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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
- 5
- 6
WARNING: Before you read this chapter you should know that there will be implied het pairings in this chapter and beyond, mostly still slash but there will be known het couples.

Johnny Depp stirred the coffee just given to him by one of his servants, frowning all the while. The day had barely begun as he could tell from his seat on the balcony of his beach house in the Keys. The sun had just risen, bouncing off of the early morning waves, presenting a warming glow across the terrace. He felt like returning to bed but as news from one of his many informants had just come in he was forced to stay awake and deal with the new day.

His lips curved downwards almost into a pout. In a brief moment of child-like nature Johnny whimpered like an eight year old told that he had to go to school. All this time and he still was just a piece of a sculpture, a rather large piece he would say, but a piece nonetheless. He felt this way out of fair reasoning mostly because at 49 Johnny Depp was one of the most known and feared Bosses in the States and possibly the world. The fear he both appreciated yet didn’t understand as he really didn’t cut an imposing figure. What he did understand was the respect.

When he came to take his father’s place their business was nothing short of an embarrassment. They barely pulled in what they paid Julian Marcosi, a Cuban investor, for the drugs he had access to. It was simple marketing; why buy from an insignificant little spot when you can go to a more trusted source where you know the weed will be good. Everything was about to go under, and their entire organization was about to go with it. Local gangs who thought they could overthrow them were becoming more confident -not even the police were looking for their money. Johnny remembered the day when the department looked away when they knew one of the infamous gunfights was going to take place. He couldn’t blame them now. If he had been one of them looking at Depp Industries he would have let the gangs obliterate him too. The trick was, that he didn’t stand for it. The family held out against them and even struck some fear into the less notable gangs leaving the larger ones to fend for themselves with little support.

By the time Johnny was 28 he had most of Florida under his thumb. There weren’t many areas that weren’t marked by him. He introduced a larger industry of cocaine to the area, bringing more varieties of narcotics than before. Soon he had methamphetamine, ketamine, and rohypnol under his belt and had pulled together his own cartel. It wasn’t a secret what he did and Johnny preferred to keep it that way. Skirting the nature of his business and only slightly promoting the legitimate meat packing industry that he fronted that also supported his own marine science center. The best part of it all was that he had his fingers dipped into everything. The authorities couldn’t get rid of him without causing a bigger mess than they had on their hands now. At this he chuckled; he loved the controversy surrounding it.

A sharp knock on the doorframe behind him caught Johnny’s attention and immediately he sat up then waved his guest inside. On his balcony were four chairs, all surrounding a small white wicker table where a tray holding a teapot and two cups sat, one of which his guest took. Johnny crossed his legs as he looked across at his most trusted underground ally currently smiling at him like a cat with a mouse trapped beneath its paws. The look in the sharp brown eyes set his blood on fire and made his groin ache sweetly. His fingers gripped the small cup still in his hands.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Depp.”

“Zoë, how many times have I asked you to call me Johnny?” Johnny answered the woman across from him. She crossed her jean-clad legs and smirked at him.

“I always like to keep a professional air, Mr. Depp,” Zoë responded. “You know that.”

“Sometimes I like to forget,” Johnny responded with a wicked smile.

She raised her finely shaped eyebrows then tilted her head to rest on her fist, her dark hair spilling down her forearm. Zoë Saldana had been working for Johnny for six months and he’d been pursuing her for three years. Only once had he gotten her in his bed and he never let her forget that he’d been keeping himself for her ever since. She had once been a dancer at one of the more highly respected gentleman’s clubs downtown until she earned enough money, to join her brothers in business as a part of his early organization. She’d only been a courier but proved to have a thirst for blood and secrets.

Her brothers trained her to become an informant, which was more than the word implied. Zoe was more like an unofficial spy -regarding nature and an assassin by necessity. She had to fight to survive and often killed if the action served a purpose. The danger was her calling. She was very valuable to him for her services, usually informants came and went in boxes, but she had outlived any informant he’d had in the past.

“There’s been a change up north,” Zoë reported in her usual business tone. “The Maddox faction no longer exists.”

“That is interesting news,” Johnny replied. “No one was left in charge? Not even what’s-his-name?”

“Bernard Hill, that worthless bastard has been kicked to the curb. But we still have a new Boss to deal with.

