Aiden had known that the penthouse apartment would be one of the first places that Jordi looked for him, so he avoided it like the plague. He needed to get changed out of the stupid suit that Jordi had bought for him and back into something he actually felt comfortable wearing though, so he retreated to his nearest safe house, where a quick shower and change of clothes had him feeling more like his usual self.
Afterwards Aiden stared at the suit, where it lay perfectly laid out on what passed for the safe-house's bed and knew that he would feel guilty if he just abandoned it. In the end he arranged for a courier to deliver it to the penthouse, where Jordi could reclaim it. He did not include any sort of message.
He gave up the weapons that he had left at the penthouse as a lost cause. He could buy new ones pretty easily. It wasn't as though he was short on cash at the moment.
And all the while his heart continued the frantic, uneven gallop that had started as soon as Jordi had accused Aiden of being in love with him.
'Hey asshole,' the first text message read. 'Where the hell are you?'
It appeared on Aiden's phone early (at least by his and Jordi's standards) in the morning after Golobev's party. Aiden ignored it.
'Pearce?' the next message read. 'Come on. We need to talk.'
No, they didn't. Whatever Jordi had to say, Aiden didn't want to hear it.
Aiden grabbed a few essentials and then caught the first long-distance bus out of Chicago that he could find. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew that he needed to get away from Chicago, and away from Jordi Chin.
Jordi tried to call him a few times but Aiden always declined the call as soon as he saw Jordi's number. There were more text messages, but Aiden ignored those as well.
Aiden wasn't nearly as infamous or easily recognized outside of Chicago, and so he quickly discovered that with his particular skillset it was easy enough for him to find work in certain less than legal circles, although none of it really meant anything to him, except as a way to keep his mind occupied and his bank balance healthy.
In Oklahoma he started to hear more whisperings of the human trafficking ring that Lucky Quinn had been involved with, and began to follow that trail like a hound. His journey took him far across the country as slowly, one target at a time, he dealt with nearly everyone Quinn had ever done business with.
He told himself that it was his investigation that drove him, but the further he travelled the more obvious it became that he was just trying to get as far away from Chicago as he possibly could without leaving the United States.
There were too many bad memories in Chicago, and no ties to keep him there. What family he used to have had left long ago, and the only friends he might have been able to claim anymore were those who he had teamed up with against Blume, and their relationship had been based on convenience and a mutual hatred of the same people rather than any sort of good will or familiarity.
And so Aiden carried on, pursuing vengeance for a hundred nameless victims, trying not to think about the fact that he was becoming more and more isolated from the rest of the world with every week that passed. Occasionally he would cross paths with other hackers or slightly less distasteful criminal organizations, but any alliance was temporary.
Sometimes he would catch himself thinking about Jordi, but he always banished such thoughts to the back of his mind as quickly as he possibly could, with a bottle of whiskey if need be. Sometimes he contemplated going out and finding some other guy to have sex with in an attempt to erase the memory of Jordi's body from his own, but even simple hook-ups seemed like too much work for too little reward.
When Aiden reached San Francisco he realized that there was nowhere left to go; not only because he had reached the western coast, but because it was there, in San Francisco, that the trail stopped.
His investigation had lead him to a collusion between two of San Francisco's biggest criminal gangs. The Aunty Shu boys learned their lesson quickly enough and backed off once he had made sure several of their high-ranking members either met with death or were behind bars, which just left the local arm of the Bratva.
Aiden wasn't sure what he was going to do once he was done with the Russian mob. He could probably find a new target to go after. After all, there was always someone willing to profit from other people's misery. The potential lack of direction in his life however was terrifying. He didn't do well without some sort of target to work towards.
The Bratva however proved to be more of a problem than Aiden had anticipated. They were well-organized and well-connected, with more members and ties to local law enforcement than Aiden could realistically deal with on his own.
They even managed to grab him. Aiden knew that he might have been in trouble too if it wasn't for one of the local bleeding-heart hacktivists interfering at just the right time. A little bit of digging after the fact revealed his savior to be a member of the San Francisco cell of Dedsec. Aiden had contemplated reaching out to them once or twice, but in the end he always decided against it.
He worked better alone. Friendship. Attachment. Relationships. They never ended well. If his time in Chicago had taught him anything then it was that.
But he was growing so damned lonely. The cars and shipping containers and shitty encampments that he stayed in seemed to grow colder and emptier with every passing night. San Francisco was warmer than Chicago, but Aiden didn't feel it.
A couple of times he even found himself staring at Jordi's number on his cell phone, if only because there was no-one else that he could think of that he actually wanted to talk to. The thought of just hearing the other man's voice again was so tempting that he almost gave in a couple of times, especially when the whiskey had been flowing.
At least Aiden had the Bratva to occupy him. They at least did not seem as though they would be disappearing any time soon.
Aiden wasn't sure whether the building on the other side of the wall he was lurking behind qualified as a mansion or not. It probably did. It was certainly large enough.
The house in question belonged to one Ruben Abramov, one of the most high-ranking members of the San Francisco Bratva. Whatever else you could accuse the Bratva of, being frugal when it came to their more valued members was not one of them.
Aiden had learned a fair bit about Abramov's dealings over the last few weeks, and had learned that whatever the Bratva were up to, there was much more going on in San Francisco than just human trafficking.
He had heard reference to a 'Project Streamer' although Aiden could still only guess what the aim of said project was. What he did know was that it involved a shit load of money and at least one of San Francisco's biggest hospitals, and that Abramov was somehow connected to all of it.
Aiden's current plan involved breaking into Abramov's house and hacking into the man's private computer. If that couldn't give Aiden the answers that he was after, then Abramov himself would.
Security around Abramov's house seemed fairly tight. Whatever was happening inside Abramov's residence, the Bratva wanted to make sure that it stayed a secret.
Well, it wasn't going to; not if Aiden had anything to do with it.
