Title: Anywhere You Are
Author/pseudonym: Tinnean
Fandom: The Sentinel/'Crocodile'
Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They belong to Petfly, 'Crocodile'
Status: new/complete
Date: well, I started it 12/02, but it looks like it
won't be finished until 1/03. Happy New Year, everybody.
Series/Sequel: I did say no, didn't
Warnings: m/m, spoilers for the movie, and do I
really need to tell you this is AU?
Notes: This first appeared in The Chapters of The
Sentinel. Thanks to Patt for working so hard on the pics for that zine, and to
Gail for the encouragement and the great beta.
Anywhere You Are
By Tinnean
Prologue- wherein it
all started
Eli Stoddard was almost dancing with excitement. He’d
come to the rainforests of Colombia in hopes of chronicling an indigenous tribe
of natives who had only recently been discovered, but this… this was beyond
anything he could have dreamed of.
The ruins, partly concealed by the jungle’s reclamation
of its own, were breathtaking. He had never seen anything like it, not Incan,
not Mayan, not even in the awesome cliff dwellings of the Anasazi. Blindly he
reached for the mini camcorder Blair Sandburg had given him as an early
Christmas/Chanukah gift. He spared a fond thought for his former student.
Blair had been as exuberant as a puppy in his studies, and
Stoddard had never taught anyone so responsive, so hungry for knowledge and the
experiences that life held in store for him. And oh, that riot of curls, and
those deep blue eyes. Eli Stoddard sighed. If Sandburg hadn’t been so young,
if he hadn’t been so…
Suffice it to say, the age difference had been too great to
allow for anything other than friendship. Not to mention the mentor/student
factor.
He sighed again, raised the eye piece of the camcorder to
his eye, and steadied it. He concentrated on filming the passageway that led
through a narrow corridor, and opened into a surprisingly growth-free clearing.
Thoughts of the beautiful young man were wiped away as if they had never been,
replaced by stunned awe.
Stoddard stood there, letting the lens pan over the area,
recording the play of shadow and light on the vines that hung like veils to
shield the crumbling walls of this place, getting the images down on film. There
would be plenty of time to move on to the tribe he had come to study.
And then abruptly, brain and eye connected, and he realized what he was filming: a group of men, one on his knees, apparently pleading for his life. Two men held his arms twisted high behind his back, so he was forced to bend forward, while another, much larger, man
stood with a machete gripped in his fist, waiting for the
orders to go ahead with the execution. Because that, Eli Stoddard understood
with chilling comprehension, was what he was witnessing through the camcorder
lens.
A couple of feet away, watching with dispassion, was a
dark-complected man, a little under medium height, his black hair slicked back.
He gave a sharp nod, the big man with the machete raised it with negligent
precision, and the man on his knees cried out as it descended. "Ay, mi
madre! No! No!" There was the sickening slice-and-drag sound of metal
through flesh, and then the sodden thud of the head hitting the ground and
rolling lopsidedly for a foot or so.
"Buen trabajo, amigo. Good
work. Rip out his heart, then make sure the body is left where it can be found.
Give the heart to our Jivaro friends in payment for shrinking the head."
It paid for an anthropologist to know as many languages as possible. Although Stoddard had never heard that dialect spoken before, he didn't have much trouble translating the words, which were based on Spanish roots.
He backed away as quietly as possible, not bothering to
take the time to shut down the camcorder, leaving it in record mode. Things
began falling into place. He realized he'd been able to follow the path because
of its frequent use, and he castigated himself for his carelessness. The policia
had warned him in
For a middle aged man, Stoddard was in decent shape, and
once he was out of the corridor, he ran for his jeep, pausing to vomit only
once, unable to contain the bile that had risen to his throat. He tossed the
camcorder onto the seat beside him, wedged himself behind the wheel, and tramped
on the gas.
There was a shout behind him, and he began to pray. And
then he began to speak, letting the machine record his words. "I appear to
have landed myself in what you would say is deep shit, Blair. I'm going to send
this to you. The Colombian mail being what it is, if you haven't heard from me
by the time this reaches you, then I think it's safe to assume that I'll be
dead. I don't expect you to avenge me, or anything melodramatic like that, but I
do want someone to know what happened to me. You were the best of my students,
Blair Sandburg. Vaya con dios, mi amigo querido."
The drive to the little town was arduous, but Stoddard was
still in the lead by the time he turned into the narrow street that led to the
rear of his hotel. He bolted into the lobby, where the portador was flirting
with the pretty girl who was behind the desk.
"Un minuto, por favor?" he asked the letter
carrier as he reached for one of the padded envelopes that was kept at the front
desk for the convenience of the hotel's patrons. Of course the price of the
envelope, greatly inflated, was then added to the bill. At this moment, that was
the least of his worries. He scribbled an address across the front, slid the
tape into it, and sealed it. Then he pressed a handful of American dollars into
the man's hand. "Quickly, please?"
"Señor, this is too much," the man protested
good-naturedly as he studied the address.
"Keep the rest of it. Go quickly now? Por favor?"
"Si." He gave the girl a look that clearly stated
he was humoring the crazy Americano, but he jogged out into the street and threw
a leg over his motorbike. The engine revved once, twice, and then he was gone.
Eli Stoddard hurried up to his room on the second floor.
The ceiling fan rotated sluggishly, not giving much relief to the stifling
atmosphere of the close room. He grabbed another tape and inserted it into the
camcorder.
From the first floor he could hear the girl cry out in
protest, and his mouth went dry. She hadn't seen
the address; no matter what they did to her, she couldn't reveal it. But her
boyfriend… Footsteps pounded on the stairs, his door burst open, and the giant
of a man from the ruins stood there. He stepped aside, and the smaller man, so
obviously el jefe, entered.
"You took some pictures of me, I believe? I am not
very… how you say… photogenic? I would like them back please?"
"I don't have any pictures, amigo." A bead of
sweat started at Stoddard's temple. It trickled over his cheekbone and hung at
the hinge of his jaw. "My camera malfunctioned and…"
"But still you saw what you should not have seen. Do
you take me for a fool, hombre? Miguel." He snapped his fingers. There was
the soft sound of metal leaving a leather sheath, and
Miguel, the big man, pulled out the machete.
This close to it, Eli
Stoddard could still see the viscous coating of blood that smeared the edge. He
opened his mouth to say something, but all that emerged was a soft,
"Oh!" as the blade was driven deep into his gut, twisted, and then
withdrawn. His hands came up to clutch the edges of the wound, and he stared at
the fountain of blood that poured through his fingers. "Oh, my!" The
words were a soft whisper as he collapsed in on himself.
Eli Stoddard was dead before he hit the floor.
Part 1- wherein Blair meets some nasty characters
Blair Sandburg had every reason to be happy. Six months
before, he'd gone to
Their sex life was amazing, hot and wild and passionate,
like nothing he had ever experienced with any of his other lovers. For those
first halcyon months, after Jim had returned to Major Crimes in the Cascade PD,
he'd worked days, and they'd been with each other constantly. They cooked dinner
together, shared the chores, although truthfully, Blair could never see the
urgency in cleaning something that would be dusty again in three weeks, and of
course made love. Blair was often so deliciously sore from Jim bending him over
at every opportunity and on every surface, flat or not, that he had gone through
the days relishing the deep ache that signified the older man's possession.
Blair was even considering going back to teaching at
So, yes, Blair Jacob Sandburg should have been happy. Only
he wasn’t.
****
It was a couple of weeks until the New Year. He had been
summoned to the office of the CEO of the Cascade Post-Tribune. The fact was that
the Chief Executive Officer of Cascade's leading newspaper was also his mother.
Naomi loved her son, but she often went by the policy that mother knew best; she
wasn't above trying to coerce him into doing things her way. Such as now.
"Naomi, I don't want to go!" Blair winced at the
whine in his tone. He rose from the chair and faced his mother across the vast
expanse that was her desk, then began pacing.
His mother sighed impatiently. "Blair, I know you hate
these parties, but it's really important to me! How would it look if the only
son of the paper's CEO didn't put in an appearance? And you know I want Jim to
come as well." Naomi's expression softened as she observed him, and Blair
mused that her competitors would not have recognized the dragonlady of
Once she had thought a man like Richard Mason, suave,
educated and ambitious, would be perfect for her only child, and she'd had
serious misgivings when he had brought home someone who was not only older, but
who also seemed to see and hear things he shouldn't. Although she had kept those
misgivings to herself, Blair had been aware of them, and he had been relieved to
see her gradually warm to his lover and accept him as more than the decent,
honorable man he was, but as a man who took his responsibilities seriously, who
loved Blair unreservedly, and who made him deliriously happy.
Blair cleared his throat. "Jim's been working the
graveyard shift for the last month, and we won't even be able to spend our first
New Year's Eve together; he can't go with me."