“Do you remember Orlando Bloom?” Zoë asked, leaning forward to take a cup and pour herself some coffee. Johnny’s eyebrows rose at the drop of the name and his lips twitched when she brought the cup to her lips. He would never understand how she could drink a coffee completely black but felt the concealed circles under her eyes would tell.

“Maddox’s boy?” Johnny asked searching his memory for a face and came up with the youthful face. He was one of the few people that had seen the man when he was much younger when he was coming into the folds of Maddox’s operation. His last memory of him was a healthier version.

“He’s the new Boss,” Zoë said. “There aren’t very many up there that are too happy about it.”

“Maddox’s been preparing him for years, whether the boy knew it or not,” Johnny said. “I think he can handle it.”

“Do you want to make a wager on it?” Zoë asked. Johnny looked at her questioningly and she finished the rest of her cup and set it back on the tray. Johnny reached for the teapot to pour her more and she waved him off. Leaning back in her seat she pulled from the pockets of her violent violet jacket a pack of Camels with a small circular lighter in the space of one of the cigarettes.

“He’s taken a vacation,” Zoë took an amusing tone. She removed a stick from the box and placed it between her lips, her light lipstick leaving a noticeable print on the cover of the filter. She flicked her lighter a couple of times inhaling once a flame appeared and lit the end.

“That reminds me, I have something for you.” Johnny jumped when she put the lighter away.

“Did you hear me?” Zoë asked. “He took a vacation, starting this morning.”

“I heard you,” Johnny said sharply. “He’s taking a foolish gamble early on in the game.”

“This could be your chance if you wanted to expand,” Zoë said. “The chance you’ve been looking for ever since Maddox refused drugs in the city of Maddox causing the rest of the families across the state to refuse as well.”

“Maddox was a good man. He made a decision he couldn’t exactly help that the rest of the bosses around the state would follow suit.”

“Bull shit!”

“He knew what was what and he disrespected you,” Zoë replied, a hard edge to her voice. She took another drag rolling her eyes when he sighed at her fiery response.

“His refusal was very polite.”

“My ass!” Zoë snapped forgetting her place. Johnny’s eyes lit with silent laughter. The woman was halfway out of her seat and glared at him with an intensity he had become comfortably accustomed to seeing. Whether or not her passion was for the business or him he did not know and wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.

“I don’t understand you Johnny,” Zoë said obviously angered by their conversation. Her fingers tapped wildly against her knee.

“What is it you don’t understand?” Johnny asked inching forward in his seat.

“You could kill anyone, the perfect murder, with the snap of your fucking fingers. These small time bosses think they’re so powerful. And then they teach their offspring to think the same. Their kids think that they’re gods, when they’ve never met an arms dealer or members of a drug cartel,” Zoë’s voice trembled as she spoke. She was seething and though many people would say she had no right to, Johnny could see where it came from. To deal with the smaller crime syndicates was more like giving out a social gift. More and more these days younger bosses ascending to power had to be put in their place in a costly manner.

“You’re as much as a god as they think their fathers are or were.”

Johnny leaned forward bringing himself close enough to her so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. He reached with long fingers and traced her cheekbone then moved down her neck and her shoulders to her forearm. He could smell the perfume she used, something obviously cheap but that matched every bit of her. It resembled lilacs and he made a mental note to find a better form of the scent.

“Shhh, hellcat, I have a gift for you,” Johnny said quietly and her features softened, her eyes seemed less wild, twinkling even at the use of the old pet name.

“I don’t need any gifts, at least not from you,” Zoë all but purred.

“Then what is it that you need?” Johnny asked her knowing the answer before it even left her lips.

“To be left to do my job in peace,” Zoë’s voice cut deep, digging in wounds he never would let heal.

Heels clicked down the hall that led to the balcony and Zoë shook her head.

“I try to forget,” Johnny said and Zoë smiled sadly at him then tapped the band on the ring finger of his left hand.

“Sometimes, so do I,” Zoë answered then sat back in her seat resuming her reserved state.

“Martha will have it for you at the door,” Johnny answered and the clicking heels stopped at the door. Zoë glanced away from him to collect herself and Johnny looked towards their intruder.

“Darling, you have another visitor. Jared Leto?” A rather soft voice crept between the two occupants of the balcony. Johnny’s interest piqued and he nodded. There was more business to attend to. He looked back at Zoë who had by then stood and shook her hand.

