Blood Ties - Chapter 4
After staying overnight under Dr. Harvey’s watchful eye, Jared was allowed to return to the mansion provided he followed the physician’s orders. Jared was so happy to leave, he’d barely listened to the laundry list of things that he was supposed to do and worrisome signs he was to keep an eye out for, but fortunately Jensen memorized every word. Jensen was diligent in Jared’s care, much to Jared’s chagrin, making sure he was comfortable and that he rested. Jensen had set up camp on the couch situated in the windowed
alcove in Jared’s room so he could keep his bedridden friend company and be close if he was needed.
He was there, body nestled in the well-used leather cushions, socked feet up on the coffee table and laptop warm on his thighs, when there was a light knock on the bedroom door. Jensen looked over at Jared to make sure the sound hadn’t roused the sleeping man as the heavy wood slowly slid open. Andrew’s head peered around the edge of the door, gaze landing on Jared for a moment before finding Jensen.
Jensen pressed his index finger to his lips, silently asking his father to stay quiet, and dropped his feet to the floor. He set his laptop to the side and closed the lid, a picture showing the cross-section of a human femur disappearing with a snick. He jutted his chin in the direction of the hallway as he got up and cross the room, fingers trailing over Jared’s blanket covered legs as he passed the bed.
Leaving the door cracked in case Jared needed him, he stepped out into the hallway. “Sir?”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at Jensen’s shoeless feet, but didn’t comment. “I wanted to check on how Jared was doing and see if Chris had any leads.”
“Not yet.” Jensen fought down the urge to wiggle his toes under his father’s scrutiny. Even at twenty-three, Jensen still felt like a child sometimes in his father’s presence. “The address Richard got us from Holmes’ PO was a bust. Chris is leaning on some of his old associates to see if he can get one of them to spill where he’s hiding.”
Andrew nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “So you’re sure this Holmes is involved?”
“Chris is and that’s good enough for me.”
“Agreed.” Andrew stepped forward and placed his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “Jensen, I can take care of this if you want.”
“No, I want to handle it personally.” Jensen’s tone was certain and determined, retribution promised in each syllable and in the flare of bright jade. A sound came from the room behind him and those eyes immediately softened. He peeked through the door to see Jared grunting as he rolled over.
Andrew’s face morphed into a contrived look, the expression fading into one of sympathetic understanding before Jensen could turn back around. “If you’re sure,” he hedged slyly. “I know you’ve got your hands full helping Jared as he convalesces.”
“That’s exactly why I’ll take care of it.” Anger colored Jensen’s face. “Someone tried to kill me and damn near succeeded with Jared. I want to know who is behind it. I want to know who almost took my Jared from me and make sure everyone thinks twice before doing it again.”
“Okay,” Andrew nodded, barely keeping the self-satisfaction in check. “Let me know if you need anything.” Heavy footsteps sounded off the paneled walls and he turned to see Chris coming toward them. “I’ll stop by later when Jared is awake.”
Jensen nodded and watched his father head back to the main part of the house, passing Chris with a friendly greeting. Stretching the tight muscles in his neck, Jensen frowned as Chris looked back over his shoulder at the retreating Ackles’ patriarch with a confused expression.
“Something wrong?” Jensen searched his friend’s face when he finally reached him.
Chris shook his head irritably trying to clear the annoying thoughts circulating his mind. The look on Andrew Ackles face when he’d walked by had been strange, a smug smile flirting across his lips that seemed so out of place with the recent events in the house. “No,” he answered, distractedly. “Your Dad come by to check on Jared?” Maybe they were talking about how Jared protected Jensen. That would be something to make the old man proud.
“Yeah.” Jensen rubbed a hand over his weary face. He’d slept very little since Jared was shot, afraid to go to sleep and wake up to find that he’d been dreaming and Jared was really dead. “That and he wanted to see if we’d found anything out about the shooting. He’s offered to help if we need him, but I told him I wanted to deal with this on my own.”
“Huh.” The ghost of that arrogant smile on Andrew Ackles’ face niggled at Chris, made him feel like he was missing something important.
“So did you?”
“Did I what?” Chris stared at him for a minute, completely confused.
“Find out anything,” Jensen clarified, giving Chris a worried look.
“Yeah, apparently you and Jared are the cutest couple in the Upper-East Side. That is, according to my sources in the Express Lane down at Farber’s Market
. The word on the street is that several girls are extremely distraught at the idea of you two off the market.” Chris smiled sweetly.
