Third Party Ripoff 1/5
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Words: 4,000/19,400
Warnings: Violence, minor character death, blood, drugs, spies, slash, sexual innuendo and more if I feel like it
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad and I am a liar. The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which inspired this verse to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took its feeling.
Summary: Jared Padalecki works covert operations for the CIA. When he is sent to investigate the involvement of a drug cartel in the financing of international terrorism he finds himself in the lion’s den. The only person who seems to be on his side is the scary but very intriguing arms dealer Jensen. But things are not what they seem.
This belongs to the SecretOperations!verse. It’s the first story in the timeline and can therefore be read as a stand-alone fic as well. Those who have not yet read Mandatory Refusal should do so AFTER having read this, to keep the surprises coming.
>> TRAILER VIDEO by mangacat201
Part One
When Jared signed up with the CIA, he believed that he was going to be one of the good guys. He knew that being a spy was not going to be glamorous, and he was aware that James Bond and his colleagues were far away from reality. Still, he had not expected to feel as bad about himself as he did now. He still believed in the cause. But he was not proud of his actions.
Jared had spent the last eleven months working his way up through the hierarchy of an international drug cartel. He'd climbed up the steep ladder relatively fast, earning trust and gathering information in a painstaking process that was filled with actions Jared never wanted to do.
Normally drugs were not on the CIA’s list of targets. But there was evidence that bound the group Jared had slowly weaseled his way into to a big flow of cash that had ended up funding terrorist acts posing a definite threat to any civilized country.
By now Jared always felt the need to roll his eyes at expressions like “civilized countries”. He had learned the hard way, that there was no black and white, and he knew that his life was dancing on the tight-rope of criminal activity most of the time. He had overstepped the bounds a few times, and his stomach churned uneasily at the thought.
Finally, Jared had edged closer to his actual target and left the petty drug-dealing and smuggling behind. For several weeks Jared had been the personal assistant of a man called Richard Speight. Richie was the kind of man Jared hated. He was ruthless, he was egocentric, he used to treat people like shit, and he pushed Jared around like a slave. But Richie was also one of the smoothest salesmen Jared had ever seen. The man was a snake, and he could sell postcards to blind people. He was the kind of guy they sent to negotiations. He was the person who made sure that wherever money would flow, there would be a lot of profit for little expenditure.
Richard Speight was the man Jared needed. He was connected and he was involved and Jared was glued to his heels.
+++
This was how Jared walked into the room one step behind Richie, towering over him. Jared didn’t have to try to look over the other man’s shoulder, since he was easily a head taller than him. Even though it might have appeared that way, Jared was no bodyguard. He was not even supposed to know how to do Martial arts. But of course it was good for Richie’s ego that he could enter a room with his personal giant, tailing him like an overgrown puppy.
Today, Jared was sure, would be a special day. There was a new tension in the air; it practically sizzled around them on their way to the meeting. Maybe he’d even get closer to his initial goal and finally step out of the world of peddling cheap drugs towards the flow of money that lay behind (his long search.
As he ducked through a low door, his eyes scanned the room around them. One woman and three men were already there. Richie greeted a brunette woman clad in an expensive suit, who had an air of self-confidence and nonchalance that was beyond price. She emitted the cold authority of an ice queen as Richie flamboyantly kissed her hand and brought out the big guns. He flirted shamelessly, and Jared was sure that his winks were probably an insult to such a woman.
Jared recognised her face from pictures he had been shown before but he couldn’t place her correctly. One thing was sure though: She was more than just another drug dealer.
Jared’s fingers started to itch, and he really regretted not bringing anything but the small gun in his jacket, and the knife that was tucked in his boot, but his cover was dealer turned gangster, and not Rambo turned spy. He didn’t know where his instinct came from but this woman was bad news.
As her first name slipped over Richie’s lips, Jared had to school his features not to give himself away. Lauren. Yes, he definitely recognized that name, and the puzzle fell into place. Lauren Cohan was anything but a nobody. She wasn’t a big player with any of the organisations Jared was gunning for, but she was definitely a sign that he was on the right track. Cohan was a middleman. If you needed to get in contact with anyone on the
CIA watch list, Cohan could plug you in or at least set up a meeting with someone who could. The woman was a dangerous bitch, and Jared would just love to turn her in, but she'd been caught before, and nothing had come from it. She was too careful for that as were her contacts. How she'd ever got out again was still an unexplained miracle.
The look of undisguised disgust on her face at Richie’s obviousness made Jared look away, trying not to start laughing, or just staring like someone who knew too much.
