Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter nine: Wade

Neal heard the door slam behind him as he stumbled into the room having been given a violent shove between the shoulder blades. He spun round to see Vincent Wade smiling nastily and pointing a gun in his direction. He immediately raised his hands above his head and felt his heart rate spike. Meeting Wade directly hadn't been part of the plan and he was a cold blooded killer who would have no hesitation in shooting him just for kicks. Would Peter try and get him out or would Ruiz veto it because he was running the show now?

'Vincent… What are you doing?' Logan Michaels asked in a high-pitched voice.

He sounded as confused and scared as Neal was feeling right at this moment.

'Shut up!' Wade ordered.

Logan recoiled as though he had been slapped.

'Who are you?' He asked Neal.

'I told you, my name is Nicolas Halden. I'm a friend of Logan's.'

Neal's voice was light and friendly, despite having a gun pointed at him.

'No you're not. Logan doesn't have friends and he especially doesn't have friends that look like you. Do you Logan?'

Wade's voice was also conversational; he could have been asking for the time of day yet Neal could hear the dismissive overtones of a despicable bully who used and abused everyone around him and disposed of those who refused to obey his orders; who had dominated and ridiculed Logan for years leaving him so scared, so meek, so down trodden that he was totally unable to help himself… Or maybe not so totally, Neal thought as Logan glanced over at him, a look of desire, longing and maybe even something akin to love in his eyes. And for a split second Neal thought he was going to stand up to Wade as a mutinous look of defiance flashed across his face and Neal was both immensely proud of him for daring to face his tormentor and instantaneously terrified of what Wade would do to him.

But Wade also noticed his hesitation and he repeated his question.

'Do you Logan?'

And this time, his voice was low and dangerous and full of what Neal was sure that Logan knew were promises of bodily harm should he fail to answer a second time.

And sure enough, the warning was heeded.

'No, Vincent…' Logan said quietly, his eyes lowered, his posture subdued and submissive once more.

'Come here!' Wade ordered.

Logan swallowed nervously, but obeyed immediately. Wade lifted his hand; Logan flinched as though he expected to be hit, however, Wade just settled his arm around Logan's shoulders, a gesture that could have been mistaken for one of friendship, although the words that followed were anything but.

'I saw you looking at him, Logan, you were practically drooling thinking about what you'd like to do with him. Did you imagine him sucking your cock or did you want to fuck him?'

'No! Nothing like that!' Logan cried out, his face turning pink.

'No? Oh that's right, I forgot. You can't get it up can you? You're not even a real man. So what were you fantasizing about then? You sucking him off or did your pathetic twisted little brain think that he would dirty himself to fuck you?'

Wade laughed cruelly and shook his head indicating just how pitiful he deemed Logan to be.

Neal watched with pity as Logan closed his eyes in shame and humiliation and the fear he felt for his own safety was gone replaced by a deep hatred for the men who had made Logan and himself both physically and emotionally impotent.

'Of course he wouldn't. Look at him: pretty, talented, charming, well-mannered, spirited… So the only reason that someone that looked like him would want to be friends with someone that looked like you would be if they wanted to get to me.'

Wade turned back to Neal.

'So, I'll ask the question again. Who are you?'

'Look, I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding. I just enjoyed talking to Logan. I didn't realize that he was involved with anyone otherwise I wouldn't have…

'Shut up and take your shirt off.'

'What?'

Neal's eyes widened.

'I want to see that you're not packing or wearing a wire.'

'Your men searched everyone as we came into the hotel. You know I'm not carrying and why would I be wearing a wire?' He said, allowing himself to become a little indignant, yet still trying to keep his composure and wits about him while remaining in character as a confused and now scared young artist.

'I don't know and I don't care but I will find out if you're wearing one. You've got thirty seconds to show me your chest, back and front or Logan won't be talking to you or anyone else for that matter.'

Wade moved his gun from where it was pointing at Neal and shoved the blunt end of it under Logan's chin.

Neal watched in horror as Logan's eyes widened to the dimension of saucers and all the color drained from his face.

'This isn't necessary. I'm not wearing a wire…' He said frantically.

'So prove it. Strip!'

'Okay, but don't hurt Logan…'

'That's your call. You've got…'

Wade consulted his watch.

'20 seconds left…'

Neal didn't have any doubt that Wade would shoot Logan if he didn't comply with his order to remove his clothes. He just hoped that Wachowski had done his job properly otherwise it wouldn't just be Logan that ended up dead. And he didn't want to die tonight, well, strictly speaking he didn't want to die at all, but he especially didn't want to die any time soon because he needed to sort things out with Peter; he had unfinished business with Peter…

He ripped off his suit jacket, then popped the buttons on his vest and slipped out it. Next he undid his cuff-links, then loosened his tie just enough to undo the top three buttons of his shirt before pulling both shirt and tie together up and over his head, shrugging his arms out of the sleeves at the same time, leaving him naked from the waist up.