“That freaking gossipmonger.” Jensen leaned back against the wall, banging his head on it with a resounding thud. He knew this would happen. That nosy busybody Mrs. Biggs couldn’t keep something to herself if her life depended on it. He’d been honest with Jared, he really didn’t care if people knew. It was more that he wanted them to have time to figure out this new aspect of their relationship, feel it out and set the foundation, before the entire world knew.
“Mmhmm,” Chris hummed. “Racks full of celebrity intrigue and all anyone could talk about was how great the two of you must look together. I had to run a gauntlet of questions yesterday just to buy a carton of milk.”
“That’s disturbing. Why do people even care about us?” Jensen shook his head, short spikes scratching against the wood paneling.
“Because you’re both hot and they have nothing better to do. What’s more disturbing is I overheard two of the cashiers talking about a bet they have going about which of you tops.” Chris grinned at Jensen’s shocked face.
“Great,” Jensen grumbled, kneading the tense muscles at his nape. “You have any news not related to my sex life?”
Chris’ demeanor instantly changed, gone was the jovial smile, replaced with a serious expression. “Actually, I do. We found Holmes. He’s holed up at his cousin’s place in Marion. Stephen and I were going to head over tonight to meet with him. See if he’s been doing any chauffeuring anyone around lately.”
“Tonight?” Jensen raised an eyebrow. The stockier man wasn’t known for his patience. He usually liked to take his meetings immediately.
Chris’ jaw ticked. “The cousin has joint custody of his daughter.”
“Ah,” Jensen nodded. “Let me guess, it’s Daddy’s weekend.”
“Bingo!” Chris pointed his finger at him. “Guy works nights at Mackey’s bar downtown. He drops the kid off at the mother’s on the way.”
Jensen thought for a minute, processing everything Chris had said. “When are you leaving?” he asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
Glancing down at his watch, Chris shrugged. “Couple of hours. I thought we’d leave around seven. Make sure daddy and daughter haven’t forgotten something.” He watched Jensen roll up his sleeves and push the fabric to his elbows. “Why?”
“I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a question. It was a certifiable statement of fact. Jensen crossed his arms over his chest in preparation of the anticipated argument.
“Then I’m coming, too.”
Jensen spun around to find Jared, face pale and pinched with pain, leaning against the door jamb.
“No, you’re not!” Jensen moved to Jared’s side and took his elbow, intending to lead him back to bed.
Jared snatched his arm away, hissing at the movement. He leveled a deadly serious look at Jensen. “Yes. I. Am.” He turned to Chris. “We’ll be ready before seven. Come and get us when you’re ready to leave.”
Eyes volleying back and forth between the two men and sensing an impending fight he didn’t need to be present for, Chris nodded and made a quick exit. He’d come back at seven and pick up whoever was going or, depending on how bad the argument was, whoever was still alive.
“You’re not going,” Jensen said emphatically, infusing as much authority as he could muster into his voice. He gently nudged Jared back into the room.
“Ooh,” Jared theatrically shook his hands, “Jensen’s using his ‘tough guy’ voice.” Letting Jensen usher him to the bed, he sat down and looked up at the older man irritably. “You know that hasn’t worked on me since I was like ten, right?”
Jensen stood in front of him and ignored the jibe. He knew Jared was itching for a fight and rightfully so, but he really didn’t want to argue. “Jared, please.”
Jared’s shoulder slumped at the pleading tone. He put his hands on Jensen’s waist and leaned his forehead against Jensen’s stomach. “Jensen, I can’t stay behind.” Shaking his head, he could feel one of the buttons on Jensen’s shirt digging into the skin, the layer of muscle underneath the cotton, the body warmed smell of expensive cologne. He fisted his hands into the side of Jensen’s shirt. “Please, don’t ask me to.”
Jensen sighed and cupped his hands on Jared’s neck, tilting his face up with his thumbs. “Jared…”
“Please, don’t,” Jared interrupted, water glistened in his long lashes and along his lids. “Jen, I need to be there. I need to protect you, have your back. How would you feel if the situation was reversed? Would you stay here while I went?”
Jensen slid his hands up and bracketed Jared’s jaw, searched hazel eyes and his own feelings. He tried to put himself in Jared’s place, see the situation from the other man’s point-of-view. “I’d want to go,” he finally conceded.
“Exactly,” Jared moved a hand to Jensen’s chest and pulled the man down by his shirt front, their lips meeting.
