A/N: 16th piece of advent fic! First chapter of another new multichapter. But this one is only around five chapters long! And contains nudity! Which InSilva likes!
Disclaimer: I don't own it, as well you know
Wyatt Traynor broke the rules.
He was an art forger with an excellent eye for detail and a taste for gambling. He'd owed some money to the wrong people, and instead of money they'd accepted a list of names. Clients. Friendly neighbourhood criminals.
Suddenly a lot of people found themselves being told that in order to keep the details of their little indiscretions out of the public view, all they had to give was half a million dollars.
Probably it would have worked. But one of the first people they tried it on was Molly Caldwell, and somehow the would-be-blackmailers found themselves in Federal custody before they knew what was going on. Later, they figured that they must have been the victims of one of the most elaborate sting operations in history. Truth was, Bobby didn't like people threatening his wife.
And there the matter might have rested. But Linus wanted to do some digging, and eventually that took him to Vegas and to Wyatt Traynor.
Wyatt Traynor broke the rules. And Linus didn't like people selling out his Mom.
Linus looked sideways at Danny as they followed Wyatt across the floor of the Bellagio, and he resisted the urge to say thank you again. Of course he knew that Danny – and everyone, for that matter – would be happy to drop everything and come help when he explained why he was going after Wyatt...but he hadn't even had to explain before they'd said yes. His word was enough.
"It's the same every day?" Danny checked.
"Uh, yes," Linus stuttered, torn out of his contemplations of gratitude. "He's in the art centre, taking care of the day job until seven, then he spends the rest of the night in the Bellagio, losing money. He's got a couple of bookies he owes money to, but that's all over the phone. Don't think there's a way in there." He looked enquiringly at Danny, just in case he was missing something. Wouldn't be the first time. But Danny didn't look like there was any great moment of genius dawning, and Linus was strangely disappointed.
"Mmmm," Danny said vaguely, looking across the roulette wheels with a sort of thoughtful vacancy that drove Linus to distraction.
"Maybe we could do something with his forging sideline?" Linus went on, optimism struggling through gritted teeth. "He only works on commission, but word is, his reputation matters."
"Mmmm," Danny agreed again, helpfully.
"Or there's the fundraiser night?" Linus suggested with quiet frustration. "All the big wheels in Vegas turning out to support local artists? There's got to be something there we can use...?"
"Mmmmm," Danny said slowly and he was doing it deliberately now, had to be.
"Right," he sighed. "Anyway. We should get out of here before – "
Two serious men in serious suits were standing in front of them, their faces blank behind dark glasses. "Sirs? Mr Benedict would like to inform you that he desires the pleasure of your company at your earliest convenience."
" – that happens," Linus finished with a grimace. There was probably a limit to how often you could take a man's money before you ended up on some kind of unwanted list. And he had a feeling they had crossed that limit some time ago.
Danny smiled charmingly at the serious men. "And if it's not convenient?" he asked politely.
"Oh, them you'll talk to," Linus muttered, and he wasn't surprised to be ignored.
The slightly larger of the men cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Then we get to spend time with you until it is convenient," he explained.
Danny turned to Linus and raised an eyebrow. "So, what do you think?" he asked conversationally. "Boredom or excitement?"
Linus glanced over at the two men. "I think it's going to be boring anyway," he commented, and his voice was light, and just because the threat wasn't empty didn't mean it was ever going to happen. Danny was never going to let it happen. "They don't look like they have much imagination."
Danny considered that for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he shook his head. "They've got to have more than Terry," he said decidedly.
The man who hadn't spoken cleared his throat meaningfully. "Mr Benedict is waiting. Mr Benedict doesn't like being kept waiting."
"Well," Danny said cheerfully. "I'd hate to give Mr Benedict any less than he expects."
Linus rolled his eyes as they followed the two serious men towards the very familiar office. Yeah. Like Terry Benedict ever knew what to expect with Danny.
Terry was sitting behind the desk, writing meticulously in his ledger. He hadn't looked up once from the moment Danny and Linus had been pushed into his office. And Danny would have found the whole I'm-far-too-important-to-notice-you act far more convincing if it hadn't been for the simple fact that in this day and age, he was pretty sure that there was nothing that a man in Terry's position would ever have to actually write down. Except, possibly, his grocery list. Huh. Maybe that was what Terry was doing.
He wished Rusty was here. The silent game of taking bets on exactly how long Terry would feel he had to ignore them for was far less fun with only one player. Linus would never pick up on it the way Rusty could, and Danny didn't feel quite like bringing it to Terry's attention by playing aloud just yet. Maybe if he wasn't so curious as to exactly what Terry had to say...
