A/N: Thought I should put out a caution on this one - the way I'm heading, this story's shaping up to be rather dark...I have modified the title details to include a violence warning and this chapter includes some of that (not involving B/J, however, but there will be some of that in the future). You know me, though - I would never have something permanent happen to either one of them. Just thought I would caution my readers, though, before you proceed. If you DO go further, and I hope you'll do, I promise you a pretty exciting ride...! Thanks always for reading and reviewing!
Next Morning
Justin scrunched up his nose as he felt something tickling his chest. "What the fuck?" he mumbled. Was he imagining this or was he awake?
"Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty," he heard a familiar voice murmuring in his ear; as Brian's hot breath caressed the lobe, he shivered as his eyes slowly fluttered open. Brian was lying on his side, leaning on his elbow as he stared down into the blue eyes intensely.
"Brian," Justin whispered in amusement. "What are you UP to?"
"Funny how that word always seems to work its way into our vocabulary," the brunet quipped as he smiled back at his husband. He slowly, teasingly ran one long finger lightly over Justin's chest as he watched the slender muscles quivering under his touch. He leaned down to kiss the soft, pink lips he knew so well, his tongue darting out temptingly to ask for entrance. Justin smiled as his mouth opened willingly to the other man's probing quest and they proceeded to engage in a heated round of tongue twisting for the next several minutes.
Justin broke off their kiss as he slowly became aware of something, however; by the bright sunlight streaming in through the large picture windows set below in his studio, and the two skylights constructed over their bed, he knew it was getting late. "Brian!" he cried out, pushing the other man off him as the brunet grunted in displeasure. "What time is it?"
Brian shook his head. "Time for fucking," he huskily responded, as he swooped in again with the intention of doing a lot more than just some heavy kissing.
Justin, however, was not to be deterred. "Why aren't you at work? You told me yesterday you had an important meeting this morning – it's got to be late, Brian! Did you forget?" He tried to push the other man away but Brian simply fell on top on him, pinning his arms to his sides.
Brian smirked. "No, Sunshine, I didn't forget, but if I didn't know better, I'd say someone else did."
Justin frowned as he appeared to be considering that question; what the hell was Brian talking about it? He knew what day it was; let's see, it was Tuesday, that was a start. And it was May something…He had been running back and forth throughout the state and the Northeast U.S. so much in the past couple of weeks, he hardly knew his own name by now. As Brian continued to caress his body all over with his long, lean hands, it was definitely making his concentration on his task even harder, though. "I know what day it is, Brian," he said defensively when he could catch his breath. He could feel Brian's erection pressing against his stomach as the brunet continued to stroke his body to perfection.
"Uh…..It's May….May 17th," he finally gasped out.
"Uh, huh," Brian murmured, his lips now beginning their trek downward to his intended target. "That's very good, Justin," he whispered against the blond's stomach, the vibration of his lips causing Justin to flinch at the ticklish sensation. "And?" He flicked his tongue into Justin's belly button, swirling the tip around and around as Justin gasped.
"Oh, yeah!" Justin exclaimed finally as Brian's mouth moved on to explore the soft ring of golden curls "down under."
"I almost forgot! The new Halo game is coming out today! Thanks for reminding me, Brian!"
"Ow! What the fuck was THAT for?" he cried out as he felt a sharp smack on his thigh. He saw a distinctive emotion of disappointment and loss cross the brunet's eyes as Brian raised himself up on his elbows to stare back at him in indignant disbelief.
"You really DID forget, didn't you?" the brunet accused him, his eyes flashing with incredulity. "I fucking can't believe this! Why did I bother? I can't believe this!" he repeated in irritation, inexplicably feeling sorry for himself. How could Justin have forgotten something so important? Or was it just more important to him?
"Brian, calm down," Justin said, laughing, as he watched the normally self-assured man queening out. "Did you really think I'd forget our wedding anniversary?"
Justin looked up at his husband impishly, his blue eyes sparkling playfully as lifted his eyebrows in challenge.
"Why, you little shit!" Brian snarled at him as he pounced on the lithe body and began to mercilessly torment the blond with nonstop tickling on both sides of his ribcage, right where Brian knew he was the most ticklish. After all, after last night, it was only fair he get his revenge…
"Stop it!" Justin cried out, giggling hysterically. "No fair! Stop that, you asshole!" as Justin writhed in exquisite torment.
His partner did stop briefly to reply, "Ah….you can dish it out but not take it, Taylor?" He laughed just before he resumed his tickling regimen to Justin's consternation.