A thrill shot through Jensen at the feel of Jared’s warm lips, just as it did every time he was reminded that this was real. He had Jared like this. He threaded his fingers in Jared’s hair and angled his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue delved in, swept around the space and engaged Jared’s in sensual slip-slide that made Jensen crave more. They’d shared a few chaste kisses since their mutual admission and Jensen was getting his first indication of just how great a kisser Jared was. He insinuated his body between Jared’s legs, the younger man spreading his thighs farther to accommodate him, and could feel the hot, hard length of him like a brand even through Jared’s sleep pants and his own chinos. Jared whimpered at the light friction and heat flashed over Jensen at the sound, bathing him in want and need and mine. He pressed forward, Jared reclining back to the bed as he advanced.
The whimper Jared let out this time didn’t inflame Jensen’s lust, but doused it in ice water. He jerked back to see Jared’s eyes still closed and lips pursed, but his features tight with pain. “Jared!” He scrambled back to the floor and gently pulled Jared back to a seated position. “I’m so sorry. I - I didn’t think.” His hands fluttered over Jared, touching softly over the dressing covering his chest.
Wincing at the tentative touch, Jared took Jensen’s hand and kissed his palm. “It’s okay, Jen.”
“No, it’s not. This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Jensen waved his hand at Jared’s chest then began pacing the area in front of the seated man. “If you can’t even lay back without hurting then how do you expect to handle this meeting tonight? You say you want to protect me. Can you even handle a gun, right now?”
Jared reached out and snatched Jensen’s wrist on his next pass, forcing him to turn and face him. “I’ll be fine, Jen.” At Jensen’s dubious look, he twisted his mouth in thought. Face clearing, he smiled. “How about a deal?”
“What kind of a deal?” Jensen was suspicious. Jared was cunning and good at getting his way, especially when it came to Jensen. Usually Jensen didn’t even realize he was being played long after the fact.
“We go to the basement. If I can’t hack it down there, I won’t fight you about going.” Jared held up his free hand at the hopeful light in Jensen’s eyes. “But, if I can then you drop the subject and we come back up here and get ready to go.”
Jensen’s mind raced, trying to see the deal from every angle and searching for loopholes that Jared could slip through. Finding none, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Jared refused to let Jensen help him to the basement, walking tall even if it was a little stiff. The main house, meticulously decorated to Yvonne’s discerning taste, disappeared behind the thick wood door as they descended the simple staircase that lead beneath the house. They moved across the store room where the kitchen staff kept the extra pantry stores and the serving platters for parties to a large, metal door on the opposite wall.
“You ready?” Jensen picked up a set of earphones from the hook by the door and donned them, handing Jared the second pair.
Shaking his hair back and snugging the cushions over his ears, Jared nodded.
Jensen nodded and pushed open the heavy door, revealing a fully functional gun range complete with Plexiglas partitioned stalls and motorized retractable targets. This part of the house was Michael Ackles’ main contribution. He subscribed to the belief that an effective security team needed to constantly hone their skills. He’d told the mansion’s designer that if the police force had an in-house gun range then his men needed one too.
Picking up a target of a human silhouette, Jared stepped up to the second stall and secured it to the clip suspended from the ceiling mounted track. He pressed a button and the paper zipped to the far end of the room, rippling as it went.
Jensen had seen Jared go through this routine hundreds of times, the two of them coming down here for years, and he scrutinized each step, looking for anything that he could use as a basis for forcing Jared’s forfeiture. Jared smoothly loaded his gun and set it on the waist high shelf at the front of the booth. He slid on his protective glasses and turned around to Jensen, flinching slightly when he rolled his shoulder to loosen it.
“You don’t have anything to prove, Jay.” Jensen looked down at the glasses in his hand, running a fingernail between the frame and the plastic lens. “It’s only been a couple of days since you were shot. You…”
Jared spun around, body positioned between Jensen and the silhouetted target. His arm came up in a fluid arc, gun materializing in his hand with magician-like deftness, and he fired four perfectly measured shots. Flicking the safety on with a swipe of his thumb, he set the gun back down followed by his glasses. He tapped the button, calling for the target, but turned before it made the journey back. Walking past Jensen, dropped a kiss to the man’s shock slack mouth and patted his chest. “I’ll go get dressed.”
The muted sound of bare feet on the concrete floor receded as Jensen stared at the bullet riddled paper, the black drawing fatally wounded with four holes to the chest. “I guess that settles that.”
*****
The cousin’s house was a small brick home located in a middle-class neighborhood just on the outside of town. It had a well-kept, unadorned yard and a swing set just visible in the back. There was light on in the front window and the driveway was empty so Chris rolled to a stop along the curb.