Still. Three minutes of silence and he was bored. Rusty wasn't the only one with a short attention span. He stood up slowly, wandered off and started inspecting the contents of Terry's office solemnly. Bookcase full of matching leather books with impressive titles and uncracked spines. He gave them a cursory glance, considering the impact of pulling one out at random, sitting back down, sticking his feet up on Terry's desk and starting to read. Oh, that was an idea he might have to come back to. If Terry didn't start talking soon.
Bookcase abandoned, he wandered over to the window and looked out. Huh. From here he could see at least five ways of getting into Terry's office undetected. At least two of them were even actually possible. Something to bear in mind for the future, maybe.
He was aware that Terry was writing a little slower. And, would you look at that, Terry was surreptitiously watching him in the reflection in the window. He gave an annoyingly cheery wave and watched Terry pretend that all his focus was on the grocery list in front of him.
Right. Danny took a pointedly cursory glance at the second hidden safe in the office, the one nobody was supposed to know about it, then he turned his attention to the painting next to it. Oh, that was interesting. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he knew enough to be certain that this was worthless. A not-especially-well executed oil sketch of a group of dancers. Unsigned too. Not something that he'd have expected to see in Terry's office – he knew that Terry had a history of paying more talented people to tell him what was good. He moved in to take a closer look at the picture and that was when Terry cracked.
"You're probably wondering why I had you brought here today," he began self-importantly.
You're going to tell us who the murderer is? Danny just managed to avoid saying it. If Rusty had been here, he probably wouldn't have restrained himself. Actually, if Rusty had been here, chances were good Rusty would have said it first. "I'm sure you're going to tell us, Terry," he said instead with a smile.
"I've been watching you watching Wyatt Traynor," Terry said, like he was expecting them to be surprised.
"Slow day?" Linus asked and Danny grinned. Oh, really, Linus was clearly falling under all kinds of bad influences.
"He likes to watch..." he explained to Linus in an undertone and he narrowly avoided laughing as Linus' eyes widened.
Terry ignored them. "It appears as though we have a common enemy. And in the words of the old Chinese proverb my enemy's enemy is my friend."
Yeah. Right up until the point where you sent a French clown with a boring plan to steal from your enemy's enemy and your enemy's enemy turned round and helped you become a better person. With Oprah. But that probably wasn't such a good subject to mention to Terry right now. Or ever, come to that.
"So what did he do to you?" Linus asked with interest.
"That is not your concern!" Terry said, just a little too quickly.
Danny grinned. "What did he do to you?" he wondered and really, he'd be quite happy to stay in Terry's office until he got an answer.
By the look on Terry's face he could see that. "He attempted to use my name to open doors for him in an attempt to sell some artwork of dubious origin," he explained, his face twisted with disdain.
Danny's eyes flickered to the painting on Terry's far wall. Dubious. Right.
"Not that one," Terry told him tightly.
Huh. Remained intriguing. "So what do you want us to do?"
"I want him exposed," Terry said harshly. "I want him run out of polite society."
Impolite society was so much more interesting anyway. "Uh huh. And you want us to do it."
"You're not doing anything you weren't doing anyway," Terry pointed out. "I just want it understood that you are working f...with me."
Which would do wonders for Terry's reputation. Still. Was worth playing along for the moment. It was always stupid to burn bridges before you were sure what was on the other side. And whether the ropes were flame-retardant. "Mmmm," he said thoughtfully.
"This fundraiser seems the perfect opportunity," Terry went on, and Danny could see the annoyance on Linus' face. "He's been trying to paint himself as a major player in Vegas. That and these exclusive art classes he's been giving to the movers and shakers."
Art classes? Again, Danny turned and looked at the painting on the far wall. Then he turned round and smiled at a suddenly-silent Terry. "Been discovering your inner artist, Terry?"
Linus was choking softly beside him. Danny wasn't sure if it was surprise or laughter. Probably both.
"Are you able to do something about Traynor or not?" Terry demanded furiously.
Danny smiled. "That would be telling."
Danny had called Rusty pretty much as soon as they'd escaped Benedict's office and they'd both disappeared for the rest of the night. Linus really wanted to point out that this was supposed to be his job. Shouldn't he have some idea what was going on?
He sighed. Why change the habits of a lifetime, after all? He was perfectly happy to wait patiently until Danny was willing to tell them everything.
Yeah, right. He wanted to know and he wanted to know now.
It wasn't like he'd been completely cut out of the loop at least. Danny had asked him to find out more about Wyatt's gambling habits and he, Frank and Turk had been talking to bookies all night. He'd learned a lot. Not least that Polka-Dot-Priest in the three thirty was a dead cert with odds of twelve to one. Not information to be discarded lightly.
As far as anyone could tell, Danny and Rusty had been gone all night, only reappearing around eleven the next day in time to everyone to meet in Danny's room in five. He was the last to arrive; everyone was sitting around, apparently waiting for him.
God, that was enough to make him feel nervous.