"Well, in that case, Blair, you have no excuse to miss the party. He wouldn't want you to sit home all alone. Now, why don't I get in touch with Simon Banks and see if he'll give Jim some time off, so you and Jim can come to dinner for Christmas Eve?"
"Naomi, you know it will make Jim nuts if you try to
influence his captain. Just… let it go, okay? I'll talk to him when he gets in
tonight." No, he couldn't do that, Jim would be exhausted and fit only to
go straight to sleep. Blair would be lucky if he got a good night kiss. Of
course, in the morning, chances were excellent that he would be awakened with
Jim's lips wrapped around his dick. He cleared his throat and brought his
attention back to his mother. "Well, I'll talk to him, and I'll let you
know if he has that night off. Maybe we can work something out for a late
lunch?"
"That sounds lovely, sweetheart. And perhaps that
fascinating Captain Banks might be interested in coming to the New Year's Eve
party as well?"
Blair hunched a shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do
was spend an evening in the company of Jim's irascible captain. When Jim had
first returned to Cascade PD, it had been obvious that he needed Blair to help
him gain some sort of control over his senses. Captain Banks had reluctantly
agreed to permit Blair to ride along as a 'civilian observer'. His attitude
seemed to have spilled over onto the other members of Major Crimes, and Blair
often felt as if he were barely tolerated.
"Now, you're coming, right? I'm insisting, Blair. And
make sure your tux is ready."
The woman had the tenacity of a bulldog. "Yes,
Naomi." Blair kissed her offered cheek and left her office. On the ride
down to the lobby he mused over the unfairness of life. Jim would probably have
a Wonder Burger, and he'd… he bit his lips to prevent a grin. An affair
sponsored by his mother would be nothing less than exquisite. At the last one he
had attended, the main course had consisted of filet mignon and lobster tail.
None of that rubber chicken, cardboard mashed potatoes, and limp, overcooked
vegetables for Naomi Sandburg's guests, thank you very much. Maybe he could
convince his lover to put in for the evening off. James did love meat.
He was just crossing the lobby when, "Blair!"
No! Oh, please, god, no! Life couldn't be this
unfair!
"Cupcake! Wait a second!"
The day had just gone from bad to worse. Richard Mason, his
one-time lover! Blair was positive Naomi had said something about him working
for some newspaper in
Without pausing to acknowledge the voice that was calling
him even more loudly, Blair shoved the revolving glass doors opened and almost
raced out into the watery Cascade afternoon sun.
Feeling somewhat safer, he risked a glance over his
shoulder. "Ooof!" He had barreled into what felt like a brick wall.
"Ouch! Sor…" Before he could get an apology out, he was gripped by
the collar and hurled into a limousine, to land on his knees. The brick wall got
in behind him, and the door slammed shut.
Blair sat on his heels and brushed back the hair that had
come loose from the leather thong that normally kept it out of his eyes. The man
who sat on the plush leather bucket seat observed him with cold, black eyes.
"¿Usted es Blair Sandburg?"
"Yeah, I'm Sandburg," he responded cautiously.
Blair didn't like being on his knees before a man like this; he'd never been
into the dom/sub thing, and this smacked entirely too much of it. He moved to
one of the fold-down seats that faced the rear of the luxury vehicle, which
would place him as far from the man as the confines of the limo would allow, and
sat down. "Who are you?"
"Is not important. I think you will not recognize my
name."
"Try me." Blair bit his lip. Not the
brightest thing to say to someone who looked as if swimming with sharks was his
favorite pastime.
The man shrugged. "I am Rico Escobedo."
"You're right. The name doesn't ring a bell,"
Blair lied easily. Even though he wasn't involved in the newspaper business in
the general sense of the word, he had traveled
"This is Miguel." Rico flashed blindingly white
teeth in a grin, and Blair suppressed a shudder. If the Colombian really did
swim with sharks, the sharks would come out the losers. "He does… odd
jobs for me. Miguel enjoys doing odd jobs for me." The big man
stared at him with flat, humorless eyes, and Blair decided he didn't want to
know what would cause him to smile, just as he had no desire to ask what those
jobs might entail. Escobedo abruptly dropped the pleasant demeanor. "You
have something I believe is mine."
"Excuse me?"
"Señor Sandburg, do not play me for a fool. Eli
Stoddard sent you a package, and its contents belong to me!"
"I haven't seen Eli in a couple of months," Blair
countered guardedly, "and I've received nothing from him." He wondered
how they knew Eli had sent him something; he didn't think his former mentor
would have willingly told them. It was obvious Escobedo would never tell him.
"¿Es verdad? Perhaps you speak the truth, perhaps
not. However, the mail in my country can be regrettably slow." Rico
Escobedo glanced out the passenger window. "Ah. We have arrived. If you
will exit the car, please?" The drug lord gestured politely, and Blair
thought it best to go along with his… request. "Miguel, you will see our
guest does not try anything stupid, eh?"
Blair stared at the two gold-covered canines that Miguel's
smile revealed. //The vampire look is out this year, amigo.// He could have gone
his entire life without seeing Miguel smile. He offered a saccharine grin in
return.
He stepped out of the car and blinked in surprise at the
house that stood before them. Three stories that looked as if it couldn't decide
if it wanted to be Art Nouveau or Gothic Revival when it grew up, it belonged to
the mayor of Cascade. The Mayor often rented it out to celebrities or anyone who
was willing to meet the outrageous price he demanded. Miguel's big, beefy hand
wrapped around Blair's upper arm and squeezed.
"Don't wrinkle the merchandise, big guy." Blair
tried to yank free, but the grip tightened and pulled him up onto his toes.
"All right, already! I'm coming." He found himself being dragged into
the luxurious mansion. Because of his mother's position in the community, Blair
had been here before. He knew that the 'Oriental' rugs had all been manufactured
in
Rico curled his lip at his quarry's back as he followed
them. It had been so easy to take the stupid Americano, snatching him right off
the main street in broad daylight. He had fallen into his palm like a ripe
fruit. The Colombian was pleased with his own pun. Of course he knew this Blair
Sandburg was a fag. Someone with all those curls? And the ring in the ear that
signified he preferred men over women? It was so obvious even a blind man could
see it. If Rico's need to retrieve that videotape wasn't so pressing, he would
give the sissy boy to his men to play with. Perhaps he still would.
He picked up the telephone from the table in the hall and
held it toward Blair. "You will call one of your little playmates. He is to
go to your apartment and check the mail. If the package has come, muy bueno; I
will arrange a meeting to pick it up, and you will be returned unharmed. If it
hasn't…"
Was it possible that the man before him was unaware of his
commitment to the big police detective? Blair could only hope, but he wasn't
about to let this little tyrant intimidate him. "If it hasn't?" he
repeated, putting his hands behind his back, so that Escobedo was left standing
with the phone dangling from his fingers.
"Ah, amigo, then I fear that your visit with us will
be decidedly short! Señor Sandburg, I am not playing games. You will never
again see your friend, Eli Stoddard, because he met with an unfortunate
accident, and he is… dead." The word hung in the sudden silence of the
hall, final and unforgiving. Blair bit down hard on his inner cheek to prevent
the drug lord from seeing how angered he was by the news. Eli Stoddard was a
good man who had not deserved to meet his fate at the hands of this scum.
Escobedo scowled at him, and again thrust the phone toward him. "Make the
call. You are really too pretty to die young."
Unable to think of any way to get out of this situation
with all his body parts intact, Blair took the phone and punched in Jim's cell
phone number. "Ellison."
Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the voice continued. "You know
the drill. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you."
Sandburg felt a touch of dismay crawl up his spine.
"Uh, Jim? You there? If you're there, please pick up." Blair took two
deep breaths. "Okay, I guess you're not there…"
"Chief? Hi! What's up?"
"Jim!"
"What's wrong?" Jim's question was sharp and
tense. Blair should have known he'd never be able to keep anything from his
Sentinel.
"Uh… Listen, Jim.
Eli Stoddard sent me a package, and it's really important I get it as soon as
possible." Wisely, Jim did not demand to know who this Eli Stoddard was.
"Did anything come for me from
"Yeah, as a matter of fact… I'm sorry, Blair. Simon
called me in to work a double shift. The mailman handed it to me as I was on my
way out the front door, and I was short on time, so I just took it with
me."
"Thank god! Listen, Jim. This is really
important…" He was repeating himself, something he only did when he was
really nervous; he hoped his lover would realize it. It was the only way he
could think to get across the message that he was up shit creek.
The Colombian yanked the phone from Blair's hand and
snarled into the receiver, "Is muy importante, hombre. You want to see your
little boyfriend again in one piece, you listen to me very carefully. Meet me in
three quarters of an hour at the
"Just one second! Let me talk to Sandburg again!"