Chris and Stephen snuck around the side of the house while Jensen and Jared strolled casually up the front path. At the door, they knocked politely looking for all intents and purposes like well-dressed Jehovah Witnesses bringing the good news to household. They waited patiently taking in the exterior of the home and the surrounding houses like they had nowhere to be and all the time in the world.
“Nice neighborhood,” Jared remarked, smiling at a woman walking her dog, and Jensen hummed his agreement.
The front door clicked and they were faced with a smug looking Chris. “Fucker, tried to run out the back.”
“Who would’ve thought?” Jensen rolled his eyes and stepped into the house, Jared on his heels.
They found a place against the wall of the living room, out of the way but able to see and hear everything. Stephen put the finishing touches on the duct tape around Holmes’ wrists, securing them to the back of the kitchen chair he was seated in. Jared’s gaze took him in, cataloguing his features. The man was pushing forty, short and portly, with a round face and close-set eyes.
“So, Holmesy,” Chris walked around behind the bound man, “I hear you’re a chauffeur.” He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Tell me. Have you driven anyone interesting this week?”
“Fuck you,” Holmes spat, tugging at this bonds.
“Not my type.” Chris shot back not missing a beat. He jutted his chin at Stephen in a silent order.
Holmes’ head snapped to the right under the force of Stephen’s blow. A trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his lip down his chin.
Chris rounded the man, bending over so they were face to face. “Listen, let me make this easy on you. All we want to know is who hired you.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Anatomically impossible.” Another non-verbal command and red blossomed across Holmes’ cheek.
Jensen crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall as the scene was repeated over and over again until Holmes’ face was bloody and swollen, the beginnings of bruises mottling the skin. “This is getting us nowhere,” he muttered.
Jared nodded, shifting his shoulder.
Stephen moved back, pulling the silk square from his front jacket pocket and wiping his knuckles. Holmes’ water blue eyes, one completely closed and the other mostly on its way, darted from person to person landing on Jared for the first time. Split lips pulled back from crimson coated teeth and a jarring laugh filled the room.
“You want to know who hired me?” He stared directly at Jared. “Huh, Padalecki? Is that what you want?” He spat rose-colored saliva on the blue carpeting.
Jensen’s skin prickled, not liking the thug’s sudden interest in Jared. He pushed off the wall. “How do you know his name?”
Holmes ignored Jensen, focus entirely on Jared. “Is it, Padalecki? Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Jared stepped forward, painfully shrugging off Jensen’s restraining hand.
“Don’t listen to him, Jay. He’s trying to get to you,” Jensen warned, making another attempt to hold Jared back.
A thick tongue licked across Holmes’ lower lip, the blood there painting it red. “Yeah, Jay. You ain’t ready for what I’ve got to say.”
In a blink of an eye, Jared had a gun leveled at Holmes’ head. “Who hired you to kill Jensen?”
Chris moved forward, ready to step in, but Jensen held him back with a twitch of his fingers.
That jarring laugh was back, Holmes shaking his hanging head in mirth despite the pistol pointed at him. “I wasn’t hired to kill him,” he mumbled, face still downcast. His head snapped up and he pierced Jared with a cold look. “I was hired to kill you.”
“Fine,” Jared snarled in agitation. “Who hired you to kill me?”
The unmarred portions of Holmes’ face twisted into a cruel expression. “The same person who hired me to kill your parents.”
Jared’s gun hand drifted, the shock of the answer making his already pale face turn pasty. Jensen could see the shivers coursing through Jared’s body in the tremble of the bangs hanging over his forehead. He stepped up beside his friend and curled his hand over Jared’s holding the gun, taking it from the lax grip.
“Nice try, asshole.” Jensen tucked Jared’s gun in the back of his pants. “Vandermeer’s been dead for seven years.”
Holmes let his head fall back and huffed a laugh at the ceiling. When he dropped his face back down, it was smug. “Vandermeer had nothing to do with it. He was just a convenient patsy.”
“What?” Jared gasped. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and sweat dampened the collar of his shirt and the curls at his nape.
“Vandermeer didn’t put the hit out on your parents. You need to be looking a little closer to home,” Holmes taunted.
Jensen shot a look at Chris and Stephen, but both men seemed just as confused as he was. Someone associated with the Ackles family paid to have Heather and James Padalecki killed then tried to do the same to Jared?
“Wh-what do y-you mean?” Jared stammered, body shaking so bad it reminded Jensen of the night the Padaleckis died. “Who killed m-my parents?”
Holmes smile was macabre, his obvious enjoyment at seeing Jared’s pain was revolting.
