Redemption Chapter 14B
“ So, did Steve enjoy the amenities at the Plains County Jail?” Jensen asked as he and Chris made their way from the Sheriff’s Office to Sam’s diner. He’d come in to give his statement on the fight the night before and had decided to go with Chris, the acting Deputy Sheriff, to lunch.
“Damned idiots,” Chris growled, rolling his eyes. “Tom and Mike didn’t even lock him up. They all sat around for the rest of the night and played poker.”
“He ever say why he did it? I’ve never seen Steve lose it like that before.” Jensen moved to the outside of the sidewalk, smiling as they passed Mrs. Upton pushing little Mary Beth in her stroller.
“He said you couldn’t help Jared in jail and he didn’t want me at home all day bitching and moaning when I got suspended for starting a bar fight. It’s probably a good thing though. If it hadn’t been one of us, it would have been Tom and he already jeopardized his visa with the first fight. He took one for the team. Of course it wasn’t much of a sacrifice - more like boys’ night out than hardened time,” Chris grumbled.
Jensen laughed, pulling the door to the diner open, the tinkling bell announcing their arrival. “If he likes jail so much he can do my time if my case goes south,” he said over his shoulder, walking into the warm diner.
“Papa Jensen!”
Jensen stumbled as two solid bodies ran into his legs, small arms circling his thighs as rounded cheeks pressed against his hips. Stunned, his hands automatically moved to cup the base of the twins’ heads, the dull pain in his heart that had become his constant companion flared at the familiarity. Gently, he pushed the boys away and knelt before them. Tears glistened on his lashes as he looked over their cherubic faces. He’d missed them so much.
“Boys,” he breathed, pulling them to his chest and hugging them tightly. Wet, sloppy kisses were pressed into the skin of his cheeks and neck and he felt the material of his shirt dampen. “Sshh,” he soothed, “don’t cry.” He dropped kisses to their heads and when they pulled back to look at him, he thumbed away the tears beneath their eyes and wiped their noses on the sleeve of his shirt. “There are my boys,” he tried to smile, but knew it was wobbly at best.
“Where’s your Daddy?” He asked, eyes scanning the restaurant. They lighted on Jared, standing at a table near the back, blanched fingers steepled against the formica top as if the bracing was the only thing keeping him upright. Petting a hand over each child’s head, he gave them a comforting look. “Why don’t you two go with Uncle Chris and see what kind of pie Ms. Ferris has today?”
The boys tightened their grips, but he patted them reassuringly and they reluctantly let go. They took Chris’s hands and let themselves be led to the rotating pie case. Chris shot Jensen a worried look over his shoulder.
Jensen walked over to Jared, eyes cataloguing the changes that a mere two weeks had wrought on the younger man. Jared’s eyes were sunken and underlined by dark smudges, his skin pale and wan. Jensen could see the weight he’d lost in just the short time and his gaze dropped to the half-eaten side salad on the table. Jared looked tired - exhausted really - and defeated. The only saving grace was Jensen couldn’t see any bruises on the visible patches of skin, but he knew all too well the sins that clothing could hide.
“Jare,” he said softly, wanting desperately to reach out and touch.
“Deputy,” the name came out breathy and Jared swallowed hard, his throat clicking with the motion. “We have to go.”
“Don’t, please,” Jensen put his hand out, stopping short of grabbing Jared’s wrist.
“I can’t,” Jared whispered, voice breaking around a controlled sob. “He’ll…”
“Tell me how to help you,” Jensen pleaded. “Did he threaten the kids again? Jared, we can protect them. He’ll never hurt them again, I promise.” This time Jensen did reach out, his fingers wrapping lightly around Jared’s forearm.
“No, we can’t,” Jared’s eyes fell to the meager remains of his lunch.
“Jared,” Jensen’s voice became persuasive, “you’re putting the boys in danger by staying there. How could you let him back into their lives after he tried to hit Benji? What if next time you can’t stop him? What if you’re not there to shield them from the blows?” His anger resurfaced at Jared’s dismissing head shake. “If he hurts them, it’ll be your fault. Guilty by complicity.”
Jared gasped and Jensen wished he could take back his words. They’d tumbled out of his mouth, anger and helplessness at the situation forcing him to say things he’d only thought during the dark days of his drunkenness. Tears pooled in Jared’s eyes and Jensen wondered if he’d just broken the only part of Jared left - the devotedly protective parent who was willing to sacrifice everything for his children.
As if sensing their Daddy’s distress, Teddy and Benji came running over and wrapped their arms around Jared’s waist. Jared smoothed a comforting hand down the kids’ backs. Jensen didn’t miss the slight clenching of Jared’s jaw or the way his abdominal muscles shifted, tensing to guard vulnerable injuries. Clothing did hide a multitude of sins. Jensen dimly registered the bell heralding another customer, his heart, thudding a raging staccato in his chest at the knowledge that Timothy was already hurting Jared again, masked everything.
“Jared?”
Jensen shuddered at that honeyed horseshit drawl he’d know anywhere. Jared blinked away his tears and swallowed, fixing a smile on his face so plastic it should have been trademarked by Mattel. Dry scrubbing a hand down his face, Jensen gave Timothy a tight smile when he appeared at Jared’s side.
Jared let out a shaky breath and turned to the new arrival, his smile faltering slightly before he could firm it up. “T-Timothy, I thought you had meetings all day?”
“Obviously,” he sneered, anger creeping into his voice, as he eyed Jensen. “Apparently all those years on the police force didn’t teach you how to read a restraining order.
“It’s a public place,” Jensen reminded the man. “I didn’t know Jared was going to be here.”
“And yet,” Timothy reached down and grabbed Jared’s hand, “you didn’t leave when you realized he was.”