Even without sentinel senses, Blair was able to hear his lover's demand.
"Why would I do that?" Escobedo asked
rhetorically, and he hung up with a satisfied smile on his face. "Miguel,
you will come with me. Get los hombres; they will guard Señor Sandburg most
carefully."
Miguel shouted
for the men, and the drug lord rubbed his hands together. When they appeared, he
spoke to them in rapid-fire Spanish, and they grinned at Blair in a manner so
hungry, he felt his sphincter clench.
"When we return, if I have what I have come for, I
will set you free." Blair didn't believe him for a split second; he
understood enough of the dialect, and knew that as soon as Escobedo returned
with whatever was in the package Eli had sent him, he was going to be the guest
of honor at a gang bang. "Meanwhile, you can wait in this room. There are
some newspapers and magazines."
****
While two men stayed in the room with Blair, a third one
stood in the hall, guarding the door. The others returned to the part of the
house where they had been assigned.
Blair knew he had only himself to depend on to get out of
this situation. Jim Ellison loved taking care of the younger man, and Richard
Mason had called him a dilettante, but the truth was that Blair Sandburg did
know how to take care of himself. He'd been all over the world, and although he
drew the line at photographing wars, he'd been there for the aftermath of plenty
of natural disasters. And while he didn't like to rough it, he was very capable
of it if push came to shove.
Right now, he was the ideal 'guest'. He asked politely for
something to drink. He asked for permission to use the bathroom. He chatted
inanely to the men who wandered restlessly around the room, playing with their
knives. "So, what part of
As it was, each question simply brought an unintelligible
grunt in response.
"You guys really aren't much in the conversation
department, are you?" Blair stood by the window, looking out onto the
grounds, which was how he happened to see a shadow flit by. He let out a silent
breath. Jim had managed to find him. "I'm going to do some reading."
He didn't want them to get nervous and start the party too soon. "I'll need
my reading glasses. They're in my jacket. Is it all right if I take them
out?"
The one who seemed in charge gave another grunt, and Blair
took the case from his inner pocket. He slid the glasses out and put them on,
picked up a People magazine, and sat down in a chair that he made sure was away
from the door. Idly he leafed through the glossy magazine, then removed his
glasses and pulled out a handkerchief. He blew on the lenses and began polishing
them, staring blankly into space, but in actuality listening very hard.
He didn't need hyper-acute hearing to hear the muffled thud
in the hallway, and then a sound as if someone was scratching on the door.
"¿José?"
the one in charge called. "¿Que pasa, muchacho?
There was no answer, and he growled and stalked toward the
door. It suddenly burst open, collapsing off its hinges and trapping the man
beneath its weight. Jim catapulted into the room, the faux marble statue in his
arms.
Before the second man could attack the big detective, Blair
snapped the earpiece off his glasses and drove it into the Colombian's throat.
Eyes wide in terror, the man scrabbled to yank the jagged object from where it
was lodged just to the side of his adam's apple. He succeeded, but the wound now
gushed blood freely, and he crumpled to the floor in shock.
"Are you all right, Chief?" Jim dropped the
statue, patted him all over to make sure he was unhurt, then pulled him into his
arms and hugged him fiercely.
"I am now that you're here."
Jim blew out a breath and rubbed his cheek against his
lover's hair. He watched dispassionately as the man bled out onto the carpet,
his blood forming its own pattern amid the stylized dragons and bamboo groves,
then called over his shoulder. "Joel! You'll take care of this mess?"
Joel Taggart, also a member of Major Crimes, sauntered into
the room. "The uniforms are arresting everyone on the grounds and in the
house. We'll probably have to be satisfied with nailing their asses on illegal
alien status, but this lot will be deported back to where they came from, and
that will be fourteen less bastards for us to deal with. Jesus, why does all
this happen in Cascade?" He crossed the room and toed the body. He looked
from Blair to Jim, then shook his head. "Son of a bitch. Can you believe
how clumsy some people can be? Imagine tripping and falling on a… what the
fuck is that thing?"
"Earpiece, Joel." Jim handed his associate the
broken eyeglass frames. "Yeah, beats hell out of me. Go figure." He
gazed around. "Did you get them all?"
Taggart gave an evil grin. "Oh, yeah. We'll just wait
to see if the Captain and his band picked up Escobedo and Ubarry at the
"That we beat them out on this?" Jim's grin
matched Taggart's for evilness. "Life doesn't get much sweeter!" The
three men walked back into the hallway, Jim's arm firmly around his lover's
shoulders.
Megan Connor, the Aussie detective on loan to Cascade PD,
appeared in a doorway that led down to the basement, dusting her hands.
"Mate, you should see the security command post down there! But I can't
understand why they'd want such state-of-the-art equipment, and then hand it
over to a bunch of drongos who have no idea how to run it! You okay,
Sandy?"
Blair's fingers were twisted in his lover's jacket; Jim was
the only one who noticed. "I will be, Megan. Thank you." But he was
smiling at Jim, and once again she regretted that all the cute ones were either
married or gay.
"C'mon Chief, let's get out of here!" Jim led the
way to his pickup truck and opened the door for his lover to get in.
"Jim? What was in the package Eli sent me?"
"It was a videotape. There was some pretty
incriminating stuff on it." Jim was looking so grim that Blair knew if Rico
had been there at that moment, his lover would have torn him apart with his bare
hands.
Blair began to ramble on about nothing. "Rico didn't
even offer me lunch. Or dinner! Can you believe that? I'm starved. Can we get
something to eat?" He was
searching for the seat belt, and didn't realize immediately that Jim was still
standing there. "Jim?"
The big man curled his fist around Blair's neck and pulled
his head down until their foreheads rested together. "Jesus, I was so
scared for you, Chief! After we saw that videotape, and listened to what Dr.
Stoddard had to say…" His lips were hard and demanding, his desperate
fear for his partner clearly evident.
When he finally released the younger man's mouth, Blair's
breathing was unsteady. It was a couple of minutes before he was able to murmur,
"He's dead, Jim. Eli's dead. Escobedo told me."
"I know, Chief. I'm sorry. Somehow Escobedo found out
that he was sending you the tape. It contains footage of him ordering an
execution and having it carried out. From the information Brian Rafe was able to
pull up on him, he's been managing to keep his hands clean, but this would have
nailed his ass to the wall. He came
after you to make sure that didn't happen."
Blair touched his fingers to Jim's face, staring into his
eyes. "I knew you'd come get me."
Jim took the hand that cupped his cheek, turned it upward
and pressed a kiss to Blair's heart line. The jangle of his cell phone jolted
him out of his preoccupation with the texture of his lover's palm.
"Ellison." The smile in his voice quickly vanished. "What? Simon,
say that again? Oh, fuck! Okay, I'm bringing him in with
me. We should be at the station in twenty minutes." He flipped the
phone shut. "You're coming back to Central Precinct with me until my shift
is over. Escobedo never showed up."
Blair's eyes were chill, but Jim didn't notice. "Do
you think he'll come after me again?"
"If he has any brains, he'll realize we've seen the
tape, cut his loses and run."
"Why do I get the impression you don't think much of
his brains?"
The big detective shrugged, then shut the passenger door of
the pickup and strode around to the driver's side. He climbed in and jabbed the
key into the ignition. "Because they don't, usually," he finally
ground out. "He was stupid enough to be filmed ordering an execution. He's
failed to get the tape back, so his next best hope is to get the man it was sent
to."
"Me?" Blair gulped. He had been in dangerous
situations before, but they were all courtesy of Mother Nature. No one had ever
wanted to kill him. "Wait a second, Jim! That doesn't make any sense! I
haven't even seen the goddamned tape! Why would Escobedo want to get me?"
"He's like a wild animal who's been injured. He'll
strike out at what he perceives is the source of his pain. In this case,
you." Jim fell silent. He extended his visual and auditory perceptions,
keeping a part of his awareness on the road.
For long minutes there was silence. Eventually Blair asked,
"How did you know where to find me? I wanted to give you a clue, but I
couldn't think of anything that wouldn't get my throat cut right then and
there."
"You did the best thing, Chief. You called my cell
phone. I've got Return Call on it, remember? Once I hit star 6-9 and got the
last phone number that called, Simon leaned on Cascade Bell, and we were able to
track it back to that monstrosity of a house the Mayor owns."
//You mean you made Simon lean on the phone
company.// But Blair didn't bring up the ambiguous feelings the captain of Major
Crimes had toward him. "Speaking of that house, Jim, Naomi is sponsoring a
New Year's Eve party. I don't suppose Captain Banks will give you that night
off?" They were entering Cascade proper.
"Well, I'll ask him, but you know that's one of the
busiest nights of the year!"
"What, they're going to make the Detective of the Year
man a sobriety check point? Please, Jim? I don't want to go alone!"