“Who did it?!” Jared lurched forward, crying out in pain when Jensen grabbed him by the waist. He leaned forward, straining against Jensen’s hold, trying to get at the bound man.
The bastard kept quiet for a long moment, drawing out the pause dramatically. “Andrew Ackles.”
alcove in Jared’s room so he could keep his bedridden friend company and be close if he was needed.
He was there, body nestled in the well-used leather cushions, socked feet up on the coffee table and laptop warm on his thighs, when there was a light knock on the bedroom door. Jensen looked over at Jared to make sure the sound hadn’t roused the sleeping man as the heavy wood slowly slid open. Andrew’s head peered around the edge of the door, gaze landing on Jared for a moment before finding Jensen.
Jensen pressed his index finger to his lips, silently asking his father to stay quiet, and dropped his feet to the floor. He set his laptop to the side and closed the lid, a picture showing the cross-section of a human femur disappearing with a snick. He jutted his chin in the direction of the hallway as he got up and cross the room, fingers trailing over Jared’s blanket covered legs as he passed the bed.
Leaving the door cracked in case Jared needed him, he stepped out into the hallway. “Sir?”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at Jensen’s shoeless feet, but didn’t comment. “I wanted to check on how Jared was doing and see if Chris had any leads.”
“Not yet.” Jensen fought down the urge to wiggle his toes under his father’s scrutiny. Even at twenty-three, Jensen still felt like a child sometimes in his father’s presence. “The address Richard got us from Holmes’ PO was a bust. Chris is leaning on some of his old associates to see if he can get one of them to spill where he’s hiding.”
Andrew nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “So you’re sure this Holmes is involved?”
“Chris is and that’s good enough for me.”
“Agreed.” Andrew stepped forward and placed his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “Jensen, I can take care of this if you want.”
“No, I want to handle it personally.” Jensen’s tone was certain and determined, retribution promised in each syllable and in the flare of bright jade. A sound came from the room behind him and those eyes immediately softened. He peeked through the door to see Jared grunting as he rolled over.
Andrew’s face morphed into a contrived look, the expression fading into one of sympathetic understanding before Jensen could turn back around. “If you’re sure,” he hedged slyly. “I know you’ve got your hands full helping Jared as he convalesces.”
“That’s exactly why I’ll take care of it.” Anger colored Jensen’s face. “Someone tried to kill me and damn near succeeded with Jared. I want to know who is behind it. I want to know who almost took my Jared from me and make sure everyone thinks twice before doing it again.”
“Okay,” Andrew nodded, barely keeping the self-satisfaction in check. “Let me know if you need anything.” Heavy footsteps sounded off the paneled walls and he turned to see Chris coming toward them. “I’ll stop by later when Jared is awake.”
Jensen nodded and watched his father head back to the main part of the house, passing Chris with a friendly greeting. Stretching the tight muscles in his neck, Jensen frowned as Chris looked back over his shoulder at the retreating Ackles’ patriarch with a confused expression.
“Something wrong?” Jensen searched his friend’s face when he finally reached him.
Chris shook his head irritably trying to clear the annoying thoughts circulating his mind. The look on Andrew Ackles face when he’d walked by had been strange, a smug smile flirting across his lips that seemed so out of place with the recent events in the house. “No,” he answered, distractedly. “Your Dad come by to check on Jared?” Maybe they were talking about how Jared protected Jensen. That would be something to make the old man proud.
“Yeah.” Jensen rubbed a hand over his weary face. He’d slept very little since Jared was shot, afraid to go to sleep and wake up to find that he’d been dreaming and Jared was really dead. “That and he wanted to see if we’d found anything out about the shooting. He’s offered to help if we need him, but I told him I wanted to deal with this on my own.”
“Huh.” The ghost of that arrogant smile on Andrew Ackles’ face niggled at Chris, made him feel like he was missing something important.
“So did you?”
“Did I what?” Chris stared at him for a minute, completely confused.
“Find out anything,” Jensen clarified, giving Chris a worried look.
“Yeah, apparently you and Jared are the cutest couple in the Upper-East Side. That is, according to my sources in the Express Lane down at Farber’s Market
. The word on the street is that several girls are extremely distraught at the idea of you two off the market.” Chris smiled sweetly.
“That freaking gossipmonger.” Jensen leaned back against the wall, banging his head on it with a resounding thud. He knew this would happen. That nosy busybody Mrs. Biggs couldn’t keep something to herself if her life depended on it. He’d been honest with Jared, he really didn’t care if people knew. It was more that he wanted them to have time to figure out this new aspect of their relationship, feel it out and set the foundation, before the entire world knew.