As Jared’s eyes skimmed away from the two people in the middle of the room, they fell onto a man standing in a corner. The two other guys that stood close to Ms. Cohen wore suits and could easily be identified as Lauren’s bodyguards. But this man was different. He didn’t wear any high business fashion the way the rest of them did, but a pair of really well fitting jeans, and a leather jacket. The attire looked anything but ragged or cheap but still comfortable.
The thing that set Jared off was the man’s eyes. They were trained on him. Everybody else in the room had assessed him during their entry and had by now shifted their attention to Richie, filing him as the less important of the two unless he made any suspicious movements. But this man didn’t spare Richie a second look, and Jared found himself staring back in a game of chicken.
He had to admit that the man was definitely handsome. He stood six foot something, something Jared appreciated because he hated stooping. He was nicely built, and Jared could see a set of muscular shoulders underneath the black leather of his jacket. The hair was dark blond and chopped rather short, leaving the focus on a face that wore a spread of freckles, and those piercing green eyes that were still trained on him out of the entire company.
Jared felt a slow sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Had he seen someone look at him like this anywhere but here, he would have felt the excitement down in his pants, because the guy was completely hot, and those looks were simply predatory. But in a room filled to the brim with criminals of the worst kind, he felt his stomach contort (although he couldn’t deny an element that still managed to find its way to the inside of his pants). Predatory, indeed. Jared gulped.
He lost their staring match when Richard slapped him on the arm, harder than absolutely necessary. “This weird kid is my associate, Jay.”
Jared forced a smile and tilted his head to greet the woman in front of him. She gave him a quick once over with cold eyes, without greeting him back.
“Well then, Mr. Speight, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Cohen looked nearly bored, and Jared had an uneasy feeling.
Richie grazed the woman with another shark-like grin.
Jared saw movement on the periphery of his vision and his eyes snapped back to the yet-nameless man in the casual attire as he stepped out of his bubble of invisibility. Finally Richard’s attention was pulled to the stranger as well, and Jared noticed his stance growing more rigid. “Who is this? This is supposed to be a private party, Lauren.”
The woman only shrugged. “This is Mr. Jensen. He is going to be your transporter, Rich.”
Jared wished he had not only brought a bigger gun but a whole SWAT team as he watched the drama unfold before his eyes. Richard didn’t deal well with being ignored, and he lived with what Jared thought was a Napoleon complex. He was a small guy, who only felt satisfied when other men, especially tall men, did as he said. He valued authority, as long as it belonged to him. Being left out of the loop made Richard angry, and the man had the mentality of a Terrier: bark a lot and bite from behind.
“This was not part of our agreement. We can handle the transport. Just stick to the plan!”
Lauren raised an eyebrow at Mr. Jensen, who just cocked his head to one side, like an interested puppy, his face unreadable.
“Richard…” She drawled out his name with a lascivious edge that Jared had heard more often that he cared about. She was pulling the sexy-woman card. At these moments Jared was glad that he was gay. “They can’t just pay money for dope… I know that’s how things work on the streets of LA, but your other partners have to be careful, and they need to go via less direct channels, since they have a bigger picture to care about. Mr Jensen here is very good in bringing big loads of illegal material through very small holes.”
“I don’t care.” Richards’s teeth were clenched, and Jared knew that the man was on the verge of exploding and shooting everyone in the room. “This was not part of our AGREEMENT.”
Lauren chuckled. For the love of God, she actually chuckled. “Now now, Richard. Your people agreed that we do whatever I see fit to make this work when they brought me in to handle things. There’s a lot of money changing hands here… we decided that this was our best option.”
“You should have checked with me FIRST.” As Lauren didn’t seem to buckle, and her silent companion didn’t even attempt to speak, Richard’s nose went up considerably.
“Forget it. I won’t deal with people who can’t respect agreements. We’re outa here.”
“This isn’t your decision to make, Richie.”
Jared was startled by the deep voice that came from Lauren’s side. After all the strong and silent attitude, Jared hadn’t expected Mr. Jensen to speak anytime soon. His voice was as intriguing as his appearance. The calm nonchalance, and slight mockery lacing the words made Jared squirm a little, taking a small step backwards. He had a bad feeling.
“Shut up! I AM the one making the decisions here.”
“Your bosses sent you here to be a negotiator. You suck at that. Consider yourself fired.”
All the alarms in Jared’s head went off, but he wasn’t fast enough. Maybe the shocking turn of events slowed Jared’s brain down for the fraction of a second, but that was not normally the way his mind worked. However, he saw the trafficker produce a semi-automatic gun from the folds of his jacket with the practised ease that came with years of training, and a mindset that did not hesitate even for a moment when it came to killing.
Jared stepped to the side and reached for his own sidearm, opening his mouth to shout a warning to Richie, whose eyes grew wide. But before Jared’s warning hit home there was the ear-drum vibrating bang of gunfire, and Richie’s body jerked backwards as the bullet pierced his forehead and annihilated the back of his skull. A red cloud sprayed behind him as his body flopped to the floor.