Jim was turning
into the basement parking garage, and he glanced at Blair from the corner of his
eye, a secret smile on his lips. "Aw, babe, you know I hate those
things."
"Listen, tough guy! The least you can do is…"
The rest of his sentence was cut short as Jim abruptly shoved Blair's head down,
his hand hard on the back of the younger man's neck. "Hey!" And then
Blair was covered in a shower of glass as the rear window exploded into the cab
of the truck. It was only as the bullet continued on through the windshield that
he registered the sound.
"Stay down!" Jim floored the gas pedal, and the
tires of the truck screeched as they spun madly, gained traction, and it leaped
forward. They heard the sound of a bullet ricocheting off one of the pillars. He
reached for the truck's police issue two-way radio, only to find it had taken a
hit. He swore and spun the wheel, and the truck fishtailed almost out of
control, the rear fender slamming into a parked car.
"The elevator, Jim?"
He shook his head. "The odds of one being down here,
with the door open, just waiting for us, aren't good. I'll pull up by the stairs
and angle the truck to give you some protection. Get the door open and start
running up to Six."
"Jim…" Blair released his seat belt and reached
for the handle. "You'll be right behind me, won't you? Because if you're
not, I'm coming back after you!"
"I'll be right on your ass, Chief!" Jim
unfastened his own seat belt. "Go! Now!"
Blair was out, through and on his way up the stairs, moving
faster than Jim would have given him credit for. Two sets of footsteps pounded
up the stairs. A glance behind him showed Jim had his police issue revolver
drawn and ready to fire.
"Out on Two, Chief, and head for the elevator."
Jim had been tracking its descent from the fourth floor and knew its occupant
would be getting out on the second floor.
Blair was starting to feel the exertion on his knees, and
he staggered as he reached the second floor landing. Jim's hand on his thigh
steadied him, and then they were both out in the corridor. As Jim had known, the
elevator doors were just sliding shut, and he leaped forward and shoved his arm
between them, causing them to open again. He pushed Blair into a corner and
planted himself in front of his lover.
The doors closed, and the detective allowed himself to
relax marginally. He extended his hearing, and only when he was sure there was
no longer any danger did he put his Smith and Wesson revolver away.
"All clear, Jim?" Blair rubbed soothing circles
on the broad back in front of him.
"For now, babe. But I'm going to need to get you some
place safe." They arrived on the sixth floor, and Jim used his enhanced
senses to assure himself they could exit safely.
Major Crimes looked as if they were expecting a visit from
the Terminator. Officers were hastily donning riot gear. Brian Rafe was handing
out shotguns and tear gas canisters. Captain Banks was chewing furiously on his
omnipresent cigar. He spared a glare at Sandburg, then turned it on the tall man
at his side.
"Ellison, what the fuck is going on?"
"Someone opened fire on us as I was pulling into the
parking garage. I heard the hammer being cocked and got Blair out of the way,
otherwise he'd be about a head shorter!"
"That is so not funny, Jim!"
"Sorry, Chief. It sounded like one of those new
semi-automatics that the Feds told us someone was selling illegally in
"You think this is tied in with that videotape we
viewed earlier? Fuck. I did not need this the week before Christmas! Rafe, see
what you can find down there. Report back to me as soon as possible." Banks
glowered at Jim and Blair. "My office. Now!"
They followed the captain into his office. He pulled the
cigar out of his mouth, stared at it as if he couldn't imagine how it had gotten
between his fingers, then tossed it in the wastebasket. He turned on the
combination TV/VCR that sat in a corner and waited for the screen to lighten.
"I think the kid should see this, Jim. I contacted the Feds about Rico
Escobedo. According to them, he gives psychos a bad name. We have no choice but
to get Blair to a safe house."
"Wait a fucking minute, Captain! He's the criminal,
but I'm the one going to be imprisoned!"
"It's a safe house, Sandburg, not a jail. Totally
different."
Blair opened his mouth, but Jim spoke before he could.
"I've got a better idea, Simon. I'll take Blair back to
"Jim…"
"I'll take care of you, babe, I promise. I promise."
"That's not what I…"
Simon was reaching for the phone, and he spoke over the
younger man. "I know someone who has a license to pilot a Lear jet. He can
get you to
"I'll get in touch with a friend in
"Wait a second! We want Escobedo to find me?" Blair looked so cute when he was
confused. Jim was tempted to kiss him, even though his captain was present.
"Us, babe. He finds us, he thinks he has us,
and I show him what happens when he fucks with a Sentinel and his Guide."
"In that case, I think you'd better change that to
'we'll' show him."
"Right, Blair." Jim's eyes caressed his lover.
"We'll show him."
Simon turned away to speak into the phone. "Hi, Slick,
how they hanging? Got a job for you, my man!" Within minutes their
transportation to
Jim tipped his lover's face up to study his deep blue eyes.
Simon suddenly found something of interest in his lower desk drawer.
Blair's eyes darkened with passion. His lips parted, and
Jim leaned forward, his fingers tangled in the warm curls that had once again
escaped the thong Blair used to confine them. Before their mouths touched, Jim
paused. "We'll make a great team, don't you think, Chief?"
His mouth swallowed the answer.
Part 2- wherein Jim
and Blair have to leave the country, and no one is happy
After the decision had been made to get Blair out of the
country, Captain Banks refused to allow them out of Major Crimes. If Central
Precinct was under surveillance, their plan would be discovered before they
could put it into action. He sent Joel Taggart and Megan Connor to the apartment
at 852 Prospect to pack some clothes for Jim and Blair.
Taggart and Connor both breathed a sigh of relief that no
one appeared to be watching the apartment building, but they stayed alert as
they walked in and took the elevator up to the third floor. Taggart had the key
to get into 307 that Jim had given him. He inserted it into the lock, but before
he could turn the key, the door swung open. "Fuck!" He flung an arm in
front of the Aussie transplant to prevent her from entering. "Oh
fuck!"
She gasped in shock. The loft was a disaster area. The
balcony doors hung crazily on their hinges. Through the opening, they could see
the plush area rug that had covered the hardwood floor hanging from the railing
in tatters. The kitchen was littered with broken plates and cups; food was
tossed onto the floor and ground into every surface. The cushions from the couch
and loveseat in the living room lay where they had been flung, sliced open, the
stuffing spilling out of them as if eviscerated in a graphic demonstration of
fury. Books were torn, and what pages hadn't been scattered throughout the
apartment, had been burned in the fireplace. Clothing had been ripped, forming a
snowdrift of linen, cotton, denim, flannel. Nothing more than two inches square
remained.
Taggart's mouth tightened in a frown. He pulled out his
cell phone and called Major Crimes. "We've got problems, Captain!"
On the other end of the line, Simon Banks listened with
growing fury. "They did what?"
He spat a vicious curse around the cigar in his mouth.
"What is it, Simon?"
Simon held up a hand. "Listen, Joel, you and Megan get
out of there now, and get back here on the double! And for chrissake, be careful!"
The captain disconnected the call. "Your place has been totally trashed,
Jim. Since Sandburg's most likely number one on Escobedo's shit list, we're
going to assume he was behind it. You'll have to replace everything." He
repeated what the big detective had told him.
Blair was horrified. Jim hadn't brought much back from
Jim was pale with restrained anger. He was able to sense
how devastated the younger man was by the loss of
his possessions, many of which were irreplaceable. At that moment he
would have taken great pleasure in taking the Colombian apart one body part at a
time. Jim brought his emotions under control and tried to lighten the
atmosphere. "Just what we needed on top of everything else!" he
grumbled. "Shopping in the middle of the busiest shopping season of the
year!"
"No, Jim, we're okay!"
"Oh, yeah? You care to explain that statement,
Chief?" When they had first moved in together, Jim had had a difficult time
dealing with how casually his lover spent money, and he'd insisted that they
manage on their salaries alone. "You'd have to tap into your trust fund.
All those beautiful things…"
"Things aren’t important, Jim!"
"But you're so upset!"
"Of course I'm upset! That bastard was in our home,
Jim!" Blair lowered his voice. "The place where we made love! We're okay, though! As for replacing everything…" he
shrugged. "I still have some clothes at Naomi's apartment, and I've been
leaving your Christmas presents there, as well." Jim looked affronted.
"You know what you did before your birthday! He made me crazy trying to
find where I'd hidden his presents," Blair informed the captain, who, in
spite of the seriousness of the situation the two men were in, found himself
intrigued at this insight into the dynamics of their relationship. "He
almost destroyed the loft!" Blair's expression became sad as he realized
that the loft had truly been destroyed, and by professionals who knew how to do
the most damage. He glanced at his watch. "Listen, Captain. Can you have
Taggart and Megan swing around to Naomi's? She should be home now. I'll give her
a call, and she'll have everything packed and ready by the time they get
there."
