Face Value

by Scott, R. J.

"Beck. For God's sake, it's three in the morning."

  "Cab's run twenty-four hours." A strong hand held him tight and he was up close and personal to the definitely blond and square jawed Kayden. Details were blurry but Beckett could make out the general shapes and colors of things around him.

  "Not to places this remote they don't. Go back to bed and we'll talk in a few hours." Beckett shook off the hold and stumbled to stand upright with the sudden loss of support. He felt for the table next to the stand.

  "Get me a phone." He remembered his own phone had flown from his hand and shattered into pieces.

  "We'll talk in the morning, kid."

  "You can't stop me leaving."

  Kayden moved fast. Left the room and shut the door

  behind him slipping what sounded like some kind of

  outside lock. What the hell? Kayden had locked him in his room?

  "Let me out!" Beckett beat on the door with his good hand. "Let me out, you freaking bastard."

  "We'll talk in the morning," Kayden's voice was so damned calm.

  "Fuck you, Kayden."

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  "Likewise, Beckett."

  Beckett slumped miserably to the floor with his

  back to the door. What the hell? Didn't Kayden get how important this could be? All it would take was a quick trip from wherever the hell 'here' was to Albany. With the key and an idea of which bank the box was in they may find enough inside it to really do some harm to Bullen

  operations. Severely pissed, he knocked his head back against the door, wincing as neck muscles protested the movement. There was no way he was sleeping now, but

  hell if he was going to sit on the floor for what remained of the night. Wearily he stood and crossed to the bed which had changed from being a dark shape to an actual white rectangle. Still bitterly angry at the way Kayden had handled the situation—locking him in his room like he was a freaking kid no less—he climbed onto the bed and pulled the sheet up and around his neck.

  Just wait 'til the morning. Asshole.

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  CHAPTER 7

  When Beckett woke again it was to a room flooded

  with light. That much he could see. A lot of light and blurry images. Pushing himself upright he blinked and scanned the room. The unit he had been rummaging in had six

  drawers. Count them, one, two, three, four, five and six.

  The edges were distorted and it appeared to him as if he looked at everything through fog but this was so much better than yesterday. Maybe losing his temper was a good thing. Groaning he allowed his chin to drop so it touched his chest and replayed the whole embarrassing debacle of being treated like a kid last night.

  Of course Kayden was right. Beckett didn't know

  where the hell he was, or even where Austin lived. He knew where the lawyer worked, but it was hardly likely he'd be in the office at ass o'clock in the night. How far away did Austin work? Maybe twenty minutes outside of Albany? Ten? He couldn't remember. Then how far was

  that from here? Where the fuck was here? Yesterday had been a wasted day, he should have found out more. These Sanctuary people? They said they were looking out for him but was he ever really safe relying on someone else?

  Gregory, Alastair and the senator were all powerful men in

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  their own right. Frustration bit into him and it was like ice.

  Freaking locked door. Freaking eyes. Morning wood tented his sweats and he pushed it down. He didn't remember waking up with that yesterday so that was a good sign.

  Right?

  Holding his hand out in front of him he

  concentrated on the shape of the fingers from memory and what his eyes saw was definitely a rough approximation of a hand.

  "Better?" Shocked by the single word Beckett lifted his head quickly and grunted as the pain in his shoulder crunched and clicked. Temper driven he pushed himself up and off the bed and in seconds was toe to toe with Kayden.

  "You locked me in here," he snapped. Looking up into Kayden's face he was shocked to realize just how much of Kayden he could see. And hell, he was gorgeous.

  Young and gorgeous. A strong face and generous lips, curved in a smirk. Curly short blond hair was cut close to his head and long eyelashes framed brilliant green eyes.

  "It was for your own good, kid," Kayden said simply. Still with the smirk.

  Beckett stared straight into green eyes and took a

  step closer until only a breath separated them. Very deliberately he crowded Kayden back until they touched groin to groin and then whispered very low. "Not a kid.

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  See?"

  "Beckett—"

  "Ass." Beckett snapped and pushed at Kayden. He stormed out of the room as fast as he could with his limited vision and headed left like he had yesterday.

  "Beckett. We have—"

  "No. I don't want to hear it. If I have to open the freaking front door, strip naked, and flag down the nearest psychopath I will get to Austin."

  "Naked? Sounds good." A new voice reached him from his left and startled he spun on his foot. The motion caused him to slide off the rug and he stumbled to fall straight back into Kayden's arms. Temper and shock driven he pushed Kayden away.

  "This is Manny," Kayden said simply as a short bespectacled guy with long dark hair and a broad grin jumped the two small steps that separated kitchen from living space and thrust a hand out to shake. Beckett didn't even have time to appreciate the fact he could make out features plain enough. He was focused on the fact he could finally see in some detail the inside of this safe house. With wide open rooms and high glass ceilings this was one hell of a conversion—more like a luxury hunting cabin than a simple house in the middle of nowhere. He grasped the new guy's hand.