“I need to you to keep an eye on things in New York for me. I may expand but the timing needs to be right,” Johnny said and Zoë nodded waiting politely for him to leave first.

“Thank you Vanessa, I’ll be in the study,” Johnny said as he swept past the tall blonde that was his wife.

Vanessa smiled at him, kissing his cheek as he passed. When he was well down the hall she turned to Zoë a bright smile on her face.

“Well, Zoë I’ll show you out.”

Zoë laughed outright at the cold voice. “It’s Ms. Saldana and I know my own way.”

With that said she walked briskly from the terrace, not turning to watch as Vanessa took Johnny’s seat and poured herself a cup of cooled coffee. Zoë’s mind was filled with a fury and she couldn’t help but mentally kick herself for it. That woman was his wife and was pretty much the near perfect gerbil that every mob boss wife should be with the exception of her nosiness about her husband’s job. The perfect mob wife left the room when business came about and knew her place. Vanessa didn’t have the patience to be perfect, assuming that everything about her husband was her business, even the cartel.

Zoë blew out a breath of hot air and smiled at her own reassurance that she could slit the woman’s throat while she slept if she chose. She then continued to the front door where a woman in her early fifties was waiting with a small neatly wrapped in deep purple Zoë stopped just before her and the woman opened the door for her and held out the box. She couldn’t help but smile as she opened the box to find a silver Zippo lighter nestled against a soft cloth. Her smile widened when she looked closer to see an orchid design stretching from the corner to the lid and beside it closer to the bottom read ‘Hellcat’ in red cursive lettering.

“Son of a bitch,” she exclaimed closing the box and handing it back to Martha who sent her a disapproving look.

“It’s a gift, ma’am,” Martha said as Zoë stepped outside breathing in the fresh ocean air. She walked with her usual swagger towards her black motorcycle parked in the circle before the house and pulled the helmet from the back. She swung one leg over resting her heavy booted foot on the gravel of the drive then started the bike.

“Tell him he can keep it!” Zoë called back then slid her helmet over her head then removed the kickstand and rode off.

****

Johnny pushed open the door to his office almost smirking at the surprise on young Leto’s face at the sight of him in just his pajama pants. Jared quickly recovered and sat up straighter in his chair watching closely as Johnny took a seat behind his desk propping his fuzzy slipper covered feet on the smooth surface. Jared frowned in a befuddled manner then cleared his throat.

“Welcome, young Leto,” Johnny’s voice took on a regal tone and he laughed inwardly at the wince Jared made at the word young.

He was one of the few that didn’t forget that Jared was not the oldest of his father’s children. Unlike many others he wasn’t afraid of him or his supposed allies. The Patriarch of the Leto family had two sons, only one of which was actually interested in the business. The eldest had decided to pursue a career in fashion and design in an odd turn of events. It was a quirk and a blemish to the family name as the Patriarch and his youngest saw it, though Johnny had to wonder just why the man hadn’t disowned his eldest son yet. As much as he abhorred the younger Leto’s presence he had a feeling another intrigue was coming along and there was nothing like a good intrigue to keep him amused in his spare time.

“I have to admit, I thought you would be more intimidating looking,” Jared’s voice came across as a smooth sound indicating that he had in some part recovered.

“At least you were the last time I saw you.”

Johnny sighed noisily. “Last time I was wearing a suit and was surrounded by my company. Congratulations young Leto, you’ve caught me off my guard.”

“It’s Jared, and I saw how off you were. She’s a beautiful woman,” Jared replied. Johnny’s eyes took on a wistfulness that Jared recognized only when he caught Colin staring at him when they were in public.

“That she is. A pity I cannot convince her otherwise,” Johnny murmured.

“I was talking about your wife,” Jared said letting a dirty smile drift across his lips. Johnny ground his teeth in annoyance.

“You small time gangsters…” Johnny murmured then cut himself short.

“Don’t tell me you came all the way down here just to try to insult me,” Johnny said. “Because I have to warn you the last person who insulted me is resting 20,000 feet beneath the ocean.”

“No, I actually have a proposition for you if you’d care to listen,” Jared replied.

“Why would I make a deal with you? You’re not even a Boss, and I doubt you ever will be,” Johnny let the insult roll off of his tongue, enjoying the instant flash of anger in Jared’s eyes. His patience was wearing thin. If not for this little bastard he would still be on his terrace enjoying the company of the one person besides his children that he bothered to worry over. He thought back to what Zoë had said to him about the mob bosses in New York.