"Sure, Sandburg. Nice… uh… nice going." The
praise was grudging. Captain Banks reached for the phone.
While the captain was getting in touch with his detectives,
Blair was on another phone, calling his mother. "Hi, Matilda, it's Blair.
Is my mother there?"
In a matter of seconds, Naomi was on the line. "You
just caught me, sweetie. I was on my way out…"
"Mom?" He was surprised at the wave of emotion
that overtook him. His throat clogged, and it took a minute before he could get
another word out. Jim saw and put his arm around the younger man.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Naomi's voice was sharp.
"What's happened?"
"I'm fine, Naomi; really, I'm fine. But Jim and I have
to leave the country for a couple of weeks."
"You're not doing this to get out of the New Year's
Eve party, are you, Blair?"
He gave a choked laugh. "No, Naomi, I promise I
wouldn't go to these lengths. Eli Stoddard taped something, and he sent the
video cassette to me. This man from
"Sandburg!"
Simon hissed.
Blair arched a questioning eyebrow, but the captain just
held out his hand implacably. "Hold on a second, Naomi. Captain Banks wants
to talk to you." Blair gave Simon the phone.
"Ms. Sandburg? I wanted to warn you. We're getting
your son out of the country because he's in danger. But there is a possibility
that you could be targeted also. I can assign some plain clothes officers to
you, if that would help you feel more comfortable."
"That's very kind of you, Captain Banks. I have my own
security."
"Jess
"I will, thank you for your concern. By the way,
Simon… I may call you Simon, mayn't I? And of course, I'm Naomi."
Jim watched in interest as his captain's cheeks turned ever
darker under a flush. Simon frowned at him and turned a shoulder.
"Certainly you may call me Simon… Naomi."
Unashamedly, Jim stretched his hearing so he could
listening in on the conversation.
"I'd love for you to come to the New Year's Eve party
I'm having at the Mayor's place," Naomi was saying, adding graciously,
"and any of your officers who
might be free to come, also." It was an obvious afterthought.
Jim nudged Blair away. "I think Simon has an
admirer."
"Huh?" Blair was clearly not paying attention,
and for a moment Jim wondered where his mind was.
"How would you feel about your mom dating Simon?"
"Huh?"
Blair's eyes widened in stunned surprise. It was clear he had never given a
thought to his mother's social life. Jim grinned, pleased that he had succeeded
in diverting his lover from whatever somber images had been disturbing him.
"Come over here, Chief, and I'll explain the facts of life to you."
****
"Ms. Sandburg." Joel Taggart had never met the
kid's mother before; it wasn't likely they'd travel in the same social circles.
He found himself a little uncomfortable. A little, hell! He was so intimidated
he was lucky he remembered to accept her politely offered hand.
Naomi was aware of the ambivalent feelings of the Cascade
PD toward her son. In spite of finally devising a way to meet the fascinating
Captain Banks of Major Crimes, she wasn't happy, and she made no effort to
conceal it from the two detectives Matilda, her Jamaican maid, showed into the
living room. "Listen to me carefully, Detective. If anything, anything!
happens to my son, I will personally make the life of every last member of Major
Crimes a living hell!"
"We understand your concern, ma'am, but Detective
Ellison will see to his safety," Megan Connor assured the older woman. She
looked beyond her at the big man who stood just behind
her shoulder.
Naomi hmphed. "He better had!" She noticed where
Megan's eyes lingered. A man might not pick up on the interest in them, but
Naomi Sandburg prided herself on her astuteness. And the fact that she wasn't a
man. "This is Jess Franklin, head of my security."
Over six feet tall, with ink black hair and eyes like green
ice, Franklin had been reluctant to leave the Marines, but then Naomi Sandburg
had made him an offer too good to refuse, chief of her security, the ability to
hire whomever he chose, and an unlimited budget for high tech gadgets. The seven
figure salary she'd promised had been icing on the cake. He'd bid farewell to
the Corps, taking a number of his best men with him. He let his gaze wander over
the Aussie woman, liking what he saw. Strong women had always appealed to him.
He turned his attention back to his boss.
"Captain Banks suggested that I should alert my people
since he felt I might be in danger of being targeted as well as my son."
She gestured to where a duffle bag and a backpack were waiting on the sectional
couch. "Blair said he needed his spare camera also."
Megan picked up the duffle, while Taggart reached for the
backpack, stifling a surprised grunt. With the excuse that time was of the
essence, they politely bid Ms. Sandburg good-bye. As they hurried out of the
luxurious penthouse apartment, Megan risked a backward glance at the chief of
security. She blushed to find that his pale green eyes were on her legs. He
raised his eyes and licked his lips, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a
grin. Megan found herself returning the grin. The bloke was definitely dinky-di!
She hoped she'd have the opportunity to… work… with him closely. Her nipples
tightened, and she tugged her suit jacket to make sure they were concealed.
"Damn, this thing is heavy!" Taggart groused as they strode to the elevator.
"What does Sandburg have in here? Rocks?" He'd been glad to see Jim
back on the Cascade Police Department, but even after six months, he wasn't sure
of the young man who'd come back with him. In his experience, rich young men who
couldn't seem to settle on a job weren't to be trusted. He hoped Jim wasn't
riding for a fall.
"Joel? What's wrong, mate?" They entered the
elevator.
He shook his head. "I just hope Jim knows what he's
doing."
Megan grinned at him. "Jim was Black Ops! If anyone
can get
Keeping his eyes on the numbers that flashed above the
door, Taggart didn't bother to correct the other detective. They left the
building and crossed to where they had left their unmarked vehicle.
"I'm driving, Joel!" Megan jiggled the keys to
the police vehicle in the air, and Taggart laughed, his apprehensions set aside
for the time being.
He liked the Australian woman, and they made a damned good
team. When they'd first been partnered, he'd been dismayed, unsure how she would
react to having a black partner. Henri Brown had told him to chill, that it
would work out fine, and to Taggart's everlasting surprise and relief, it had.
Megan was one of the best cops he'd ever worked with. When he'd confessed as
much to H one night while they were basking in the afterglow of a torrid round
of sex, the younger detective had reached around and pinched his butt.
"Told you so, big guy!"
By the time Taggart and Connor finally arrived back at the
Precinct, the plan was only waiting on them to be put into action. Joel handed
Blair the backpack-cum-camera case, and he took it with an absent 'thank you'.
Taggart noted that Blair had no problem shifting the pack's considerable weight
to his shoulder. He felt a grudging sense of respect for his friend's lover.
"All right, gentlemen, if you're ready to go?"
"I feel damned stupid dressed like this,
Captain!" Brian Rafe complained as he tugged at the hem of the uniform
skirt he wore. Opaque pantyhose hid, for the most part, the fact that he had
very hairy legs. "How did I get volunteered for something like this? I
didn't raise my hand, and I sure as hell didn't take a step forward!" He
settled the wig with its long, straight blonde locks that fell past his
shoulders firmly on his head.
"No, they all took two steps back!" one of the
detectives who'd come in earlier from a stakeout snickered. She gave a playful
leer and waggled her eyebrows. "Besides, Rafe, you have the cutest legs of
all the guys in Major Crimes."
"Hey, hey!" Blair protested. "That is so not
true! No offense, Brian. But Jim has legs to die for!"
The Bull Pen erupted into laughter, and Ellison pretended
to bang his head against the wall. "Thanks for sharing that with everyone,
Chief."
"That's enough, people!" Captain Banks thought it
best to step in before things got totally out of control. "Let's get this
show on the road. Jim, Blair into the cart." The stainless steel donut cart
was about three feet long and two feet wide. It had doors on each side which
opened to reveal a storage space that would normally contain enough stock to
supply the entire station with goodies. Now donuts, Twinkies, cupcakes, HoHos,
and a variety of other pastries were scattered over the desks in the Bull Pen to
make room for Jim and Blair. "Don't anyone touch them!" Simon barked.
"The last thing I need to deal with is a squadroom full of cops on a sugar
high!"
Jim got in first, and Blair wedged himself in after,
settling in the vee of the bigger man's thighs. They'd practiced when Jim first
got the idea of being smuggled out of the station in the Donut Dolly's cart;
they knew they would fit, but with the duffle bag and the backpack, it was a
tight squeeze. By the time Blair was settled as comfortably as the narrow space
allowed, Jim's cock was nudging his lover's ass. Neither of them saw any reason
to complain.
Simon closed the door of the cart and gave it a light tap.
"You're on your way. Rafe will get you into the van, drive to the airport,
and you'll catch your flight to
****
The flight to
Jim's smile was soft and tender as he gazed down at the
riot of curls that tickled his chin, and he shook his head. "Some other
time, Slick."