"So what have we got?" he asked eagerly, leaning back against the wall.
Danny smiled. "We're thinking a Memphis Switch."
"Oh." His eyes widened. "Night of the fundraiser?"
"Exactly," Danny nodded.
"With a twist?" he checked.
"And a slice of lemon," Rusty confirmed seriously.
"Reuben and Terry have already promised to provide the donations for the exhibit," Danny went on.
"Terry came up with some interesting ideas about what he's going to do to us if he doesn't get his paintings back," Rusty added brightly.
"Though I'm not sure the thing with the fountains is possible," Danny commented with a frown. "Seemed a little – "
" – oh, definitely," Rusty agreed. "Not to mention unhygienic. He's going to lose a star."
Linus had a feeling that he really didn't want to know.
"But that's not going to matter because Terry's going to get them back," Livingston said firmly. "Uh, right?"
"Of course," Danny and Rusty chorused innocently.
Reuben smiled. "You haven't asked what I'm going to do to you if I don't get mine back."
"See, Livingston?" Rusty said cheerfully. "There's what you should really be worried about."
"I'm perfectly capable of worrying about multiple things at once, thank you very much," Livingston said with dignity.
Linus cleared his throat. "Uh, the Memphis Switch?" he prompted.
"Right," Danny nodded. "We're going to need someone on the inside to make the switch – "
" – someone else to get Wyatt interested in the press – " Rusty cut in.
" – and someone else else," Danny finished. "These art classes – "
" – exclusive – " Rusty put in. "Expensive."
"And they're going to be – "
" – four more classes until the fundraiser – "
" – lots of time."
They were looking at him expectantly. "You want me to sign up?"
They exchanged a long look and there was a distinct feeling of dread creeping up on Linus. "Well – " Danny temporised.
" – that only gets you so far into the building," Rusty explained.
Danny nodded. "When the class is done – "
" – no reason for you to linger," Rusty added.
"No, we thought – "
" – we thought – "
" – we need someone in a different sort of position," Danny explained, sliding a flyer across the table.
Linus craned over and stared at it.
Wanted: nude models for life classes. All applicants welcome.
He stared a little more. He wasn't the only one.
"Any volunteers?" Rusty asked, leaning back lazily in his chair.
"This is what Benedict's in to?" Reuben spluttered. "You gotta be kidding!"
"Virgil wants to do it!" Turk yelled.
"Least they'd take me," Virgil rounded on him. "They'd take one look at you and send you back to the zoo."
"Not me, not me, not me," Livingston was muttering while Yen posed beside him and Basher surreptitiously started to take bets.
"What do you think, kid?" Danny asked brightly. "It is your job, after all. You up for it?"
His mouth was working furiously but no sound was coming out. Would he...was he...they wanted him to...they were really asking him to...
He could do this. Really, he could do this. "Okay," he squeaked, and then he cleared his throat. "Okay," he said again in a more normal tone of voice.
Frank shook his head unhappily. "No favour you do for your Mom should ever involve getting naked."
Linus was inclined to agree. Not that he was going to admit that.
"Benedict's going to be there," Turk added with a peculiar mixture of amusement, sympathy and horror. "He's going to see your package."
Yen cut in with an entirely unambiguous comment to the effect that Linus had better really, really hope that the room had central heating.
Oh, god. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of...but he didn't even like taking his shirt off in public. And he really didn't want Terry Benedict to find out whether or not he had something to be ashamed of...he'd never be able to look Benedict in the eye again. He'd have to avoid Vegas for the rest of his life.
He could do this...Oh, good lord, suppose he started blushing? Suppose...
He could do this. He wasn't going to let Mom down and he really wasn't going to let Danny and Rusty see him embarrassed and flustered. Not this time round.
"No, it's cool," he said with insistent nonchalance. "I can do this. It'll be easy. I want to do this, even. I'm sure it'll be very enjoyable and..." He stopped talking quickly, aware that he was starting to blush and everyone was staring at him. "That's not what I meant," he muttered.
"Calm down, kid," Danny said with a grin. "Wyatt's already hired Rusty for the next set of classes."
Oh. "So all that was just...come on." He shook his head. "Can't you guys grow up?"
"There's been no sign of it so far," Saul commented gloomily.
"And Rusty's doing the modelling?" Basher checked with a frown.
Danny shrugged. "He's the only exhibitionist we've got."
"I am not an exhibitionist," Rusty muttered, but no one seemed to be listening.
"Dude, Benedict's going to see your package," Virgil informed Rusty solemnly.
Linus glanced at Yen. "Aren't you going to tell him you hope the room is warm?"
Yen shrugged carelessly and said something short and pithy.
Linus' lips tightened. "Right."
"Moving on," Danny cut in quickly. "Rusty can handle most things in the art centre, but we're going to need someone else to act as ringer."