“Mmhmm,” Chris hummed. “Racks full of celebrity intrigue and all anyone could talk about was how great the two of you must look together. I had to run a gauntlet of questions yesterday just to buy a carton of milk.”
“That’s disturbing. Why do people even care about us?” Jensen shook his head, short spikes scratching against the wood paneling.
“Because you’re both hot and they have nothing better to do. What’s more disturbing is I overheard two of the cashiers talking about a bet they have going about which of you tops.” Chris grinned at Jensen’s shocked face.
“Great,” Jensen grumbled, kneading the tense muscles at his nape. “You have any news not related to my sex life?”
Chris’ demeanor instantly changed, gone was the jovial smile, replaced with a serious expression. “Actually, I do. We found Holmes. He’s holed up at his cousin’s place in Marion. Stephen and I were going to head over tonight to meet with him. See if he’s been doing any chauffeuring anyone around lately.”
“Tonight?” Jensen raised an eyebrow. The stockier man wasn’t known for his patience. He usually liked to take his meetings immediately.
Chris’ jaw ticked. “The cousin has joint custody of his daughter.”
“Ah,” Jensen nodded. “Let me guess, it’s Daddy’s weekend.”
“Bingo!” Chris pointed his finger at him. “Guy works nights at Mackey’s bar downtown. He drops the kid off at the mother’s on the way.”
Jensen thought for a minute, processing everything Chris had said. “When are you leaving?” he asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
Glancing down at his watch, Chris shrugged. “Couple of hours. I thought we’d leave around seven. Make sure daddy and daughter haven’t forgotten something.” He watched Jensen roll up his sleeves and push the fabric to his elbows. “Why?”
“I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a question. It was a certifiable statement of fact. Jensen crossed his arms over his chest in preparation of the anticipated argument.
“Then I’m coming, too.”
Jensen spun around to find Jared, face pale and pinched with pain, leaning against the door jamb.
“No, you’re not!” Jensen moved to Jared’s side and took his elbow, intending to lead him back to bed.
Jared snatched his arm away, hissing at the movement. He leveled a deadly serious look at Jensen. “Yes. I. Am.” He turned to Chris. “We’ll be ready before seven. Come and get us when you’re ready to leave.”
Eyes volleying back and forth between the two men and sensing an impending fight he didn’t need to be present for, Chris nodded and made a quick exit. He’d come back at seven and pick up whoever was going or, depending on how bad the argument was, whoever was still alive.
“You’re not going,” Jensen said emphatically, infusing as much authority as he could muster into his voice. He gently nudged Jared back into the room.
“Ooh,” Jared theatrically shook his hands, “Jensen’s using his ‘tough guy’ voice.” Letting Jensen usher him to the bed, he sat down and looked up at the older man irritably. “You know that hasn’t worked on me since I was like ten, right?”
Jensen stood in front of him and ignored the jibe. He knew Jared was itching for a fight and rightfully so, but he really didn’t want to argue. “Jared, please.”
Jared’s shoulder slumped at the pleading tone. He put his hands on Jensen’s waist and leaned his forehead against Jensen’s stomach. “Jensen, I can’t stay behind.” Shaking his head, he could feel one of the buttons on Jensen’s shirt digging into the skin, the layer of muscle underneath the cotton, the body warmed smell of expensive cologne. He fisted his hands into the side of Jensen’s shirt. “Please, don’t ask me to.”
Jensen sighed and cupped his hands on Jared’s neck, tilting his face up with his thumbs. “Jared…”
“Please, don’t,” Jared interrupted, water glistened in his long lashes and along his lids. “Jen, I need to be there. I need to protect you, have your back. How would you feel if the situation was reversed? Would you stay here while I went?”
Jensen slid his hands up and bracketed Jared’s jaw, searched hazel eyes and his own feelings. He tried to put himself in Jared’s place, see the situation from the other man’s point-of-view. “I’d want to go,” he finally conceded.
“Exactly,” Jared moved a hand to Jensen’s chest and pulled the man down by his shirt front, their lips meeting.
A thrill shot through Jensen at the feel of Jared’s warm lips, just as it did every time he was reminded that this was real. He had Jared like this. He threaded his fingers in Jared’s hair and angled his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue delved in, swept around the space and engaged Jared’s in sensual slip-slide that made Jensen crave more. They’d shared a few chaste kisses since their mutual admission and Jensen was getting his first indication of just how great a kisser Jared was. He insinuated his body between Jared’s legs, the younger man spreading his thighs farther to accommodate him, and could feel the hot, hard length of him like a brand even through Jared’s sleep pants and his own chinos. Jared whimpered at the light friction and heat flashed over Jensen at the sound, bathing him in want and need and mine. He pressed forward, Jared reclining back to the bed as he advanced.