“Because it involves expanding your business in New York. I know there’s a city hungry for some of your special distribution.”

“Does it?” Johnny asked uninterested. He had his own plans to pull New York into his fold and it didn’t involve the poor excuse for a gangster sitting across from him. He found it to be a trend amongst the smaller Bosses. He wouldn’t go as far to say that all of them were just as easy to roll over as they tried to seem tough but he would say that there were a few he actually respected. He had tried to stake his place in New York only once when Maddox was still running things. It was during a shoot out that he gained his respect for the man and his faction. Despite being well groomed they could handle themselves just as well as his men could.

When the last bullet was fired it was to his surprise that Maddox won. A small time mob boss had crippled his numbers leaving him with more bodies to bring home than money to the bank. He couldn’t help but to admire the man. But Maddox was dead, his replacement was out of the state and possibly the country. The sheep were left unattended.

Maybe Zoë was right. Now was the time to test the waters then strike. He was sure that other bosses had given the new faction leader leeway with the sudden change. Maddox was a well-loved man, his successor, no matter who it was, was expected to be given a sort of grace period. The fact that he chose that grace period to take a vacation was a mistake made all on his own.

Johnny looked up from his desk, unmoved by the piercing look Jared gave him. He was still a boy in Johnny’s eyes, susceptible to influence if it got him what he wanted. Jared Leto didn’t know it yet, but he was going to be Johnny’s key to the city of Maddox.

***

“The others are coming.”

A whispered voice roused David from his sleep. He winced as the sun peeked through the blinds, shards of light scattered across the dark sheets. He pulled the coverlet closer to him, tugging harder when he was met with resistance.

The sound of soft snoring beside him was a relief while he stretched slowly and sleepily as to not disturb the arm that was draped across his waist and the body he half supported on his chest. He inhaled the scent of sweat and beer left on them when they had carried Eric to his car the previous evening.

“That’s right Betty,” the same voice whispered again sounding closer than before, clearer and accented. If only he could pin point who it was. Probably Elijah mumbling in his sleep…Elijah?

Dave’s eyes popped open and rolled to the side, first adjusting to the dim light of the room then focusing on his bedfellow. His entire body suffered a strangely excited jolt when he glimpsed a head of spiky hair. Spiky hair that smelled really good.

The blonde turned brunette agent strained with the need to move. His partner was lying, what felt like bare-chested, beside him with his arm across his waist snoring happily…and where were they?

Dave took a look at his surroundings from Elijah’s position on the bed, alarm clouding his mind. This was Maddox’s mansion. They were FBI Agents staying in a criminal’s house. It occurred to him that they shouldn’t be alive much less comfortably resting in the soft bed, but at the same time the warning bells were ringing loud in clear.

Orlando Bloom never was the forgiving type from what he’d studied, at least not to those who didn’t matter. Dave tried to reel himself back in to think straight. Orlando didn’t know who they were. If he did then he wouldn’t be breathing and neither would Elijah.

Elijah, damn but did he smell good and feel good.

‘Snap out of it you idiot!’ Dave told himself.

“Hughie is coming! And that narcissistic asshole, yeah, him too.”

That was definitely not Elijah. Dave shifted and jumped out of his skin at the sight of a figure at the edge of the full sized bed sitting on what must have been a case of some sort. The figure was hunched over and kept whispering to itself.

“Elijah,” Dave whispered jabbing his companion’s arm with a finger. He kept tapping insistently not wanting the man to wake so violently that the person sitting at the end of the bed would be startled.

“Noooo,” Elijah whined and Dave thanked God that he wasn’t as loud as he could have been.

“Shhh,” Dave whispered. “Wake up!”

“I said no dammit!”

Dave huffed and shoved at Elijah’s ribs earning one in return. The young agent simply refused to be awakened. The person, who Dave determined was a man by the more defined shape that he could now see after staring at him, continued muttering to himself seemingly unaware of his actions.

“Damn it, I said wake up!” Dave whispered harshly in Elijah’s ear causing the younger man to smile dreamily then shift, moving his top half completely off of Dave and onto his back still trapping Dave’s legs with his own.

“That’s right Robert, you’re so good,” Elijah all but whimpered in his sleep. Dave frowned. The first thought that crossed his mind being “Who the fuck is Robert?” and his second labored over the fact that Elijah had one impressive hard on resting on his thigh.