Jensen noticed Jared wince as Timothy squeezed his hand, knowing that the older man was crushing Jared’s fingers in his grip. “That was a mistake,” Jensen admitted. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Jared.” He looked up into the eyes that he loved so much and thought he actually saw Jared’s heart break.
“Did Jared tell you the news?” Timothy’s expression was vindictive and the twins clutched at Jared’s waist harder.
“What news?”
“We’re getting married.” Timothy’s smile was cold. Jared let out a tiny whimper at the statement, his eyes swirling with so much despair and pain that Jensen knew it was true. That was when he noticed the thumb of the hand crushing Jared’s was rubbing over a large, ornately intricate ring on Jared’s left ring finger. The band was gold and the diamonds chunky, meant to be seen and envied. Timothy had to have picked it out because anyone who knew Jared could see immediately that Jared had had no input in its purchase. Jared preferred classy to ostentatious and Jensen’s heart lurched at the thought of the velvet box sitting on his dresser.
Jensen’s breath came short and fast, heartache following fast on the heels of anger stealing the air from his lungs. “How badly did you have to beat him to get him to say yes?”
Timothy’s face went murderous, violent thoughts contorting his features into a cruel mask. Eyes like flint chips, he leaned forward into Jensen’s space. “I don’t need to lift a hand to control what’s mine,” Timothy said lowly. “It’s all about knowing the right motivation,” his gaze flicked from Jensen to Chris, standing a few feet away, then out the large window at the front of the diner to the ice cream parlor across the street, “to make someone love you.”
Jensen reared back slightly, staring at Timothy in understanding. “You sick, twisted bastard. It’s not love if you have to force them to stay,” Jensen shot back, voice rising. His body tensed, itching to hurt, to punch Timothy’s smug face, to scream and rail that he knew Jared better, loved him more, but, as the anger clouded his mind, Jared made a small noise in the back of his throat. Jensen glanced down to see Jared trying to tug his hand free of Timothy’s bruising grip and the rage-filled fog cleared. Nausea rolled through his stomach at the thought that this little encounter would cost Jared later. He took a few steps back, hands raised. “I’m leaving. Just don’t hurt him.”
He started to turn when shouts of “Papa!” rent the air and he looked back in time to catch the twins as they launched themselves at him. He knelt down and gathered them in a fierce hug, resting his forehead on their shoulders. “I know you’re scared,” he whispered, the words for their ears only. “So am I, but you’ve got to be strong for your Daddy. He needs you.” He kissed their tear-stained cheeks, one palm on each twin’s other cheek. “I promise, I promise, I’m going to get y’all out. I love you.” His hands slid to the back of their heads and pulled their faces into the crooks of his neck, eyes fluttering shut at the whispered declarations of love in childish voices that were almost his undoing.
“Theodore! Benjamin!”
Both boys startled at the bark of their names, their small bodies stiffening. Jensen kissed their heads again and released them. He watched as they slowly made their way back to their parents, Timothy snagging the sleeves of their sweatshirts to yank them closer. Jensen was on his feet, the twins’ surprised squeaks of fear unconsciously forcing his body into action. A strong hand grabbed his bicep, keeping him away and he turned to glare at Chris.
“It will only make it worse on Jared,” Chris murmured. “Just walk away now.”
Jensen looked back at Jared, holding his silently sobbing children close. Jared’s chin quaked in the attempt to keep his tears at bay and his eyes pleaded with Jensen to listen to Chris. Jensen nodded and stepped backward, trying to keep Jared and the boys in his sight as long as possible. He could feel the eyes of the other patrons, forgotten witnesses to the altercation, on him and he fought the urge to yell at them to mind their own goddamn business. As Chris dragged him through the door, the bell merrily chiming their exit, he saw a man standing next to the entry. He was unfamiliar, tall and handsome in designer clothes, but his eyes seemed to be telling Jensen something he couldn’t understand. Before Jensen could figure it out, the door shut and Chris manhandled him down the sidewalk.
*****
Jensen sat on the couch, nursing a glass of sweet tea and staring at the Nuggets on television losing spectacularly to some team Jensen didn’t give a shit about. It had taken borrowing his mother’s steam cleaner and half a bottle of Febreeze to get the smell of body odor and stale alcohol out of the fabric, but he’d managed to salvage the couch. There was a knock at the door and he debated heavily not getting up, but he knew the chances of that convincing whoever it was to go away were slim. Sighing, he set his glass down on a magazine and made his way to the door. He opened it to find the stranger from the diner standing on his porch looking slightly nervous.
“Can I help you?” Jensen kept his hand on the door, prepared to shut it.
“No, but I think I can help you,” the man said, smiling sheepishly. “I have some information you might find useful.”
Jensen sized the man up for a slow minute, reveling in the squirm his assessing gaze caused. He pushed the door open further and motioned for the man to come in. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the arm chair. “Can I get you something to drink? All I have is sweet tea.”
“No, thank you,” the man answered, politely, placing a manila folder on the coffee table.
Jensen sat on the couch, close to the end table where a gun was safely tucked in the drawer. “Who are you?”
“My name is Matt Cohen. I’m Timothy Olyphant’s personal assistant.” The man rubbed his hands down his thighs, smoothing the fabric of his expensive looking pants.
Jensen quirked an eyebrow, knowingly. “Personal assistant?”
A slight blush spread over the Matt’s cheeks. “Pretty much exactly what you are thinking.”
“You said you had information for me. What kind of information?”
“About your current legal issues in Chicago.”
Jensen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What would you know about my legal issues?”
“Honestly? More than I care to admit.” Matt leaned forward and picked up the folder. “Give this to your attorney,” he handed it to Jensen, “there should be enough in there for him to clear you of your charges and implicate some highly respected and easily corrupted judges.”