The whimper Jared let out this time didn’t inflame Jensen’s lust, but doused it in ice water. He jerked back to see Jared’s eyes still closed and lips pursed, but his features tight with pain. “Jared!” He scrambled back to the floor and gently pulled Jared back to a seated position. “I’m so sorry. I - I didn’t think.” His hands fluttered over Jared, touching softly over the dressing covering his chest.
Wincing at the tentative touch, Jared took Jensen’s hand and kissed his palm. “It’s okay, Jen.”
“No, it’s not. This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Jensen waved his hand at Jared’s chest then began pacing the area in front of the seated man. “If you can’t even lay back without hurting then how do you expect to handle this meeting tonight? You say you want to protect me. Can you even handle a gun, right now?”
Jared reached out and snatched Jensen’s wrist on his next pass, forcing him to turn and face him. “I’ll be fine, Jen.” At Jensen’s dubious look, he twisted his mouth in thought. Face clearing, he smiled. “How about a deal?”
“What kind of a deal?” Jensen was suspicious. Jared was cunning and good at getting his way, especially when it came to Jensen. Usually Jensen didn’t even realize he was being played long after the fact.
“We go to the basement. If I can’t hack it down there, I won’t fight you about going.” Jared held up his free hand at the hopeful light in Jensen’s eyes. “But, if I can then you drop the subject and we come back up here and get ready to go.”
Jensen’s mind raced, trying to see the deal from every angle and searching for loopholes that Jared could slip through. Finding none, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Jared refused to let Jensen help him to the basement, walking tall even if it was a little stiff. The main house, meticulously decorated to Yvonne’s discerning taste, disappeared behind the thick wood door as they descended the simple staircase that lead beneath the house. They moved across the store room where the kitchen staff kept the extra pantry stores and the serving platters for parties to a large, metal door on the opposite wall.
“You ready?” Jensen picked up a set of earphones from the hook by the door and donned them, handing Jared the second pair.
Shaking his hair back and snugging the cushions over his ears, Jared nodded.
Jensen nodded and pushed open the heavy door, revealing a fully functional gun range complete with Plexiglas partitioned stalls and motorized retractable targets. This part of the house was Michael Ackles’ main contribution. He subscribed to the belief that an effective security team needed to constantly hone their skills. He’d told the mansion’s designer that if the police force had an in-house gun range then his men needed one too.
Picking up a target of a human silhouette, Jared stepped up to the second stall and secured it to the clip suspended from the ceiling mounted track. He pressed a button and the paper zipped to the far end of the room, rippling as it went.
Jensen had seen Jared go through this routine hundreds of times, the two of them coming down here for years, and he scrutinized each step, looking for anything that he could use as a basis for forcing Jared’s forfeiture. Jared smoothly loaded his gun and set it on the waist high shelf at the front of the booth. He slid on his protective glasses and turned around to Jensen, flinching slightly when he rolled his shoulder to loosen it.
“You don’t have anything to prove, Jay.” Jensen looked down at the glasses in his hand, running a fingernail between the frame and the plastic lens. “It’s only been a couple of days since you were shot. You…”
Jared spun around, body positioned between Jensen and the silhouetted target. His arm came up in a fluid arc, gun materializing in his hand with magician-like deftness, and he fired four perfectly measured shots. Flicking the safety on with a swipe of his thumb, he set the gun back down followed by his glasses. He tapped the button, calling for the target, but turned before it made the journey back. Walking past Jensen, dropped a kiss to the man’s shock slack mouth and patted his chest. “I’ll go get dressed.”
The muted sound of bare feet on the concrete floor receded as Jensen stared at the bullet riddled paper, the black drawing fatally wounded with four holes to the chest. “I guess that settles that.”
*****
The cousin’s house was a small brick home located in a middle-class neighborhood just on the outside of town. It had a well-kept, unadorned yard and a swing set just visible in the back. There was light on in the front window and the driveway was empty so Chris rolled to a stop along the curb.
Chris and Stephen snuck around the side of the house while Jensen and Jared strolled casually up the front path. At the door, they knocked politely looking for all intents and purposes like well-dressed Jehovah Witnesses bringing the good news to household. They waited patiently taking in the exterior of the home and the surrounding houses like they had nowhere to be and all the time in the world.