A quick hack got him into one of the house's security cameras. The first couple didn't give Aiden a very good look inside the house itself, but he did spot at least four heavily armed thugs patrolling the perimeter; two at the back of the house and two at the front. With any luck there wouldn't be more inside, but he really couldn't be sure.
He also spotted a couple of motion detectors inside the house. The sensors would only go off if an unauthorized person went through, and they used facial recognition rather than anything as easy to exploit as a key card. Aiden was pretty sure he would be able to switch them off if he got close enough, but they were still a problem.
He jumped to the camera upstairs, scouting the place out as much as possible before he entered. He had just caught sight of Abramov's private computer; in a room next to his bedroom that probably served as some sort of office, when his access to the house's security cameras was abruptly cut short and he was booted out of the system.
Aiden stared down at the phone in his hand, more than a little annoyed and extremely surprised. He had been reasonably careful and hadn't even really begun to cause the Abramov household any trouble yet. No-one should have noticed his intrusion into the system, much less been able to kick him out.
If hacking wasn't a reliable option then Aiden was going to have to try a much more 'hands on' approach when infiltrating the house. It was not his first choice. It wasn't that he was particularly opposed to violence, especially not where Bratva-hired thugs were concerned. In fact, it usually helped him let off steam. He was tired though. He hadn't been sleeping well of late, and wasn't sure he would be able to do much in the way of fighting before he inevitably slipped up.
He wanted to blame his restlessly on the humid Californian weather, or the fact that California just didn't sound or smell or even feel the same as Chicago. There were so many other reasons for his restlessness that he didn't want to acknowledge though. He was floundering, directionless and alone and for the first time in a very long time, actually feeling that loneliness.
He put all such thoughts aside though, checked his pistol, and climbed over the wall and into the grounds of Abramov's mansion.
After the incident with the security camera, Aiden half-expected the guards to already be alerted to the potential presence of an intruder. They went down easy though; one distracted by a message Aiden sent to his phone, and the other one taken unaware while he was investigating the fallen body of his companion. One of them would recover after a few nights in hospital. Aiden wasn't so sure about the second.
It was fairly easy to find the control panel for the security system, and, using a passcode lifted from one of the now unconscious guard's phones, Aiden was able to turn it off for a few seconds and sneak inside.
Aiden knew that he would have to be as quick and silent as possible. After all, there were still the two guards outside, and if either of them heard Aiden or discovered that their friends at the back of the house had been attacked, then things would undoubtedly become a lot more complicated for Aiden. Not to mention he hadn't gotten a good look upstairs and had no idea whether there might be more people hiding somewhere in the house.
The upper floor was far more lavish than the lower one had been. The kitchen and lounge that Aiden had passed through had all been spartan, clean and mostly unlived in from the looks of things, whereas the upper floor was all dark mahogany, soft, thick carpet that dampened Aiden's footsteps and deep, wine-red curtains. The overall look was one of showy, almost indecent decadence, the sort of look you might expect from a Victorian lord's manor, or, at the other end of the spectrum, a very high-class brothel.
Aiden was just glancing around the hallway, trying to guess which door the computer was hidden behind, when one of the doors opened and a tall, portly, middle-aged man with wide shoulders and long, greying hair stumbled out. After a moment Aiden realized he was looking at Ruben Abramov himself. The Bratva leader was wearing a rich bathrobe over the top of a full set of pajamas, despite the fact that it was only late afternoon, and he looked a lot scruffier and drunker than he did in any of his online photographs.
Aiden quickly made a dash for the nearest hiding place, a pair of long, thick curtains that were currently stopping daylight from streaming into the house through a full length window that would have usually given Abramov an excellent view of his backyard, and of San Francisco bay beyond. Aiden hid behind the curtains, peeking out from between them when he dared and hoping that Abramov would not suddenly be gripped by the desire to feel the sun on his face or gaze out over the bay.
"What do you mean someone tripped the alarm!?" Abramov yelled into his phone as Aiden hid nearby. "If the alarm went off then I would have heard it!"
Aiden thought once more of the house's facial recognition technology, but no, that couldn't be what Abramov was talking about. Aiden was completely sure that he had disabled it. Unless someone had managed to interfere with the security system and switch it back on immediately without Aiden realizing it there was no way that the facial recognition system would have registered him. Noticing Aiden's intrusion and switching the system back on remotely would have taken some serious skill, but considering someone had already managed to boot Aiden out of Abramov's system, Aiden had to consider the possibility a lot more seriously than he would have liked.
He tapped into Abramov's phone call, knowing that whatever was going on, he needed to hear it.
Abramov let out a string of Russian, and even though Aiden couldn't understand a word of it, he knew by the other man's tone that at least some of it had been cursing.
"Maybe…" Abramov muttered, pacing backwards and forwards down the hallway and gesturing fruitlessly with his hands. "You said that CTOS could not produce an ID, right? Perhaps this is just a malfunction. One of the guards pulled a strange face or something and the cameras could no longer ID him."
"I don't think so," a younger-sounding voice on the other end of the line said. "I caught someone rooting around in some of your other systems earlier. You need to be careful. You might have an intruder."
"Who would be stupid enough to come after me?" Abramov continued. "I would think it would be easier and more rewarding to…"
"Wait a moment," the man on the other end of the line said.
When the younger man began speaking again he switched to Russian, and Aiden couldn't understand a word that either he or Abramov said, although he could guess what had happened when a few seconds later the call was abruptly ended.
The Bratva hacker had noticed that Aiden was eavesdropping. This guy was really starting to be a thorn in Aiden's side.
Abramov began glancing around himself now that he was alerted to Aiden's presence. Surely it would only be a matter of time before he found Aiden's hiding place, or alerted the remaining guards, and then they would all be looking for Aiden.
Aiden waited until Abramov's back was turned and then jumped out from his hiding place, launching himself at the other man. His plan had been to take Abramov captive, but the larger man managed to slip Aiden's hold almost immediately. His big, meaty arms flailed around and one of his fists connected with Aiden's face before he could plan another attack.