Jensen opened the folder and leafed through the pages. He looked up at the young man with surprised eyes. “Where did you get all this?”
“Let’s just say that Timothy doesn’t do anything for himself and I keep meticulous records,” Matt smiled self-deprecatingly.
Green eyes scrutinized the man on the couch while Jensen thought quietly. “Why?”
“Why what?” Matt asked confusedly.
“I can only assume that Timothy pays you well for your…services. You gotta know by giving me this,” Jensen raised the folder for emphasis, “you’re sacrificing your cash cow, possibly your freedom.”
Matt took a deep breath and stared down at his hands folded in his lap. “I’ve known since the beginning that Timothy didn’t hide the nature of our…arrangement from Jared. Timothy enjoyed humiliating Jared over it. I - I thought,” he licked his lips and swallowed, head bowing. “I thought Jared deserved it.”
At Jensen’s indignant noise, Matt shook his head. “I’ve met a lot of people since I started working for Timothy. It's not uncommon for men like him to take lovers. Hell, some of them have two or three. I’ve noticed that their wives are more than willing to turn a blind eye so long as their credit cards keep working and their husbands don’t interfere with their own affairs.”
“And you thought Jared was like those desperate, gold-digging housewives?”
“I think I wanted to believe that,” Matt shrugged. “If I did then what I was doing wasn’t so bad. I knew that Jared didn’t love Timothy, that there was some ulterior motive for him staying. So in my mind, no harm, no foul. I even went so far as to convince myself that Jared was sleeping with that friend of his, Chad what’s-his-name. But deep down…” Matt trailed off, looking out the front window. “Despite what everyone says or what Hollywood would lead you to believe, being the other man is not easy. Especially when the person you’re doing it to is Jared. You know, he was always kind to me. He never looked at me like some of the wives did their husband’s secretaries.” He continued looking out at the snow-covered yard.
“Still doesn’t explain your sudden change of heart,” Jensen prompted when Matt was quiet for a few minutes, tapping the folder against his thigh.
“My job often requires me to turn a blind eye or a deaf ear, but I can assure you that my vision and hearing are perfect. I was in the diner today and I didn’t miss anything. It was the first time in four years, I realized our affair wasn’t the only way Timothy was hurting Jared.” He lifted sad eyes to Jensen. “I swear, I didn’t know. I just want to make it right.”
Jensen nodded his head, not sure what else to say and finally settled on, “Thanks for this.” He smoothed a hand over the folder.
Matt snorted, “God, it was the least I could do.” He looked at his watch and stood. “I should be getting back to the hotel before Timothy gets back and realizes I’m not there. Make sure your lawyer gets that file.”
“Where’s Timothy now?” Jensen set the folder down on the end table and stood to walk the other man out.
“In Carter, having a few drinks with the contractor he’s had remodeling the house.”
“Remodeling the house?” Jensen repeated. “What house?”
“Jared’s,” Matt replied with a frown. “It didn’t live up to his discerning tastes,” he elaborated with a sneer. “He’s had the entire place practically taken down to the studs and rebuilt the way he wants it. Personally, I think it was much better the way Jared had it.”
Jensen’s jaw tightened. All the love and devotion that Jared - hell, the whole town - had put into making the dilapidated farmhouse a home and Timothy had destroyed it all. Jensen swore he was going get his family back and then fix everything that bastard had broken. He ushered Matt to the door without another word.
On the porch, Matt turned back. “Tell Jared,” he sighed. “Tell him, I’m sorry.”
“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Jensen said not unkindly.
Matt nodded and made his way to the shiny Mercedes looking conspicuously out-of-place next to Jensen’s dust-covered Impala.
Jensen watched as the taillights disappeared down his dirt driveway before he snatched his keys and hat from the table beside the door.
*****
He pulled up the long driveway, the tires of the Impala easily navigating the washed-out ruts they’d never gotten around to filling with gravel. He stopped next to a new Cadillac Escalade, the pearlesque cream paint job throwing off a rainbow of opalescent shimmers in the waning sunset. He guessed Jared’s well-loved Silverado didn’t fit in with Timothy’s style any better than the country-cozy décor of Jared’s house. The windows were dark save the boys’ bedroom upstairs and Jensen quickly scaled the front steps, knocking loudly on the black front door that he and Jared had lovingly painted red a few months back. He waited impatiently, knocking again and ringing the bell, noticing that the porch swing had been replaced with a set of black, plastic, egg-shaped chairs with black and white patterned cushions separated by a black and glass oval table.
The deadbolt disengaged and the door swung open to reveal Jared, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Deputy? What are you doing here?” Jared’s gaze flung over Jensen’s shoulder and darted around the front yard.
“We need to talk,” Jensen pulled his hat from his head, holding the brim in his hands.
“That isn’t a good idea. Timothy could be home any minute.” Jared’s eyes were wide and frightened, pleading with Jensen to leave.
“We need to talk,” Jensen repeated, enunciating slowly.
Jared bit his lip deliberating then nodded. “Yeah, we do.” He stepped back and held the door open for Jensen to enter.
Jensen felt like he’d walked into an alternate reality. The house was familiar by the layout but the interior was completely different. Gone were the wood tables that Jared had painstakingly refinished, glass and chrome mockeries standing in their place, and Jensen could see that the distressed, brown leather couch in the living room was now a white, fabric monstrosity that was more for show than use. A house with two boys - especially Jared’s boys - should never contain something that stainable. He leaned forward and saw that the entertainment center Austin had given Jared was now a black lacquer behemoth that looked straight from the pages of an IKEA catalogue. He tossed his hat down on the iron table by the door to free his hands and frowned at the white, plush rug now spanning the foyer.
