table.
“I’m flattered, really, but I don’t swing that way. Thought you were fuckin’ Mad Mike?” Kane counters.
“Don’t presume,” Stevie says sitting down. “Mad Mike could be fuckin’ him.” The four men laugh.
Jared stands there awkwardly, feeling like an interloper. These men have been friends for years, they are important to Jensen and Jared wants them to like him. More importantly, he wants their respect and to be included. Just because Jensen has brought him, and Petey, into his Inner Circle doesn’t mean that they will automatically accept them. Jared hasn’t been to school since he was nine so his socialization is really kind of crap. He can imitate the behaviors of others and has a certain degree of surface charm when he needs it but to be included with these men will take more than that.
“You gonna play pool, Little, or you wanna play a hand with us?” Kane asks.
“I’ll play,” Jared says approaching the poker table somewhat timidly. “If you’re sure it’s okay. I don’t wanna intrude.”
“C’mon, Little, sit your skinny ass down,” Kane says.
“I’m lean, not skinny,” Jared retorts and takes the one empty seat at the table. “There is a difference. And don’t be checking out my ass, shorty.”
The four men exchange stunned looks. For a second Jared thinks he has crossed some invisible barrier, made some unforgivable faux pas. He was weighing the thought of apologizing and beating a hasty retreat when Kane speaks.
“Oh, fuck off you lanky ass motherfucker. You, Big Pete, Tommy Blue, fuck, even Jensen are fucking giants, and you all can suck my fat cock,” Kane says scowling as he slaps down the cards.
Tommy Blue, Lazy Jase, and Stevie Guitar all explode into a riot of laughter and Jared allows himself to relax.
It became a regular thing, Jared would play poker, pool, or darts a couple of times a month with the other IC guys. They all filter into the games room at ten or ten-thirty, and ice cold beers were cracked open. Not for Jared however, he never drank anything as common as beer. He had a bottle of 15 year old Glenfiddich and heavy crystal tumbler beside him and was lighting a Cuban cigar as the other IC members strolled in for their evening of male-bonding. Cards were dealt and bets were made and the shit-talking began then settled into more familiar conversation and a little gossiping.
“Where did Jensen spirit away to last night?” Stevie Guitar asked tossing in his ante.
The previous evening had been a Date Night of sorts for Jensen and Jared. They had gone to Fearing’s and had an exquisite meal. Then come back to the Compound and had exquisite sex.
“Why do you even fuckin’ ask?” Kane said glancing at his cards. “Two.” He discarded and Jared dealt him two new cards. “Little Jay is like a fuckin’ Sphinx. Sees everything tells nothing. Why y’all think Jensen takes Jay with ‘im?”
“Because I don’t gossip like you nosy bastards,” Jared imparted. He drew on his cigar and exhaled the smoke. “I fuckin’ swear sometimes playin’ with you guys is little more than an old biddy’s sewing circle.”
This drew jeers from his companions; beer bottle caps and pretzels, corn chips or other snacks were tossed at him.
“You are no fun, Little Jay,” Lazy Jase said.
“Yeah, tell us a little about the man Jensen’s seeing. What’s he look like?”
“Why are you assuming it’s just one man?” Tommy asks. “Three.” He discards and Jared deals him three new cards. “Jensen is a handsome man, rich as Croesus, and still reasonably young. He may be seeing a few guys. I think if Jensen ever got serious he’d move his man here to the Compound. Jensen knows this is the safest place. He’d want his partner here.”
“You and Mike still in the Honeymoon phase of your relationship?” Jared asked deftly shifting attention away from Jensen’s love life. “He decorating that little house all pretty for you?”
“Can it really be called a Honeymoon phase when Mikey and I have been off and on for years now?”
“Well, you’re definitely on now,” Stevie says. “Shackin’ up together.”
“Livin’ in sin!” Jared crows.
“I thought you were better than that, Tommy,” Kane says seriously. “Better make an honest man outta Mike.”
“You guys are such shits,” Tommy Blue says, color rising in his cheeks.
“What about you, Little Jay? You got some sweet thing tucked away somewhere?” Lazy Jase asks.
“Please, look at him,” Stevie says. “He’s a fucking sex god with that body and that mane. ‘Course he’s got some hot little number stashed away at some penthouse somewhere. Probably a big-titted blonde with legs up to her chin and an ass like a peach.”
Jared smiles enigmatically as he looks at his cards. He has a tall blond with an ass like a peach, no doubt. He glances at the Philippe Patek watch on his wrist that Jensen gave him for their anniversary; twelve years now.
“Looka that shit-eating grin,” Kane says. “He’s got a sweet little piece alright. What she look like?”