“Nice neighborhood,” Jared remarked, smiling at a woman walking her dog, and Jensen hummed his agreement.
The front door clicked and they were faced with a smug looking Chris. “Fucker, tried to run out the back.”
“Who would’ve thought?” Jensen rolled his eyes and stepped into the house, Jared on his heels.
They found a place against the wall of the living room, out of the way but able to see and hear everything. Stephen put the finishing touches on the duct tape around Holmes’ wrists, securing them to the back of the kitchen chair he was seated in. Jared’s gaze took him in, cataloguing his features. The man was pushing forty, short and portly, with a round face and close-set eyes.
“So, Holmesy,” Chris walked around behind the bound man, “I hear you’re a chauffeur.” He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Tell me. Have you driven anyone interesting this week?”
“Fuck you,” Holmes spat, tugging at this bonds.
“Not my type.” Chris shot back not missing a beat. He jutted his chin at Stephen in a silent order.
Holmes’ head snapped to the right under the force of Stephen’s blow. A trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his lip down his chin.
Chris rounded the man, bending over so they were face to face. “Listen, let me make this easy on you. All we want to know is who hired you.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Anatomically impossible.” Another non-verbal command and red blossomed across Holmes’ cheek.
Jensen crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall as the scene was repeated over and over again until Holmes’ face was bloody and swollen, the beginnings of bruises mottling the skin. “This is getting us nowhere,” he muttered.
Jared nodded, shifting his shoulder.
Stephen moved back, pulling the silk square from his front jacket pocket and wiping his knuckles. Holmes’ water blue eyes, one completely closed and the other mostly on its way, darted from person to person landing on Jared for the first time. Split lips pulled back from crimson coated teeth and a jarring laugh filled the room.
“You want to know who hired me?” He stared directly at Jared. “Huh, Padalecki? Is that what you want?” He spat rose-colored saliva on the blue carpeting.
Jensen’s skin prickled, not liking the thug’s sudden interest in Jared. He pushed off the wall. “How do you know his name?”
Holmes ignored Jensen, focus entirely on Jared. “Is it, Padalecki? Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Jared stepped forward, painfully shrugging off Jensen’s restraining hand.
“Don’t listen to him, Jay. He’s trying to get to you,” Jensen warned, making another attempt to hold Jared back.
A thick tongue licked across Holmes’ lower lip, the blood there painting it red. “Yeah, Jay. You ain’t ready for what I’ve got to say.”
In a blink of an eye, Jared had a gun leveled at Holmes’ head. “Who hired you to kill Jensen?”
Chris moved forward, ready to step in, but Jensen held him back with a twitch of his fingers.
That jarring laugh was back, Holmes shaking his hanging head in mirth despite the pistol pointed at him. “I wasn’t hired to kill him,” he mumbled, face still downcast. His head snapped up and he pierced Jared with a cold look. “I was hired to kill you.”
“Fine,” Jared snarled in agitation. “Who hired you to kill me?”
The unmarred portions of Holmes’ face twisted into a cruel expression. “The same person who hired me to kill your parents.”
Jared’s gun hand drifted, the shock of the answer making his already pale face turn pasty. Jensen could see the shivers coursing through Jared’s body in the tremble of the bangs hanging over his forehead. He stepped up beside his friend and curled his hand over Jared’s holding the gun, taking it from the lax grip.
“Nice try, asshole.” Jensen tucked Jared’s gun in the back of his pants. “Vandermeer’s been dead for seven years.”
Holmes let his head fall back and huffed a laugh at the ceiling. When he dropped his face back down, it was smug. “Vandermeer had nothing to do with it. He was just a convenient patsy.”
“What?” Jared gasped. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and sweat dampened the collar of his shirt and the curls at his nape.
“Vandermeer didn’t put the hit out on your parents. You need to be looking a little closer to home,” Holmes taunted.
Jensen shot a look at Chris and Stephen, but both men seemed just as confused as he was. Someone associated with the Ackles family paid to have Heather and James Padalecki killed then tried to do the same to Jared?
“Wh-what do y-you mean?” Jared stammered, body shaking so bad it reminded Jensen of the night the Padaleckis died. “Who killed m-my parents?”
Holmes smile was macabre, his obvious enjoyment at seeing Jared’s pain was revolting.
“Who did it?!” Jared lurched forward, crying out in pain when Jensen grabbed him by the waist. He leaned forward, straining against Jensen’s hold, trying to get at the bound man.
The bastard kept quiet for a long moment, drawing out the pause dramatically. “Andrew Ackles.”