Jared shifted nervously and Jensen brought his focus back to the reason for his visit. Jared’s bangs were hanging low, shielding his face from Jensen, but Jensen saw the tear fall to the ground. It broke Jensen’s heart to see Jared like this, like he was when he first arrived at Wowakan - scared and unsure.
“Jensen…” Jared began, eyes firmly fixed on his feet.
“I’m sorry for what I said today,” Jensen interrupted, needing to get this off his chest. “I know that you aren’t here because you want to be and that you’d never put the boys in danger without a good reason.” Jared tried to say something, but Jensen cut him off with a staying hand. “He did more than threaten the kids this time, didn’t he?” Jared’s small sniffle was enough of an answer. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Jared shook his head. “I won’t let him hurt the people I love. He’ll do it, Jensen. I know he will.”
“You don’t understand,” Jensen pleaded. “Timothy won’t be a problem much longer.”
Jared’s shaking head stilled and Jensen knew that at least the younger man was listening.
“Jared, Matt Cohen came to see me today,” Jared’s eyes shot up in surprise. “He brought me a bunch of evidence that should get the case against me thrown out and have Timothy behind bars for a good long time.”
“W - Why would he do that?” Jared muttered.
“He really needs to tell you that himself, but, basically, he’s trying to make amends. He’s looking for redemption.” Jensen stepped closer to Jared, needing to feel him, and was relieved when Jared didn’t back away.
“Really?” Jared’s voice sounded awed, hopeful.
“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, he cupped Jared’s cheek. “I want you to go upstairs and pack your and the twins’ things. I’m getting you out of here.” He’d made the decision the moment Matt had given him the folder. He now had the evidence he needed to break Timothy’s hold on Jared and put his god-forsaken ass away.
Jared’s eyes were so hopeful, but still wary like he was afraid this was a joke or would be taken from him. Jensen leaned forward, his lips seeking and finding Jared’s. He poured everything into the kiss, his love, his fear and his reassurance. Jared gasped and then returned the exchange, fingers gripping the back of Jensen’s shirt desperately. Jensen lost track of time before he reluctantly pulled away, thumb rubbing over Jared’s cheekbone.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jared whispered, tears falling freely as he leaned into the comfort of Jensen’s touch.
“We’ll talk later. Hurry, Jared,” Jensen urged, he placed a chaste kiss on Jared’s lips before releasing him. “I don’t want to take the chance of Timothy coming home.” He stepped back.
“Too late.”
Jensen spun around, body shielding Jared, to see Timothy in the doorway, a gun in one hand and his cellphone in the other. Jensen inwardly cursed himself. He’d been too wrapped up in talking and kissing Jared to listen for Timothy’s car.
As if seeing what Jensen was thinking, Timothy smiled coldly. “Gotta love the art of German engineering. So much quieter than that piece of shit Detroit relic you love so much.”
“Timothy, don’t,” Jared begged, trying to move around Jensen.
“Stay back, Jared,” Jensen snarled, shifting until the man was behind him again. Jensen’s eyes never left the gun in Timothy’s hand, seeing the sure grip and steady stance.
“Yes, Jared,” Timothy sneered. “Wait your turn.”
“Over my dead body,” Jensen growled, fist clenching as his brain reprimanded him for leaving the house without some kind of weapon.
“That can be arranged,” Timothy smirked, leveling the gun at Jensen’s chest.
“No,” Jared shouted, pushing Jensen aside to stand between the two men. “Timothy, don’t. You promised me if I stayed you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“You weren’t going to stay, were you?” Timothy kept the gun pointed at Jensen. “You were going to leave with him. That negates our agreement.”
“I never said I was going with him,” Jared corrected.
Jensen looked at Jared, mind flinging back to the conversation. He’d told Jared to pack and then they’d kissed, but all Jared had said was he needed to tell Jensen something. Was Jared seriously not planning to go with him? “Jared, no,” he croaked.
“I never said I was leaving,” Jared stopped him from saying more, his eyes communicating what he really meant.
The tension in Jensen’s chest lessened. Jared was willing to leave, he’d just never gotten around to verbally agreeing, believing that whatever he had to say was more important. Jensen saw the pleas for forgiveness in Jared’s eyes and knew that Jared was about to sacrifice himself again.
Timothy seemed to be thinking over the conversation he’d heard as well. Jensen could see Timothy’s mind wildly searching for another reason to use the gun in his hand. All three men startled at the sound of sirens echoing through the evening air.
Timothy’s smile was back in place as he stepped over to the table in the hall and put the gun in the topmost drawer. “I overlooked you violating the restraining order in the diner earlier, but my patience has run out. With those lips, I’m sure some nice convict named Bubba will be happy to make you his bitch.”
Jensen sighed, he forgotten about the fucking restraining order.
Timothy looked over at Jared, still standing between them. “Once the police have taken him away, I think you and I need to discuss that kiss.” He winked at Jensen.
Growling, Jensen lunged forward, brushing past Jared before he could react, and grabbed Timothy around the throat, shoving him against the wall. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” Jensen’s fingers tightened and he reveled in the Timothy’s gasp for air, his fingers clawing at Jensen’s constricting grasp.
“Jensen, stop!” Jared’s voice was loud and frightened. “Please, stop!”
“Papa Jensen?”
Jensen looked at the landing at the top of the stairs at the boys, their eyes glassy and clouded with fear. He released Timothy, letting the man slide to the floor, coughing and holding his neck. “I’m sorry,” he said to the twins then looked at Jared and repeated it. Never in all this did he mean to scare them.
The sirens outside were blaring and red and blue alternating lights shone through the window and reflected off the walls. The front door crashed open and Sheriff Jones rushed in, followed quickly by Welling and Rosenbaum. Timothy was on the floor screaming about restraining orders and assault, but Jensen didn’t pay him any attention. His focus was volleying between Jared and the twins, gaze a mixture of apology and love. He barely felt the bite of cold metal around his wrists or the guiding tugs as he was led to the door. He didn’t break eye contact with the ones he loved until the front door shut him away from them.