There was no time for talking or for subtlety. There were still two guards outside and Aiden needed to take Abramov down before the Bratva boss could scream for help. As Abramov turned around to attack Aiden once more Aiden grabbed his pistol and shot Abramov right between the eyes.
The other man fell to the ground with a loud 'thud'. Aiden just hoped that neither the sound of Abramov's body falling nor the shot from his silenced pistol had been loud enough to attract attention. Things were going poorly enough as it was without adding a pair of undoubtedly heavily armed guards to the mix.
Abramov's blood had splattered all over the hallway, and his body was lying right where anyone would be able to see it as soon as they came upstairs. If Abramov hadn't been such a large man then Aiden would have dragged him to a more appropriate hiding place. As it was he would have to leave him there and hope that nobody ventured upstairs until Aiden had already left.
Aiden soon located Abramov's study and quickly hacked into his personal computer. It only took him a couple of seconds of rummaging around to locate a folder conveniently marked 'Project Streamer.' It had a few more layers of security than most of the files on Abramov's computer, but Aiden had been expecting that. He had only just set up his phone to run a decryption algorithm when he heard a cry of alarm coming from outside. Someone had already discovered the body of Ruben Abramov.
Aiden cursed beneath his breath. Nothing about this was going right.
He left his phone on the desk by the computer to finish decoding the Project Streamer files on its own; not a risk that he would usually take, but a mission that had gone as horribly wrong as this one usually involved some compromises.
Aiden hid by the door, pistol in hand, waiting for the two guards to approach him. One of them was stupid enough to burst into the room Aiden was in, and received a blow from Aiden's baton to the back of his head. The other guard spotted his companion go down, and fired a couple of shots at Aiden, both of which were too slow to hit before Aiden had already ducked back behind cover.
Aiden ducked back out of cover as his opponent reloaded, and one perfectly aimed shot saw the guard fall to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.
Aiden breathed a sigh of relief as the last guard landed on the floor next to his equally deceased employer. Sure, everyone was either horribly injured or dead, but no-one had seen his face, and as far as Aiden knew, there wouldn't be anyone else interrupting him. He could finish the hack in peace, copy every piece of information about Project Streamer that he could find on Abramov's computer, and leave this forsaken place behind him.
When Aiden returned to his phone he discovered that in the time it had taken for him to deal with the remaining guards, the phone's connection to the computer had been severed.
"No, no, no…" he muttered as he jumped back onto Abramov's PC.
There was no sign of the Project Streamer folder.
"Damn it!" Aiden cursed, punching the desk in frustration. The whole mission had been for nothing. Every single trace of Project Streamer had been wiped from the system. There was nothing left.
It was at that moment that he heard someone cry out from a nearby room. He drew his pistol on reflex and advanced in the direction of the muffled cry. He was fairly certain that he had heard a woman's voice, and that she was probably scared rather than angry, but it always paid to be prepared.
The cry had come from Abramov's bedroom. Aiden advanced cautiously, his pistol at the ready. There was no sign of anyone in the bedroom itself; not on the lavish, oversized bed or in the chair by the window.
"Hello?" Aiden called out.
He heard a thump against one of the walls, and another muffled cry.
"I'm in here!" a woman called out.
The wall behind the bed was covered in a dark, complex pattern of dark wood. When Aiden investigated it further he discovered that a door had been hidden in the pattern. No amount of hacking or technology would allow him to open that door however. Instead he found a whirl of wood that was styled to look like a branch and which gave way when he pulled on it.
The door receded several inches into the wall, and Aiden discovered that he could now slide it open. Walking through the door he found himself in a small hidden chamber, barely wide enough for the cot that took up almost half of the room.
A young woman cowered on the cot, and looked up at Aiden as he entered. He couldn't see much else in there, except for a small lamp which served as the room's only light source, and which bathed it in a rich red color and made it impossible to tell whether the satin and lace negligee, which was the only clothing the woman was wearing, was red, pink or white.
The young woman didn't look as though she had been starved or beaten, but there were dark circles beneath her eyes; too dark for someone so young, and it was very clear that she had been crying. Aiden let his pistol fall to his side.
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" the woman asked. "You're actually here to save me?"
"Sure," Aiden replied. "I guess I am."
Perhaps this mission hadn't been completely fruitless after all.
"Come on," he said, stashing his pistol in its holster and gesturing to the now open door. "Let's get you out of here."
The woman stumbled out of the hidden room and into Abramov's bedroom, and as she did Aiden noted that the negligee had actually been a pale beige. Her skin was slightly darker than he had initially anticipated as well. If Aiden had to guess then he would have probably said Abramov's captive was of Hispanic descent.
She didn't make it any further than the bed before she was sitting down, her fingers digging tightly into the thick, soft blanket on the bed.
"Come on," Aiden prompted her. "You shouldn't stop here. You need to leave."
After all, Abramov and his guards might be dead or unconscious, but the rest of the Bratva were sure to send someone to investigate matters eventually, and Aiden was all too aware of what they might do with a vulnerable young woman.
Not that it wasn't clear that she had been through far more than she should have already. Aiden wasn't naive enough to think that he had just happened to show up before Abramov had done anything to her. Who knew how long she had actually been stuck with the old Bratva leader?
"I can't," the young woman murmured. "I can't do it."
"You can," Aiden said. "You're free."
He didn't know what he was doing; not when it came to comforting people, but he placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, hoping that it would help, and that the touch of another man after what Abramov had done to her wouldn't completely freak her out.
"There are men with guns waiting for me," she sobbed. "If I try to escape they'll shoot me."
"No they won't," Aiden said.
"They will," she said before Aiden could explain any further, rolling up the thin fabric of her negligee to reveal a fist-size scar on her thigh. "See, I tried it once before. After that Ruben took to locking me in that room whenever he wasn't around."
"They won't try to stop you," Aiden interrupted, "because I already took care of them."
"They're… they're dead?"
Aiden placed one hand on each of the girl's shoulders, wondering as he did whether he was actually managing to comfort her, or whether he was making as much of a mess of this as he had the actual hacking job.