"Bri-an," Justin managed to gasp out in between giggles; he was laughing so hard now he was actually snorting to Brian's distinct amusement as the brunet began to laugh along with him. "Stop it! Don't you have a job to go to?" he asked hopefully. He tried to push Brian off to end his torture but the brunet was too strong for him.
"It's okay….I know the boss personally…."
"No sex!" he heard all of a sudden.
That at least got Brian's attention long enough to stop what he was doing to say, "Huh?"
Justin grinned. "You heard me!"
Brian stared down at him, his body lying on top of the slender one; he could feel Justin's hard-on pressed against his stomach as he said, "I know I couldn't have possibly heard that right. I could have sworn you just said something like no sex."
"You heard right," Justin retorted impertinently, his hands falling limp at his sides as if he were immobilized; well, at least part of him was immobilized; one certain part was definitely animated at the moment and felt hard as a rock…
Brian continued to stare at him for a few seconds, his lips curled under in a futile attempt to look serious, before he burst out laughing again. "Right, Mr. Horny," he snickered as Justin finally smiled in surrender. "Looks like we'll just have to take care of your little problem right now….."
As his body arched up in pleasure at Brian's resumed assault, Justin decided perhaps that would be best; Brian's "boss" could wait a while…
He raised his head in confusion, however, as he felt the deliciously-familiar warm body abruptly pull up and out of their bed. "What the…..?"
"You're right, Sunshine," Brian replied agreeably, winking at him. "I do have a job to go to. Good thing you're not in the mood for sex, because if I don't hop in the shower right now, I AM going to be late. And YOU, I believe, have to deliver one more painting to a gallery this morning."
"Shit!" Justin forgot all about the indignant reply he was about to give as jumped up from the bed after realizing he had completely forgotten the last delivery he needed to make before he could finally take a break from his nonstop regimen. As he admired the retreating form of his lover, however – the lean, muscled back the tight ass, the long, long legs went on and on – he decided that it didn't mean, however, that they still didn't have enough time for a little something else…
"Hey! Wait for me!"
Brian laughed as held the shower door open a few seconds later. "You're so predictable, Taylor," he said as he pulled Justin into the large, glassed-in stall with him and gave his husband a short smack on his ass. Sometimes predictable, though, wasn't a bad thing at all…
Fifteen Minutes Later
"Brian…..Tell me or I'll tighten your tie until the blood flow's constricted and you turn blue...all over," Justin warned him as he stood in front of his husband to help him straighten his tie.
"Nice try, Sunshine," Brian cracked, smiling slightly. "But you'll still have to wait until tonight."
Justin's lower lip jutted out in disappointment. "Come on – at least a little hint. Please…" he whispered, his blue eyes fastening on the hazel ones. He tried to convey his best puppy-dog look, the one that normally got him anything he wanted, but to his vexation, the man didn't appear to be budging.
"Sorry," Brian said, smirking. "You'll just have to wait," he sing-songed. He grasped the bare, pale shoulders as he leaned down to give Justin a short kiss on the lips and a pat on the head as the blond scowled at him in irritation. "Remember, good things COME to those who wait, Mr. Taylor," he said as he turned to pick up his briefcase to leave.
Justin huffed. "I would say you could kiss my ass, but somehow that doesn't really sound like a threat when it comes to you." He stood there, his hands on his hips, as Brian merely laughed and turned to go.
He leaned down one more time, though, to kiss Justin on the lips before simply whispering, "Later." He smiled again secretly like a cat that ate the canary before he turned to walk down the steps and out into the street.
"Humpff!" Justin stomped his foot a little. He didn't care if he WAS acting like a kid – this was their first wedding anniversary, and he knew Brian had to be planning something special. "At least, he'd better be," he muttered to himself, especially recalling that all he received in the way of "affection" this morning was a quick fuck in the shower. A pretty spectacular fuck, he had to admit, but a much too quick one at that.
He twisted his lips pensively, wondering just what Brian had in mind for later. He knew he would be gone most of the day, but surely his husband had something up his sleeve. "Well, I guess two can play that game, Mr. Kinney," he thought, smiling. For their anniversary, Justin had flown up to Canada during the day one Thursday last month unbeknownst to Brian and had met up with Lindsey and Gus at a portrait photographer's gallery to have his and Gus' picture taken together. He had found a wonderful, elaborately-scrolled, antique pewter frame to put it in that set off the background colors perfectly, and had just picked up the completed, framed picture just yesterday afternoon at Debbie and Carl's house.