Jared knew his warning shout had turned into a terrified yell, but he didn’t hesitate to bring his own gun to level. Obviously the green eyed man who had just killed Jared’s boss had expected him to react and didn’t even wait for Richie’s body to hit the ground but turned to Jared as the bloody mist was still drifting through the air. Jared had no time to pull the trigger; his gun was not yet high enough to aim, when a booted foot connected with his wrist. He couldn’t help letting go of the gun; the contact sent a spike of pain down his arm and into his fingers, and the gun cluttered to the floor while Jared clutched his wrist to his chest. He once more cursed the fact that he hadn’t brought any other weapons since his knife was no good when faced with a gun.
Even if he had had an arsenal up his sleeve though, it probably would not have helped him. This Jensen guy was good. Extremely good. Jared had gone through long and hard training, before he was allowed to work covert operations, but this man was not just fast and strong. He was deadly efficient, and most of all ruthless enough not to hesitate.
Jared’s eyes met those of his attacker, and he wondered why he did not have a bullet between his eyes yet.
Maybe a second had passed since his gun was sent flying. It might not seem like a long time, but judging by Jensen’s speed with the first shot, he could have snuffed Jared twice already without straining himself.
Funny enough, Mr. Jensen just stood there gun raised, and chin held high. “Jay, right?”
Jared couldn’t help frowning. Not that he wasn’t happy not to be another body slowly rotting on the floor, but this was strange. Hell everything today had been strange. He only nodded in silent acknowledgement to his name - well nickname actually.
“Good. I’m Jensen. Don’t do anything stupid, Jay. I’d hate to kill you too.”
“Why?” He knew that asking such a question was pushing his luck, since he should just take the lucky turn on faith for now, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Because you’ve just been promoted.” A mischievous smile spread over Jensen’s lips, and Jared would have found that unbelievably hot, were he not still fearing for his life. The mean sting in his wrist was a vivid reminder of that.
“Hands behind your head and face to the wall, Jay. I’m gonna pat you down. Don’t try anything stupid or I’ll break your other arm as well.” Jensen’s stern voice left no space for argument, and Jared raised his arms, hands resting on his hair. He winced a little at the painful pull in his injured hand but swallowed it down and turned to face the wall.
He heard steps behind himself and fidgeted a little. By now he had to give it to the other man, that he probably really did not plan to kill Jared, yet.
That was the only reason Jared did as asked without trying to overcome Jensen, as the man’s hands touched his shoulders, pushing him against the wall. Granted, Jared would probably have lost any physical struggle if that kick had been any indicator, because with the pain that still filtered through his dominant hand, the other man had a certain head-start. Hopefully it was just a bad sprain and not a fracture, because he really did not have 6 weeks to let the bones mend again.
Jared couldn’t help but shiver a little as strong hands pushed against him, gliding over his arms and shoulders, across his sides and down his spine before moving around him to pat down his pecs and abs. He leaned his forehead against the cold stone to have the chill of it calm down his arousal. There was no worse combination than pure adrenaline spiced with a sizzling-hot guy.
Jared took a deep breath as Jensen traced down the outside of his thighs and calves until he reached Jared’s boots. Skilled hands pulled the legs of Jared’s pants up one at a time, fingers tracing the rim of the boots before dipping in around the ankles, making sure not to miss a hidden holster. Jensen didn’t even comment as he took Jared’s back-up knife and repeated that motion on the other leg as well, before his hands moved up the inside of Jared’s legs. Jared tried to will his body to calm down enough to save himself from a really embarrassing - and possibly deadly - moment.
Jensen ended his check-up with both hands moving over Jared’s hips from the behind, tracing forward across the pockets of Jared’s jeans and down to the inside of Jared’s thighs, the back of Jensen’s hands brushing the taller man’s groin, and Jared bit his lip hard as Jensen leaned in, chest pressing against Jared’s back, in order to reach as far as he felt necessary.
As he pulled away, Jensen chuckled and slapped Jared’s ass unexpectedly. Jared flew around, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He knew that he had done a lousy job at calming his body, especially when that man had come closer with every move. But Jared sure as hell hadn’t expected Jensen to tease rather than hit him.
“You’re clean, boy… who’d have thought?” Jensen’s eyes twinkled, and Jared felt his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed hard, locking gazes with the murderous man. He was so screwed.
A female laugh brought him back to reality, and he saw Lauren standing next to Richie’s lifeless body, looking down at him with pursed lips. “I should scold you for killing people all the time, Jensen, but you did me quite a favour with snuffing Rich. He was just disgusting.”
