Pittsburgh – early morning
"You remember what to do?" Matthews asked. "Our deal is only valid if you get us the information we need," he reminded the other man.
Kingsley nodded, eyes narrowing. "How can I forget? It's only jail time and quite possibly my life if I don't. You'd just better make sure you hide this fucking wire so Prescott's brother doesn't catch on to what I'm doing. If being a psychopath runs in the family and he finds out what's going on, Kinney and Sinclair won't be the only ones with a hit out on them."
"Relax, Kingsley, I know what I'm doing. And it's not like you haven't used this type of surveillance equipment before – for perfectly legal reasons, I'm sure," the prosecutor said, knowing full well it was completely the opposite. Kingsley was so oily you could have marketed him alongside WD40.
Finally satisfied that he had the wire placed unobtrusively on the man's chest, Matthews nodded as the detective buttoned up his shirt; the microphone was a small, rectangular, flat piece that was state of the art; under the detective's shirt it was thankfully unnoticeable.
"Benton?" We're ready to do the test now," Horvath instructed his tech guy sitting out in the van. "Say something into the mike, Kingsley."
"Give me a million dollars and no questions asked," he quipped. "Then take a long vacation to Tahiti."
"Very funny," Matthews retorted. "Fuck this up and you WILL be taking a long vacation – in a pine box."
"Don't you think I KNOW that?" Kingsley answered, rolling his eyes. "I want this over with as much as YOU do. Prescott has been nothing but trouble since the first day I met him."
"Did you get that?" Horvath asked into his cell phone. "He says it came through loud and clear," he confirmed to the other men with a thumbs up. "Now we need to test the camera."
Kingsley turned toward Horvath and casually pressed the button on his left shirt cuff. The button looked identical to its mate on the detective's other sleeve; however, this button actually activated a camera eye resembling the larger buttons sewn onto the man's dress shirt near his chest.
Kingsley looked over at Horvath expectantly as the policeman checked with his tech guy again. "How's it look, Benton?" he asked the other man. After a few seconds, Carl smiled. "He says he likes me in navy blue."
Shaking his head in amazement, Kingsley's attorney, Settlemeyer, replied, "That's pretty incredible. I've never heard of such a thing."
"Of course not," Horvath answered. "Do you think we want to advertise these? Good thing we have this – there's no way with the extraordinary security enforcements Prescott's brother undertakes that we could get an undercover camera in there before your client pays him a visit."
"By the way, I DO have some other news," Matthews interrupted, directing his statement to the other attorney. "I spoke to the prison warden at the Pennsylvania Correctional Institute. They keep surveillance footage for six months on all visitors to the correctional facility. They had no trouble finding the footage of your client meeting with Prescott at the precise day and time he indicated. That will definitely help nail the bastard along with what Kingsley hopefully comes up with today."
"That's good," Settlemeyer agreed. "It validates what my client has been saying all along."
"Not totally," Matthews cautioned him. "It only proves the two had a conversation. What was SAID is up for interpretation. But I suppose if I had to choose, I would have to go along with your client's version over anything Prescott would have to say. He is NOT to be trusted. But we have to have more to go on that just some footage."
Kingsley frowned. He regretted the day he ever met Prescott and decided to hook up with him. At first the man only asked him to do legitimate work for him – security details for his fashion presentations, background checks on potential employees, etc. But recently the work had taken on a decidedly seedier side, requests that only seemed attractive because Prescott was willing to put up extremely large amounts of cash to keep him under his wing. Now he could possibly be looking at a long jail term if he failed to keep his secret assignment under wraps. This would have to be the acting role of his lifetime.
Matthews motioned for everyone to sit as he took out a legal pad. "Let's go over the schedule so everyone is on the same page here. You are set up to meet with Aiden Prescott at 10:30 this morning, correct?" At Kingsley nervous nod, he continued. "Carl, you will have the unmarked surveillance van sitting down the street from the hotel?"
"Right. Benton's got the guys all ready to go at my signal. We're very fortunate the guy agreed to meet Kingsley here in Pittsburgh. If we had had to coordinate a meeting with Prescott's brother at his corporate offices in New York, we would have had all types of logistical nightmares between hooking up with the NYC cops and being able to even park the van close enough to the complex to get a clear feed. This was a lucky break. Let's hope that's a good sign."