"Yes," he said, knowing that it was only a small lie. One of the men in the back yard had survived, but he certainly wouldn't be waking up any time soon. "So is Abramov. He won't bother you any longer."
In truth Aiden had been hoping that as well as comforting the woman he might be able to get some information about Abramov's operation out of her. It might go some way to making up for the data he had lost thanks to the Bratva's hacker.
She burst into tears at that moment though, sobbing and whimpering so loudly that Aiden was suddenly extremely glad that he had already taken care of every single one of Abramov's guards, because the girl's crying might have been enough to bring them all running.
"Hey," he muttered quietly. He didn't know what he was doing; had always been completely clueless when it came to comforting people; and couldn't help but feel awkward as he gently patted the girl's shoulder.
"It's going to be all right," Aiden said, not sure that he himself actually believed it. The girl might be free now, but there was no telling what she had already suffered. She would be lucky if she wasn't scarred for life.
She fell against Aiden, crying into his jacket, and he fumbled as he tried to work out where he was supposed to put his hands. Should he hug her? That wouldn't be weird, right?
He did not hug her, and soon enough her tears dried up on their own.
"Hey listen," he prompted once her sobbing began to die down. "I won't be able to stay here with you for much longer. Before I go, do you think there's anything that you can tell me about the Bratva and what was going on here?"
"I know a lot about Ruben… Um…" the girl muttered, pulling back from Aiden and rubbing her face. "Abramov, I mean. I heard a lot of things, but I don't know how much of it would be useful."
"Do you know anything about a Project Streamer?" Aiden tried.
The girl shook her head slowly and Aiden tried not to let his disappointment show.
"Well, have there been any changes to how things are run of late? Have you seen anyone new around the house?"
The girl shook her head again and Aiden's spirits sank. He was beginning to fear that perhaps this girl wouldn't be able to tell him anything about Abramov and the Bratva that he didn't already know.
"Wait," the girl said then, a serious, thoughtful look appearing on her face for a moment before she looked up at Aiden once more. "There was something. I don't know how useful it would be."
"Tell me," Aiden prompted.
"Ruben started working with someone new," the girl replied. "I only met him once or twice, but I remember him because he was younger than most of the men Ruben works with. He kept making eyes at me too so Ruben yelled at him. His name was… Oh god… What was it? Anton. That's right. Anton… Anton Bagdonov, I think. Something like that."
"Anything else?" Aiden asked her.
"I think he must be someone important to the Bratva. Ruben didn't kill him even though he clearly wanted to, and Ruben arranged for him to get diplomatic immunity. I don't know what he does, but it's something to do with computers."
Aiden thought of the asshole that had blocked him out of Abramov's systems several times already.
"Do you think he might be a hacker?" Aiden asked.
"Maybe?" the girl replied. "I don't know…"
It was at that moment that Aiden felt his phone vibrate. When he checked the screen he discovered that he had an alert. The police were on their way and would be at Abramov's house soon.
"Shit," Aiden cursed, putting the phone away.
The woman in front of him had started to sniffle again, and Aiden wished, not for the first time that day, that he was better at dealing with these things than he actually was.
"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Aiden said. "Anything about what Abramov was doing, or about this Anton guy?"
The woman barely responded except to let out another sniffle, and Aiden suspected that he had fucked up and pressed too hard. He really was bad at these things.
"Damn it," he muttered again. The police would be there soon. He didn't have the time that he needed to comfort this woman enough that she might open up more.
"Sorry," he said as he slipped his phone into his pocket, "but I have to leave now. The police will take care of you."
"Thank you," the woman said, sniffling a little as she did. "What's your name?"
"Sorry," Aiden replied, "but I can't tell you that."
"Oh, all right," the woman muttered. "I suppose I understand. Well, regardless, you saved my life, so I think it's only right that you hear mine, so that you know who you saved. My name is Ramona Vasquez."
Aiden had been about to leave, but at the sound of that name he found himself freezing in place.
"Wait," he said, a fragment of memory rising to the top of his brain. "Could you say your name again?"
"Jordi, I found Ramona Vasquez!"
Aiden had only just left Abramov's house behind when he made the call. To his surprise Jordi picked up almost immediately. Aiden hadn't even been sure that the fixer would still have the same phone number.
"Pearce?" Jordi answered. "What the fuck are you talking about!?"
"Ramona Vasquez!" Aiden repeated.
"Who the fuck is Ramona Vasquez?"
"The daughter of the guy, remember?" Aiden tried. "You know, your client. His daughter had been taken. The house. With the baseball cards?"
"Ohhhh…" Jordi replied after some time, drawing the sound out for several long and painful seconds.
"She was bought by a member of the Bratva," Aiden continued. "Ruben Abramov."
"Right. Why the fuck do I care about this Pearce? For that matter, why the fuck do you care about it?"
Aiden realized immediately that Jordi had a point. It was probably the smallest, stupidest excuse to get in contact with Jordi that he could have come up with, but apparently an excuse, even one as flimsy as this, was all that he had needed to contact Jordi without so much as a second thought. Now that he was aware of that fact the entire conversation seemed so much more awkward.
"Wait a second Pearce," Jordi said, beginning to sound a little annoyed. "Don't fucking tell me that's where you've been this whole time; chasing down some random girl that you don't even fucking know?"
"No, I…" Aiden began, but he broke off pretty quickly. There was no way in hell that he was going to admit that Jordi was the only reason he had left Chicago.
The phone conversation turned silent for a while, and then Aiden heard Jordi let out a long and very tired-sounding sigh.
"Why did you call me Pearce?" Jordi asked. "Do you need some help with the Russian mafia? Is that it?"
"I… I don't know," Aiden replied.
It wasn't that he didn't know whether or not he needed help with the Russian mafia, but he definitely didn't know why he had called Jordi.
"Where are you?" Jordi asked.