“Glad to be of service.” Jensen made a mock bow to the woman before scooping down to pick up Jared’s gun, checking the safety and magazine with skilled fingers before tucking it away in the back of his jeans.
Jared wanted to kick himself as he watched a small stripe of pale skin appear beneath the rim of Jensen’s jacket and shirt, while Jared’s gun went places that his hands itched to reach.
Jared reminded himself of the seriousness of his situation as he replayed Lauren’s words. It should unsettle him that Jensen was said to kill people all the time, but he couldn’t help finding the man more intriguing than disturbing. It was against anything he had ever learned in training. Anything but rule number one: Never ignore your gut feeling. Jared’s gut feeling was to trust Jensen, as crazy as that sounded. The man had not yet done anything to hurt Jared. Granted, he had probably broken Jared’s wrist. But considering that Jared wanted to shoot him, he could really be thankful Jensen didn’t snap his neck like a twig. The agent was pretty sure he could have done so.
Jared swallowed around the lump in his throat again. He didn’t know what to do now. Richard was supposed to take the lead, and Jared was there to carry his bags and loom behind him. But now things had changed, and Jared wasn’t even sure why they had come here in the first place. He knew the rough details Rich had given him, but the real deal was still a mystery to him.
Jensen had said he was ‘promoted’. Did that mean they expected him to take over negotiations in Richard’s stead? He had negotiated before, mainly hostage situations and paramilitary conflicts, but then he’d had time to prepare, and a line of people in his back whispering in his ear. Now he was alone, and only half-ass prepared. This could be his chance to make a leap further in his assignment in dimensions one usually needed years for. But it could also break his neck like a well aimed baseball bat. If the syndicate he was working for - the one he'd infiltrated for over a year already - thought he had anything to do with Richard’s death, he was a dead man.
He needed to protect his back. Somehow. Strangely, the one person Jared could hope on to save his ass right now, the one person who had apparently meant well with him up to this point, was the guy who had brought the whole mess down on his head in the first place. If Jared got Jensen on his side, then maybe - just maybe - he had somewhere to run when his bosses wanted to chop off his head without letting down the whole operation. It was risky. But it was worth a shot.
Jared watched as Lauren’s guards dragged Richie’s body from the room, a trail of blood smeared on the floor. He made a note to himself not to step in it and even less slip in it to find himself face down in a puddle of quickly cooling, and slowly clotting blood.
Lauren was on the phone, talking silently but urgently with someone, and Jared fidgeted nervously. His eyes skimmed from Lauren, striding about the far end of the room, to Jensen, leaning next to him on the wall.
“I think she’s talking to your bosses.”
Jared stiffened and trailed wide eyes on Jensen. “What’s she saying.”
Jensen shrugged and produced a pack of cigarettes from the inside of his leather jacket. Jared could see a shoulder holster holding a semi-automatic. He was sure that Jensen had pulled his gun from the other side before. That meant he came packing heavy artillery.
“Don’t even think about it, kid.” Jensen gave him a stern look as he pulled out a cigarette with his teeth and ignited it with a silver lighter.
Jared shook his head quickly. “I wasn’t.” He held up his still hurting hand, the slightly swollen wrist showing a red mark that was slowly turning to purple. “I wouldn’t know how.”
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
Jared couldn’t help letting a small nervous laugh leave his lungs and he scratched the back of his neck nervously with his other hand. “Thanks for not shooting me, Mr. Jensen.”
Jensen wrinkled his nose a little. “Just Jensen.”
“But… Isn’t Jensen your last name?” He was pushing it, he knew that. But his training made him fish for any information he could possibly get on the new player in this game.
“Jensen is one of the most common last names in Denmark. Doesn’t mean you have to call me Mister anytime soon. There are hundreds of Mr. Jensen’s around… I don’t care to be one of them, so I’m just Jensen.”
“Why not just use your first name then?”
“Maybe my first name sucks.” Jensen gave him a small grin around a drag of his cigarette. Jared considered that for a moment and then shrugged. He had a point.
“So, what does the Jay stand for?”
Jared was a little unsure when they had entered the realm of pleasant small-talk, but he was glad enough to go along. “James.” Well, not glad enough to actually tell him his REAL name of course.
Jensen cocked an eyebrow and shook his head a little. “Doesn’t suit you.”
Jared graced him with a small smile of his own. He knew it didn’t, but using his real name was out of question, and James could at least be shortened to Jay believably. “I know, that’s why it’s Jay.”
Jensen nodded and blew out a small trail of blue smoke. Jared watched him and had to remind himself that staring at a guy’s lips was definitely not the way to play this.
... next part ...