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  "All round IT expert and nice guy," Manny

  introduced himself. Beckett blinked at Manny, the long hair, and the rather interesting and very dark tattoo that disappeared under the collar of his black Star Wars tee.

  "Beckett Jamieson, prisoner and ex-blind person."

  Manny sniggered and Kayden sighed behind him.

  "You're not a prisoner," he explained patiently.

  "You locked my door," Beckett pointed out.

  "You locked his door?" Manny stated, aghast.

  Beckett looked at Manny's face but the smaller guy

  was grinning as well.

  "Don't you start teasing him as well, Manny,"

  Kayden said. He turned Beckett to face him and peered at his eyes. "Talk to me about the eyes and how you are feeling."

  "I'll make coffee then we can get started," Manny excused himself. Suddenly it was just him and Kayden standing in the sofa area and Beckett's temper lessened at the concern in Kayden's eyes.

  "It's better than it was. My left eye is a bit cloudy still." Experimentally he shut that eye and then nodded.

  "Yeah, not so good on the left but the right eye is better."

  "And your arm?"

  "Sore." Beckett shrugged.

  Kayden reached out and cupped his face, tilting

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  Beckett's head this way and that and examining his face.

  "The swelling is definitely going down. Your face is an interesting rainbow of black, blue and green though."

  "I bet it is." Beckett muttered. He thought about adding more to that but Kayden's firm grip on his face and the green-eyed gaze that was so focused on him was both comforting and mesmerizing. "You locked me in," h
e said instead. Even he could hear the shock in his own tone.

  "I had to," Kayden replied gently. He moved a little closer until Beckett could feel the small huffs of breath on his face. He dropped his gaze and focused on Kayden's lips as he talked. "You couldn't have gotten away from here last night, not when the entire place is on lockdown, not without the code. But if you had been pacing the rooms, worrying, thinking, then you would have had no sleep and that served no purpose. What I did was localize the issue so that you only had a smallish dark space and you felt safe enough to sleep."

  Beckett swayed closer, pressed his face into

  Kayden's touch. The words were mesmerizing and

  Kayden's voice was so gentle and thoughtful. There was enough there so that Beckett almost forgot he was pissed at the guy. "For what it's worth," Kayden continued, "I quite enjoyed locking you in the room." Kayden smirked and Beckett felt a smile start to grow on his face.

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  "You're as asshole," he murmured. God, those eyes are green.

  "I think you kind of like me despite thinking that."

  Kayden's free hand was tracing muscles in Beckett's good arm and then lower to rest on his hip bone. Beckett moved subtly. He wanted Kayden's hand on his dick, he wanted to feel Kayden's touch.

  "When you're not being a controlling bastard,"

  Beckett admitted. With a sigh he leaned in that extra inch and finally he tasted Kayden. The touch of lips started gently but when Kayden tilted his head and deepened the kiss Beckett wanted more. His broken arm was trapped between them and Beckett whined low in his throat when it stopped him getting closer. His other hand gripped

  Kayden's T-shirt tightly—an anchor to hold him upright.

  Damned infuriating doctor with his pretty eyes and his strong hold. It was enough to make Beckett beg for more.

  Kayden finally pulled back and traced Beckett's lip with a tender touch of his fingertip to the swollen flesh.

  They stared at each other and Beckett lost the power of rational speech at the look of intensity in the other man's eyes. There was a hunger burning there that he imagined was reflected in his own. After everything he had been through over the last few days this connection should simply be comforting but it was actually the hottest thing

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  he had ever done. Go figure.

  "I'm gay you know," Beckett said softly.

  "I kind of guessed that," Kayden said with a smile.

  "Breakfast," he added. He took a step backward and away from Beckett's reach and Beckett had to stop himself from pulling the doctor back.

  "Breakfast," Beckett repeated softly.

  "And talk," Kayden added.

  Beckett nodded and stood where he was for a while

  watching Kayden walking over to a seemingly very curious Manny. Talk? Talk was good. Not as good as kissing but things needed to be done.

  * * * *

  Manny carried his coffee and Beckett's into the

  comms room. For a few seconds after entering, Beckett stood in silence. He looked, as best he could, at every conceivable electronic communication device arrayed in the room. Several screens showed security footage of what he assumed was the local area. Each one cycled from a single image to another but one particular shot caught Beckett's eye.

  A full front view of the place he was in. A beautiful large cabin set back into forest and surrounded by fencing.

  There was nothing subtle about this place. It was in your face security and he wondered for a short moment how the

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  hell anything this big could be kept secret from anyone with an ability to take satellite images or just a good set of freaking binoculars.

