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Vengeance	By : Tragictales Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 1320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
"Where’s Eric?" Orlando questioned the moment the door closed behind Bernard. The elder faction member rolled his eyes and took a seat at the head of the table where Maddox used to sit.

"He was obviously not invited," Bernard said. Orlando sat back in his seat sending a scathing look in Bernard’s direction. No matter if Bernard was supposed to take control of the faction. It didn’t make Orlando harbor any more than the little respect he had for the man. Orlando sat farthest from Bernard and his men and didn’t mind the distance. Mr. Oxendine sat at the other head of the table, his folders spread out before him. Orlando’s mind wandered to Eric wondering just where he’d gone off to. He was injured and even though the man could kill another person quite resourcefully he didn’t believe he should be alone.

He cursed himself quietly for being so immersed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed anything happening outside the door. Eric had been right behind him after all. Sighing heavily Orlando tried to listen to the opening conversation from Maddox’s attorney convincing himself that the faster things were over the faster he could find Eric and hopefully make things right.

One by one the names of each faction member were called from the list of those left something in Maddox’s last will and testament. Each one of the founding members not including Bernard, were left with $20,000 a token of his thanks for their invaluable services.

Bernard’s name finally came up and Orlando tore into his lower lip with his teeth. He glanced about for the first time since entering the room, needing to do something other than just sit there. As his eyes settled on each old face Orlando knew he had no friends in this room. He hadn’t a friend in the world except for…

"To Mr. Bernard Hill, I bequeath any sum of money that he desires within the following guidelines," Mr. Oxendine read clearly. Bernard’s hands came down on the table hard and Orlando didn’t need to twist in his seat to see his expression. It probably was the same one that overcame his features when he was completely frustrated with something, his face turning an unpleasant shade of red, his graying eyebrows knitting together and his icy blue eyes glittering violently.

"Let me finish," Mr. Oxendine admonished when Bernard began to speak over him.

"His sum may not compromise the business in any way, shape, or form. Nor shall it compromise the state of its new owner. I leave to him my undying gratitude for following me through this life as an uncompromised friend."

"There must be some mistake," Bernard said thudding backwards into his seat. He closed his eyes. "When was the will drafted?"

"Sir, I’m not finished," Mr. Oxendine said in a shrewd voice.

Orlando’s drumming fingers stopped as everything sunk in. His mind was clouded with confusion and the creeping sensation of Bernard’s piercing eyes on the back of his neck probably imagining his own thick hands choking the life out of Orlando. Absently Orlando rubbed the back of his neck until it warmed to his touch.

"Mr. Orlando Bloom," Mr. Oxendine said in an unusual voice, acknowledging Orlando’s presence. It was something the man had never done and it didn’t make Orlando feel any better. In fact, the cordial tone he took with him made his insides churn in anticipation. Suddenly it felt like everything was changing, the air, the room not seeming as desolate to him as it had before. The feeling that he had company sent chills up his spine.

"I leave to my dear Orlando, my estate and the business which he has operated for me in my final years and the effects that I have requested to be left behind for him."

"These include," Mr. Oxendine reached into his brief case pulling out two small envelopes one addressed to Orlando and the other blank. Orlando took his letter and turned it over in his hands before placing it in his jacket pocket. He couldn’t possibly read it before these men. Never in front of them.

Orlando then picked up the other envelope. It was taped shut and very thin with a small bump to the side. Orlando pulled the tape off and emptied the contents into his other hand, shocked to see a gold band roll across his outstretched palm.

"Don’t you dare," Bernard’s voice hissed, now sounding farther away the more he spoke. Orlando focused on the gold ring in his hand, sparkling in the light as he rolled it between his thumb and index finger.

"Maddox’s ring," Orlando said. "He left this to me?"

"He thought the man who ran his business should own its foundation. I remember the first time I saw him with that ring, the first gift he’d ever received," Mr. Oxendine said more to himself out of nostalgia than to comfort the young man.

"He told me it was the first thing he ever bought for himself," Orlando said trying it upon each finger before giving up and slipping it comfortably onto his thumb.

"You’re mistaken. That will, it cannot, he wouldn’t…this is wrong!" Bernard said brokenly.