"San Francisco," Aiden replied, and immediately wondered whether he was going to regret it. Why was he telling Jordi where he was? Jordi could find him then. Hadn't the point been to disappear and get as far away from Jordi as possible?
For a moment Jordi was silent on the other end of the line. Aiden heard a few taps and another loud sigh, and then Jordi was back again.
"All right," Jordi said. "If I get on the red eye I can be there first thing in the morning."
"Wait… no," Aiden said. "You don't need to…"
"Do you want help with the Bratva or not?"
Aiden didn't know how to answer. He was pretty sure he didn't actually need any help with the Bratva. Taking them down had just been busy work after all.
He missed Jordi though. God how he missed him. He found himself sighing loudly into the phone and rubbing his now aching head.
"My thumb is hovering over the payment confirmation button for a one-way ticket to San Francisco Pearce. If you don't want me flying over there then you'd better tell me now, otherwise you'll be seeing me soon."
Aiden tried to summon the will to tell Jordi that his travelling to San Francisco wouldn't be necessary. It seemed so stupid, and like such a waste of time and money. Jordi didn't need to be there.
He didn't manage to say anything to that effect however before Jordi was speaking once more.
"Well, that's done," Jordi said. "I'll be there in the morning. Where and when do you want to meet?"
"I'm uh… I'm staying just outside of Sausalito right now…"
"Where the fuck is Sausalito?" Jordi asked. "You know what; never mind. We'll book a hotel or something when I get there. I'll call you okay? See you soon."
And with that Jordi hung up.
Aiden stood there and stared at his phone for what was probably a stupidly long period of time.
It had been surprisingly easy to get Jordi to fly halfway across the country for him. In fact Aiden hadn't even asked him to. Jordi had practically volunteered.
What was he going to do when Jordi arrived in San Francisco and realized that Aiden didn't need his help after all? The only reason Aiden had called Jordi in the first place was because he was a pathetic fool who hadn't managed to move on from Jordi and what they'd had back in Chicago nearly as well as he'd thought he had.
What the hell was he doing?
Less than fifteen hours later Aiden found himself standing next to Jordi in front of the door to a particularly shitty hotel room. Jordi had booked the place, and it wasn't nearly as nice as Aiden had expected, with peeling wallpaper and air-conditioning that was spotty at best, but still a lot nicer than many of the places Aiden had been sleeping of late.
So far Aiden had been nothing if not polite and professional to Jordi. The fixer meanwhile had spent the entire time complaining; about the red-eye, about the humidity in San Francisco and about some old man he had been seated next to on the plane who had spent the entire flight snoring.
"It made sleeping impossible," Jordi said as he unlocked the hotel room door. "Absolutely fucking impossible. Do you want to get coffee Pearce? I need coffee to wash out the taste of the mud they had the nerve to serve me on the plane. I mean, they claimed that it was coffee, but I really wasn't convinced, you know?"
Jordi deposited the single briefcase that he had brought with him inside his hotel room, and then proceeded to relock the door.
Aiden had barely been able to keep his eyes off Jordi, and not for the reasons he had been anticipating. The fixer did not look well. There were deeper circles around Jordi's eyes than Aiden remembered, although those could probably be explained by the sleepless red eye flight that Jordi had decided that he needed to catch. His suit was different too; plain black on black, undoubtedly expensive and very professional but ultimately boring and not at all what Aiden was used to seeing Jordi wear.
They were both relatively quiet as they made their way out of the hotel and then down the street to grab coffee from the first place that they saw. Aiden's was mediocre at best, although he suspected that his unease at Jordi's sudden reappearance in his life might have affected his enjoyment of it. Jordi didn't complain about his, so it had to have been better than the airline coffee at any rate.
"So why don't you tell me about this little Bratva problem you've been having?" Jordi asked they slowly walked down the street together.
Jordi wasn't acting as though anything that had happened over the last day or so was strange. If it wasn't for the bright Californian sunshine Aiden might have even thought that time had rewound and the two of them were still back in Chicago.
Aiden groaned and downed the last of his coffee in one go.
"There is no problem," he admitted. "Nothing that you need to worry about anyway."
"Then what the fuck am I doing here?" Jordi asked.
"That's a good question," Aiden replied. "I never said that I had a job for you Jordi. Just that I was having Bratva problems. Are you that desperate for work?"
"Fuck off Pearce," Jordi snapped as he pitched his now empty cup into the nearest trashcan with a lot more force than necessary.
We're talking in circles, Aiden realized. Jordi knows damn well he's not here for a job. So what was it that made him decide to catch the red eye from Chicago at such short notice? There's only one answer that makes sense, and I don't think either of us are willing to acknowledge it. One of us is bound to bring up that night at Golobev's mansion soon. I wonder which one of us will crack first.
"You just…" Jordi began slowly, gritting his teeth as he did, "… disappeared!"
Jordi's hands formed into fists by his sides.
Of course it's Jordi, Aiden thought.
"There was no word," Jordi continued. "No-one knew where you were. You just fucking left Golobev's party and were never seen or heard from again. I figured, you know, give Pearce a few days to cool down and get his knickers untangled from whatever twist he's gotten them in, and then he'll show up again, or at least answer my fucking phone calls, but no; not a single word. Not even a goodbye; just a fucking suit showing up at our penthouse suite with no return address. That suit was bespoke you ass! What the hell did you expect me to do with it?"
Aiden scoffed.
"You're acting like you were actually worried about me," Aiden joked.
Apparently Jordi didn't find anything about the situation funny. He grabbed Aiden and slammed him up against the nearest patch of wall, his fingers digging tightly into Aiden's upper arms.
"God, you can be such a fucking dick sometimes!" Jordi yelled. "Of course I was fucking worried about you, you arrogant, self-absorbed asshole!"
Jordi backed away from Aiden and threw his hands up in the air. Aiden stayed where he was, the cold brick wall at his back. As he glanced around them he couldn't help but notice that they were attracting more attention than he would have liked. 'Aiden Pearce' might not have been as well known a name as it had been back in Chicago, but he was still trying to keep a low profile.