“Damned idiots,” Chris growled, rolling his eyes. “Tom and Mike didn’t even lock him up. They all sat around for the rest of the night and played poker.”
“He ever say why he did it? I’ve never seen Steve lose it like that before.” Jensen moved to the outside of the sidewalk, smiling as they passed Mrs. Upton pushing little Mary Beth in her stroller.
“He said you couldn’t help Jared in jail and he didn’t want me at home all day bitching and moaning when I got suspended for starting a bar fight. It’s probably a good thing though. If it hadn’t been one of us, it would have been Tom and he already jeopardized his visa with the first fight. He took one for the team. Of course it wasn’t much of a sacrifice - more like boys’ night out than hardened time,” Chris grumbled.
Jensen laughed, pulling the door to the diner open, the tinkling bell announcing their arrival. “If he likes jail so much he can do my time if my case goes south,” he said over his shoulder, walking into the warm diner.
“Papa Jensen!”
Jensen stumbled as two solid bodies ran into his legs, small arms circling his thighs as rounded cheeks pressed against his hips. Stunned, his hands automatically moved to cup the base of the twins’ heads, the dull pain in his heart that had become his constant companion flared at the familiarity. Gently, he pushed the boys away and knelt before them. Tears glistened on his lashes as he looked over their cherubic faces. He’d missed them so much.
“Boys,” he breathed, pulling them to his chest and hugging them tightly. Wet, sloppy kisses were pressed into the skin of his cheeks and neck and he felt the material of his shirt dampen. “Sshh,” he soothed, “don’t cry.” He dropped kisses to their heads and when they pulled back to look at him, he thumbed away the tears beneath their eyes and wiped their noses on the sleeve of his shirt. “There are my boys,” he tried to smile, but knew it was wobbly at best.
“Where’s your Daddy?” He asked, eyes scanning the restaurant. They lighted on Jared, standing at a table near the back, blanched fingers steepled against the formica top as if the bracing was the only thing keeping him upright. Petting a hand over each child’s head, he gave them a comforting look. “Why don’t you two go with Uncle Chris and see what kind of pie Ms. Ferris has today?”
The boys tightened their grips, but he patted them reassuringly and they reluctantly let go. They took Chris’s hands and let themselves be led to the rotating pie case. Chris shot Jensen a worried look over his shoulder.
Jensen walked over to Jared, eyes cataloguing the changes that a mere two weeks had wrought on the younger man. Jared’s eyes were sunken and underlined by dark smudges, his skin pale and wan. Jensen could see the weight he’d lost in just the short time and his gaze dropped to the half-eaten side salad on the table. Jared looked tired - exhausted really - and defeated. The only saving grace was Jensen couldn’t see any bruises on the visible patches of skin, but he knew all too well the sins that clothing could hide.
“Jare,” he said softly, wanting desperately to reach out and touch.
“Deputy,” the name came out breathy and Jared swallowed hard, his throat clicking with the motion. “We have to go.”
“Don’t, please,” Jensen put his hand out, stopping short of grabbing Jared’s wrist.
“I can’t,” Jared whispered, voice breaking around a controlled sob. “He’ll…”
“Tell me how to help you,” Jensen pleaded. “Did he threaten the kids again? Jared, we can protect them. He’ll never hurt them again, I promise.” This time Jensen did reach out, his fingers wrapping lightly around Jared’s forearm.
“No, we can’t,” Jared’s eyes fell to the meager remains of his lunch.
“Jared,” Jensen’s voice became persuasive, “you’re putting the boys in danger by staying there. How could you let him back into their lives after he tried to hit Benji? What if next time you can’t stop him? What if you’re not there to shield them from the blows?” His anger resurfaced at Jared’s dismissing head shake. “If he hurts them, it’ll be your fault. Guilty by complicity.”
Jared gasped and Jensen wished he could take back his words. They’d tumbled out of his mouth, anger and helplessness at the situation forcing him to say things he’d only thought during the dark days of his drunkenness. Tears pooled in Jared’s eyes and Jensen wondered if he’d just broken the only part of Jared left - the devotedly protective parent who was willing to sacrifice everything for his children.
As if sensing their Daddy’s distress, Teddy and Benji came running over and wrapped their arms around Jared’s waist. Jared smoothed a comforting hand down the kids’ backs. Jensen didn’t miss the slight clenching of Jared’s jaw or the way his abdominal muscles shifted, tensing to guard vulnerable injuries. Clothing did hide a multitude of sins. Jensen dimly registered the bell heralding another customer, his heart, thudding a raging staccato in his chest at the knowledge that Timothy was already hurting Jared again, masked everything.
“Jared?”
Jensen shuddered at that honeyed horseshit drawl he’d know anywhere. Jared blinked away his tears and swallowed, fixing a smile on his face so plastic it should have been trademarked by Mattel. Dry scrubbing a hand down his face, Jensen gave Timothy a tight smile when he appeared at Jared’s side.
Jared let out a shaky breath and turned to the new arrival, his smile faltering slightly before he could firm it up. “T-Timothy, I thought you had meetings all day?”
“Obviously,” he sneered, anger creeping into his voice, as he eyed Jensen. “Apparently all those years on the police force didn’t teach you how to read a restraining order.
“It’s a public place,” Jensen reminded the man. “I didn’t know Jared was going to be here.”
“And yet,” Timothy reached down and grabbed Jared’s hand, “you didn’t leave when you realized he was.”
Jensen noticed Jared wince as Timothy squeezed his hand, knowing that the older man was crushing Jared’s fingers in his grip. “That was a mistake,” Jensen admitted. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Jared.” He looked up into the eyes that he loved so much and thought he actually saw Jared’s heart break.