The flight ended fifteen hours later with Jim's ear pressed
over his lover's heart, the rhythm soothing and grounding him. Both of Blair's
arms were around him, holding him securely, and he nuzzled Jim's short-cropped
hair. The small jet rolled to a stop on the postage stamp-sized, private
airstrip that was just outside of
"Come on, Jim. Time to wake up. We're here."
"I know." There was a chuckle in his voice.
"Have you been awake long?"
"About twenty minutes, Chief. I felt and heard the
change in the engines when the pilot started the descent, and it woke me."
They unwound themselves and
unfastened their seatbelts.
"Why didn't you let me know?" Blair got out of
his seat and stretched his arms above his head.
Jim admired the expanse of flesh that was exposed as
Blair's shirt rode up. "I like being in your arms, Chief."
"These arms?"
The gratification in Blair's voice startled the older man. "They're
just arms, Jim."
"No, Chief." Jim caught the
Blair was almost breathless from the abrupt sexual
excitement. It seemed too long since he'd felt safe enough to indulge in
passion. He leaned forward to deepen the contact.
"All ashore who are going ashore," the pilot
called from the cockpit, reluctant to disturb them but needing to refuel and
start the journey back to the States.
"Later, Chief!" Jim let him step away from him.
Blair hummed agreement, then jammed his fists into the
small of his back and arched to work out the kinks. He reached into the overhead
compartment, but Jim was there before him.
"We'll be staying in
Blair shrugged. "I always take my cameras with me,
Jim. I'd feel naked without them."
That earned him a lascivious leer. "I
want to feel you naked, Chief."
"You know what I mean." He bumped Jim's hip with
his own, smiling up at him through his lashes. "All I want right now is a
room, a meal, and you in my bed."
"Sounds good to me, Chief." Jim started toward
the exit, swearing to himself that he could feel Blair's eyes on his ass.
"But not necessarily in that order!" He grinned over his shoulder.
Sure enough, deep blue eyes were fastened on his butt, stripping his jeans off.
Jim's step was jaunty as he headed for the lone taxi parked on the edge of the
airstrip.
The driver, a small man of obvious Andean descent, leaned
against a fender, and his lips parted, revealing a wide space between his front
teeth. "Allinmi
jamusgayki, Enqueri!" he called in Quechua. "Welcome! It has been too
long."
"Aquilino! Allillanchu? How are you? It's
good to see you again." Jim responded in the same language. They gripped
each other's forearms, then embraced warmly.
The small man studied Blair, his eyes narrow in
consideration, and then they widened. "He is the one, Enqueri?"
"He is the one, Aquilino. Blair Sandburg."
Blair stood by, looking from one to the other but saying
nothing.
The Peruvian nodded in approval. "Incacha will be much
pleased to hear of this." He took Blair's hand and pumped it vigorously.
"I am happy to know you, Blair Sandburg," he said in Spanish.
"And I you," Blair replied in the same language.
"Now come, you have had a long journey, and you must
be weary. I will take you to Hostal de las Artes." He turned to Blair and
continued in Spanish. "I think you will find the beds there very
comfortable, guía de Enqueri." He opened the door for them with a
flourish, then got behind the wheel.
The drive was a smooth one, and soon they were turning into
Jiron Chota, the street where the hotel was located. Aquilino pulled up in front
of the restored, colonial style mansion, and Jim leaned forward to press some
large bills into his hand, over the man's protests. "For your family,
amigo, for what you did for me when I stayed with them."
The man squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Until we meet
again, my friend."
Blair followed Jim out of the cab, and watched as it drove
away. He decided he'd wait until they were shown to their room before he asked
the many questions that were rioting in his brain.
Within a quarter hour they were registered and took the key
from the concierge. Jim lead the way to their room, which was quite spacious for
Blair set his backpack carefully aside, then made himself
comfortable on the double bed, testing the firmness of the mattress. "What
did Aquilino's family do for you, Jim?"
Jim looked startled, then remembered that Blair had told
him he had learned Quechua when he was working on his doctorate. "They took
me in when I was first stranded in
Blair felt a flash of emotion. Had the Shaman also been
Jim's lover? He struggled to suppress the irrational jealousy. "I don't
understand. If he taught you control of your senses, why did you leave
Cascade?"
"I said he tried to help, Chief. By the time the army
got me back to the States, my senses had gone offline, and I buried the memory.
When they started acting up again a few years later, I thought I was losing my
mind. I panicked and ran back to
"That's what Aquilino called me, Enqueri's
guide."
"Yes. Enqueri is my Chopec name."
"So… I'm your guide." He tested the
words on his tongue. "I'm your guide. I'm your guide?"
"Uh, Chief… Starting to get a little repetitious
here."
Blair scowled at him. "All right, let's try this
instead. Tell me why you waited all this time to tell me I'm your guide."
"Chief…"
"You didn't think I could do it, did you? You thought
I'd let you down at the last minute. You think I'm a dilettante, just like
Richard does, just like Naomi does. Jesus, Jim. Why should anyone in Major
Crimes take me seriously, when it's so obvious you don't?"
"Chief, you don't understand…"
"Damn straight, I don't understand. I'm twenty-eight
years old, Jim. I've got a doctorate in anthropology, one of the youngest
candidates for it in
"Babe…"
"Don't you 'babe' me! Look at this!" He gestured
toward his lower body where his cock was tenting his jeans. "I'm hard!
As crazy as you make me, I'm fucking hard!" He rose from the bed and
stalked toward his lover, backing him up until he was against a wall,
with nowhere else to go. Blair cupped Jim's crotch, and his hand was filled with
hard, Sentinel cock. "Yes." He traced the outline with his fingertips,
and a massive shudder shook Jim's body. "Oh, yes."
Blair fisted his hands in the linen shirt his lover wore,
the shirt he had bought him, and he could feel Jim's nipples become pebble-hard
as he rubbed his knuckles against them. With a savage yank, he tore the shirt
apart, the buttons scattering over the floor.
"You were never going to stay with me, were you?"
All of Blair's insecurities came pouring out. "The first time I screwed up,
you were going to be out the door!" He curled his fingers around Jim's neck
and pulled his head down for a kiss. "Well, fuck that! I won't let you
go!" He whispered so softly that only the hyper-active hearing of a
sentinel would have heard the words. "You're mine!"
"I was never going to leave you, Blair! I'll always be
yours! Don't ever let me go!" Warm, firm lips met, caressed, parted only to
return in branding, claiming kisses.
"This time I'm topping you, Jim," Blair murmured
hoarsely. "This time, you're going to know what it feels like to belong to
me!"
Blair's hands became frantic as they scrabbled to divest
first Jim, and then himself of the clothing that interfered with their pleasure.
His Sentinel's eyes were wide, the blue iris a mere ring as the black of his
pupil expanded to take in every nuance of the expressions that chased themselves
across Blair's face; his fingertips touched his lover's face as if he were
memorizing it; his nostrils flared, taking in their combined scents, and Blair
realized Jim was extending all his senses, making him vulnerable to the man who
loved him.
When they were finally naked on the double bed, Blair
positioned Jim on his front. Warm lips nibbled their way from the indentation of
Jim's tailbone up the knobs of his spine, and he moaned in approval. Warm palms
cupped and kneaded his buttocks. Jim got his knees under him and raised his
hips, rocking back into his lover's touch.
"Like that, Jim?" Somehow Blair had managed to
get to the lube, and his slicked fingers slid easily into his lover's body,
twisting and curling to engage the bigger man's prostate.
"Yessss!" Jim was breathless. "Now, baby,
please, now!"
Blair withdrew his fingers, flattened his hands on his
lover's buttocks and parted them, leaving his anus exposed to the onslaught of
the cock that was about to ravage it. Jim pressed back against the flared head
of Blair's cock, and it began a steady, relentless forward movement. Both men
sighed in relief as its length passed the guardian muscle and continued until it
was buried deep within Jim's body.
Blair lay against his back, keeping his hips still,
occasionally flexing a muscle so his cock would quiver against Jim's prostate.
He ran his hands over his lover's nipples until they stabbed into his palms,
while Jim struggled to remain motionless. Blair's other hand was wrapped snugly
around Jim's cock.
With his heightened Sentinel senses, Jim could actually
feel the blood pulsing through the large vein on the underside of the cock that
was impaling him. He groaned. "Fuck me, baby, please!"
Blair nudged Jim's legs further apart and began to move
with slow, lazy thrusts that gradually grew faster, deeper and harder. Jim was
almost zoning on the needy sounds that spilled from his lover's mouth, pants and
moans and whimpers.
"Yes! So hot! So tight! Oh, god, Jim, yes,
squeeze me like that again!" Blair's legs trembled as the heat of his
lover's passage first threatened to overwhelm him, and then in fact did. With a
hoarse cry, he drove himself as deep as he could into Jim's snug channel. The
inner muscles rippled rhythmically, milking his essence from him.