"Maybe we should continue this back in the hotel," Aiden suggested, wanting to get away from too many prying eyes.
"You're damn right we should continue this in the hotel!" Jordi yelled back at him. "You just…"
Jordi flailed for a bit then, his hands turning into fists and then pulling back again.
"I just…" Jordi tried again, and didn't seem to get any further.
Then he leaned back in towards Aiden. Aiden, who was already getting ready to defend himself, afraid that Jordi was actually angry enough with him that he might turn violent, and was therefore extremely surprised when Jordi kissed him.
Jordi's lips lingered on Aiden's for quite a while. He didn't deepen the kiss, just kept it slow and simple. Eventually Aiden's surprise at the kiss died down, and he closed his eyes and let himself relax into the kiss just in time for Jordi to bring it to an end.
The fixer pulled back from Aiden, stared at him for all of a moment and then quickly turned away as though suddenly embarrassed or disgusted.
"You're such a dick," Jordi snapped.
Aiden wondered if he had done anything in particular to earn that comment, or whether Jordi was still just angry over Aiden's disappearance.
As though he has any right to be pissed, Aiden thought to himself. Maybe if he hadn't mocked me for falling in love with him then I wouldn't have felt the need to disappear.
He folded his arms in front of his chest and glared at Jordi, but by that stage the fixer had already turned away from Aiden.
Aiden sighed and wished that things could be easier between the two of them. He couldn't help but feel like there was something that he was missing. Jordi was even more of an enigma to Aiden right then than he usually was, but Aiden was sure that if he could just work out the thing that he was missing then surely all the pieces would come together and the other man's behavior would all suddenly make sense.
"Come on," Jordi said, grabbing Aiden's wrist without even looking back at him. "Let's go back to the hotel and 'talk'."
Aiden shook his hand free of Jordi's grip and followed him back to the filthy hotel room Jordi had hired. Neither of them said a word; not when they climbed the stairs to Jordi's room, not when Jordi turned the key in the aging and quite frankly less than secure lock, and not when they first stepped into the room itself.
Instead they both just stood there, staring at the ground or the wall or whatever happened to be in front of their eyes; anywhere but at each other. To Aiden it seemed appropriate. Whatever else their relationship was it had never involved good communication.
This thing, whatever it was; this painful, annoying, embarrassing weakness, had taken them across the country, to a shitty little hotel in the middle of San Francisco, and it felt like they still hadn't worked out anything at all.
"What the fuck am I doing here?" Jordi eventually asked once more.
"You tell me," Aiden replied. "I still haven't made sense of that one myself."
Jordi let out a tired-sounding noise halfway between a sigh and a groan and flopped down on top of the room's single bed. There were several words that Aiden could have used to describe the bed, but 'clean' and 'sturdy' would not have been among them. It buckled beneath Jordi's weight, let out a pathetic sounding groan, as though the weight of a single man was almost enough to send it to the grave, and then something on the bottom of the bed fell to the ground with a 'thunk'.
"Jesus fucking…" Jordi cursed as he got back to his feet once more. He lashed out, kicking one of the bed's legs with a bit more force than the bed was capable of withstanding, and the next thing either of them knew the leg was breaking, the bed was tilting and the mattress was sliding onto the floor.
"Well this is just fucking great," Jordi cursed. "I was tired and just wanted a few hours of sleep, but now I'm going to have to book myself into another fucking hotel first. That's great. Just fucking fantastic."
Jordi's display of anger did not worry Aiden as much as it perhaps should have. He found himself just standing there, watching the other man and continuing to wonder.
"Seriously Jordi," he began. "Why are you here?"
"Because you asked me."
Aiden paused, but only for a moment.
"No I didn't," Aiden said.
"Yeah, you fucking did," Jordi replied. "I mean, not like a normal person would ask someone to fly halfway across the country, but you have to remember Pearce, I know you. I've learned to speak 'Aiden Pearce' by now. I've had to learn it if I wanted to spend any amount of time around you without going insane. You didn't ring me up just to fucking tell me about… Jesus, I don't know, Rachel or whatever the fuck her name was. She was an excuse. You just wanted to see me again. It's going to go a hell of a lot better for the both of us if you just admit that, you asshole."
With that Jordi sat back down, right on the one corner of the mattress that had fallen completely to the floor.
"All right," Aiden conceded after only a moment's thought. Jordi had a point after all. "But you responded by flying out here as soon as you possibly could."
What the hell does that even mean? he wondered. If my reasons for calling Jordi are flimsy then his reasons for flying out here are even more so.
Suddenly everything fell into place, and Aiden froze as it all came together to form a solution that he never would have anticipated.
"You hypocrite," Aiden said as a smile began to form on his face despite his best efforts to suppress it.
From his less-than-comfortable looking corner of mattress Jordi looked up at Aiden and cocked a single eyebrow in his direction.
"Pardon me?" he asked Aiden.
"You're in love with me," Aiden said.
Aiden's grin slowly grew. It wasn't often that he felt like he actually had the upper hand where Jordi was concerned, but not only have the upper hand here, he felt as though he had just won the entire war.
Jordi scoffed and tried to wave aside Aiden's words, acting as though they were ridiculous, or worse than that, worth absolutely nothing at all. Aiden knew Jordi better than that though. Whether the fixer wanted to admit it or not, Aiden's words had actually gotten to him.
"You are!" Aiden insisted, unable to stop himself from smiling. He didn't know whether he was actually happy about the news or whether he just found the irony of the situation hilarious. "You travelled half-way across the country just to see me. You love me."
"That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard Pearce," Jordi said. He pushed himself up off the mattress and folded his arms in front of his chest. His attempt to stare Aiden down was a fairly good one, but he was acting too defensively for Aiden to ever be fooled into thinking that he hadn't scored a direct hit.
"What the fuck would make you think that I have any feelings for you whatsoever except annoyance, mild disdain and despair that you are ever going to look like anything except a particularly attractive homeless person?"