I hope you liked it! My beta, the awesome candygramme said: "I love this! Feral!Jensen is hot!" I want to agree. Do you? :P
*hugs* Birdie
Rating: NC17
Words: 4,000/19,400
Warnings: Violence, minor character death, blood, drugs, spies, slash, sexual innuendo and more if I feel like it
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad and I am a liar. The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which inspired this verse to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took its feeling.
Summary: Jared Padalecki works covert operations for the CIA. When he is sent to investigate the involvement of a drug cartel in the financing of international terrorism he finds himself in the lion’s den. The only person who seems to be on his side is the scary but very intriguing arms dealer Jensen. But things are not what they seem.
This belongs to the SecretOperations!verse. It’s the first story in the timeline and can therefore be read as a stand-alone fic as well. Those who have not yet read Mandatory Refusal should do so AFTER having read this, to keep the surprises coming.
>> TRAILER VIDEO by mangacat201
Part One
When Jared signed up with the CIA, he believed that he was going to be one of the good guys. He knew that being a spy was not going to be glamorous, and he was aware that James Bond and his colleagues were far away from reality. Still, he had not expected to feel as bad about himself as he did now. He still believed in the cause. But he was not proud of his actions.
Jared had spent the last eleven months working his way up through the hierarchy of an international drug cartel. He'd climbed up the steep ladder relatively fast, earning trust and gathering information in a painstaking process that was filled with actions Jared never wanted to do.
Normally drugs were not on the CIA’s list of targets. But there was evidence that bound the group Jared had slowly weaseled his way into to a big flow of cash that had ended up funding terrorist acts posing a definite threat to any civilized country.
By now Jared always felt the need to roll his eyes at expressions like “civilized countries”. He had learned the hard way, that there was no black and white, and he knew that his life was dancing on the tight-rope of criminal activity most of the time. He had overstepped the bounds a few times, and his stomach churned uneasily at the thought.
Finally, Jared had edged closer to his actual target and left the petty drug-dealing and smuggling behind. For several weeks Jared had been the personal assistant of a man called Richard Speight. Richie was the kind of man Jared hated. He was ruthless, he was egocentric, he used to treat people like shit, and he pushed Jared around like a slave. But Richie was also one of the smoothest salesmen Jared had ever seen. The man was a snake, and he could sell postcards to blind people. He was the kind of guy they sent to negotiations. He was the person who made sure that wherever money would flow, there would be a lot of profit for little expenditure.
Richard Speight was the man Jared needed. He was connected and he was involved and Jared was glued to his heels.
+++
This was how Jared walked into the room one step behind Richie, towering over him. Jared didn’t have to try to look over the other man’s shoulder, since he was easily a head taller than him. Even though it might have appeared that way, Jared was no bodyguard. He was not even supposed to know how to do Martial arts. But of course it was good for Richie’s ego that he could enter a room with his personal giant, tailing him like an overgrown puppy.
Today, Jared was sure, would be a special day. There was a new tension in the air; it practically sizzled around them on their way to the meeting. Maybe he’d even get closer to his initial goal and finally step out of the world of peddling cheap drugs towards the flow of money that lay behind (his long search.
As he ducked through a low door, his eyes scanned the room around them. One woman and three men were already there. Richie greeted a brunette woman clad in an expensive suit, who had an air of self-confidence and nonchalance that was beyond price. She emitted the cold authority of an ice queen as Richie flamboyantly kissed her hand and brought out the big guns. He flirted shamelessly, and Jared was sure that his winks were probably an insult to such a woman.
Jared recognised her face from pictures he had been shown before but he couldn’t place her correctly. One thing was sure though: She was more than just another drug dealer.
Jared’s fingers started to itch, and he really regretted not bringing anything but the small gun in his jacket, and the knife that was tucked in his boot, but his cover was dealer turned gangster, and not Rambo turned spy. He didn’t know where his instinct came from but this woman was bad news.
As her first name slipped over Richie’s lips, Jared had to school his features not to give himself away. Lauren. Yes, he definitely recognized that name, and the puzzle fell into place. Lauren Cohan was anything but a nobody. She wasn’t a big player with any of the organisations Jared was gunning for, but she was definitely a sign that he was on the right track. Cohan was a middleman. If you needed to get in contact with anyone on the
CIA watch list, Cohan could plug you in or at least set up a meeting with someone who could. The woman was a dangerous bitch, and Jared would just love to turn her in, but she'd been caught before, and nothing had come from it. She was too careful for that as were her contacts. How she'd ever got out again was still an unexplained miracle.
The look of undisguised disgust on her face at Richie’s obviousness made Jared look away, trying not to start laughing, or just staring like someone who knew too much.