“Fucking hell,” Dave groaned doing his best to swallow back the lump that formed in his throat and ignore the twisty turny thing his stomach decided right at that instant to do.

Elijah’s lips parted in another half-moan/half-sigh. He began murmuring something about Robert’s hands and touching. His sentences became even more broken after a few more moments.

Dave’s features took on a sadistic quality and he reached a deliberate and ingenious idea. He slid his hand up Dave’s arm slowly. Elijah shifted slightly letting out a contented sigh.

Dave’s fingertips made a circle around one of Elijah’s nipples, repeating until his partner gasped loudly. And then he struck, catching the coffee colored nub between his thumb and his pointer finger then squeezing and finally twisting viciously.

Elijah arched off of the mattress a strangled cry escaping from his lips. Dave was quick to clamp his hand down on Elijah’s mouth and they both struggled for a few moments. Dave forgot about the man at the edge of the bed too concerned with the way Elijah’s chest was currently pressed to his and the way his groin ached when they separated, landing sideways with their limbs tangled. Elijah’s hand clutched at Dave’s throat and Dave’s hand gripped at the back of Elijah’s neck where the pads of his fingers would surely leave imprints.

“What the fuck gives!” Elijah exclaimed and Dave, suddenly remembering the earlier predicament shushed him.

“There’s a man at the edge of the bed,” Dave whispered. Elijah tried to shove him back, more annoyed at this point than he could be aroused. Here he was at the exact moment he at one point fantasized about and all he could think of was shredding the man to bits for waking him up. He was having a damn good dream!

“Yeah right,” Elijah snapped, keeping his voice low. “And I’m Barbie!”

“There is! He’s been there as long as I’ve been awake perhaps even longer! He keeps muttering to himself,” Dave said in a hushed tone. Elijah glared at him, his livid blue eyes burning into his brown ones.

“This is what you woke me up for?” Elijah said slowly. “You wanted to tell me about your crazy fucking dreams!”

“You don’t believe me?” Dave said and Elijah shook his head.

“Look for yourself you cunt,” Dave growled and Elijah looked shocked.

“You’ve never called me a cunt before,” he said partially in horror but mostly in a sarcastic voice.

“Just look!”

Elijah looked down the bed, his sight traveling past the bumps in their sheets where their legs were and to the foot of the bed. His line of vision raised and he blinked a couple of times seeing nothing but the wall in front of the bed covered in elaborate wallpaper.

“There’s nothing there,” Elijah said smugly before looking back at Dave. When he did look back he saw wide eyes and tightly closed lips. Elijah sucked in a breath and turned his head looking instead of at Dave towards the windows and yelped.

Standing over them was a tall and slender man with a handsome face. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and a pair of blue jeans with a leather belt around his waist. The most disturbing thing about the man besides his sudden appearance was the gun in his hand. The black Smith & Wesson pistol gleamed in the slivers of sunlight and suddenly Elijah felt chilled to the bone. He hadn’t a weapon of his own and he was sure Dave was just as off guard.

“There’s a crazy man at the side of the bed,” Elijah whispered.

“No shit, dumbass!” Dave snapped. Elijah opened his mouth to retort but a clearing of the throat from above him stopped him in his tracks. Elijah focused on the man’s face but didn’t relax at the knowledge of who he was. This was Jonathan Rhys Meyers, a member of what used to be considered the younger group of the Maddox faction. Elijah would wager that he was now higher up in rank than he used to be.

The two agents looked up with wide eyes at the man charged with watching over them for the evening. Though, surely he wasn’t meant to watch them this closely. He stroked the gun in his hand, his fingers gliding over the shiny barrel lovingly as if he were stroking the face of a loved one.

“Did you sleep well?” The faintness of an Irish accent could be heard in his voice. Neither of the two men in the bed responded. “You look rested.”

Silence.

“Well,” Jonathan said straightening and sliding his gun into the holster on his hip. He was the only one of the old faction that so freely brandished his gun, daring anyone to say a word about it. “You should get dressed and meet me and the others downstairs in the dining room.”

“What’s going on in the dining room?” Dave spoke before thinking, earning himself a sharp jab from Elijah who still hadn’t any idea of what to expect from Jonathan.