"Not including the fact that you flew all this way at the drop of a hat?" Aiden asked.
"Jesus fucking…" Jordi cursed.
He did not get any further. This time it was one of Aiden's kisses that silenced Jordi. The fixer was clearly furious, but Aiden was so sure of his conclusion that he found himself feeling strangely weightless and giddy.
For a short while, just a couple of seconds or so, Jordi did not kiss back, and Aiden spent most of those seconds wondering if perhaps he had come to the wrong conclusion after all, and that Jordi was going to pull away at any second.
It didn't happen though. Soon enough Jordi was kissing Aiden back. Aiden deepened the kiss, insistent and demanding, determined that for once he was going to be the one to break Jordi down. He was going to get the truth out of him. He was going to make Jordi admit that there was more to this than just sex.
When they parted they were both breathing heavily, sucking in air in quick, desperate gasps. Jordi stared at Aiden with eyes that did not seem entirely focussed. Aiden had a suspicion that his own were not much better. His tongue darted out to taste the remains of Jordi's lips on his own. He had missed the other man's taste; had missed so much about Jordi, even the things that he would have previously said he hated the most about the other man.
Somewhere during the kiss Jordi's hands had reached up to grab each side of Aiden's head and keep him in place. Aiden's arms had moved up as well to wrap loosely around Jordi's shoulders. They continued to stare at each other, and then, so slowly that Aiden barely felt as though he was moving, they both leaned forward to initiate another kiss.
The last couple had only served to remind Aiden how much he had missed the taste and feeling of Jordi's lips against his own. Neither of them held back this time. Their tongues and lips pressed hungrily against one another, and their hands began to roam freely. It wasn't long at all before Aiden found himself moaning into the kiss.
When they finally parted they were definitely both panting and flushed. When he looked at Jordi Aiden saw the same desperate longing and need that he had felt in Jordi's absence reflected back at him. One of Jordi's hands was desperately grasping at Aiden's hair and caressing his ear. The other was holding Aiden's chin and neck with such tenderness, as though Aiden was something rare and precious that Jordi could not under any circumstances allow to break.
There was no doubt in Aiden's mind now. Jordi felt at least something for Aiden, even if he would never admit it. Aiden could almost sympathise with him. He wondered how long Jordi had been aware of it, or whether he really hadn't managed to admit the truth to himself just yet.
He looked Jordi right in the eye, leaned in close and whispered.
"I love y…"
He didn't get to finish speaking before Jordi moved one of his hands lightning quick, to place a single finger against Aiden's lips.
"Don't say it," he told Aiden. "You don't talk about your feelings and I don't talk about my feelings. That's the only fucking way that this is going to work Pearce."
Aiden frowned at the other man. He had struggled with his feelings for Jordi for so long; was still struggling with them. The realization that Jordi felt the same as he did should have made him happy, but instead Jordi was pulling this bullshit, which ultimately left them in an even worse place than if Aiden had just stayed in Chicago and continued to suppress any hint of fondness he felt for Jordi.
"Fuck you," he spat.
"Oh come on Pearce. Don't act like you have the moral high ground here. We both know you have the emotional intelligence and maturity of a fucking badger. I don't do relationships because I'm fucking smarter than that and you're so fucking terrible at them that you probably shouldn't do them so honestly it's probably better if we leave emotion out of this and just keep the casual sex."
"Hate to break it to you Jordi, but people don't usually fly halfway across the country just for a fucking booty call or whatever you're trying to convince yourself this is."
"God damn it Pearce," Jordi said, his hands flying up to tangle in his own hair. "You're so… so fucking infuriating sometimes!"
And that was the last thing Jordi said before his lips slammed against Aiden's own in a gesture that was more of an attack than a display of affection. He bit down on Aiden's bottom lip, making the hacker gasp.
Aiden found himself grabbing Jordi by the front of his jacket, desperately holding onto the other man so that he wouldn't fall over as Jordi roughly backed Aiden up.
They twisted, their limbs grappling with each other in some sort of dysfunctional parody of a dance, until the two of them ended up falling on top of the dislodged mattress. Aiden fell first with Jordi on top of him, one of his elbows banging painfully against part of the bed frame as he landed.
Jordi's mouth and hands were keeping him far too occupied for him to be able to stop and check on his elbow however. Already Jordi's hands were tugging impatiently on Aiden's jacket, and Aiden couldn't be entirely sure that Jordi wasn't trying to undress Aiden as much as tear his clothes off.
Jordi continued to kiss him, pulling back only to breathe, and when the removal of Aiden's clothing necessitated at least a few inches of space between them. Aiden tried to soften the kisses, to turn them into the sweet, slow things that he found himself craving, but Jordi was desperate, like a man consumed, his tongue plundering Aiden's mouth and his teeth biting down on Aiden's lips.
Jordi's hands grabbed at Aiden, clutching him so hard that Aiden was sure that he would find a few bruises tomorrow, and when he spoke it was with a distant and demanding tone that carried none of Jordi's usual playfulness.
"You want this, right Pearce?" Jordi asked, and Aiden moaned and said that he did.
"More," Jordi demanded, and Aiden gave him more.
"Roll over Pearce," Jordi said, and Aiden did.
For the first time since they had begun all of this, Jordi didn't call Aiden anything but 'Pearce', as though formality might put some desperately needed space between the two of them. It was all so impersonal; more like casual, meaningless sex than anything they had done before, even during that first night by the river.
But Aiden's body was hungry. It soaked up every touch and ounce of pleasure that Jordi bestowed on it, and he cried out for more. More, more, more. He needed more. He needed Jordi's bites, even if he would have preferred they were kisses. He needed Jordi's hands on him, holding him in place, even if he would have preferred that they were caressing him.
More than once Aiden tried to look the other man in the eye, to kiss him sweetly, but Jordi was having none of it, and they ended up switching positions so that Aiden was sprawled face down on what was left of the broken bed, Jordi thrusting into him from behind.
