Wow, I finally got a chapter ready! Sorry guys, but work is getting demanding and I need the paycheck. You guys are great, and I will try to get the next chapter up much more quickly, but I can't make any promises :( Let me know what you think, I appreciate the reviews!
Do not own, make no money...
Chapter 25: Taking Action
Jessup Winston sat back into the comfortable, black leather of the sofa centered in the middle of his suite. He stared at the cordless handset in his hand and shook his head as he hit the button to disconnect the call from the front desk. James and William; what the hell were those idiots up to? Hell, he'd made a mistake pulling both of them out of Austin to assist him with this whole project. He'd thought they might come in handy, since they weren't known by anyone local, but they had turned out to be more trouble than they were worth. They were good men, loyal men, that he would never dispute, but they were still new to the game. He could relate to how they felt, he'd been in their shoes at one time.
His father had kept him ignorant to his true business dealings most of his life. Hell, he'd been absent most of his childhood, so hiding what he did hadn't been difficult. It wasn't as if he'd been close to the man, even as an adult, when his father had reached out to him, begging for a relationship of some kind. He'd felt sorry for the man. Hell, he'd been alone, and seemed sincere. The doors of truth had opened slowly, small hints made as to what his father really was, at first, and then larger signs of the not so legal business dealings going on behind locked doors. By the time he'd realized what his father did to pay for his college and the backing he'd offered for his son's first real, legitimate business venture, he'd forged a relationship with the man that he didn't seem to be able cut free. As angry as he was when he realized the truth, part of him felt in awe that his father was one of the most influential presences in the nation's crime world. He could remember how he fought against following in his father's footsteps. He'd been new to the life, new to the fact that he was the son of a man who made his money lying, swindling, and killing. He had despised his father's business for years, but had loved the man and wanted to stay close to him despite it all.
He had sworn never to turn into the same kind of man as Arthur Nicholas, yet here he was, disappointing his mother, again, and being a disgrace. He had gone against everything she believed in. He was ready to go home, but he wasn't sure if his mother would welcome him as she had been prepared to do before everything literally blew up in his face. He yearned for her to accept him back as only a mother could, the same as she had always done in the past, but this might be the one deception that could finally sever the one true relationship he had left to hold onto. His mother's pride in him had been long lost, but her love had always been there, and her forgiveness had always been a given. She never approved of his mistakes, but she always forgave and welcomed him back. This time was different; this time she'd been told he was dead. He'd hurt her in ways he'd never anticipated that he could, and his heart wrenched at that thought. He'd spoken to her once, while he was still in the clinic, recuperating from the burns he'd acquired during the warehouse explosion. He had never thought he would hear such despair his mother's voice, despair and nothing shy of pure loathing. Tears stung at his eyes while his mother's words echoed in his head. "You are not my son. My son is dead. Do you hear me Jessup? You're his son, not mine."
Yes, 'his' son. The son of Arthur Nicholas was given the name Jesse Nicholas at birth. The name had been changed before he was even out of diapers. His name had been changed to Jessup Winston in an attempt by his mother to cleanse him of the tainted blood his father had passed down to him. Her maiden name, the name of her father, the preacher who raised her to be righteous and good; it had been thrust upon him when he was too young to know the difference, or the reasons. Jesse Nicholas seemed to be the suitable name for him now. He was after all Arthur's son, no longer a Winston, but a Nicholas. There was no longer any hope of being a good man, but lost to the world his father had introduced to him later in his life.
He was sure he'd lost his mother, and the name that had meant so much to him for most of his life. It wasn't the first loss he'd faced. He'd lost so much more over the years. The chance to live a life with the one person he truly loved had been stolen from him. The life he'd dreamed of having, a wife, a child, a little white house with a simple picket fence and apple trees, it had all been stolen by his father, and by Adam Macks. It had been his father's way of teaching him who was in control, and Mack's way of trying to get rich. Too bad it had backfired on him. He'd never made any money off what he'd managed to steal from him, hell; he probably didn't even realize exactly what he had, until it was gone, if he'd ever caught onto it at all. That was the reason Macks was so bitter, he'd lost his only chance at real wealth, real power, and it had all happened because of his stupidity. Too bad he hadn't gotten any wiser while he'd been sitting in prison. If anything his brain cells had rotted and fallen away, because he was even more of a scatter brained moron by the time Harris had managed to free him.