“Breakfast,” Jonathan replied as it were plainly before his eyes. Without another word he removed himself from the room, leaving the two brunettes in silence. Once the door closed Elijah and Dave jumped apart each of them darting off of the bed. The tension between them had gone now leaving behind it a bed of worry about the unknown. This was uncharted territory.

They knew all there was to know about the faction, where they lived, their kill patterns. They knew what they ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They knew who their relatives were if there were any and where they lived. What they didn’t know was how exactly they lived. Day to day life within the faction was a mystery to them. They could monitor all they wanted inside of clubs, bars, hidden apartments in the city. They could study the way they walked, talked, ate and drank but what went on behind the doors of the Maddox Mansion was something they could never know, until now. Elijah and Dave were left in a quandary.

This was what they wanted, to get close to the faction but in reality neither of them knew how to act.

Elijah stared at Dave and Dave stared at Elijah for what seemed to be the longest time. To continue was to enter a world they were trained to seek and destroy. It was time to put their skills to good use. The front door slammed below them and they could hear the noisy conversation of the remaining members of the faction greeting each other after days of absence. They were going to have to fit in without the notice of any of them and bring them down one by one.

***

Downstairs in the Dining Hall Jon struggled to keep his composure. He sat in the company of what could be considered the remaining members of the Maddox faction. In reality these men never claimed to be affiliated with the faction, the faction members didn’t want them and they didn’t want to be a part of the faction. They were Orlando and Eric’s men, through and through. None of them save for Jon had ever met Maddox personally.

Jon sat at the head of the table, a temporary position in Orlando and Eric’s absence. There were three groups dividing the men, Delivery, Collections, and Enforcement. Jon himself was in charge of Collections. To his left seated together were Ryan Reynolds, head of Delivery, and Hugh Jackman head of Enforcement. The rest of the men were beneath them, one for each group. There had been more members but when Maddox died, everyone, including the group heads, was given a few days off. When the call to come back was made only six men returned to the mansion, six men out of the original thirty-four. Jon knew that every last one of them had to rejoin or be eliminated before the faction could advance. When the words left his lips his stomach twisted violently.

“We can’t just kill them all off,” Ryan stated, a mirthless laugh escaping his lips.

“It has to be done,” Jon replied.

“He’s got a point, Ryan,” Hugh said ignoring the look he received from the man beside him. He reached across the polished table into one of three pink bakery boxes. He pulled from the box a Boston crème donut then bit into it with relish. Down the way Jon made a face and almost gagged.

“It’s just a donut, Jon-boy,” Ryan said sarcastically.

“It’s disgusting,” Jon replied. “Do you even know who touched that before you?”

Hugh stopped mid-chew, donut still affixed to his mouth and stared at him mumbling something that resembled, “Hmm?”

“Jon, don’t,” Ryan started in on him. There was no need for him to ruin a perfectly good breakfast because of his paranoia. Jonathan kept on, absently pulling Betty from her holster and stroking her barrel.

“I’m being serious. Who knows what happens to them before the store opens everyday. If someone dropped one on the floor even for just a second, you don’t think they’d put it back on the shelf?” Jon said. “Plus, people don’t always wash their hands or cover their mouths or…”

“Alright, Alright!” Hugh grumbled, setting the barely touched doughnut on the nearest napkin. Across from him his associate Nathan Fillion chuckled at the antics. When Hugh looked at him he simply shrugged. You couldn’t expect to eat anywhere near Jonathan without his paranoia kicking in.

“Why do you have to do that?” Ryan asked. “Do the little voices in your head tell you to ruin every--”

“Ryan, it’s no big deal,” Hugh said setting a hand on his shoulder. Ryan swatted the hand away in no mood for light touches.

“No, no, it is! Every time I try to pull something even remotely nice or romantic he decides to ruin it!”

“Maybe it’s a sign that romantic happenings should be kept in your apartment or separate apartments, now isn’t it?” Jon replied to which Ryan snorted.

“To think I actually started to miss you,” Ryan said then looking at ‘Betty’ he continued “and your stupid gun.”

Jon’s nostrils flared leaning back in his seat, holding ‘Betty’ close to his chest. “He didn’t mean it, love.”

Ryan shook his head at him and looked back to Hugh who had his own ideas

“Tell her you didn’t mean it!” Jon growled waving his gun around in such a way that made the other men at the table unconsciously duck.