"And to keep an eye on Benedict, right?" Reuben added.
"Right," Danny agreed. "Linus? You seemed happy enough to get naked - you willing to do some painting instead?"
That seemed easier...right up until the moment when he remembered what...or rather who...and what..he'd be painting.
Still he was almost entirely completely certain that Danny was serious this time, so he nodded tightly. "Sure. What am I roping him into?"
Danny smiled. "So far we're hitting his professional reputations - "
" - both of them - " Rusty added.
" - and his social ambitions. We want his money too," Danny said, smiling some more.
Seemed reasonable. "The gambling?" he guessed. "A wire game?"
"Slightly more complicated than that," Rusty told him calmly.
Of course. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. When wasn't it?
"Frank? You up for running a crooked gambling hell?" Danny checked.
"Bash? We're going to need a lot of noise," Rusty added.
Both men nodded.
Slightly more complicated. Right.
"You are okay with this, right, Rus'?" Danny asked as they strolled down the strip in search of hot fudge sundaes and triple espresso.
Rusty shot him a look. "You want to know if I'm okay with taking my clothes off in front of Terry Benedict? And Linus? And who knows who else?"
"Yeah," Danny nodded expectantly. "That's what I want to know."
"Sure," Rusty said with a shrug. "Why not?" He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but he'd done stranger things in his time. Not all of them for good reasons. It didn't really bother him.
"Exhibitionist," Danny accused lightly.
"I'm not," Rusty insisted again, mildly.
"Uh huh," Danny narrowed his eyes. "We back to considering how many people have seen you naked?"
"An exhibitionist is someone who gets turned on by being watched," Rusty said calmly. "If I was an exhibitionist we'd be looking at a whole other problem here."
"Oh." Danny seemed to think about that for a moment. "Oh, that'd have to make it harder - "
" - excuse me?" he interrupted.
" - to paint," Danny finished, ignoring him.
"So what brought this on?" Rusty wondered after a second. "Do I seem particularly insecure?"
Danny grinned. "Never. No, just...Linus." He shrugged.
Ah. Rusty nodded understandingly. The kid's horror and dread had been entirely genuine. Funny as fuck, but only because they were never going to make him go through with it. "Since when am I Linus?"
Danny smiled. "You're not."
Had to figure things were going well. According to Reuben, Wyatt had jumped at the chance of displaying some real art treasures at the fundraiser and Reuben and Terry had volunteered to lend him two or three paintings for the night. Terry's recent reputation for wanting to give something to the community counted for something.
Not with Reuben, naturally. He'd come back, brimming with frustrated indignation. Seemingly Terry had grabbed him a second before they went in, full of self-importance and imagined impressiveness and hissed "Follow my lead. I'll show you how it should be done."
Danny had to think that Terry was letting all this go to his head a little. Maybe he should be taking acting classes instead. At any rate it had taken him, Rusty, Saul and an expensive bottle of malt before Reuben was prepared to concede that maybe they didn't have to torpedo Terry quite yet.
It was definitely on the table though. Danny hadn't liked the look Terry had worn when they'd been explaining Rusty's presence in the class today one little bit.
Lip curled, contempt in his eyes. "I didn't know your hotel was doing that badly, Ryan. My condolences."
Rusty smiled lazily. "You're right, Terry," he'd murmured softly. "Maybe I'm thinking too small. Perhaps I should consider robbing a casino or three instead."
Terry had paled and his expression had briefly cycled through anxiety and outrage before settling on frustrated anger and Danny was appeased. For the moment, anyway. Enough to smile at Terry and let him silently seethe at the untouchable and the invincible.
Seemed like they could trust Terry to play his part though, right up until the moment that he inevitably got it into his head to screw them over. If Terry was any more predictable he'd be Elmer Fudd.
Huh. Mental note. Keep Terry away from blunderbusses.
"You feeling all artistic?" he asked Linus lightly, as Linus hovered in the doorway.
Linus nodded. "Uh, yes. I guess." He hesitated. "You think Wyatt's going to get suspicious that I can't paint?"
"Fake it," Rusty advised, and Linus looked like he was desperately trying to figure out how.
"You'll be fine, don't worry," Danny said, and Linus was still looking doubtful. Time to change tacks. "You get stuck, just imagine Rusty in his underwear."
Linus blinked hard, evidently still trying to come to grips with the idea that he was going to be staring at Rusty naked for the next three hours. "Oh, God."
Danny felt the invisible grin and he carefully didn't look at Rusty.
"Seriously though," Rusty warned. "Just make sure - "
" - that you actually have paint on your brush," Danny finished his face blank and unfriendly.
Linus looked frantically from him to Rusty, colouring rapidly. "I wasn't...I couldn't...I wouldn't..."
He broke off, glaring at them as they laughed.
So, what did you think?