  "Server system," Manny began. "Redundancy in an identical system, firewalls like you wouldn't believe. This core is essentially the panic room and you can play a mean Call of Duty on the far computer. Though don't play with Kayden, he's too good." Manny looked at Beckett expectantly but none of what Manny had said, apart from the Call of Duty reference, made much sense.

  "You have a panic room?" That was what Beckett focused on. He knew what one of those was. He'd seen the film.

  "Oh, compromise leads to shut down. This door,"

  he waved at the entrance they just came through, "and this one." That exit was on the opposite side. "They shut tight and the core here is where you're safe."

  Beckett looked about him curiously. Then the one

  question he wanted to ask just spilled from his mouth.

  "Where's the bathroom in that scenario?"

  "There isn't one," Manny replied. "Panic room lockdown is flashed to Ops in a nano second. You'd have the entire Foundation down on your ass in the space of an hour."

  "Cool."

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  "It's just a smaller part of the main lockdown."

  "Which is?" Beckett looked at Kayden as he entered the room with a basket of something. O h my God, are those croissants?

  "As soon as the front door shuts behind us we

  initiate lockdown. Windows, door, all secure." Manny answered readily. He was busy fiddling with a visual keyboard and his tongue stuck out a little way as he concentrated.

  "So last night I was in a locked house. But you still locked me in my room?" Beckett rounded on Kayden who took a step back nervously.

  "I couldn't have you stumbling around in the dark,"

  he said simply.

  "What is the code on this lockdown thing?" Beckett asked quickly.

  Manny grinned and hit a few more buttons. "You

  set your own code from here—"

  Kayden grimaced. "You don't need a code—"

  Manny and Kayden had spoken at the same time.

  Unspoken communication passed between them and then

  Kayden shrugged. Clearly some agreement had been

  reached. Manny gestured for Beckett to approach and

  indicated a pale violet screen displaying a few white boxes.

  "Type your code in here. Something memorable.

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  The code is only to be used in emergencies."

  Beckett entered a few numbers and then again when

  prompted.

  "And the panic room code."

  "You won't need it," Kayden said forcefully. "No one is coming near us, let alone getting inside."

  "Add a hash, a semicolon and a numeric five to the code you just entered and you are panic room safe.

  Remember the call goes direct to Sanctuary Ops, they'll know if you have used it."

  "Hash, semicolon and 5. Got it."

  Beckett grabbed at a pastry. They weren't as

  meltingly tasty as the pastries from the bakery near his dorm room when he had been in college, but they were damn good. He polished off two and then looked up as he realized everything was quiet. Both guys were staring at him. Manny with a smile on his face and Kayden? Kayden looked like his eyes were burning with heat. He was staring straight at Beckett who self-consciously flicked his tongue out to collect crumbs. When Kayden's eyes narrowed he added a quick brush of hand over lips and chin. Jeez. The sparks in that man's gaze were enough to start a freaking fire.

  "Guys," Manny interrupted their sexually

  heightened stand-off with a launch into summarizing where

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  the case was at. "We contacted Austin Mitchell, the lawyer you told Kayden about last night. He's set up for a Skype at ten."

  "A Skype at ten." Beckett repeated. Clearly Kayden hadn't returned to
bed himself last night if Sanctuary already knew about his theory to do with Austin.

  "The files were scrambled using encryption that only a mere genius such as myself would be able to break,"

  Manny said with no small amount of pride. He pulled up the list of files and dragged a finger over one. The screen flickered momentarily and then what looked like a scanned print of a document appeared on the screen. "I broke into this folder first. It was the biggest and that's because it is packed full of photos. What we have are actually sixty-seven images embedded into files. I pulled the individual elements out and laid them in a slideshow. Hang on." A flick of a finger and then Manny indicated the largest screen at the back of the room. Kayden turned a chair around and sat straddling it and resting his chin on the back. He was clearly in it for the long haul.

  Beckett didn't move as one after another newspaper

  cutting and police report smoothly transitioned on the screen. Was this what Elisabeth had found? She had given Beckett precise instructions of where to look for files that she said would go a long way to bring the Bullen family to

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  its knees.

  There was a ton load of information on the senator

  and his stance against crime on the internet. Seemed to Beckett that his uncle made a name for himself off of the back of his own family's reputation. What wasn't disputed was how the Bullen family made their money way back in the prohibition era. In fact it was from alcohol, gambling, and prostitution that the Bullens had gotten their mansion high in the Catskills. Uncle Thomas had run on the

  platform of making amends, of being whiter than white, of learning from his ancestors' mistakes.

  When he was elected there had been a lot of

  mutterings about fixed voting and payoffs, but there was nothing concrete. No journalist had undertaken exposés or splashed the Bullen family name across the papers in anything less than glowing terms. Beckett assumed money could wipe clean an awful amount of crap.