"No, no, Bernard, I’m afraid not," Mr. Oxendine said with a shake of his head.

"I am in control of the business," Orlando said then laughed shortly.

"All of it," Mr. Oxendine confirmed once again, "the business, the estate, and my services if you choose to retain them."

"This is ridiculous!" Bernard said. He held out his hands as if all the evidence of his claims were laid out before them on the table for all to see.

"This man," he continued gesturing towards Orlando, "was nothing but a plaything to Maddox. He was a pet-"

"Excuse me?" Orlando snapped angrily. He turned in his seat and stared at Bernard’s hate filled expression.

"You convinced him to do this didn’t you?" Bernard growled. "Perhaps Eric wasn’t the only one to share your bed in this house?"

Orlando jumped quickly from his seat, so quickly in fact that Bernard’s associates tensed in anticipation of his next move. They expected him to leap across the table in an attempt on Bernard’s life. Orlando smiled darkly, determined not to satisfy them.

Instead he smiled darkly his words not matching his expression. "How dare you even try to imply…"

"It fits," Bernard said coldly. "All that time that I was away you sunk your claws into him and turned him against me."

"You did that yourself, old man," Orlando said calmly. "And now you’ve damned yourself out of a job."

"You’re firing me?" Bernard said amused by Orlando’s words.

Orlando just nodded. "And, I must warn you Bernard. If you ever come near this house, Eric, or any of my associates I’ll make sure you see Hans and Grazer again."

"Idle threats," Bernard commented. He would never admit it to anyone, not even God but when Orlando smiled at him, his teeth bared and his eyes twinkling darkly, it made his blood run cold. Watching him there reminded him so much of Maddox when he was younger that it terrified Bernard.

"I’ll let you figure that out on your own," Orlando said with raised eyebrows when Bernard’s skin turned a peculiar shade.

"Are we finished here?" Orlando asked his attorney who snapped his briefcase shut.

"For today, yes we’re finished. I’ll be contacting each of you about your parts of Maddox’s will," he said.

"Right, then," Orlando said one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip.

"Get out," Orlando said staring directly at Bernard. The former faction members didn’t have to be told twice. Only Bernard lingered.

"You’re going to regret this," Bernard said before leaving the room.

"Not today," Orlando whispered at his retreating form. "Not ever."

****
"Caleb Riken?"

Dave inwardly cringed at the name and simply nodded at the clerk when he checked his fake driver’s license. Before him on the counter were several bags of snack food that, had he a choice, he’d never touch. The thought of even touching the potato chips made him gag.

The FBI had failed to explain to them when they gave them this career saving assignment that they would be without many of their worldly possessions. At best they could only take a few items, mostly clothing, from their respective apartments before the slate was wiped clean. They had no bank accounts, no credit cards, no cars, and no homes. The only things they had were what they could take from home and what ever cash they had in their pockets. Together they had five hundred dollars. Dave thanked God that Elijah had had bills to pay the day they went into Mr. Bean’s office. If he hadn’t they would be royally fucked over. At least they could afford food and a stay at a cheap motel room before heading off the next day.

"All right, Mr. Riken," the clerk said, smiling a forced smile that made him Dave rather uneasy. The kid was no older than sixteen with a face covered in pimples. He had dark greasy hair that almost covered his harsh grey eyes. His eyes darted back and forth from the clock on the counter to Dave’s tired face. The bells at the door jangled signaling that the clerk had a new customer and at that the kid rolled his eyes.

Dave remembered back when he had been standing the same position. Perhaps not in the same store, or town, or even the same state, but in the very same situation as the kid in front of him. The kid looked awkward in a rather painful way, something Dave wasn’t a stranger to. He had been just like him once, and in some measure he still was. He used to associate that side of himself, the meek and awkward side, with weakness.

As clichéd as it sounded the reason he went into law enforcement was the banishment of that awkwardness. He couldn’t be a field agent and be meek at the same time. He had to harden himself in some way. That was what training had done for him after all.

Hadn’t it?

The clerk sighed heavily and tapped absently on the keys of his register willing time forward.