“Did Jared tell you the news?” Timothy’s expression was vindictive and the twins clutched at Jared’s waist harder.
“What news?”
“We’re getting married.” Timothy’s smile was cold. Jared let out a tiny whimper at the statement, his eyes swirling with so much despair and pain that Jensen knew it was true. That was when he noticed the thumb of the hand crushing Jared’s was rubbing over a large, ornately intricate ring on Jared’s left ring finger. The band was gold and the diamonds chunky, meant to be seen and envied. Timothy had to have picked it out because anyone who knew Jared could see immediately that Jared had had no input in its purchase. Jared preferred classy to ostentatious and Jensen’s heart lurched at the thought of the velvet box sitting on his dresser.
Jensen’s breath came short and fast, heartache following fast on the heels of anger stealing the air from his lungs. “How badly did you have to beat him to get him to say yes?”
Timothy’s face went murderous, violent thoughts contorting his features into a cruel mask. Eyes like flint chips, he leaned forward into Jensen’s space. “I don’t need to lift a hand to control what’s mine,” Timothy said lowly. “It’s all about knowing the right motivation,” his gaze flicked from Jensen to Chris, standing a few feet away, then out the large window at the front of the diner to the ice cream parlor across the street, “to make someone love you.”
Jensen reared back slightly, staring at Timothy in understanding. “You sick, twisted bastard. It’s not love if you have to force them to stay,” Jensen shot back, voice rising. His body tensed, itching to hurt, to punch Timothy’s smug face, to scream and rail that he knew Jared better, loved him more, but, as the anger clouded his mind, Jared made a small noise in the back of his throat. Jensen glanced down to see Jared trying to tug his hand free of Timothy’s bruising grip and the rage-filled fog cleared. Nausea rolled through his stomach at the thought that this little encounter would cost Jared later. He took a few steps back, hands raised. “I’m leaving. Just don’t hurt him.”
He started to turn when shouts of “Papa!” rent the air and he looked back in time to catch the twins as they launched themselves at him. He knelt down and gathered them in a fierce hug, resting his forehead on their shoulders. “I know you’re scared,” he whispered, the words for their ears only. “So am I, but you’ve got to be strong for your Daddy. He needs you.” He kissed their tear-stained cheeks, one palm on each twin’s other cheek. “I promise, I promise, I’m going to get y’all out. I love you.” His hands slid to the back of their heads and pulled their faces into the crooks of his neck, eyes fluttering shut at the whispered declarations of love in childish voices that were almost his undoing.
“Theodore! Benjamin!”
Both boys startled at the bark of their names, their small bodies stiffening. Jensen kissed their heads again and released them. He watched as they slowly made their way back to their parents, Timothy snagging the sleeves of their sweatshirts to yank them closer. Jensen was on his feet, the twins’ surprised squeaks of fear unconsciously forcing his body into action. A strong hand grabbed his bicep, keeping him away and he turned to glare at Chris.
“It will only make it worse on Jared,” Chris murmured. “Just walk away now.”
Jensen looked back at Jared, holding his silently sobbing children close. Jared’s chin quaked in the attempt to keep his tears at bay and his eyes pleaded with Jensen to listen to Chris. Jensen nodded and stepped backward, trying to keep Jared and the boys in his sight as long as possible. He could feel the eyes of the other patrons, forgotten witnesses to the altercation, on him and he fought the urge to yell at them to mind their own goddamn business. As Chris dragged him through the door, the bell merrily chiming their exit, he saw a man standing next to the entry. He was unfamiliar, tall and handsome in designer clothes, but his eyes seemed to be telling Jensen something he couldn’t understand. Before Jensen could figure it out, the door shut and Chris manhandled him down the sidewalk.
*****
Jensen sat on the couch, nursing a glass of sweet tea and staring at the Nuggets on television losing spectacularly to some team Jensen didn’t give a shit about. It had taken borrowing his mother’s steam cleaner and half a bottle of Febreeze to get the smell of body odor and stale alcohol out of the fabric, but he’d managed to salvage the couch. There was a knock at the door and he debated heavily not getting up, but he knew the chances of that convincing whoever it was to go away were slim. Sighing, he set his glass down on a magazine and made his way to the door. He opened it to find the stranger from the diner standing on his porch looking slightly nervous.
“Can I help you?” Jensen kept his hand on the door, prepared to shut it.
“No, but I think I can help you,” the man said, smiling sheepishly. “I have some information you might find useful.”
Jensen sized the man up for a slow minute, reveling in the squirm his assessing gaze caused. He pushed the door open further and motioned for the man to come in. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the arm chair. “Can I get you something to drink? All I have is sweet tea.”
“No, thank you,” the man answered, politely, placing a manila folder on the coffee table.
Jensen sat on the couch, close to the end table where a gun was safely tucked in the drawer. “Who are you?”
“My name is Matt Cohen. I’m Timothy Olyphant’s personal assistant.” The man rubbed his hands down his thighs, smoothing the fabric of his expensive looking pants.
Jensen quirked an eyebrow, knowingly. “Personal assistant?”
A slight blush spread over the Matt’s cheeks. “Pretty much exactly what you are thinking.”
“You said you had information for me. What kind of information?”
“About your current legal issues in Chicago.”
Jensen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What would you know about my legal issues?”
“Honestly? More than I care to admit.” Matt leaned forward and picked up the folder. “Give this to your attorney,” he handed it to Jensen, “there should be enough in there for him to clear you of your charges and implicate some highly respected and easily corrupted judges.”
Jensen opened the folder and leafed through the pages. He looked up at the young man with surprised eyes. “Where did you get all this?”
“Let’s just say that Timothy doesn’t do anything for himself and I keep meticulous records,” Matt smiled self-deprecatingly.