'Bravo…' Wade smiled lasciviously at him. 'But I didn't have any doubt that you could do it. You look like the sort of person that's had plenty of practice getting in and out of his clothes quickly.'

He re-focused the gun on Neal then grabbed the shirt from him and felt under the collar.

'Arms out and turn around slowly…'

Neal did as he was told.

'What an asshole!' Cruz said on hearing Wade ridicule and humiliate Logan.

'That doesn't begin to describe him.' Jones replied.

'For once I agree with you kids; Vincent Wade is a fucking evil, perverted and depraved son-of-a-bitch.' Ruiz said ominously.

'Wade's suspicious. He's making Neal take his shirt off. Are you sure he not going to notice the wire?' Peter asked anxiously.

'Nah! Wachowski may be a loser when it comes to women, but he's fucking good at his job. That wire's nothing more than a thin white line. Wade will just think Caffrey's got a scar on the side of his chest. In fact it's so fine, he might not notice it at all.'

'What did he mean when he said to Neal 'or Logan won't be talking to you or anyone else.' Do you think he's got a gun in there?' Peter said frowning.

'Highly likely.' Ruiz replied. 'He doesn't usually travel far without one.'

'But Neal's not armed…'

'I should hope not, he's a convict for God's sake!'

'Meeting Wade wasn't part of the plan, Ruiz. We've got to get Neal out of there, his life could be at risk…'

'Jesus, Burke, one minute you're telling me to let Caffrey do his job and the next you're asking me to pull him out. Make up your mind, why don't you. Besides, if Wade does have a gun in there, it's pointing at Michaels so your boy's safe…'

'That's your definition of safe? That he shoots Michaels first?' Peter asked incredulously.

'What is with you, Burke? I've never seen you so protective of anyone before. Or could it be that you're sweet on Caffrey?'

'I'm protective of anyone on my team who is in a dangerous situation. But Neal isn't an agent, Ruiz, he's an unarmed, untrained consultant. He didn't choose this job and he certainly didn't choose this assignment. You're responsible for sending him in there tonight which means you're responsible for his safety and at present, he is not safe…'

'See? No wire. So I'll just put my shirt back on…'

'No, leave it off. You're much…prettier this way…'

'What a creep!' Cruz said.

'What a pervert!' Ruiz replied.

'Ruiz…' Peter warned.

'Um, okay… You mentioned that you were an art lover.'

'Oh yes, so I did. Logan! Let's take Nick into the office and show him some art shall we?'

'Keep your hair on Burke, Caffrey's got it under control and the office is where Romano said Wade kept all his stuff.'

Ruiz was suddenly very excited.

A few seconds later a soft gasp came through the wire.

'What are you doing?'

Peter had been hunched over his work-station listening intently to the dialogue coming through the wire but on hearing Neal's voice he sat up suddenly.

'Everything okay, Boss?' Jones asked perceptively.

'Something's wrong up there.'

'What are you talking about, Burke? If this is just another excuse to try and get me to call off this operation…'

'No! I mean it. Something's wrong with Neal. His voice has changed. He's not in control now…'

'I'm an art-lover; a man who appreciates the finer things in life and you, Mr. Halden happen to be the most exquisitely beautiful thing I have ever seen. Look at you standing there half naked, cocky, so sure of your moral superiority…'

'No, no, no!' Peter slammed his hand down desk. 'It's time, Ruiz. Jones… The GPS data… What room is he in?'

'Sit down, Burke. Wade hasn't done anything yet. If we burst in now, we'll have nothing and Wade will walk again…'

'We'll have Neal…'

'I know your type; good-looking, clever, charming and smooth. You think you're so much better than everyone else; you cruise through life conning people into getting whatever you want just by smiling at them… You think you can just waltz into my hotel and seduce my accountant with idle promises of your body and that pretty mouth?'

'Stop it! Get off me!'

There was the sound of hands being slapped away then a sickening crunch like a fist had connected with bone followed by muffled cry and a heavy thump which sounded as though it could have been a body landing on the floor and then there was a scuffling noise as though that body was trying to get away…

'Okay that's it. Cruz I want you to go to the front desk and get me a key to Wade's rooms but whatever you do don't let anyone tip Wade off; he's got a gun up there.'

'Oh no you don't, you little cock-sucker… And there's no point in looking to Logan for help because he's a pathetic, spineless, loser who cries every time he takes it up the ass…'

'And if he is, that's only because you made him that way.'