"Yeah, me too," Matthews agreed, as he looked intently at Kingsley. "So we've got the backup in place to record the video and audio of your conversation with Aiden Prescott, but it's all up to you. We need you to get Prescott's brother to not only implicate himself, but more importantly, Prescott. HE'S the big fish – if we can trip his brother up enough to divulge the information, it will send both him AND his brother away for a long time."
"Believe me, I want it as much as YOU do. But I'm not an actor."
"Don't sell yourself short," Matthews stated tersely. "I'm sure you put on quite the show when you impersonated Schmidt during your call to the security company to cancel Kinney's bodyguard detail."
"That was different – that was over the phone and my fucking life wasn't on the line." He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Just thinking about meeting up with Prescott's brother made his heart race.
"Well, everything's in motion – if you want to avoid a long jail sentence along with your buddies, you'll follow through on your pledge to do this." Matthews looked pointedly at Settlemeyer to elicit his aid.
"He's right," Settlemeyer confirmed to his client. "This is the only way to avoid further prosecution. Matthews is correct – the agreement you signed is only in effect if you gather the information he needs to nail the Prescott brothers. You're not backing out now, are you?" he pressed Kingsley.
Kingsley sat rigid in his chair, dread filling his body. Finally, he took a slow breath and let it out. "No," he finally answered softly. "I'm in."
Matthews and Horvath looked at each other and nodded. As he looked at his watch, he noticed it was almost 8:30 a.m. Standing up, he concluded the meeting by stating, "Okay, then, let's get to work."
"Let's go, Kingsley," Settlemeyer urged his client as the two started toward the door. "Dress rehearsal's over – it's time to get ready for the real thing."
As they left Matthews' office, Horvath couldn't help turning to Greg and asking him, "Do you think he's up to this? Does he have the nerve to go through with it? There's a lot depending on this."
"Don't I know it," Greg declared. "I'm still not sure I trust the guy, but we don't have any choice. If he doesn't convince Prescott's brother to be straight up with him, we're fucked. He's got to get him to say it out loud – clearly, and not with some clever euphenisms. He has to spell it out, and the guy's going to be very reluctant to do that. Let's hope Kingsley's act is worthy of an Oscar today."
"Yeah," Carl agreed. "Brian and Sinclair's lives could depend on it. Because if we don't nail Prescott and his brother now, I have no doubt they will find someone else to carry out their dirty work." He was silent in thought for a few seconds before asking, "You still think we shouldn't let at least Brian in on what's going on? I can see maybe not involving Justin right now after everything he's been through with the guy, but Brian could handle it."
"I think he could, too, but I've seen the two of them together, especially recently during the trial. It's obvious they love each other a great deal, and I've seen their deep bond. I don't think it's fair to Brian to place him in a situation where he has to withhold information about Prescott from Justin. In fact, I'm not even sure he COULD – they know each other too well. And Brian told me they're going out of the country on their vacation, so I really think he's safe for now. I'd rather wait and see what happens today. Hopefully, everything will turn out the way we hope and then I can tell them – AFTER they get back. And hopefully I'll be able to not only tell them about what happened, but I can assure them that Prescott AND his brother will be going away to jail for a long, long time."
Glancing up at the clock, Carl nodded. "I hope you're right. I like those boys, and I don't want to see them get hurt anymore. And I don't think I have to tell you how Debbie feels about them. They deserve a little normalcy for a change, and I'm going to do my part to see that hopefully they get it. Speaking of which, I'd better get out to Benton to make sure he's got everything ready to go. You want to meet back here at your office later today?"
"Definitely. In fact, I've already told Settlemeyer to have his client back here at 2:00 p.m. to discuss what happens. Will that give your guys enough time to review the video and audio feeds?"
"Yeah, that should be enough time. I'll plan on being back here at 2:00, then."
As Horvath walked toward the door, Greg called out in parting, "Good luck, Carl. I'll be waiting for your report. Let's hope it's a good one."
Just before he opened the door to leave, Carl turned to him and said, "Yeah, I hope so, too."