Jessup Winston should have left the fool in prison, where he could wallow in his own misery for the rest of his life. If he'd been Jesse Nicholas back then, maybe he would have made different choices. Instead, he'd arranged for Harris to set him free, hoping to find the one thing that could give him enough power to pack up his unlawful business for good and return to the life that he yearned for. It might have even liberated his soul from the memories that still haunted him. He'd wanted revenge on Macks more than anything, but he also wanted to put an end to what he'd started ten years earlier. It was all supposed to tie in to form a happy ending for him and the others who had been hurt by his actions all those years earlier. Instead he was more alone now than ever, and the anger was building.
Macks had screwed him over in more ways than one, and his plans for dealing with the ass hole had all been ruined with his death. He had no way of teaching Macks what happened to rats like him, but he sure as hell could find out where the man had hidden his property. His only other hope was the kid, and he wasn't sure whether or not his heart would let him take that next step.
Jessup, no Jesse, shook the thoughts clear of his brain and tried to remember what exactly it was he needed to concentrate on. Oh, yes, James and William, in the rooms down the hall. Hell, he needed to call them and find out what was taking them so long. He wanted to talk to them, and he wanted some answers. He looked at the phone again and decided to give Harris a call. Maybe he could get some information before he confronted the idiots down the hall about their close proximity. This wasn't good.
Craig was supposed to be washing up so that he could crawl into one of the oversized beds and sleep. Instead he was standing in front of the sink studying the bronze fixtures that matched the elaborate frame encasing the mirror hanging on the wall. He reached out and turned on the hot water and somehow felt in awe at the lack of resistance from the hardware. It turned smoothly, almost as smooth at the water that ran instantly. No pipes rattled and banged and the hot water felt hot immediately, there was no waiting for it reach the right temperature. He found the urge to turn the water back off impossible to fight and had been stuck in the loop of on - off, on – off, for several moments now. The sudden bang on the door caught him off guard and he jumped while he quickly grabbed for the wash cloth that was folded in a fancy triangle, with the corners turned downward. He'd never seen such a sight, wash rags and hand towels displayed on the counter top alongside a wicker basket full of flowery smelling soaps, lotions, flower petals and potpourri, the colors all matching in one way or another.
The door opened and Angel stood in front of him, "You doin' anything in here?" He asked. "You ain't clean yet, are you?"
"Sorry. I was just…" Craig didn't want to admit to playing with the hot and cold taps of the sink.
"It's fancy, ain't it?" Angel grinned. "I know how you feel. The first time I seen a place like this it all seemed like a big waste."
"It is." Craig muttered. His mind tried to picture Angel staying in rooms like this one regularly. At one time he did, when he was running his cons. He'd lived well for a few years before trouble caught up with him. He'd said once that he had to look the part, no matter how much it might cost him.
"But it makes you feel good. You know?" Angel sighed and looked around the large space.
"I guess." Craig looked down at the wash cloth he was holding in his hands. He realized the manner in which it was folded made it resemble a dove. "How do they do this?" He wasn't really asking, but the idea that someone actually took the effort was beyond his young mind. "Why?"
Angle laughed. "Don't worry; it's a regular wash rag. Just find some soap in that basket that don't smell too girlish and wash up. Bobby's getting impatient." Angel held up a t-shirt and sweat pants. "Jerry had these in the back of his car. Don't ask me why, I didn't ask him and I don't think I want to know. He seems to have this thing about always being prepared, so I'm sure he figured he'd have to change his clothes at some point, for some reason."
Craig glanced at the shower stall on the opposite wall. It was completely separate from the bathtub, which ran along the adjacent wall. The clear glass was sparkling clean and the bronze framing and fixtures matched the rest of the decor. "Can I take a shower?" He looked up at Angel, not sure why he wanted to soak under the hot water of that particular shower so badly. The towels hanging near the shower door were nearly big enough to use as blankets though, and the idea of wrapping up in one of them was appealing.
Angel grinned a little wider than before. "Yeah, it's different than home, ain't it? You take a shower. I'll tell Bobby you needed a shower." He waited for Craig to take the shirt and sweat pants before backing out of the room, closing the door closed after him.
Craig knew he needed to hurry, and he did try, but the whole atmosphere of the room seemed to numb his mind of any urgency he might have felt before. He took his time going through the contents of the basket on the counter. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash and regular soap. He snatched up the shampoo and soap, sure that if he gave into the urge to use anything else that Bobby would find out and manage to turn it into a reason to tease him.