As Jared’s eyes skimmed away from the two people in the middle of the room, they fell onto a man standing in a corner. The two other guys that stood close to Ms. Cohen wore suits and could easily be identified as Lauren’s bodyguards. But this man was different. He didn’t wear any high business fashion the way the rest of them did, but a pair of really well fitting jeans, and a leather jacket. The attire looked anything but ragged or cheap but still comfortable.
The thing that set Jared off was the man’s eyes. They were trained on him. Everybody else in the room had assessed him during their entry and had by now shifted their attention to Richie, filing him as the less important of the two unless he made any suspicious movements. But this man didn’t spare Richie a second look, and Jared found himself staring back in a game of chicken.
He had to admit that the man was definitely handsome. He stood six foot something, something Jared appreciated because he hated stooping. He was nicely built, and Jared could see a set of muscular shoulders underneath the black leather of his jacket. The hair was dark blond and chopped rather short, leaving the focus on a face that wore a spread of freckles, and those piercing green eyes that were still trained on him out of the entire company.
Jared felt a slow sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Had he seen someone look at him like this anywhere but here, he would have felt the excitement down in his pants, because the guy was completely hot, and those looks were simply predatory. But in a room filled to the brim with criminals of the worst kind, he felt his stomach contort (although he couldn’t deny an element that still managed to find its way to the inside of his pants). Predatory, indeed. Jared gulped.
He lost their staring match when Richard slapped him on the arm, harder than absolutely necessary. “This weird kid is my associate, Jay.”
Jared forced a smile and tilted his head to greet the woman in front of him. She gave him a quick once over with cold eyes, without greeting him back.
“Well then, Mr. Speight, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Cohen looked nearly bored, and Jared had an uneasy feeling.
Richie grazed the woman with another shark-like grin.
Jared saw movement on the periphery of his vision and his eyes snapped back to the yet-nameless man in the casual attire as he stepped out of his bubble of invisibility. Finally Richard’s attention was pulled to the stranger as well, and Jared noticed his stance growing more rigid. “Who is this? This is supposed to be a private party, Lauren.”
The woman only shrugged. “This is Mr. Jensen. He is going to be your transporter, Rich.”
Jared wished he had not only brought a bigger gun but a whole SWAT team as he watched the drama unfold before his eyes. Richard didn’t deal well with being ignored, and he lived with what Jared thought was a Napoleon complex. He was a small guy, who only felt satisfied when other men, especially tall men, did as he said. He valued authority, as long as it belonged to him. Being left out of the loop made Richard angry, and the man had the mentality of a Terrier: bark a lot and bite from behind.
“This was not part of our agreement. We can handle the transport. Just stick to the plan!”
Lauren raised an eyebrow at Mr. Jensen, who just cocked his head to one side, like an interested puppy, his face unreadable.
“Richard…” She drawled out his name with a lascivious edge that Jared had heard more often that he cared about. She was pulling the sexy-woman card. At these moments Jared was glad that he was gay. “They can’t just pay money for dope… I know that’s how things work on the streets of LA, but your other partners have to be careful, and they need to go via less direct channels, since they have a bigger picture to care about. Mr Jensen here is very good in bringing big loads of illegal material through very small holes.”
“I don’t care.” Richards’s teeth were clenched, and Jared knew that the man was on the verge of exploding and shooting everyone in the room. “This was not part of our AGREEMENT.”
Lauren chuckled. For the love of God, she actually chuckled. “Now now, Richard. Your people agreed that we do whatever I see fit to make this work when they brought me in to handle things. There’s a lot of money changing hands here… we decided that this was our best option.”
“You should have checked with me FIRST.” As Lauren didn’t seem to buckle, and her silent companion didn’t even attempt to speak, Richard’s nose went up considerably.
“Forget it. I won’t deal with people who can’t respect agreements. We’re outa here.”
“This isn’t your decision to make, Richie.”
Jared was startled by the deep voice that came from Lauren’s side. After all the strong and silent attitude, Jared hadn’t expected Mr. Jensen to speak anytime soon. His voice was as intriguing as his appearance. The calm nonchalance, and slight mockery lacing the words made Jared squirm a little, taking a small step backwards. He had a bad feeling.
“Shut up! I AM the one making the decisions here.”
“Your bosses sent you here to be a negotiator. You suck at that. Consider yourself fired.”
All the alarms in Jared’s head went off, but he wasn’t fast enough. Maybe the shocking turn of events slowed Jared’s brain down for the fraction of a second, but that was not normally the way his mind worked. However, he saw the trafficker produce a semi-automatic gun from the folds of his jacket with the practised ease that came with years of training, and a mindset that did not hesitate even for a moment when it came to killing.
Jared stepped to the side and reached for his own sidearm, opening his mouth to shout a warning to Richie, whose eyes grew wide. But before Jared’s warning hit home there was the ear-drum vibrating bang of gunfire, and Richie’s body jerked backwards as the bullet pierced his forehead and annihilated the back of his skull. A red cloud sprayed behind him as his body flopped to the floor.