There were dozens of holes in the ceiling where Jonathan had decided to make a point about something. He’d begun to run out of room and after Maddox had supposedly given him a stern talking to about shooting up his ceiling Jon had no where else to release his anger when in the room. None of the men wanted to be the accidental point Jonathan meant to make.

Ryan looked at Jon, aghast at his demand. “How about I don’t?”

“How about you do,” Jon answered him rising from his seat.

“Here we go,” Ewan McGreggor, Jon’s own personal golden boy said. He glanced at Ryan’s face already turning red from frustration already having an idea as to what Ryan would do next.

“Have you ever considered therapy?” Ryan asked smirking smarmily.

“I don’t need therapy,” Jon huffed.

“Right and I don’t need to get laid,” Ryan said casting a mock poignant look at Hugh who rolled his eyes.

“So that’s why you brought the doughnuts by. I knew you could never just do something to be nice,” Hugh said knowingly.

Ryan sighed. “I was doing that to be nice. I know how much you like Boston crème doughnuts so…”

“This is all nice and everything but don’t we have business to attend to?” Garrett Hedlund, the final man to return to the fold spoke up from the far end of the table.

A natural loner Garrett rarely spoke up, always willing to follow rather than to take the lead. He had a silent yet deadly appeal that helped things go more smoothly when he worked with his boss, Ryan. With his too-wild-to-bother-with brown hair sticking out of place, hazel eyes, and lovely mouth he was nice enough to look at.

Often a good tool when they had to go easy on someone too important or get information from a stubborn source. Under the table he flicked his knife open and closed. The steel with a blue and black handle was a gift from Eric and Orlando once he’d been broken into the group.

He treasured the object beyond everything else and used it often to make small carvings under the table when he became bored at the meetings. To him he didn’t need to know why the decisions were made, he made his decision to be loyal to this set of men and when they told him to go some where he went, when they told him to kill he killed. It was all that simple to him considering he’d never encountered anything different.

“Like an apology, for instance.”

“Hold your breath and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

“Ryan…”

“Hugh…”

“We have to get rid of them,” Jon said.

“But, it’s like killing off family members,” Ryan replied settling back into his seat and leaning heavily on the table with his elbows. Jon holstered ‘Betty’ but kept standing. He crossed his arms and looked at each of the men before him. He knew what Ryan was talking about. It was going to be hell eliminating those that wouldn’t come back to them but it just had to be done.

“Hey,” Hugh said softly. “If they were family they’d be here right now, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess,” Ryan admitted grudgingly. It didn’t make it any more right or any less wrong to him. It just solidified the fact.

“I know, every minute that they’re out on the street there’s information about our organization floating around,” Ryan said. “What about those guys Orlando and Eric brought in the night Maddox died? Did you get anything out of them Hugh?”

“Not a damn thing and they didn’t have anything on them to indicate who sent them, what group they’re apart of,” Hugh answered him.

“Nothing at all?” Ewan mused to himself.

“Well, there were their guns, nothing like I’ve seen before, the serial numbers were scratched off but it was of an interesting design,” Hugh recalled. “Perhaps you could take a look at it later Jon.”

“I can do that,” Jonathan said. An unsettling feeling stirred within them all. If Jonathan couldn’t figure where the guns had come from, then they had a real problem for now they had to rely on the fact that there were few designs that he didn’t know of. A knock drew their attention away from the subject and to the doorway where Elijah and Dave stood, uncertainty clear on their faces.

“Mr. Riken and Mr. Rivero take a seat,” Jonathan said. Elijah couldn’t read his voice but did as he was told after Dave had taken a chair. The man Elijah sat next to stared at him. Elijah caught his hazel eyes with his blue ones frowning at the way the man seemed to be assessing him from appearance alone. It was a tactic he had to learn in his own training and always hated it.

“I’ve divided the list of names in three sections, obviously so we can get through them faster and more easily. Mr. Riken I want you with Ryan and Garrett and Mr. Rivero with me. Hugh and Ewan you’re going too. And the rest of you are staying here. If anything happens you know how to handle it,” Jon said his voice full of purpose.

Ryan looked at the smaller Elijah not knowing why the man was there but having the reassurance that Jon was letting him work with the group was enough. Jon must have meant for him to watch the new face.

“Remember, if they won’t come back they don’t live to tell anyone about it.”
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Vengeance