He stripped out of the clothes he'd been given by the good Doctor Payne no more than an hour before and stepped into the shower stall. There was no step up like there was with their tub at home. The door swung closed after him with a smooth motion. He wasn't surprised to find the fixtures felt the same as the sink, even and flawless. The water itself felt soft, almost velvety as it soaked into his skin. He was able to lose himself in the warmth of it. He lathered up, then washed his hair and found his muscles loosened as the heat penetrated. It was easy for his brain to turn off and not think about anything at all. Numb wasn't quite how it felt. He'd experienced numb quite often in the past and this wasn't it. This was peaceful and it felt good. Numb was nothing and had no feeling at all.
"Hey, have you been taking lessons from Jack?" Bobby's voice filled the room, barely penetrating the calm that had weaved through the boy's body. "You ain't turning into a sissy, are you little brother?"
Craig didn't bother turning to look through the glass door. He let his nerves absorb the comfort of the shower and did his best to ignore the man. He kept his eyes closed and his face under the comfort flow.
"Come on little sister, you've been in here long enough. We got shit to do and you need to crawl into bed." Bobby opened the door and reached past the teen to turn the water off.
Craig opened his eyes and turned towards Bobby to find one of the blanket sized towels in his hands. "Just five more minutes," He muttered, "Please? Don't you guys still need to talk?"
"You need to be in bed before I walk out the door Craig, now come on." Bobby didn't sound angry. He wrapped the towel around Craig before pulling him out onto the mat just outside of the shower. He grabbed another towel and dropped it over Craig's head, chuckling softly while he turned and picked the sweatpants up off of the counter. "You can dry yourself off, right?" He asked.
Craig sighed and started using both towels to soak the water up off of his skin. The steam in the room swirled around, coating the mirror he'd studied so closely just a few minutes before. He wasn't able to suppress the yawn that escaped him when Bobby handed him the sweatpants to put on. His body was quickly slowing down. The awe that he'd been feeling just a short time before was being replaced by exhaustion. He had slept just a short time before, but he'd been drugged into it, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. Bobby handed him the t-shirt next and he pulled it over his head. He reached down to pick the towels up, but he swayed slightly on his feet.
Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the counter. "You okay kid?" He sounded concerned as he stood in front of the boy, studying him closely.
Craig nodded his head slowly and another yawn struggled to work up from his chest. "I'm tired." He muttered.
"Can you stay awake long enough to brush your teeth?" Bobby questioned.
Craig gave his shoulders a shrug. "I guess."
Bobby reached into the basket and pulled out a small, travel sized toothbrush wrapped in plastic. He opened it before pushing it into the boy's hand. He located a mini sized tube of toothpaste and opened it as well. "Here you go."
Craig loaded up the toothbrush and quickly brushed his teeth at the sink with Bobby looking on. As soon as he was finished Bobby took a hold of his arm and pulled him from the restroom.
He hadn't had a chance to look around much when they first arrived at the room. He'd been ushered to the restroom and told to wash up so he could lie down. The room was huge, compared to any hotel rooms Craig had seen, not that he'd seen many. There was a table and two chairs on one wall, a sofa and big, overstuffed chair next to the huge window, and a small bar and refrigerator in a small alcove close to the entry way. There were two beds, and each of them was bigger than his mother's double bed. A spicy scent hung in the air that he hadn't noticed before. Jack was standing at the window with a cigarette between his lips, the smoke wafting out into the cold air just on the thresh hold of the window ledge. Jeremiah was pacing back and forth in front of the little alcove, talking quietly on his cell phone. Angel was sitting on the bed closest to the restroom, talking on the hotel phone, a shit-eaten grin dripping off of his face.
"Come one Baby, you can wait until I call you and then come on down here." Angel spoke in a smooth tone. "I'm tellin' ya, you ain't ever seen a place like this. My room is right next door, and we could have a real good time."
Bobby gave Craig a small push towards the bed on the far wall while he walked over to Angel. He snatched the phone from Angel and held it close enough to hear who was on the other end. "Hey, Sofi, you stay your ass away from this place. I don't care what Angel told you." He refrained from saying anything too smart ass, though it was obviously a struggle for him. He seemed genuinely concerned that she might be in danger if she showed up. He listened for a moment before laughing. "Hey, you just remember that I'm gonna be the best man in your wedding, okay? I don't give a shit what you and Angel do after you're married, but right now you are going to stay the hell away from this place. The last thing we need is some crazy bitch drawing attention to us." He hung up the phone, despite the fact that Angel was reaching for it in an attempt to stop him.