It was currently safely stowed away in the trunk of his car outside, just waiting to be presented to Brian tonight for their anniversary. Perhaps it wasn't the most romantic gift for the commemoration of their first year together as a married couple, but then again, Brian wasn't the typical newlywed. He knew how much Brian loved his son, and regretted not having enough time to spend with him, so Justin knew this gift would be the perfect present for him.
He assumed Brian would want to have it displayed in his office somewhere, despite his protestations that he wasn't the sentimental kind. Well, I guess I've finally managed to corrupt you at least a little, Mr. Kinney, Justin thought fondly with a smile as he rushed to get dressed. He had one more delivery to make this morning and then he and Brian could finally spend some quality time together. Looking forward to that, he rushed ran down the steps and flew out the door, hoping his last task would be over quickly…..
Pittsburgh State Correctional Institution – Greensburg, PA – Same Day
The truck from Norton's Launderers pulled up right on schedule at 8:30 a.m.; as was their normal routine, the driver, a burly, bald-headed man in his 30's wearing an identification badge with the last name of "Hanson" on it, waited for the guard to allow him access to the prison facility.
As he waited for the gate to slowly swing open, he glanced down quickly at the text he had just received on his cell phone, instructing him that the plan was officially a "go." Swallowing a nervous lump in his throat at the thought of what he was about to be involved in, he tried to concentrate instead on the material gains he would be receiving for his role in this dangerous game that was about to commence.
He tried to rationalize his part in it by remembering he had a disabled wife and two kids at home that depended solely on him for their housing and food; he had met his wheelchair-bound wife, Sarah, in high school and was still totally devoted to her, despite her handicap. And his kids – they were the light of his life. By agreeing to a relatively minor role in what was about to happen, he could insure that his family was well taken care of for the rest of their lives.
As the gate opened fully to allow the truck to enter, he hastily flipped the cell phone shut and turned it off; per his instructions, he was not to even take the phone out of his truck for the rest of the morning, at least not until his passengers were safely tucked away where they belonged. He was to simply go about his business, delivering freshly-laundered inmate uniforms and towels to the facility and picking up dirtied laundry in return. Only this time, there would be some additional items that weren't normally included – two men whose names he didn't even know but who were somehow paying him quite handsomely for the privilege of hitching a ride.
His part was to merely overlook this fact. He nodded to the uniformed, armed prison guard who was standing inside the guard hut and hoped that his shaking hands and pale face didn't betray what he was about to do. He took a deep breath as he passed through and veered the truck to the left where the loading dock was. If everything went as planned, he would be in and out of the prison within 15 minutes. It would no doubt, though, prove to be the longest 15 minutes of his life.
He backed the truck into the loading bay and turned off the motor, sitting behind the wheel for a couple of seconds to gather his courage before he turned the handle to open the truck's door and get out. As was his typical pattern, he walked back to slide the side door open and roll the large, wheeled basket containing the day's newly-clean laundry over to the loading/unloading platform.
"Hey, Ray," a second guard greeted him, smiling. Maurice Bowers, a handsome, trim black man, had been working for the prison for almost five years now. And while he wasn't too fond of his duties – standing guard over a loading dock day in and day out – the pay was good and it wasn't as stressful as dealing with the prisoners inside the high-security facility. Most days, at least when the weather was good, he actually liked being able to get some fresh air. It was only when it snowed or rained that he found reasons to greatly detest it.
He and Ray Hanson had become actual friends over the years, mainly due to both of them seeing each other on a twice-weekly basis. As Ray would wheel the fresh laundry in and wait for delivery of the dirty replacement bin, he and Maurice would shoot the bull with idle conversation. It was through these talks that they found they actually had quite a bit in common – both had two kids about the same age, both liked the same sports teams (always the Steelers, never the Pirates), and both liked to hunt in their spare time.
Now, however, as Ray greeted his friend, he noticed something a little different about him. He acknowledged him with a slight smile and a "hello," but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes – they were hard to decipher, but the man almost seemed jumpy or perhaps distracted about something. "Hey….something wrong?" Maurice asked curiously.
Ray took a deep breath before he angled his head up to face the other man, forcing his voice – and his face – to don a more casual pose and tone before responding. He smiled. "No, I'm fine," he reassured the other man; internally, of course, he was nervous as hell about what he was about to do, but again, he told himself he was doing this for his family…
"Just a little preoccupied," he explained. "Sarah was in the hospital for a couple of days." He was surprised how easily the lie slipped off his tongue as he internally felt disgust for using his handicapped wife as a convenient excuse.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry to hear that…..is she okay now?"