Green eyes scrutinized the man on the couch while Jensen thought quietly. “Why?”
“Why what?” Matt asked confusedly.
“I can only assume that Timothy pays you well for your…services. You gotta know by giving me this,” Jensen raised the folder for emphasis, “you’re sacrificing your cash cow, possibly your freedom.”
Matt took a deep breath and stared down at his hands folded in his lap. “I’ve known since the beginning that Timothy didn’t hide the nature of our…arrangement from Jared. Timothy enjoyed humiliating Jared over it. I - I thought,” he licked his lips and swallowed, head bowing. “I thought Jared deserved it.”
At Jensen’s indignant noise, Matt shook his head. “I’ve met a lot of people since I started working for Timothy. It's not uncommon for men like him to take lovers. Hell, some of them have two or three. I’ve noticed that their wives are more than willing to turn a blind eye so long as their credit cards keep working and their husbands don’t interfere with their own affairs.”
“And you thought Jared was like those desperate, gold-digging housewives?”
“I think I wanted to believe that,” Matt shrugged. “If I did then what I was doing wasn’t so bad. I knew that Jared didn’t love Timothy, that there was some ulterior motive for him staying. So in my mind, no harm, no foul. I even went so far as to convince myself that Jared was sleeping with that friend of his, Chad what’s-his-name. But deep down…” Matt trailed off, looking out the front window. “Despite what everyone says or what Hollywood would lead you to believe, being the other man is not easy. Especially when the person you’re doing it to is Jared. You know, he was always kind to me. He never looked at me like some of the wives did their husband’s secretaries.” He continued looking out at the snow-covered yard.
“Still doesn’t explain your sudden change of heart,” Jensen prompted when Matt was quiet for a few minutes, tapping the folder against his thigh.
“My job often requires me to turn a blind eye or a deaf ear, but I can assure you that my vision and hearing are perfect. I was in the diner today and I didn’t miss anything. It was the first time in four years, I realized our affair wasn’t the only way Timothy was hurting Jared.” He lifted sad eyes to Jensen. “I swear, I didn’t know. I just want to make it right.”
Jensen nodded his head, not sure what else to say and finally settled on, “Thanks for this.” He smoothed a hand over the folder.
Matt snorted, “God, it was the least I could do.” He looked at his watch and stood. “I should be getting back to the hotel before Timothy gets back and realizes I’m not there. Make sure your lawyer gets that file.”
“Where’s Timothy now?” Jensen set the folder down on the end table and stood to walk the other man out.
“In Carter, having a few drinks with the contractor he’s had remodeling the house.”
“Remodeling the house?” Jensen repeated. “What house?”
“Jared’s,” Matt replied with a frown. “It didn’t live up to his discerning tastes,” he elaborated with a sneer. “He’s had the entire place practically taken down to the studs and rebuilt the way he wants it. Personally, I think it was much better the way Jared had it.”
Jensen’s jaw tightened. All the love and devotion that Jared - hell, the whole town - had put into making the dilapidated farmhouse a home and Timothy had destroyed it all. Jensen swore he was going get his family back and then fix everything that bastard had broken. He ushered Matt to the door without another word.
On the porch, Matt turned back. “Tell Jared,” he sighed. “Tell him, I’m sorry.”
“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Jensen said not unkindly.
Matt nodded and made his way to the shiny Mercedes looking conspicuously out-of-place next to Jensen’s dust-covered Impala.
Jensen watched as the taillights disappeared down his dirt driveway before he snatched his keys and hat from the table beside the door.
*****
He pulled up the long driveway, the tires of the Impala easily navigating the washed-out ruts they’d never gotten around to filling with gravel. He stopped next to a new Cadillac Escalade, the pearlesque cream paint job throwing off a rainbow of opalescent shimmers in the waning sunset. He guessed Jared’s well-loved Silverado didn’t fit in with Timothy’s style any better than the country-cozy décor of Jared’s house. The windows were dark save the boys’ bedroom upstairs and Jensen quickly scaled the front steps, knocking loudly on the black front door that he and Jared had lovingly painted red a few months back. He waited impatiently, knocking again and ringing the bell, noticing that the porch swing had been replaced with a set of black, plastic, egg-shaped chairs with black and white patterned cushions separated by a black and glass oval table.
The deadbolt disengaged and the door swung open to reveal Jared, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Deputy? What are you doing here?” Jared’s gaze flung over Jensen’s shoulder and darted around the front yard.
“We need to talk,” Jensen pulled his hat from his head, holding the brim in his hands.
“That isn’t a good idea. Timothy could be home any minute.” Jared’s eyes were wide and frightened, pleading with Jensen to leave.
“We need to talk,” Jensen repeated, enunciating slowly.
Jared bit his lip deliberating then nodded. “Yeah, we do.” He stepped back and held the door open for Jensen to enter.
Jensen felt like he’d walked into an alternate reality. The house was familiar by the layout but the interior was completely different. Gone were the wood tables that Jared had painstakingly refinished, glass and chrome mockeries standing in their place, and Jensen could see that the distressed, brown leather couch in the living room was now a white, fabric monstrosity that was more for show than use. A house with two boys - especially Jared’s boys - should never contain something that stainable. He leaned forward and saw that the entertainment center Austin had given Jared was now a black lacquer behemoth that looked straight from the pages of an IKEA catalogue. He tossed his hat down on the iron table by the door to free his hands and frowned at the white, plush rug now spanning the foyer.
Jared shifted nervously and Jensen brought his focus back to the reason for his visit. Jared’s bangs were hanging low, shielding his face from Jensen, but Jensen saw the tear fall to the ground. It broke Jensen’s heart to see Jared like this, like he was when he first arrived at Wowakan - scared and unsure.