’I feel your pain’ Dave wanted to say but instead shuffled on grabbing his bags and turning to search for Elijah, or Micah rather.

Where had the sneaky little bastard gotten to?

It was a wonder how Elijah got an interesting name like Micah Rivero and Dave got stuck with…Caleb Riken. Did he even look like a Caleb?

Dave huffed at Elijah’s sudden absence.

Now who’s slacking on the job? Dave thought.

He was startled when a hand gripped his arm pulling him back behind a row of stale smelling candies. Dave opened his mouth to speak and a soft palm slammed against his lips sealing off his air and his voice.

"Look who just walked in," Elijah whispered in his ear. Dave started as they peered around the shelf to get a good view of who had come in. Dave gasped softly at the sight of former Maddox general, Eric Bana, dropping two cases of beer on the counter then rubbing his eyes with the arm of his leather jacket.

"Sir," the clerk looked startled as he stood poised to ring up the beer. A closer look at the new customer indicated that he was already drunk. If seeing him up close and personal wasn’t enough, the smell of liquor that washed over him when the man leaned over the counter gave him all the right signs.

"You seem pretty out of it already, maybe you should have some coffee instead…or…"

"Look kid," Eric’s Australian accent became thicker with his intoxicated state and the kid took a step back trying to put as much distance between himself and Eric as possible. In that instance Dave knew the kid was probably completely green when it came to drunks coming in during the later hours.

"I just want me beer," Eric sloshed through the sentence with effort.

"Sir, I don’t think that’s such a good idea," the kid tried to reason and jumped when Eric slammed his large hands down on the counter top, rattling the multitude of lighters and random trinkets that littered the area, some of them falling to the floor and breaking upon impact.

"Give me my damn beer," Eric snapped and when the kid wasn’t quick enough to respond he knocked both cartons to the floor, the glass bottles breaking open. The amber liquid splattered all over the floor creating a large puddle around each soaked box.

Eric bared down upon the clerk a cruel smile dressing his lips.

"Jesus," Elijah said releasing his hold on Dave’s arm. Dave massaged his arm glancing back to where the kid had backed himself against the wall.

"We can’t just sit here," Dave commented.

"Umm, yeah, we can," Elijah said. "We can’t blow this all for some kid!"

"Oh, come on take a chance for once, this could be a good thing!" Dave whispered.

"A good thing? You think this is going to be a good thing?" Elijah asked incredulously.

"Look, if we don’t step in there could be trouble for that kid and if we do we may be able to get a foot inside the door," Dave said and before Elijah could mull over their options he was on his feet.

"Dave, you damn idiot," Elijah muttered jumping up as well.

Eric laughed when the clerk’s knees almost gave out on him. His mind was a mess of anger, pain, and the effects of inebriation. He wanted to sink into that dark place he hadn’t visited since coming to New York and just stay there, alone. He didn’t feel like visiting another bar and eventually getting into a fight. As far as he was concerned, for the moment he didn’t want to spend the night in a jail cell where Orlando would eventually find him.

The thought of the man brought an ache to Eric’s heart and he balled his hands into fists on the counter.

"Listen Kid, I don’t want to hurt you. Just let me buy my fucking alcohol-"

"Hey man," an unfamiliar man approached him, with dark hair and a cautious expression.

"Who the hell are you?" Eric asked. He stepped back from the counter and, misjudging how unbalanced he was without something to lean on, began to stumble. Dave ducked beneath Eric’s arm and hooked his own arm around his back to support him.

"A friend," Dave murmured and Eric tenses shoving back against him and pushing away.

"I don’t have any of those," Eric slurred.

"Sure you do," Dave continued exchanging looks with Elijah. "And they’re about to take you home."

Eric glanced in Elijah’s direction his eyes narrowing in question. "What are you looking at?"

Elijah froze for a moment now facing Eric fully. He had admittedly never been this close to the man and his sheer size before him was a little more than disconcerting. Eric questioned him again and Elijah had to remind himself that large or not, Eric wasn’t aware of himself. His training kicked in and Elijah shrugged at first winking at Dave whose bravado had faded once Eric’s attention turned.