"Blair!" There was desperation in the Sentinel's
voice, as his own orgasm shimmered just out of reach.
"I've got you, love." His hand tightened on his
lover's cock, and he used Jim's pre come to lubricate the strokes that saw him
filling Blair's hand as he shuddered to a climax.
****
"Come back to me, Jim. Come on, babe. Listen to my
voice." Blair was stroking his body with a warm washcloth.
Jim had never felt so sated, so replete. He sighed and
stretched languidly into his touch. He must have zoned from the intensity of his
orgasm. "I'm with you, Chief." He opened his eyes to stare into the
worried blue eyes of his lover. The corner of his mouth curved in a satisfied
grin. "Why haven't we done this before?" He winced a bit at the pull
of muscles not usually brought into play.
"You never gave any indication you wanted me in your
body, Jim." There was no resentment in the explanation.
Jim's euphoria vanished, and he felt like a real shit.
"I'm sorry, Blair. I should have at least asked if you wanted to switch
positions."
"I did, Joe Friday, and you turned me from my front to
my back." Blair finished wiping the evidence of their shared passion from
his lover's body and returned the washcloth to the bathroom. "I didn't
mind, Jim. I love any way you want to take me."
Of course. Blair always accepted his decrees
good-naturedly. Before this day, Jim had never seen him lose his temper.
He'd never once complained about the way Jim's fellow
detectives treated him. Jim thought of Simon's disdain, Joel's mistrust. He
himself tended to treat Blair at times as if he were a trophy.
"Chief…" Abruptly, Jim remembered the broken
eyeglass frames, the earpiece jutting out of the Colombian's throat. Blair had
coolly killed the man, but afterwards he had acted as if he would have been
helpless if Jim hadn't come for him.
Having no idea where his lover's thoughts were taking him,
Blair rested a knee on the bed. "I'm starving, Jim. I haven't eaten in
twenty-four hours, except for that package of Sno Balls back at Major Crimes. I
loathe Sno Balls."
"How does the L'Eau Vive grab you, Chief?"
"The L'Eau Vive? That's the one on Jiron
Ucayali, isn't it? Sure! I could go for French food, Jim, and they have
the best chef in
He pushed himself off the bed and turned to start dressing.
Jim wondered how he knew of the French restaurant, but he didn't ask, and Blair
didn't tell.
****
L'Eau Vive was actually a converted convent run by French
nuns, and the food they served was fantastic. Blair decided to try the aile de
raie aux câpres, skate
wing with capers, while Jim ordered boeuf bourguignon. He was relieved to note
that as Blair consumed more and more of his fish dinner, he relaxed more and
more.
Finishing the last of his white wine, Blair's tongue swept
out to catch a drop that lingered on his upper lip.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have exploded like that.
It won't happen again, I promise."
"No, Blair, I'm sorry. You had every right to
be angry. After everything I told you when we first met, I should have told you
that you are my guide. You're the reason I was able to go back to work on the
Cascade PD. I should have told the men I work with that you're what's kept me
from losing my mind. Oh, god, Blair, if it wasn't for you…" He reached
across the lacey white tablecloth, sliding his palm over the smaller man's hand.
"Forgive me."
"Jim, it's okay." Blair turned his hand and
curved his fingers to clasp his lover's, and Jim shivered from the sensation.
"Just please don't tell me, 'Love is never having to say you're
sorry.'"
"I promise." Jim felt better than he had since
he'd picked up his phone and realized his lover was in trouble. "Let's go
back to the Hostal. I'll call Simon, and we'll get the ball rolling."
"Yeah." Blair's eyes were heavy-lidded. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
Part 3- wherein
things do not go smoothly for the bad guys, and a new player enters the field
"Catorce, Miguel! Fourteen of my best men under
arrest. They wait to be deported." The Colombian drug lord was furious. Now
there was just him and his segundo, Miguel Ubarry.
"Jefe, perhaps we should cut our losses and
leave?"
"Perhaps I should cut off your balls, eh, Miguel? We
stay until we find where they are hiding Blair Sandburg! And then…"
Escobedo's eyes glittered with anger that bordered on the insane. "Then I
will give him to the men as a toy. They will force him to his knees and make him
take it in his mouth as well as in his ass. He will beg and plead for mercy; I
will laugh and give him none. Long before he is dead, this gringo will be
praying to die." His lips were covered with spittle.
Ubarry was wary of el jefe when he got like that, something
which seemed to be happening more and more frequently since he had ordered that
Americano killed. "Jefe, I will go see what I can learn."
Escobedo was lost in the vision of what he would have his
men do to Blair Sandburg, and waved his segundo away.
The segundo made his way to the police station, where he
strolled in the early twilight, as unobtrusively as a six foot five inch man
could, and cursed the damp chill of December in
"Hey, H! Wait up!"
The young, black detective had been walking down the
street, and he turned to face the police officer who was calling him.
Ubarry slid deeper into the shadows of a doorway.
"I hear Sandburg is really up shit creek!"
"Yeah. Captain Banks had to send him out of the
country! Trust hair boy to get himself into
trouble just walking out onto
"You know where he is, H?"
The dark face split into a wide grin. "You bet your
ass I do! Only, I ain't tellin'! C'mon, I'll buy you a drink. This has been a
day!"
"I hear that!"
The two men continued down
Miguel Ubarry knew that men often thought with their little
head. The black policeman would prove himself to be like every other man, making
a fool of himself over a pretty face and a seductive body. Ubarry knew the woman
who would be perfect for this job. He would send her to tempt the black
detective, and because he was a man, and she was a woman, she would succeed;
they would learn where Blair Sandburg was hiding, and el jefe would be happy.
****
The woman was beautiful. She had smooth, café au lait skin
and jet-black hair that tumbled down her back past her waist. Her eyes were like
bittersweet chocolate, and they gleamed with avarice as she faced el jefe.
Rico Escobedo stared at the woman dispassionately.
"What did he have to say?"
"That Henri Brown, he was like putty in my hands, señor."
She licked her lips and spoke, her voice a husky promise of sex, secure in her
allure. "His eyes, they grew hot at they looked on me." She ran her
hands over the small, high curves of her breasts, down to the indentation of her
narrow waist, and over the flare of her hips.
Escobedo curled his lip.
Crazy Americanos. They preferred a woman who was all angles, when one who
was cushioned in softness was so much better. He motioned for her to continue.
"He was unable to resist me. Every question I asked,
he fell over himself to answer. He boasted of what happened at the big house
outside of town, telling me he was one of the men who rescued Señor Sandburg.
It was so easy, like taking candy from a child, he said. He was hoping I would
be so impressed I would tumble into his bed."
Escobedo gritted his teeth. The black gringo was
unimportant. He did not have the time to destroy every fool who angered him, and
he was becoming impatient with the woman's drawn-out recitation. "What did
he have to say about the whereabouts of Señor Sandburg?"
"There was no need to take him to my bed, señor. He
spoke quite freely."
"What did he have to say, mujer?" His irritation
was evident.
"Blair Sandburg was taken by his lover, the police
detective, James Ellison, to
Escobedo glowered at the woman, his hands clenched into
fists, strongly tempted to strike her. "Do you think I am stupid? I know
where
"Perdóneme." She gazed
at him from under her thick lashes, moistened her lips, took a step closer, her
fingers stroking his upper arm. "What do you wish me
to do now, Rico?"
His hand shot out, and the palm
connected with her soft cheek, leaving a livid print. "Señor!"
he snapped. "Always, you will address me as señor! Miguel! Get her out of my
sight!"
She cradled her cheek in her palm, her eyes liquid with tears. The bruise throbbed with each beat of her heart. "Why?" she whimpered when Miguel had lead her into another room. "Why did he strike me? What did I do?"
"It is best you do not ask, pequeña.
Here is the money you were promised." He stuffed a handful of bills into
her cleavage, then dragged her forward and ground his mouth against hers and
squeezed her breast cruelly. "Remember, if you speak of this, el jefe will
know of it, and I will come after you." He grinned, his golden canines
catching the faint light in the room. "Now go, woman."
She didn't wait to be told twice. She bolted out of the
cramped apartment that was all the two men needed since their numbers had been
so reduced.
"Miguel!"
"¿Si,
jefe?"
"See that everything is in readiness. We go to
****
****
"You about ready to go, Chief?" Jim zipped up the
duffle and looked across the room to his lover. "I'll take the
backpack."
"No, that's okay, Jim. I've got it." Blair
slipped his arms into a light jacket, then slung the backpack over his shoulder,
rolling the joint to settle the heavy weight. He hoped Jim would buy his
innocent smile.