Ray nodded. "Yeah…..just a flare-up of the disease. She's back home now…thanks for asking," he added as he nodded again and continued to wheel the laundry basket over to the back entrance door. "I'll be right back," he told the guard, who nodded. By now, even though it was strictly against procedure, Maurice trusted the long-time laundry employee so implicitly he didn't even accompany him into the back of the prison where the commercial washers and dryers were located – the man knew his way around so well by now there really wasn't any need.
As Ray closed the door, he leaned back against it and closed his eyes briefly in relief that Maurice didn't apparently realize there was anything unusual going on; he had already been warned that if their plan was discovered, the guard would have to eliminated, and he actually had come to respect and admire the man. Hoping his luck would hold out just a little longer, he pushed the cart over to the designated area and waited anxiously for the other, soiled container to arrive. Come on, come on…..he pleaded silently as he stood impatiently waiting for his delivery.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he observed another guard slowly pushing the soiled cart toward him from the end of the hallway. He noticed the man looking nervously to his right and left as he came closer, apparently making sure no one else was around.
Ray's breaths were coming out in small, shallow pants now as he waited for the man to approach; the only other sounds were the squeaking wheels of the undoubtedly heavier-than-normal, industrial-size laundry hamper being pushed toward him.
"Here's your pickup," the man announced authoritatively; Ray couldn't help noticing the man's eyes studying his badge to determine his identity, as well as the hand that was resting lightly now on his holstered gun. The man, apparently satisfied that he was who he was supposed to be, nodded once before adding, "Take extra good care of it, you hear?"
Ray swallowed another lump of apprehension but nodded his understanding. The man stared at him for a few seconds more before he turned and slowly, almost casually, strutted away, no doubt richly compensated for his part in this masquerade as well…..
Taking a deep breath now, Ray grasped the round, metal bars of the hamper's handle and began to push the object toward the exit door, grunting at the unexpectedly-heavy weight of the cart he normally handled with ease; he hadn't considered how much more difficult it was going to be to push the hamper with approximately 400 lbs. more of excess weight in it. Thinking silently how this whole thing may have been a huge mistake, he knew he nonetheless had no choice; he was convinced if he didn't go through with it now, chances were good he wouldn't get out of this whole fiasco alive anyway. Resolved, then, to somehow play his role properly, he slowly pushed with all his might as the wheels eventually began to turn and he was able to, thankfully, pick up adequate speed as he rolled the item toward the back door.
He stopped the hamper right beside the door to open it; just before he was about to turn the knob, however, he could hear the distinctive sound of a gun's trigger being pulled back and his heart leapt into his throat in fear. Why had he let himself be convinced this was a good idea? If he was dead, it wouldn't help his family…
He let out a shaky breath and slowly turned the knob to open it; he jumped back a little, startled, as he encountered Maurice on the other side. The guard smiled at little at him. "Sorry, Ray, didn't mean to scare you. You really ARE distracted today, aren't you? Let me help you with that," he said, chuckling a little at the other man's discomfiture.
"No, no, Maurice, I've got it, I've got it," Ray said nervously, unable now to keep his voice completely level. "I'll take care of it," he hastened to add, his voice shaking noticeably now. Please…..he silently pleaded with the man as he noticed with alarm the guard's eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What's going on here, Ray?" the guard asked him, frowning, his instincts taking over. "I think there's more going on here than you're telling me." He suddenly realized the other man was having a lot more difficulty pulling his cart than he normally would; the man's eyes couldn't help darting down toward the dirtied laundry in the hamper, also, a move that did not go unnoticed by the security guard. "Move aside, Ray," Maurice told the other man.
Before he had a chance to loosen the holster holding his own gun in place, however, Maurice was already dropping to the ground, dead from a gunshot blast from a revolver with a silencer attached to it; the laundry's rather thin, canvas material had been no match for preventing the projectile from effectively hitting its target, killing the man instantly with a lucky shot through the heart.
Ray gasped in shocked, stunned at this turn of events as he heard a voice growl, "Shit!" and the two men hidden in the cart instantly rose from underneath the soiled material and quickly jumped out of the hamper. "Get him in the hamper – now!" Lane snarled at the his brother and Hanson.
"You heard him, asshole – help me get him in there or you're going to be dead, too!" Aiden Prescott instructed the other, now quivering man, who noticed curiously that his two escapees were identical twins. As Lane trained the revolver on him, he managed with his shaking hands to help lift the lifeless body of the guard into the hamper and with the extra set of hands push the cart quickly to the truck and into the open side panel. The two men quickly jumped back into the cart along with the body of the dead guard as Ray quickly swung the door closed and scampered to get into the driver's seat.