"Nothing," Elijah replied finally, a mischievous smile coming over his face. "Nothing but a drunken bastard."

Dave signaled behind Eric’s head he wanted the charade to end before something bad happened to him. And that was Dave for all intents and purposes, rarely following through, always in things just for the moment, the general adrenaline rush. It was one trait Elijah quite didn’t care for when it came to his partner. He thought he would have to break him of that. Careful planning in quick situations could take a person a long way, it just mattered how you looked at the whole damn thing.

Elijah smirked at Eric, a smarmy little smirk that usually gave him a cocky air, and Eric took the bait. Had Elijah taken a second more behind the shelf to ponder why one of Maddox’s most trusted generals would leave himself so open to attack he might not have acted at all, and that he thought was all he ever needed, all he had ever needed as much.

"Elijah…" Dave slipped the name out before he could catch himself. He took a step forward and Eric looked between the two men obviously deciding what to do next, and for both their sakes Dave hoped and prayed that in some way the man wasn’t sobering up. His answer was given when Eric threw a sudden punch at Elijah who thankfully avoided it.

That was it. Elijah was a ground fighter. He dodged and side stepped, wearing the man down until his frustration gave way. He kept close to himself until Eric opened himself up for that one perfect punch.

Elijah’s fist hit him, not hard enough to cause much damage to his face, but enough to send him back into the side of the counter and Elijah attacked again hitting him dead on in the face now that he was crouched.

Dave stood there, his mouth agape as Eric stumbled back into the counter then pitched forward towards Elijah. The whole scene almost like watching a large building being picked up by an invisible hand and tilted forward. Elijah let out a loud grunt as Eric collapsed on top of him and the sight would have been comical considering Elijah’s slump beneath the weight.

"Fuck, Da-Caleb I could use a little help here," Elijah shouted beneath Eric’s limp mass.

"Right," Dave answered lamely. He helped to pick up Eric’s other side, not fully relieving Elijah but just enough so that he could stand and walk opposite him. Once close enough Dave’s nose curled and Elijah coughed. He knew what he meant, the man smelled strongly of liquor, beer, smoke, and just the general stench of the streets.

It was becoming difficult to breathe.

"What now genius?" Dave asked and Elijah half coughed and half grunted in response.

"Check his pockets, perhaps he drove," Elijah suggested.

"Hmm," Dave murmured feeling on his side and hooking in Eric’s pocket a key ring. He pulled his hand back and was glad to see keys and an electric lock.

"So, you drove here tonight, big man," Elijah said side stepping the broken glass and the amber liquid.

Eric’s voice came out in something like a strangled mess.

"We’re gonna take you home," Dave said pulling him along with Elijah’s help. They left the store as quickly as possible and at a last glance Elijah noticed the clerk still cowering against the wall. He wondered how much time they had before the kid called the cops to report the disturbance.

"Hurry up Caleb, we don’t have much time," Elijah said as they helped Eric down the street.
***

When Orlando left the study he searched for Eric, the need to see him stronger than ever. When he came up with nothing he began questioning the staff only to find that Eric had left some good amount of time before, taking a bag with him. Orlando’s first reaction was to go after him, not rationalizing with the fact that he didn’t know where Eric was going and he wasn’t answering his cell phone.

His next course of action was to call back the only members of the faction he intended to keep. Jonathan Rhys Meyers being one of them. Jon was one of Orlando and Eric’s main collectors, always on time, and always willing to add extra pressure when needed. When money needed to be collected Orlando never worried about Jon for two reasons. One, he was never without weapons of some sort and two, he had a tendency to talk to his weapons whether or not he thought you were looking. There were days that Orlando seriously wondered about the man’s mental health. Jon had a whole philosophy about being at one with his weapons and Orlando didn’t doubt that the man probably slept with them. A knife beneath his pillow, a rifle beneath his bed, and his own personal love, a pistol frighteningly named Betty; right beside him was all the insurance Jon needed in the world.

With Jon watching over the house all Orlando had left to do was rest. He stopped staring at the clock after his eyes began playing tricks on him. He found he couldn’t just sit and wait. It was no doubt that the news was circling amongst the families. Orlando wasn’t sure of what the reaction would be.