Aiden came with a cry, his body hit with an orgasm as strong and all-consuming as any that Jordi had given him while they had been back in Chicago. He was vaguely aware of Jordi's arms wrapped tightly around him, and of Jordi following close behind him, but something about it all wasn't right.
Aiden's body had been satisfied. His heart had not.
He lay there, gripping the edge of a mattress that he was now beginning to realize was emitting a vaguely unpleasant musty odor, and wondered if this was actually what casual sex was supposed to feel like.
He came to the conclusion that he hated it.
Jordi stayed there for a while, leaning over Aiden, his arms wrapped tightly around him. He didn't caress Aiden though, or press a kiss to Aiden's bare skin, even though Aiden desperately wished that he would.
"Kiss me?" he asked Jordi, remembering how early on in their relationship Jordi had insisted that Aiden needed to ask for the things he wanted.
There was no kiss.
"Jordi!" Aiden snapped, twisting around so that he could glare at the other man. "Just one fucking kiss…"
"All right!" Jordi snapped back.
They kissed, although it was a little uncomfortable considering Jordi was still buried deep within Aiden. The kiss started off nice enough, and Aiden found himself relaxing and chasing after the warm softness of the other man's lips, but then Jordi was biting down on his bottom lip again and Aiden pulled back quickly.
Jordi pulled back as well, his softening cock slipping free of Aiden's body. Jordi stood up, and Aiden rolled over most of the way so that he could actually face Jordi.
"What the hell was that!?" Aiden yelled as soon as Jordi had climbed off him.
"I'm surprised you need to ask considering how many times we've done it," Jordi said, looking at Aiden with something suspiciously close to anger in his eyes. "That was sex Pearce."
"Bullshit," Aiden snapped back.
It had been sex. It had even been, on some level, satisfying sex. Claiming that they had done anything like it before that day however was ridiculous. Jordi's unexpected roughness Aiden could deal with and even appreciate on occasion, but Jordi had been cruel, distant, as though he was just using Aiden for his own pleasure and didn't give a shit about the man himself.
"I don't know what you expect me to say Pearce," Jordi said, his eyes narrowed in anger; an anger than Aiden knew Jordi should have directed at himself. "That was sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you didn't like it then you can feel free to…"
"Damn it Jordi!" Aiden yelled. "You know as well as I do that what just happened was not normal for us!"
"What the hell do you want from me!?" Jordi yelled back, all traces of calm confidence swiftly fleeing from him in favor of a fierce anger that Aiden had not been anticipating. "If you wanted to talk about your fucking feelings and wanted… I don't know, sweet kisses and I-love-yous and shit during sex then you came to the wrong fucking guy!"
Aiden's hand turned into a fist by his side. This was possibly the biggest load of bullshit Jordi had ever tried to sell Aiden. This had stopped being just about sex a long time ago. Whether Jordi was willing to admit it or not, they had both been emotionally compromised long before Aiden had left Chicago.
He didn't say that though. Of course not. He was too angry, and he knew that Jordi wouldn't listen.
"Maybe it would have been better," Aiden said instead, "if the two of us had never slept together in the first place."
He didn't know whether he really meant the words or not. He suspected some part of him did. What he had with Jordi couldn't possibly be worth this much trouble, could it?
"At last," Jordi replied. "Something we can agree on."
Aiden didn't know whether he wanted to punch Jordi or kiss him. At least when Jordi had accused Aiden of falling in love, Aiden had had the good grace to admit that it was true. Jordi was just being a stubborn ass.
Aiden settled for kissing Jordi, his hands grabbing Jordi on either side of his head and holding him still while his mouth crashed against Jordi's. Their lips pressed against one another for a few seconds, during which Jordi let out a surprisingly vulnerable sounding whimper, and then Jordi was biting down on Aiden's lip again.
Aiden bit back, and the two of them pulled away from one another with blood smeared all over their mouths. Aiden inspected his own lips with his tongue to find out that at least some of the blood was his.
"Fuck you Pearce," Jordi snapped.
Aiden considered coming out with some sort of smart-ass remark in reply but then decided against it. Instead he gathered his clothes up from where they had fallen around the small hotel room, and began to get dressed.
Jordi simply stood there, watching Aiden with his arms crossed in front of his chest, seemingly content to remain naked and making absolutely no move to grab his own clothing.
"Where the hell are you going?" Jordi asked as Aiden's hand landed on the handle of the door.
"Do you actually want me to stay?" Aiden asked.
Jordi hesitated for what Aiden felt was far too long.
"No," Jordi eventually said. Aiden could tell without even looking at the other man's face that it was a lie.
Aiden didn't call him out on it though. He simply opened the door and stepped right through, and Jordi made absolutely no move to stop him.
As soon as he was away from the hotel room Aiden found himself gripped by a sudden, almost uncontrollable rage. He stopped for a second and slammed a closed fist against the nearest wall; a thick concrete brick structure that didn't fold at all beneath Aiden's punch and just left his hand hurting.
Why did everything with Jordi have to be so complicated? Why did relationships always go so fucking wrong? Why did they have to be so damned difficult, and why couldn't his heart have picked anyone simpler to fall in love with? He had known that Jordi would be bad news. He had known that and yet he had still let himself fall in love like a fucking idiot.
He punched the wall again, if only to feel something that wasn't the horrible, aching emptiness and frustration that had built up inside his heart. Was it really so much to ask that Jordi acknowledge there was more between them than lust? That was all that he had wanted, right?
He just wanted Jordi to admit that he loved him; that Aiden was not all alone in feeling these fucked up, useless emotions. He just wanted Jordi to kiss him and to touch him with the same tenderness that he had back in Chicago. The fixer hadn't seemed to have any problem with it all then, but that had been before he had realised Aiden was in love with him.
He just wanted…
Aiden didn't know what he wanted, except that it was probably something that Jordi would be unwilling to give.
The next best thing would probably be to hurt somebody.
Luckily Aiden knew of a few Bratva members that he still had unfinished business with.