Jim sighed, but didn't say anything more. He tucked his
police issue revolver into its shoulder holster, then put on his own jacket and
caught up the duffle bag. One last glance around to make sure they weren't
leaving anything behind, and they went down to the lobby to turn in their room
key.
"This way, Chief." Jim nodded toward the door
that opened onto a courtyard at the rear of the hotel, and Blair followed him
into the cool, morning sunlight. In a few hours the temperature would have risen
to the low seventies, but right now the jackets they wore were welcome.
"¡Hola, amigo!" At the entrance of the courtyard
was the mestizo Blair had first met six months before.
"Rafe!" Jim dropped the duffle, and the two men
embraced. "It's good to see you again, amigo!"
"Si. It is good to have you back, Jim! Things have
been too quiet since you leave us. You are looking well. Living with Señor
Blair agrees with you!"
Jim pulled Blair to his side. "Yes, it does."
"Hola, Raphael." Blair's hand was engulfed by the
warm paw of Jim's friend, but he didn't need sentinel senses to know the man was
riding on nerves.
"We had better get on the road, si? It is not the full
rainy season yet, but we do not want to chance getting caught in a shower. Mi
amor, she is just outside the courtyard." Raphael led them to the battered
jeep that was parked on the side of the road. Jim said something softly to him,
and Raphael grunted in response. He took the duffle and placed it in the rear of
the jeep, and gestured for Blair to do the same with the backpack. "The
drive, it will take more than five hours."
"The train would get us there quicker, Jim."
Blair wasn't challenging his lover's choice of transportation.
"It would have been quicker, Chief," he agreed as
he climbed into the jeep after Blair, "but it would also have made us more
vulnerable. Escobedo knows where we are now. He'll be able to get in touch with
his people and have them start tracing us, and I'm not about to give that
bastard any kind of edge. Rafe?"
"We have heard of this band, Los Mal Malos, but Rico
Escobedo, him we do not know. I have sent word to Incacha. His Chopecs should be
at
"Excellent, amigo! Now, just keep your eyes on the
road!"
"Si, Jim. But you are such a worry wart!"
"That's why I'm still alive, amigo!" Blair
shivered. "Are you cold, Chief?"
"No. I…" //… just got that feeling that
someone walked over my grave.//
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am, a little."
Jim pulled his lover closer against his side, and the rest
of the ride was passed in that manner.
****
"
"Uh… tin roof, Jim?" Blair couldn't help but
notice how relaxed his lover had grown the further away from civilization they
had gone. "Is that some kind of drink, like Sex on the Beach or Long Island
Iced Tea?"
Jim burst into laughter. " No, it's on the
house." The jeep parked in front of the cantina, and they got out and
stretched, stiff from the long drive.
"On the…? Oh, I get it."
"Not right now, Chief, but you will later!" Jim
was right behind him, and the bulk of his body concealed the sly brush of his
palm over his lover's ass. The breathy sound Blair made was only audible to
Sentinel ears.
They walked into
At a table at the far end of the room, tourists were
gathered around, listening in fascination to the tale being spun by a tall man
wearing a bushman's hat that was angled back on his head.
"Well, that reptile caught me by the arm and went into
a death roll! I thought I was a goner, for sure!"
A very pretty woman turned pale at the danger he had been
in. "And you faced that crocodile all alone, Mr…?"
"'Gator', please. Call me 'Gator'. And no, I wasn't
alone. I had old Betsy with me." The man patted the knife that was sheathed
at his side.
"Son of a bitch!" Blair bristled. "He's
trying to cash in on your experience with the crocodile! Jim!" he
whispered, annoyed to hear his lover laughing, "it isn't funny!"
"It's a rip, Chief. You just have to know how to look
at it!" Jim walked toward the group and laid his hand on the man's
shoulder. "Hello, Gator!"
The man jumped and nearly fell off his stool. He reared
around, staring at Jim in astonishment, and then his blue eyes crinkled into a
smile. "Jim! I missed you!" He swept the man into a bone-crushing
embrace, and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. "I missed you!"
"I missed you too, Stevie."
"You want to introduce us, James?" Blair bristled
even more.
"Yes, James." The other man was laughing.
"Introduce us."
"Blair Sandburg, my brother, Steven Ellison. Steven
Ellison, my partner, Blair Sandburg."
Steven Ellison released his brother and thrust his hand
toward the man who stood there staring in stunned amazement.
"His brother?" Blair accepted the hand, studying
him, noting the similarities he had first missed, the same ice blue eyes, the
same cheekbones and long jaw, and ghost of a cleft in their chins. "You're
Jim's brother?" They even had the same color hair, although Steven wore his
longer and shaggier.
"He's spoken of me, I gather. And you're Jim's…
partner. I always wondered when he'd find someone to settle down with. Guess
that kinda makes us related." He pulled Blair into a hug, then stepped
back. "Welcome to the family, baby bro."
Blair opened his mouth to make a casual, flippant remark,
but nothing came out. The easy acceptance by Jim's brother astonished him.
Jim was pleased to see his brother's approval of his lover
and watched their interaction with amusement. "I never thought I'd see the
day when Blair Sandburg was at a loss for words! I'd say this calls for a drink!
Pablo?"
"Si, amigo. And the first round is on the house!"
That raised a cheer.
They took their bottles of beer and retired to a
table in the corner. Steven raised his hat politely to the group he had
been regaling with tall tales, and the pretty woman smiled at him. "Perhaps
you and your party would care to join us for a drink, fair lady?"
"I'm sorry, our tour bus will be leaving in a few
minutes. But I did enjoy hearing of your adventure. Gator." She fluttered
her lashes.
"Do you have a map?" he asked, and she shook her
head, confused. Steven sighed gustily. "I keep getting lost in your
eyes."
Her lips parted. "Oh!"
"Come on,
"She has the most velvet-y brown eyes," Steven
remarked to no one in particular.
"My brother, the ladies' man!" Jim whispered into
Blair's ear.
"I always wanted a brother," Blair mused, someone
who was as fond of him as Jim obviously was of the man who was now blowing
softly across the mouth of the beer bottle, making it hum.
"Bite your tongue, Chief! Steve was the bane of my
existence when we were growing up, always stealing my girlfriends!"
"Don't you believe him for a second, Blair!"
Jim's brother attempted a pious expression, but the wicked glint in his eye gave
him away. "Could I help it if every one of those girls took one look at me
and dropped Jim like a hot potato?" Steve smoothed his thick brown hair
back off his forehead. If his widow's peak was as pronounced as Jim's, his
hairstyle concealed it.
"So I have you to thank for the fact that Jim came to
me a virgin?" Blair asked innocently. The cantina had fallen silent, the
occupants listening avidly.
"Chief! I was not a virgin!" Jim turned red.
"Um…"
Laughter erupted, and Jim, his elbows on the table, dropped
his head into his hands. "There goes my reputation as muy macho!" he
mourned.
Blair leaned toward him. "Your reputation is safe with
me, tough guy." He raised Jim's chin. Snaring his eyes, Blair pursed his
lips and blew him a kiss. He rubbed his thumb over the corner of his lover's
mouth, then calmly finished the rest of his beer. "Pablo, tres cervezas,
por favor."
The grinning bartender brought three more bottles to their
table. "Gracias, amigo. There has not been so much entertainment in my
cantina since… since the last time you were here. It is good to have you back.
Both of you. Salud."
There was a chorus of 'saluds',
followed by the musical clink of bottles and glasses tapping each other.
"What brings you to this part of the world, Steve? The
last I had heard, you were chief operating officer of Ellison Enterprises."
Steve licked the trace of beer from his upper lip.
"Still am, big bro. But Dad sent me to check out our interests here in
"You know Dad never approved of my lifestyle. I just
didn't think he'd… want to hear from me."
"And me, Jim? Did I ever once give you the impression
I disapproved of the way you chose to live?"
"No, you never did, Stevie. I'm sorry. I should have;
I didn't, and I should have."
Steven leaned forward and smacked Jim's shoulder.
"Next time, call!"
"I promise, Steve." The brothers stared into each
other's eyes, and then Jim cleared his throat and rubbed the bridge of his nose,
and Steven became busy with the
laces of his hiking boots.
And Blair was charmed by their behavior.
"So, Steve, how long will you be in
"Just another few days. I promised the old man I'd be
home for Christmas this year."
"Naomi, my mom, is throwing the New Year's Eve party
to end all New Year's Eve parties, and if you're only going to be a few hundred
miles from Cascade, why don't you come? I know it would mean a lot to Jim to
ring in the new year with his… brother."
"Chief, you don't even know if Simon will give me the
night off!"
"Jim, if your brother is going to the party, the least
Simon can do is let you join him!"
"You're devious, you know that, Sandburg?"
"I love you too, Ellison."
Raphael meandered up to the table with a glass of tequila
in his hand. "Did I miss anything?"