So, Orlando took up pacing. He walked the length of the bedroom that he and Eric shared, his shoes making temporary imprints on the carpet. He abhorred waiting and found everything and anything that could possibly bother him intensified. The sound of the house settling, the sounds of the not too distant city, the footsteps of the staff down the hall, down the stairs, beneath him. He supposed it made him a bit of a hypocrite because as much as he hated the sounds around him he hated the silence that followed when they died down. He could hear himself breathing shallowly and his heartbeat thumping in his chest. He hated it, detested it, but it usually kept his mind off of why he was waiting and for that he was often thankful.

The Brit stopped his pacing at the sound of a knock on the door. Orlando’s throat closed up and he smiled slowly.

"Come in," he called already halfway to the door when it opened. He stopped at the door where Jon stood, a crazy smirk on his face. Orlando straightened.

"That Australian’s a lucky man do you know that?" Jon said in his usual nonsensical manner. On an average day Jon unnerved Orlando for obvious reasons, the known fact that the man talked to his pistol non-stopl like it was a living breathing person being one of them. At the same time Jon had his calming ways. He was a good friend and associate, not afraid to take a bullet when needed. Orlando swore the man was made of iron, he couldn’t count the times he’d been grazed and shot but he was sure if he asked Jon would all too willingly show him the scars.

"Where is he?" Orlando asked letting his guard down a little. Jon stepped away so Orlando could follow him down the hall.

"The kitchen," he replied once Orlando had shut the door to the bedroom. "Cook is making him one of her remedies. If I were him I’d rather have the hangover."

"He’s drunk," Orlando said.

"Piss drunk," Jon replied. "He’s lucky those two guys brought him back in time."

"What?"

"These two fellows Riken and Rivero, I believe," Jon said. "Nice fellows, a bit young."

"Are they still here?" Orlando asked as they began to descend the stairs.

"Right over there," Jon gestured with his head to the two men standing beside the only two guards left on the property. Orlando had charged Jon with finding more the next day. He wanted the property locked down tight as a drum. The two men stood close together eyeing the guards cautiously, wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.

"Hmm," Orlando murmured.

"Gentlemen," Orlando called out when he reached the bottom of the steps, Jon hot on his trail, stroking the gun he always carried no doubt. The two men’s attention switched to his direction. Orlando froze for a moment, déjà vu striking him the moment he got a clear look at their faces. For few seconds they stared at each other, Orlando trying to figure out where he’d seen their faces and the other two wondering what was on the man’s mind. It was entirely possible that he’d seen them in the club before; it wasn’t too implausible that they visited on a night when Maddox asked him and Eric to keep an eye on things.

"Let me be the first to thank you for bringing Eric back to us," Orlando said not bothering to smile. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the slacks he hadn’t bothered to change. They both nodded stiffly and Orlando continued.

"What do you want?" Orlando asked bluntly. So many people wanted them dead. There were a limited amount of plausible reasons why they would bring him back to the mansion unharmed. The shorter man glanced away from him looking to his companion who didn’t provide much direction. The taller man looked just as confused as he did.

When neither of them responded Orlando laughed shortly, mirthlessly and ran his fingers through his straight hair.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night?" Orlando asked.

"Umm, no," the larger man said.

"Well, then, we have plenty of space," Orlando said then called one of the maids and a sour looking woman named Ida approached him. "Find these two gentlemen rooms for the evening, please?"

"Sir," she said curtly then motioned for the men to follow her.

Orlando turned to Jon who had to quit fiddling with the safety on his gun to pay full attention to his new boss. "Make sure they’re watched."

"Am I to understand that you’re suspicious?" Jon asked his eyes lighting conspiratorially.

"Everyone in this city knows his face, nobody would just bring him home when they know he’s got a big ass price on his forehead," Orlando said coolly. "Not even the greatest of heart."

"Then I’ll keep an eye on them myself," Jon said and without another word he was quick to follow the trail of the maid.

"Back to your posts," Orlando ordered the guards, already on his way to the kitchen. "Patrol all night if you have to, no one enters the property and no one leaves it without my knowledge."