“That motherfucker ain’t gonna tell shit,” Stevie Guitar says tossing a couple of chips into the pot. “Raise. He’s like Jensen that way. Keeps his shit private. Can’t fault ‘im on that.”
“Ever think Jensen’ll ever get married?” Tommy says. “Now it’s legal and all?” He lays his cards down.
Jared’s heart thuds in his chest. Gay marriage became the law of the land a few months ago. It wasn’t anything Jared had ever considered before, but to be married to Jensen, to belong to each other forever in a concrete, legal way, was so fucking seductive.
“Doubt it,” Kane says. “That shit with his mom when he was little left a stain on him. It’s why he don’t ever talk about his relationships. He and his man can have a private ceremony but marriage licenses are public record. If Jensen tied the knot with his fella the press would be all over it. Everybody would want to know who finally nabbed Dallas’ three-time Most Eligible Bachelor. Jensen don’t want that kind of attention. His fella might not want it either.”
“There are such things as confidential marriage licenses.” Lazy Jace says. “Raise,” he tosses in another couple of green chips.
“Not in Texas,” Stevie says. “Fold.”
Jared tosses in five chips. “Raise. Call. And I don’t think we should be talking about the Big Boss Man’s private life behind his back.”
The others laugh. “We’d talk about it in front of him if the bastard would deign to play with us but he likes to have his book club with Big Pete.”
Jared was glad Jensen and Pete had become friends. Pete was a deep thinker. He needed someone he could talk about literary symbolism and shit with. Jared considered himself smart and well-read, but that would never be him. To him a great white whale was just a fucking whale, not a symbol of self fulfilling prophesy or something and blue wallpaper was never going to be a symbol of the protagonists depression. It was just wallpaper.
Jared slaps down his hand of cards. “Four of a kind! Pay the fuck up, assholes!” He shouts in victory.
It was wrong to be in their room, their bed, alone. He knows Petey is right. Jared needs sleep. The little cat nap he grabbed in the car didn’t do any good, all that did was make him realize how tired he really was and knot up the muscles in his back and neck. The guys were doing everything, running down any lead, however remote. Legwork had never been his specialty anyway; hits and interrogations were what he dealt in. All he could do right now was sleep. Feeling lost, Jared trudges over to the walk-in closet. He grabs one of Jensen’s Burberry shirts. He strips out of his clothes and puts on Jensen’s shirt. Then he goes over to the bed and faceplants into Jensen’s pillow, breathing in the well-loved and familiar scent of his cologne and shampoo. His heart aches as he falls asleep.
It always awed Jared how Jensen so easily surrendered to him. Jensen was bent over the bed, his arms bound behind his back with soft black rope in a maze of knots and wrapped tight from wrists all the way up to his shoulders. The dark rope was gorgeous against Jensen’s pale freckled skin. Jared wished they had a spreader bar, but other than dildos and vibrators they weren’t much for toys or other equipment. Jared’s power, Jensen’s surrender, was what they used instead and it was more intoxicating.
He thrust deep into Jensen, his baby so tight around him. Jared couldn’t hold on anymore and slammed home one final time before emptying inside the man he loved. He collapsed atop Jensen, but didn’t stay. He had been tied for a good while now. Jared needed to free him, give him a nice massage and cuddle him. Jared pulled out and his cum flooded out of Jensen’s abused hole and trickled down his creamy muscled thighs.
Jared goes to untie the knots, undoing his handiwork. His brows come together in a puzzled frown. Jensen wasn’t moving. Something was wrong. Jared’s heart pounded out of control and icy fear replaced the lazy warm afterglow. He grasped Jensen’s shoulder and turned him over. Jensen’s green eyes were blank and glazed, but somehow accusatory, his mouth hung open and slack. He was dead. His love was dead! Jared couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was. He blinked hard but when he opened his eyes once more the vision was worse, so much worse. Jensen was a decaying corpse on the bed, skin rotted away, eyes gone, just empty dark holes. Jared threw back his head and screamed.
Jared jackknifed up in the bed, eyes wide and staring. His heart thudding against his ribs so hard it hurt. A nightmare. Just a horrific nightmare. Jensen wasn’t dead and rotting. He was asleep beside him in bed. Jared exhales and turns, Jensen’s name on his lips. It hits him again. Jensen had been kidnapped by Misha or under Misha’s orders four days ago. His throat closes up on a scream. His eyes sting and blur as tears spill from his eyes.
What the fuck was he doing in bed, sleeping when Jensen was god knew where with god knew what being done to him. Jared bolts out of bed. The clock indicates Jared had only been asleep for three hours. More than enough.