"What the hell are you doin'?" Angel stood and finally managed to snatch the receiver from his brother. "We might need that crazy bitch, you know that, right? She can act better than you think."
Craig sat down on the bed Bobby had directed him to and watched as Bobby stepped closer to Angel, looking up at him as if the fact that he was a head shorter didn't bother him one bit.
"This ain't no fuckin' party. What the hell is wrong with you? This is serious shit." Bobby growled the words. "We ain't here to play romantic comedy. La Vida Loca ain't comin' down here."
Angel shook his head. "I wouldn't bring her here if I thought there was gonna be heavy shit goin' down, I ain't that stupid. But she could come in handy. She's helped us out a few times already; you didn't seem to mind it. And besides, well, hell, the rooms are paid for. After we make contact with Winston we ain't gonna do nothin' but sit and wait, right? We might as well wait with good company." His eyes narrowed pointedly on Bobby.
"After we make contact with Winston, we gotta keep an eye on him." Bobby argued.
"And that's gonna be Jack's job. Winston already knows us. He ain't seen Jack. Jack came up with the idea while you were in there getting the kid out of the shower, he can take food to his door or something." Angel turned and looked at Jack. "Ain't that right?"
Jack looked at Angel and then to Bobby. "I'm the best one to camp out on his doorstep, or get inside, somehow." He gave his head a slight nod as he drew on the cigarette. "Maybe I could play room service or something." He turned to Angel, as if he could sense the fumes igniting inside of Bobby and didn't want to face the anger about to erupt. "Can you get me a uniform from housekeeping, or maybe hotel maintenance?" He purposely diverted his attention away from Bobby and kept eye contact with Angel. "Maybe I could tell him there's something wrong with the thermostat, or something?" It was obvious he was still trying to think of a legitimate excuse to get through Winston's door.
"I might be able to arrange something. I can get you something; just give me a few minutes downstairs." Angel looked back at Bobby who was shaking his head. "What?"
"Jack ain't getting close to him." Bobby still shook his head. "That's too dangerous for him."
"What do you mean it's too dangerous for me? He don't know me Bobby, he's never dealt with me before." Jack's back straightened up. "This is my fight too."
"You're gonna sit here and babysit." Bobby motioned towards Craig and looked his way at the same time. "You lay your ass down, right now." His loud voice startled Craig. The boy lay down on top of the bed covers and suppressed a yawn. He wasn't sure why Bobby sounded angry with him. He hadn't done anything except sit on the bed and listen.
"I'm not gonna sit in this room while you three go take care of shit. It's my fight more than yours." Jack's tone nearly matched Bobby's, something no one was used to hearing.
"No, little brother, you are sitting your ass in this room while we go knock on that bastard's door." Bobby's throat seemed to spasm in his attempt to hold in his anger. He didn't like it when one of his brothers argued with him, and he took it harder when it was Jack.
"Yeah, he's stayin' here for that. But afterwards, we need to know what moves Winston is making. Jack is the best one to find out." Angel's own voice was still stiff, but he seemed to be calming down. Perhaps an understanding was filtering through.
Craig's eyes closed against his will. The insides of his eyes felt like sandpaper, and tears started to work up, practically sealing his eyes in sleep. It happened instantly, his mind barely registering the fact that someone was covering him with blankets. He could still hear his brothers talking, but his mind wasn't processing the words. He felt content just listening to the familiar sounds of his brothers arguing. The hot shower had relaxed him and now the knowledge that his brothers were surrounding him was all he needed to lose the battle he was waging deep inside with exhaustion. Part of it was obviously still the effects of what ever had been injected into him to sedate him, but another part of it was the blanket of security that seemed to envelope him in the presence of his brothers.
His mind slipped back into the same dreams he'd fallen into before. Blue bunnies, his mother, and the stranger that was familiar to him.
Bobby felt Craig's forehead and then turned and looked at Jack. "Look, we ain't gonna have to watch Winston that close. As soon as we talk to him, we'll know what we need to do. Until then, we ain't plannin' on putting you nowhere close to him." He kept his voice quiet, but that didn't mask irritation he was feeling. He wasn't about to let either of his little brothers be thrust into a situation that was dangerous. Not again. This was supposed to put an end to any of them being hurt or their lives being in turmoil, it wasn't an opportunity for any of them to jump right into the middle of a blazing fire.