It wasn’t a long walk to the kitchen. It was down past the study and the closest room to the physician’s rooms. When Orlando reached the swinging door he hesitantly pushed with one hand. The kitchen was lit only by the stove top light and the small lamp hanging from the ceiling just over the island in the center of the room. Orlando focused on the island because there sat his Eric, barely propped on a stool, his long upper torso leaning heavily on the counter top. In his hand was a small glass of cook’s remedy. Orlando’s nose turned at memories of having to down entire glassfuls of the foul concoction.

Orlando stepped inside letting the door swing shut behind him. He approached the island slowly, keeping himself from rushing over to Eric and wrapping his arms around him. He could imagine how he felt. Orlando himself knew what it was to be abandoned by someone he thought loved him. But this was a different case. Maddox did love Eric. Orlando forced himself to believe that he did. He worried about him when Orlando wasn’t with him, like he would worry about a son. It still didn’t answer the question of why Eric had been completely cut from the will.

"Eric," Orlando ventured when he was close enough to run his fingertips from Eric’s shoulder to his forearm. He dropped his head to the counter level trying to look into Eric’s face, which was covered by the arm with the hand that held the glass.

Eric closed his eyes trying to block out the new voice. All he heard when he returned to the mansion were voices angry, worried, and dispassionate. This voice was loving and concerned. Eric inhaled deeply smelling the scent of his lover, a mixture of musk and sweat.

Sweet sweat.

"Haven’t seen you this fucked up in a year," Orlando’s voice held little humor and Eric wondered as the words became clearer if he were trying to be funny or crass.

He lifted his head and watched as Orlando moved through the kitchen, first finding a bowl in the cabinets and two spoons from one of the drawers. He finally walked to the pantry, which resembled a large walk in closet, and returned with a colorful looking box of cereal. Eric’s lips twitched at the memories it brought back.

"Ow," the Australian mumbled then tried to sit up, his head spinning rapidly as he did so.

"Ow," he mumbled again. He rubbed the back of his neck then switched to scratching his head.

"Why are we still here?" Eric asked as Orlando placed the bowl and the box on the counter then walked to the fridge.

"We live here," Orlando said with a snort. He returned with a carton of milk in dire need to be put out of its misery. Eric reached out and took the box into his other hand, his lips twitching again.

"Used to live here," Eric corrected. It was a box of cereal with the name "Lucky Charms" printed clearly across the top. "Wasn’t Bernard planning to kick us out the moment he quote unquote assumed power and control over the faction?"

"Yeah that was the plan," Orlando said with a sigh then plucked the box from Eric’s hand. "I’ll take that."

"Where is Bernard?" Eric asked. Orlando shrugged nonchalantly as he poured cereal then milk into the bowl. He left one of the spoons on the counter then took the other in his hand and began to eat, crunching for a moment before shrugging again and swallowing.

"Hell if I know by now. I fired him."

Eric’s eyebrows rose and his face contorted into a confused expression. "I beg your pardon."

"I fired him," Orlando repeated matter of factly. "Maddox left the business to me and the estate."

"Lucky you," Eric said bitterly then shook his head wincing at the motion. "I didn’t mean it like that."

"Yes you did," Orlando said, amused, taking a few more bites of his cereal. "Do you remember the time when Maddox sent us out of the state for a few days to get that guy?

Eric finally smiled ruefully in remembrance of the ordered hit. They had been sent after a gambler who had obviously not heeded the warnings of the faction. He was a high-roller and a usually lucky bastard whose luck had run out on him. He owed Maddox well over two hundred thousand dollars, refused to pay, then fled. They finally found him in a shitty apartment in Los Angeles receiving threats from the local loan sharks he’d borrowed from. It turned out that Maddox wasn’t the only one the man scammed. There was Johnny Depp down in Miami, and Marton Csokas in L.A. with outstanding prices on the man’s head. Every two weeks the man would move, with what was left of the borrowed money he had, and intended to leave the country. Somehow Orlando and Eric managed to catch up with him and even after the man was dead it was too late to inform the men already after him that had taken to shooting out the apartment. The authorities were called and Eric and Orlando were the ones with the blood on their hands. They were forced to run, and ended up in an even worse off two-room apartment with a broken stove and refrigerator.