Near Greece - Same Day
Justin and Brian were blissfully oblivious to the drama about to be played out in their hometown; they were, instead, about to finally land in Athens; from there it would be a short jump to their destination island of Mykonos. Justin had spent a large amount of time in his first-class seat catching up on some shut-eye; the antibiotic the doctor had given him had made him markedly drowsy. So, unfortunately, despite Brian's intention to recruit his husband into the International Mile High Club en-route, he finally decided it would have to wait until the return flight back to the States. Besides, he knew there would be plenty of time to make up for lost moments later. He couldn't wait to show Justin their accommodations on the island and to christen their villa properly.
"What time it is?" he heard a mumbled question next to him; looking over, he observed the tousled, blond hair, somewhat cloudy eyes and flushed face – absolutely adorable. Brian smiled slightly in relief as he heard his husband's voice. "Why, Mickey, you almost sound back to normal. And I was getting kind of fond of the squeaky, high-pitched squeal."
Justin lightly smacked the brunet's arm. "Well, just get unused to it, Mr. Kinney. I for one don't think horny and Mickey Mouse go together," he declared, evoking a small chuckle from his lover. "Admit it – would you get turned on by Mickey Mouse saying to you, Fuck me hard? Ride my tight little ass?" he whispered.
"Do mice even HAVE asses, Sunshine?" Brian grinned as Justin laughed. "Okay, I guess it would have been hard to keep a straight face. And you're not exactly quiet when you get excited."
"And you know how to get me REALLY excited, Mr. Kinney," he whispered seductively, reaching down to squeeze the brunet's cock in emphasis.
Brian couldn't stifle a small groan as he rushed to remove the slender, skillful hand. "Ah, Sunshine, you're not playing fair. We're about to land and they won't let us out of our seats now. Even if I wanted to initiate you into the Mile High Club right now, I couldn't."
Justin smiled smugly; I still have the touch. "Well, if I remember correctly, we have an hour layover in Athens before our flight to Mykonos. Surely we can find a suitable way to pass our time while we're waiting."
Brian returned his smile. "Count on it, Sunshine. Count on it," as he reached over to grasp the wandering hand to still it. As he looked at the shiny band worn on the blond's hand, he still found it hard to believe they were married. But to his amazement, it really didn't frighten him. A few years ago, the mere thought of being committed to one person in a relationship, let alone a marriage, would have evoked a disbelieving sneer. But now, with this particular man, this incredible, passionate man, he found it oddly exhilarating. He had no doubt that this little, blond spitfire would keep him happy and sated for a LONG time – a lifetime, if he was lucky.
Justin looked over at the brunet who presently had a look of contemplation on his face. He knew he would never get tired of that face; a face of the man who had stood by him through so many difficult times, who had supported him when he needed it, and who had always believed in him. "Brian?"
"Yes, Justin?" he asked softly.
"I'm so happy we were able to get away together – just the two of us. And I'm so excited about seeing Mykonos. This is really the first time we've actually had a real vacation of any kind," he realized.
"I know," Brian responded. "We sure fucking needed it, too, after this past year."
"Yeah. But you know what I'm happiest about, Brian?" As Brian shook his head, Justin released Brian's hand just long enough to hold up his own, jeweled hand. "This," Justin said, indicating his wedding band. "I'm so happy that you're my husband. I didn't realize how much I wanted it until we actually went through with it. But I love you so fucking much, Brian Kinney. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that. And I want the world to know it."
Brian smiled tenderly at the sentimental, emotional blond sitting next to him. He knew Justin wouldn't expect him to echo his feelings – Brian still had trouble verbalizing how he felt, although in the past year or so he had made a conscious effort to tell Justin how he felt about him, especially after he feared he would lose him to Prescott. But Brian surprised even himself when he reached over once again to take the slender hand in his. Squeezing it slightly for emphasis, he told the blond, "I don't think I realized how much I wanted it, too, Sunshine. But I did. Really," he insisted, as he noticed the slight look of skepticism on Justin's face. "Of course, I expect you to spend the rest of your life convincing me that I made the right decision," he added, rolling his lips under and waggling his eyebrows high as if waiting for a response.
"Is that all?" Justin asked. "I think I can handle that," he whispered, flashing one of his trademark smiles and leaning over toward the brunet to plant a quick kiss on his husband's soft lips. "Just don't count on me being a quiet participant," he warned. "Mickey's gone back to Disneyland. But our ride's just beginning."