“Jensen…” Jared began, eyes firmly fixed on his feet.
“I’m sorry for what I said today,” Jensen interrupted, needing to get this off his chest. “I know that you aren’t here because you want to be and that you’d never put the boys in danger without a good reason.” Jared tried to say something, but Jensen cut him off with a staying hand. “He did more than threaten the kids this time, didn’t he?” Jared’s small sniffle was enough of an answer. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Jared shook his head. “I won’t let him hurt the people I love. He’ll do it, Jensen. I know he will.”
“You don’t understand,” Jensen pleaded. “Timothy won’t be a problem much longer.”
Jared’s shaking head stilled and Jensen knew that at least the younger man was listening.
“Jared, Matt Cohen came to see me today,” Jared’s eyes shot up in surprise. “He brought me a bunch of evidence that should get the case against me thrown out and have Timothy behind bars for a good long time.”
“W - Why would he do that?” Jared muttered.
“He really needs to tell you that himself, but, basically, he’s trying to make amends. He’s looking for redemption.” Jensen stepped closer to Jared, needing to feel him, and was relieved when Jared didn’t back away.
“Really?” Jared’s voice sounded awed, hopeful.
“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, he cupped Jared’s cheek. “I want you to go upstairs and pack your and the twins’ things. I’m getting you out of here.” He’d made the decision the moment Matt had given him the folder. He now had the evidence he needed to break Timothy’s hold on Jared and put his god-forsaken ass away.
Jared’s eyes were so hopeful, but still wary like he was afraid this was a joke or would be taken from him. Jensen leaned forward, his lips seeking and finding Jared’s. He poured everything into the kiss, his love, his fear and his reassurance. Jared gasped and then returned the exchange, fingers gripping the back of Jensen’s shirt desperately. Jensen lost track of time before he reluctantly pulled away, thumb rubbing over Jared’s cheekbone.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jared whispered, tears falling freely as he leaned into the comfort of Jensen’s touch.
“We’ll talk later. Hurry, Jared,” Jensen urged, he placed a chaste kiss on Jared’s lips before releasing him. “I don’t want to take the chance of Timothy coming home.” He stepped back.
“Too late.”
Jensen spun around, body shielding Jared, to see Timothy in the doorway, a gun in one hand and his cellphone in the other. Jensen inwardly cursed himself. He’d been too wrapped up in talking and kissing Jared to listen for Timothy’s car.
As if seeing what Jensen was thinking, Timothy smiled coldly. “Gotta love the art of German engineering. So much quieter than that piece of shit Detroit relic you love so much.”
“Timothy, don’t,” Jared begged, trying to move around Jensen.
“Stay back, Jared,” Jensen snarled, shifting until the man was behind him again. Jensen’s eyes never left the gun in Timothy’s hand, seeing the sure grip and steady stance.
“Yes, Jared,” Timothy sneered. “Wait your turn.”
“Over my dead body,” Jensen growled, fist clenching as his brain reprimanded him for leaving the house without some kind of weapon.
“That can be arranged,” Timothy smirked, leveling the gun at Jensen’s chest.
“No,” Jared shouted, pushing Jensen aside to stand between the two men. “Timothy, don’t. You promised me if I stayed you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“You weren’t going to stay, were you?” Timothy kept the gun pointed at Jensen. “You were going to leave with him. That negates our agreement.”
“I never said I was going with him,” Jared corrected.
Jensen looked at Jared, mind flinging back to the conversation. He’d told Jared to pack and then they’d kissed, but all Jared had said was he needed to tell Jensen something. Was Jared seriously not planning to go with him? “Jared, no,” he croaked.
“I never said I was leaving,” Jared stopped him from saying more, his eyes communicating what he really meant.
The tension in Jensen’s chest lessened. Jared was willing to leave, he’d just never gotten around to verbally agreeing, believing that whatever he had to say was more important. Jensen saw the pleas for forgiveness in Jared’s eyes and knew that Jared was about to sacrifice himself again.
Timothy seemed to be thinking over the conversation he’d heard as well. Jensen could see Timothy’s mind wildly searching for another reason to use the gun in his hand. All three men startled at the sound of sirens echoing through the evening air.
Timothy’s smile was back in place as he stepped over to the table in the hall and put the gun in the topmost drawer. “I overlooked you violating the restraining order in the diner earlier, but my patience has run out. With those lips, I’m sure some nice convict named Bubba will be happy to make you his bitch.”
Jensen sighed, he forgotten about the fucking restraining order.
Timothy looked over at Jared, still standing between them. “Once the police have taken him away, I think you and I need to discuss that kiss.” He winked at Jensen.
Growling, Jensen lunged forward, brushing past Jared before he could react, and grabbed Timothy around the throat, shoving him against the wall. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” Jensen’s fingers tightened and he reveled in the Timothy’s gasp for air, his fingers clawing at Jensen’s constricting grasp.
“Jensen, stop!” Jared’s voice was loud and frightened. “Please, stop!”
“Papa Jensen?”
Jensen looked at the landing at the top of the stairs at the boys, their eyes glassy and clouded with fear. He released Timothy, letting the man slide to the floor, coughing and holding his neck. “I’m sorry,” he said to the twins then looked at Jared and repeated it. Never in all this did he mean to scare them.
The sirens outside were blaring and red and blue alternating lights shone through the window and reflected off the walls. The front door crashed open and Sheriff Jones rushed in, followed quickly by Welling and Rosenbaum. Timothy was on the floor screaming about restraining orders and assault, but Jensen didn’t pay him any attention. His focus was volleying between Jared and the twins, gaze a mixture of apology and love. He barely felt the bite of cold metal around his wrists or the guiding tugs as he was led to the door. He didn’t break eye contact with the ones he loved until the front door shut him away from them.