They wound up staying there for three months. In the beginning they bought some fast food but even that was wielding too much traffic in and out of the apartment for the both of them, so they wound up buying two bowls from a dollar store, a cooler, and copious amounts of cereal. There was an elementary school a block down that they wound up breaking into a couple of times to get milk cartons from. The whole thing was pretty ridiculous; two crime lords holed up in a crappy apartment with nothing but cereal, chips, and milk stolen from an elementary school cafeteria.

Eric reached for the spoon then looked accordingly at the bowl and Orlando shrugged pulling it closer to him. "You should probably drink that."

"This?" Eric muttered holding up the nasty looking drink. "How about I don’t and we say that I did?"

"How about you do and I hand over this entire bowl?"

"Nope," Eric said setting the glass back down on the table.

"Chase it with some Lucky Charms," Orlando said through a mouthful of crunchy grain and marshmallows.

"I surely hope you’re not just down here to get me to drink this," Eric said once again motioning to the glass.

"You know I’m not," Orlando replied leaning on the counter. "I was worried."

"I had to get out," Eric explained. "To hear that I was cut out of the will, I hate to say it, but just…"

"Hurt," Orlando finished for him.

"Like a bitch," Eric said. "I guess I always assumed he thought more of me. I guess I was wrong."

"No," Orlando said. "You’re not wrong."

"You can’t write this one off Orlando," Eric said, his voice rising a little. "You can’t sweep this under an imaginary rug and pretend it’s not there. Obviously our relationship wasn’t what I thought it was."

"Did it ever occur to you that he cut you out for a reason other than to hurt you?"

"That is the usual reason why people cut other people out of their wills," Eric said. "I don’t know that much about the legality of it but it is the usual gist in the movies."

"Would you stop being an ass and look at the obvious?"

"Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black," Eric retorted and Orlando sighed.

"Are we back at this again?"

"Yes!" Eric exclaimed. "We are!"

"I explained already."

"You can’t leave without justice being served properly, with a bullet in someone’s head and a smoking gun in your hand," Eric said sarcastically. "Am I right?"

"Where would we go?" Orlando asked. "What would we do?"

"I don’t know but we’d be away from this life!"

"You’ve never complained about it before," Orlando snapped angrily. Eric stayed silent for a moment turning the glass in his hand. The Brit tipped his head to the side, coming closer to Eric’s face so that his breath was on his cheeks.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Eric almost didn’t answer him, continuing to spin the glass between his fingers watching the nasty liquid swish around in circles.

"Eric?"

"I’m afraid of dying here, alright?" Eric snapped. "I’m afraid we’ll never get out."

"We will," Orlando reassured him then perked up. "As soon as you finish that drink, we’re packing our bags and leaving for a week."

"You and I both know that you can’t possibly do that. You’re boss now, you can’t just leave," Eric replied.

"Correction, we’re bosses now," Orlando said coming around the other side of the counter and sitting beside Eric. The Australian stared at him perplexed for a moment until Orlando took his hand and he felt cool metal slide across his ring finger stopping at the hilt. Eric looked at Orlando with questioning eyes, not daring to look down.

"Maddox’s ring," Orlando explained and Eric jumped to speak only to be met with a quite ‘shush’ from Orlando.

"I can’t do this without you Eric," Orlando said lowly. He leaned on the counter with his other arm, Eric’s hand still in his, bringing himself closer to his lover. "Being without you, even for a few hours at the most, is the most distracting and damning thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like I’m not whole again until you walk through the door."

"How is it you know the right things to say?" Eric asked and it was Orlando’s turn to look perplexed. The Brit blinked then responded.

"I never do."

"Where are we going?" Eric asked leaning his forehead against Orlando’s.

"Anywhere you want."

"So long as that crazy bastard, Jonathan, isn’t left in charge," Eric replied to which Orlando laughed lightly. So far that was the only chink in their plans.

***

Across town Jared Leto could not sleep, not even in the arms of his lover. He lay in his bed with Colin’s head propped on his chest, his arm draped across his midsection and his leg crossing his. Jared’s arm rested against Colin’s, his fingers tracing Colin’s biceps then moving further down to his forearm.