Bobby Mercer was tired of running into road blocks at every fucking turn of his life and letting Jack make any kind of contact with Jessup Winston would just result in another road block. They were gonna play this one out to the end, but they were gonna play it right. They couldn't afford mistakes, not now. "Right now, someone needs to call Green and let him know where we are and what we're doin'. If anyone is gonna make contact with Winston, we need to be sure Green is aware of it. I think the last thing he needs is a surprise from us."
Jeremiah hung up his phone. "I was just talking to Johnson. They can hold all three for a few hours for questioning, but that's about all we got. Harris is already making phone calls, flashing around his FBI shit." He stepped over to where Bobby and Angel had grouped around Jack in front of the window.
"Okay." Bobby nodded his head. "So who's gonna go with me to talk to Winston?" He looked at Angel and then Jeremiah.
"I'll go." Angel nodded his head. "I got this all worked out."
"I'm going." Jerry held a hand up as if he wanted to stop Angel. "The two of you don't reason too well when you're together."
"I reason just fine." Bobby snapped.
"I used to make a good living 'reasoning' with people." Angle gave Jeremiah a sideways glance. "What the hell do you think it takes to run a good scam?"
Jack cleared his throat. "He's right. He needs to be there. Winston can read a good scam, he's runs them himself, right? He's gonna be able to read you Angel, and hell Bobby it ain't like you were ever a poster boy for the Boy Scouts. He can't read Jerry, hell; no one can tell what he's thinking most of the time." He looked at Jeremiah and took a deep draw off of his cigarette. "Jerry's the honest one, even Winston knows that, and he's gonna believe whatever he says. He has to go with you. Angel needs to find me something to wear so I can get through Winston's door."
Bobby felt the tension take hold of his forehead and knew he was scowling, despite the fact that he was trying not to. "That really makes a lot of fucking sense, Jack." He couldn't hold his sarcasm back. "What, I'm not honest?"
"Nothing personal," Jack muttered quietly and turned to the window to flick what was left of his cigarette out into the cold air.
"Nothing personal," Angel mimicked Bobby's nasally impersonation of Jack. "Hell, we've done a hell of a lot more of this shit than you have, I think we have this covered."
"Yeah, well maybe that explains a hell of a lot." Jack muttered without raising his gaze to meet Angel's. He let out an heavy sigh. "Look, all three of you go if you want, but Jerry needs to be there. Winston will gage the whole fucking story you're gonna feed him by Jerry's reaction, not yours." He finally looked at Bobby. "And no matter what, we still need someone inside his room so we know what move he makes next. That only leaves me, like it or not, and Angel needs to get me a maintenance uniform so I can at least look the part, so he needs to go work on the uniform shit."
Jack was right. Bobby knew Jack was right. He felt pissed that his little brother was out-thinking him at the moment, but an inkling of pride prickled at the base of his skull at the same time. "Don't go thinking you can tell us what the fuck to do Jack." He nearly choked on the words. "You babysit the kid and we'll keep this little meeting short and sweet. If we ain't back in less than 30 minutes you pack your little brother up and get the hell out of here." He rambled on so that no one would have the chance to question how easily he gave into Jack's reasoning. "Come on Jerry, let's go. Angel, go get a fucking uniform and try to be back here before us?"
Bobby turned and stalked towards the door, leaving his three brothers staring at each other, looking confused that he'd given in so quickly. "Well let's move it girls, we ain't got all fucking night. Angel, where's the piece you went after?" He called out as he reached the door.
Angel turned and followed Bobby after a moment's hesitation. "Here," He reached in under his coat, towards his back and drew out the gun Bobby was referring to. "It's loaded, and the safety's on." He informed as Bobby snatched the weapon away.
"Okay, let's move." Bobby lifted his shirt and stuffed the gun in his belt where it would be hidden until he needed it.
Jeremiah sighed and followed Bobby and Angel to the door. The three of them left Jack standing next to the window with Bobby calling out one last instruction for his little brother. "Lock the fucking door behind us Jack!"
Bobby stood in the hall with Jeremiah next to him until he heard the lock slide into place. Angel headed towards the elevator while Bobby and Jeremiah made their way in the opposite direction down the hall. It was time to confront Jessup Winston with as convincing a story as they could about having what he was after. Either the tables were going to turn in their favor, or they were about to destroy their family for good.