'Ruiz, I don't give a shit about what you want any more. If you don't have the teams in position and ready to go in 30 seconds, I'll be on the phone to Hughes and before you can say 'Peter Burke fucked me over' White Collar will be back in charge of this operation and you'll be the laughing stock of the FBI. And you'd also better pray that Caffrey's okay or else you'll have me to deal with personally as well…'

'Oh, did you hear that, Logan? The pretty boy's standing up for you; all that fire and spunk and defiance flashing in those beautiful blue eyes. I'm getting hard from just imaging what that gorgeous mouth is going to be doing for me in a few minutes…'

There was another hard slap followed by a yelp that Peter would recognize anywhere as Neal's.

'Jones! Give me an earwig for the wire and a microphone so I can stay in contact with you. I'm going in…'

'Stop! Don't touch me…' Neal cried as his arm was grabbed and he was hauled up from the floor and pushed face down over wade's desk.

He scrabbled with his hands trying to find something he could use as a weapon; a pen, a paper weight, yet there was nothing. He tried to find some purchase with his feet, but then Wade was kicking his ankles apart causing his belly to flop down on the desk and then there was something heavy leaning on his back and putrid breath hissing in his ear…

'Not so spirited now are you? Not so confident when you're about to have a real man's cock up your ass, you little shit…'

And then all Neal's frantic struggling ceased as he felt the blunt muzzle of Wade's gun being pressed into the back of his skull.

'Vincent, stop, please. Don't… don't do this.'

'Logan? What the fuck?'

'I won't let you h-hurt anyone else…'

'Logan, put the gun down. We both know you won't use it.'

'Let him go…'

'Put the gun down, Logan, you fucking traitor!' Wade shouted furiously before bringing his own gun around from where it had been aiming at Neal to shoot Logan in the chest.

Neal gasped in horror. Wade had just shot Logan which meant that he was going to be next, yet Wade was putting the gun down and then a hand was reaching around his waist and undoing his pants…

'No!'

And then Neal was struggling once more, this time with a vengeance because he couldn't go through that again, couldn't face having to think about…And then he heard his zipper being pulled down and then he felt two hands grabbing at the waistband of his pants and underwear… He pushed away from the desk trying to let his body slide downwards, trying to get away from the probing fingers, but then one of the hands was in his hair pulling him up to rest against a wide, firm chest and this position was even worse because now Wade's cock was pressing up into his ass and Wade's hand was inside his shorts and had grabbed his balls and was squeezing so hard that any minute he was going to be sick…

And then he felt his pants being pushed down over his hips and thighs, yet he couldn't do a thing to stop it because the deep visceral pain in his balls was still there, immobilizing him… Then rough fingers were parting his butt cheeks and something hard and blunt was poking at him and trying to push into him and he could feel the hysteria overtaking him; feel himself panting and whimpering and knew he was losing control…

'Oh yeah…' Wade groaned into his ear. 'You want it, so bad… Take it, you fucking slut…'

And then he was back in prison with filthy, demeaning words being hissed into his ear, the noise of cruel laughter, jeering at his submissive position, mocking his defencelessness, taking advantage of his vulnerability; and he remembered the agony of the first stab of penetration, his muscles unable to accommodate in time, stretched beyond their limit, the pain when he tore, the obscene sound of skin wetly slapping against his own, the continued stretch and burn and ache deep in his pelvis as something long and hard was repeatedly rammed up inside him.

He could remember the feel of the vice like grip of calloused fingers that dug into his hips that left bruises for weeks afterwards, the stench of foul breath, making him gag as it was exhaled in warm gusts across his face with each thrust into him, the disgusting sensation of semen being pumped deep into his body and the helpless and horrible feeling of it leaking out of him at the end, dribbling down the inside of his thighs, warm and thick and pink tinged because it was mixed with his blood…

And then suddenly there was shouting and he couldn't make out what was being said but the hand was gone in his hair and his balls didn't feel like they were on fire any more yet he couldn't get the sensation out of his head that he was still being touched, still being violated…And he could hear someone screaming and he knew it must be him yet he didn't know how he could scream if he couldn't breathe because there was a huge weight sitting on top of his chest and it felt as though his lungs were going to burst and his fingers were tingling and his vision was graying at the edges and he knew he was going to pass out…

But then in the distance there was a voice calling his name. It was quiet at first like it was coming from a long way away, or maybe he was under water because it sounded so distorted and strange yet he recognized it as belonging to Peter. But he didn't want Peter to see him like this; naked and helpless; because how could anyone want him after seeing what had been done to him, how disgusting, dirty and soiled he was; how weak he was to just lie there and let someone use him, to let someone take him…

'Neal… Can you hear me?'

But if Peter was here that meant he was safe. He started to shake.

'Peter… Help me…'

He tried to stand, to cover himself, to make himself look decent, normal, someone that Peter wouldn't be ashamed of and then felt himself falling.