Jared knew his warning shout had turned into a terrified yell, but he didn’t hesitate to bring his own gun to level. Obviously the green eyed man who had just killed Jared’s boss had expected him to react and didn’t even wait for Richie’s body to hit the ground but turned to Jared as the bloody mist was still drifting through the air. Jared had no time to pull the trigger; his gun was not yet high enough to aim, when a booted foot connected with his wrist. He couldn’t help letting go of the gun; the contact sent a spike of pain down his arm and into his fingers, and the gun cluttered to the floor while Jared clutched his wrist to his chest. He once more cursed the fact that he hadn’t brought any other weapons since his knife was no good when faced with a gun.
Even if he had had an arsenal up his sleeve though, it probably would not have helped him. This Jensen guy was good. Extremely good. Jared had gone through long and hard training, before he was allowed to work covert operations, but this man was not just fast and strong. He was deadly efficient, and most of all ruthless enough not to hesitate.
Jared’s eyes met those of his attacker, and he wondered why he did not have a bullet between his eyes yet.
Maybe a second had passed since his gun was sent flying. It might not seem like a long time, but judging by Jensen’s speed with the first shot, he could have snuffed Jared twice already without straining himself.
Funny enough, Mr. Jensen just stood there gun raised, and chin held high. “Jay, right?”
Jared couldn’t help frowning. Not that he wasn’t happy not to be another body slowly rotting on the floor, but this was strange. Hell everything today had been strange. He only nodded in silent acknowledgement to his name - well nickname actually.
“Good. I’m Jensen. Don’t do anything stupid, Jay. I’d hate to kill you too.”
“Why?” He knew that asking such a question was pushing his luck, since he should just take the lucky turn on faith for now, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Because you’ve just been promoted.” A mischievous smile spread over Jensen’s lips, and Jared would have found that unbelievably hot, were he not still fearing for his life. The mean sting in his wrist was a vivid reminder of that.
“Hands behind your head and face to the wall, Jay. I’m gonna pat you down. Don’t try anything stupid or I’ll break your other arm as well.” Jensen’s stern voice left no space for argument, and Jared raised his arms, hands resting on his hair. He winced a little at the painful pull in his injured hand but swallowed it down and turned to face the wall.
He heard steps behind himself and fidgeted a little. By now he had to give it to the other man, that he probably really did not plan to kill Jared, yet.
That was the only reason Jared did as asked without trying to overcome Jensen, as the man’s hands touched his shoulders, pushing him against the wall. Granted, Jared would probably have lost any physical struggle if that kick had been any indicator, because with the pain that still filtered through his dominant hand, the other man had a certain head-start. Hopefully it was just a bad sprain and not a fracture, because he really did not have 6 weeks to let the bones mend again.
Jared couldn’t help but shiver a little as strong hands pushed against him, gliding over his arms and shoulders, across his sides and down his spine before moving around him to pat down his pecs and abs. He leaned his forehead against the cold stone to have the chill of it calm down his arousal. There was no worse combination than pure adrenaline spiced with a sizzling-hot guy.
Jared took a deep breath as Jensen traced down the outside of his thighs and calves until he reached Jared’s boots. Skilled hands pulled the legs of Jared’s pants up one at a time, fingers tracing the rim of the boots before dipping in around the ankles, making sure not to miss a hidden holster. Jensen didn’t even comment as he took Jared’s back-up knife and repeated that motion on the other leg as well, before his hands moved up the inside of Jared’s legs. Jared tried to will his body to calm down enough to save himself from a really embarrassing - and possibly deadly - moment.
Jensen ended his check-up with both hands moving over Jared’s hips from the behind, tracing forward across the pockets of Jared’s jeans and down to the inside of Jared’s thighs, the back of Jensen’s hands brushing the taller man’s groin, and Jared bit his lip hard as Jensen leaned in, chest pressing against Jared’s back, in order to reach as far as he felt necessary.
As he pulled away, Jensen chuckled and slapped Jared’s ass unexpectedly. Jared flew around, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He knew that he had done a lousy job at calming his body, especially when that man had come closer with every move. But Jared sure as hell hadn’t expected Jensen to tease rather than hit him.
“You’re clean, boy… who’d have thought?” Jensen’s eyes twinkled, and Jared felt his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed hard, locking gazes with the murderous man. He was so screwed.
A female laugh brought him back to reality, and he saw Lauren standing next to Richie’s lifeless body, looking down at him with pursed lips. “I should scold you for killing people all the time, Jensen, but you did me quite a favour with snuffing Rich. He was just disgusting.”