Jared shivered though he was encased in warmth and nuzzled closer to Colin, watching him sleep peacefully. He’d sent most of the staff home leaving only two guards to watch over the door. He peered into the darkness his eyes drifting over the clothes he and Colin had carelessly torn from their bodies in their excitement to get to bed. That had been hours ago.

Hours ago Bernard Hill was named leader of the remainder of the Maddox faction. Hours ago, another piece to Jared’s plan had fallen into place. He inhaled the rich scent that was a mixture of sex and the warm night air. Everything was perfect.

Jared’s eyes slid over Colin’s shoulder resting on a blinking red light coming from the semi-circle table that rested against the wall opposite the bed. Above the table was a mirror; no doubt reflecting the tableau of their tangled limbs. Jared frowned at the flashing light then recalled leaving his cell phone on the table before Colin arrived.

He groaned knowing eventually he would have to get up. There wasn’t anything that went on between the families that he didn’t know of and the only person he placed a social call to with was laying beside him. He smiled when the light stopped coming and dropped his head back to his pillow, Colin shifted beside him, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he did so. Who ever it was obviously didn’t have anything to tell him that couldn’t wait. He blew out a breath. Everything was perfect.

The phone began blinking again and with a heavy sigh Jared disentangled himself from his lover and rolled out of bed. He looked back as he walked to make sure Colin hadn’t been disturbed and when he was sure of it he picked up his phone to answer it.

"Jared?" An unusual feminine voice questioned.

"Who is this?" Jared responded.

"I told you I would call when I arrived in Paris."

Jared frowned for a moment then rolled his eyes at the recognition of his wife’s voice. "Well, you’ve called, Marlena."

"I thought you’d at least be happy to hear from me," Marlena replied her voice filled with a bitterness Jared failed to sympathize with.

"You thought wrong," Jared answered coldly then hung up. A chill rested over his skin and he attributed it to the loss of Colin’s body heat and the A/C of the penthouse. He glared into the bright panel of his cell phone fingers moving to turn it off when he actually felt it vibrate in his hand.

He rolled his eyes and answered it. "What?"

"Mr. Leto, I umm, this is Holloway."

Joshua Holloway happened to be Jared’s best informant. He’d risked his life many a time to bring Jared information that allowed him to better plan his actions. Often, it was timely enough to give him the advantage he always held over the rest of the families. No one knew about Joshua or his job. His father disagreed with having his ‘brothers’ spied upon but Jared saw how profitable it could be to have eyes where he could not possibly see.

"And?" Jared murmured. He stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Whatever it was, Joshua was shaken up. His voice was normally calm, cool, just plain smooth. He rarely showed emotion and if he did it wasn’t this odd mixture of panic and fear.

"I’ve received news that the Maddox faction has been dispersed. It’s founding members are no longer employed," Holloway said.

"I beg your pardon?" Jared said his voice coming out in a low rasp. His stomach clenched and his conscious was fully awake now, singing to life with the information being fed to him. His hands clenched and at one point he thought he might crack the phone’s casing if he weren’t careful.

"Bernard wasn’t given control of the faction, nor the company, nor the estate," Holloway said solemnly. "It was left to someone else."

"Who?"

"Orlando Bloom," Holloway said and then the line went dead as it usually did whenever Holloway’s line of information was finished. Jared flipped his cell phone closed and clenched it in his fist.

Everything burned. He wanted to smash something, break it into a thousand pieces on his floor. He felt the world slip beneath his feet as his plans fizzled into nothingness. Before he could choose a destructive action the sound of feet padding softly across his hardwood floor interrupted, pulling him back from that dark place he went whenever something went wrong or whenever he needed to kill. Rough hands smoothed over his back and over his stomach, resting at his waist while strong arms wrapped around him. He felt a hard body behind him and didn’t hesitate to lean back into it.

He had come so far.

"What’s the matter?" Colin’s rich voice invaded his thoughts and searing lips wet his neck with a kiss.

"There’s been a bit of a change in plans," Jared said.

"We’re going to have to step things up."
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Vengeance