"Get this fucking thing out of here – NOW!" One of the men growled at him, leaving no ambiguity as to what would happen if he didn't comply. Despite his shaking legs, he quickly started up the motor and shoved the gear into reverse as a back-up beep began to sound and the truck slowly pulled away from the loading dock.
"Just keep your head down and act normal," he heard from the rear of the truck. "If you give us away, you're going to be dead along with the rest of us," he was told as he nodded his understanding and kept his eyes straight ahead of him.
As he slowed down in front of the guard's hut at the gate's service entrance, he prayed silently that the terror he was feeling wouldn't be betrayed in his eyes and face as he stopped and waited for the guard to acknowledge him. He noticed with alarm that the man was on the phone; he hoped it had nothing to do with what had just happened, but he had no way of knowing.
Finally, after a few seconds, the guard raised his eyes to peer back at him for a few seconds before miraculously waving his hand in dismissal and pressing the button to lift the gate's lever. Taking a deep breath as he passed by, Ray pressed down on the gas panel and sped up, wanting to get as far away from the jail in as short a time as possible.
It wasn't until they had traveled at least thirty minutes before the two men in the hamper felt safe enough to emerge from the relative obscurity of the container. As the two brothers climbed out of the hamper, they quickly began to take off their orange-and-white-striped shirts, which would be the most noticeable part of their ensemble were they in need of stopping somewhere. "Where are they?" one of the brothers asked him curtly.
Ray took another deep breath; thank God he had remembered. "In the back – black duffle bag," he informed them as he watched them out of the rear-view mirror walking back to the designated piece of luggage and zipping it open. One of the twins picked up a pair of nondescript jeans, a black shirt, underwear, socks, belt, and shoes and began to quickly doff the rest of his prison garb to change. The other brother quickly followed suit and in no time, the two could pass for any other citizens just traveling along going about their daily business. If it hadn't been for the different-colored shirts, though, it would have been hard to tell either one apart because of how identical they were.
One of the men walked back up to stand behind the driver's seat. "Couple of miles up," he said cryptically. "Gravel road on the right." Ray nodded silently, not wanting to say anything that might antagonize either one of his passengers. He simply wanted to get his part over and done with, get his money and get out of their lives forever.
After a couple of minutes, he noticed the road his passenger had indicated and slowed the truck down to make the right turn. He kept driving straight as he waited for further instructions.
A few minutes later, he heard the same man say, "Drive over to that bridge over there and stop." Not quite sure what the man had in mind, he nonetheless did as he was told, noticing the gun clutched in the speaker's hand. His tried desperately to slow his pounding heart to no avail as he slowed the truck down on top of the deserted, one-lane cement bridge and stopped.
"Keep the motor on – this won't take long," the same man told him. He noticed in his side vision the man motioning with the gun for the other brother to open the door. Not wanting to turn around for fear he would appear too nosey, he heard the side door being swung open and heard a rustling noise. Guessing the guard was being retrieved from the hamper, he continued to stare straight ahead and hope his role in this dangerous subterfuge would soon be over and he could return to his wife and kids, the only reason why he felt forced to do what he did. Only he had never dreamed that an innocent man would be killed in the process.
Too late, he realized Maurice Bowers wouldn't be the only innocent man killed that day as he heard a click and then felt a gunshot ripping into the back of his head an instant before he, too, slumped over in the driver's side, dead.
Lane jumped down from the side of the truck to join his brother and opened up the driver's side door to pull Ray's body out. "Hurry up!" he commanded his brother as Aiden grabbed the shoulders of the guard and began to drag his body over to the side of the railing. Lane followed closely behind him with his own heavy load as he dropped the other dead man beside the guard.
As if by a silent signal, the two hefted each of their responsibilities slowly over the side railing and gave them one final push as both bodies plummeted approximately 20 feet to the rushing water below. As the dead men floated momentarily to the surface, they stayed long enough to make sure the current would take them down river before turning around and heading back to their escape vehicle.
As one brother got into the passenger seat and was about to close the door, he heard his twin's voice say, "You've served your purpose, dear brother. I don't need you anymore, either."
As he turned to look at the man who was born the same day as himself – the man he had worked with for so long and had planned this escape with for months now – his eyes widened in horror as he realized what he about to do. "No…please," he pleaded just before the revolver went off and his world went permanently black.
A few minutes later, the third body disposed of in the same fashion, the truck slowly started up and drove over the bridge toward the interstate to begin the next part of the plan…..