“Glad to be of service.” Jensen made a mock bow to the woman before scooping down to pick up Jared’s gun, checking the safety and magazine with skilled fingers before tucking it away in the back of his jeans.
Jared wanted to kick himself as he watched a small stripe of pale skin appear beneath the rim of Jensen’s jacket and shirt, while Jared’s gun went places that his hands itched to reach.
Jared reminded himself of the seriousness of his situation as he replayed Lauren’s words. It should unsettle him that Jensen was said to kill people all the time, but he couldn’t help finding the man more intriguing than disturbing. It was against anything he had ever learned in training. Anything but rule number one: Never ignore your gut feeling. Jared’s gut feeling was to trust Jensen, as crazy as that sounded. The man had not yet done anything to hurt Jared. Granted, he had probably broken Jared’s wrist. But considering that Jared wanted to shoot him, he could really be thankful Jensen didn’t snap his neck like a twig. The agent was pretty sure he could have done so.
Jared swallowed around the lump in his throat again. He didn’t know what to do now. Richard was supposed to take the lead, and Jared was there to carry his bags and loom behind him. But now things had changed, and Jared wasn’t even sure why they had come here in the first place. He knew the rough details Rich had given him, but the real deal was still a mystery to him.
Jensen had said he was ‘promoted’. Did that mean they expected him to take over negotiations in Richard’s stead? He had negotiated before, mainly hostage situations and paramilitary conflicts, but then he’d had time to prepare, and a line of people in his back whispering in his ear. Now he was alone, and only half-ass prepared. This could be his chance to make a leap further in his assignment in dimensions one usually needed years for. But it could also break his neck like a well aimed baseball bat. If the syndicate he was working for - the one he'd infiltrated for over a year already - thought he had anything to do with Richard’s death, he was a dead man.
He needed to protect his back. Somehow. Strangely, the one person Jared could hope on to save his ass right now, the one person who had apparently meant well with him up to this point, was the guy who had brought the whole mess down on his head in the first place. If Jared got Jensen on his side, then maybe - just maybe - he had somewhere to run when his bosses wanted to chop off his head without letting down the whole operation. It was risky. But it was worth a shot.
Jared watched as Lauren’s guards dragged Richie’s body from the room, a trail of blood smeared on the floor. He made a note to himself not to step in it and even less slip in it to find himself face down in a puddle of quickly cooling, and slowly clotting blood.
Lauren was on the phone, talking silently but urgently with someone, and Jared fidgeted nervously. His eyes skimmed from Lauren, striding about the far end of the room, to Jensen, leaning next to him on the wall.
“I think she’s talking to your bosses.”
Jared stiffened and trailed wide eyes on Jensen. “What’s she saying.”
Jensen shrugged and produced a pack of cigarettes from the inside of his leather jacket. Jared could see a shoulder holster holding a semi-automatic. He was sure that Jensen had pulled his gun from the other side before. That meant he came packing heavy artillery.
“Don’t even think about it, kid.” Jensen gave him a stern look as he pulled out a cigarette with his teeth and ignited it with a silver lighter.
Jared shook his head quickly. “I wasn’t.” He held up his still hurting hand, the slightly swollen wrist showing a red mark that was slowly turning to purple. “I wouldn’t know how.”
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
Jared couldn’t help letting a small nervous laugh leave his lungs and he scratched the back of his neck nervously with his other hand. “Thanks for not shooting me, Mr. Jensen.”
Jensen wrinkled his nose a little. “Just Jensen.”
“But… Isn’t Jensen your last name?” He was pushing it, he knew that. But his training made him fish for any information he could possibly get on the new player in this game.
“Jensen is one of the most common last names in Denmark. Doesn’t mean you have to call me Mister anytime soon. There are hundreds of Mr. Jensen’s around… I don’t care to be one of them, so I’m just Jensen.”
“Why not just use your first name then?”
“Maybe my first name sucks.” Jensen gave him a small grin around a drag of his cigarette. Jared considered that for a moment and then shrugged. He had a point.
“So, what does the Jay stand for?”
Jared was a little unsure when they had entered the realm of pleasant small-talk, but he was glad enough to go along. “James.” Well, not glad enough to actually tell him his REAL name of course.
Jensen cocked an eyebrow and shook his head a little. “Doesn’t suit you.”
Jared graced him with a small smile of his own. He knew it didn’t, but using his real name was out of question, and James could at least be shortened to Jay believably. “I know, that’s why it’s Jay.”
Jensen nodded and blew out a small trail of blue smoke. Jared watched him and had to remind himself that staring at a guy’s lips was definitely not the way to play this.
... next part ...
I hope you liked it! My beta, the awesome candygramme said: "I love this! Feral!Jensen is hot!" I want to agree. Do you? :P
*hugs* Birdie