“I am sure you don’t.”
Wallace edged Reynolds further away from Jake and Carlyle.
“Imbecile,” muttered Carlyle as Reynolds finally took the hint and left.
He urged Jake’s chin up. “Come on.” He was not going to fucking cry because the bastard who tried to shove a dick down his throat said he wasn’t worth it. The fucking ATF agent assigned to the Ziehe case. A man he’d worked with for years. Forget the tapes, everyone was going to know as soon as Reynolds hit the office again. He couldn’t… he closed his eyes before Carlyle could see how upset he was and wonder if there was something more.
A handkerchief rubbed across his lips, scrubbing them clean. “Sweet boy.” Carlyle chastely kissed him while grabbing ahold of his leash. “I can’t leave right now, but I’m going to have Wallace help you get cleaned up, all right?”
Jake nodded.
“Look at me.” He reluctantly opened his eyes. Carlyle smiled, whispering, “You’re all done. You did great.”
He handed the chain off to Wallace. “Make sure he’s clean and comfortable.”
“Go on.” Then patted his flank as Wallace started off towards the front of the boat.
Jake kept his head down as Wallace led him towards the bow. Keeping close as they passed other guests laughing and drinking, as if seeing a young man crawling around naked was an ordinary sight. In many ways, Jake was glad they didn’t notice.
“Up here.” Wallace gestured to an equipment locker. Jake crawled up.
“Open your mouth,” said Wallace. He held a hose; Jake leaned forward, sipping the cool, fresh water that arced in a stream. “Spit it out.” Jake did as directed carefully avoiding him. “Again.”
“Close your eyes, boy.”
Then the water was washing over him. Wallace’s hand was gently rubbing his face, throat and chest. Erasing Reynolds’s marks on him, the cum. Rinsing him completely.
“Stay there.”
Only a second or two then he was back rubbing shampoo into Jake’s hair, carefully scrubbing in and behind his ears. For such a large man, he was incredibly gentle. It made Jake feel small, like a young child again as he kneeled there letting himself be bathed, taken care of.
“Close your eyes one more time for me. Gotta rinse.”
Jake did so. He could feel the suds slithering down his body as Wallace’s fingers carded through his hair. When he was done Wallace put down the hose, wiped the water off Jake’s face and then grabbed some more soap. He rubbed down his neck and chest.
“Such a sweet, baby boy. How that man thought… lucky for him Carlyle didn’t lose it.” Wallace kept murmuring about what an idiot Reynolds was as he washed Jake’s shoulders and arms, lifting them and doing his sides without tickling him. More soap lathered down his stomach.
“Kneel up,” he urged. “Gotta make sure you’re clean all over.” His large hand engulfed Jake’s soft cock, gently cleaning him. “You were so good today.” He ran his thumb carefully along the head of Jake’s cock, and then moved to his balls.
“That’s a good boy. Let’s rinse.”
When he was done Wallace pulled a package out of his pocket, unwrapped a stick of gum and pressed it to his lips. “You chew that while I finish up.” Jake obediently opened his mouth; the sweet taste of mint immediately began to disperse the lingering bitterness from Reynolds.
Wallace continued washing his legs and hips. Following along to his lower back and ass. He lathered all around and up to the plug. He felt the thick fingers circling where the plug filled him. Mmm… Cool water rinsing him clean, and then a firm tug on the base.
“Push out. Let it go,” said Wallace.
He dropped the hose and spread Jake’s cheeks as it came free. Jake braced his hands on his thighs leaning forward. Fuck. He felt empty, like it gaped open. Like it was just waiting for something to fill it.
Suddenly Wallace’s finger was back, circling the rim, pushing in. “Too dry. You need some more lube, baby boy.” Then two fingers were pushing in, slick and rubbing deep. It felt so good. Jake gripped his legs harder, clenching his teeth together to stop a moan from escaping. But, he couldn’t stop the jerking when those thick fingers pressed down on his prostate.
“That’s it. Let’s get you feeling good again, sweet thing.” Wallace was fucking him with those two fingers until Jake was hard again. “Perfect, baby boy. Just the way we want you. Nice and hard and happy.”
Jake groaned as Wallace replugged him; it slid in easily. He pushed it in and out a few times as Jake whined. Then grabbed a towel and started drying his hair. Wallace made his way down, briskly rubbing, taking an extra few moments with his dick until Jake was thrusting into the towel. Wallace chuckled and finished up; throwing it into a bin.
“You are a beautiful boy,” he said with a quick kiss to his forehead.
They headed back down the other side of the boat. Wallace paused then pulled him into a cabin containing a sofa, some chairs, and a desk: Ziehe’s office. They had strategized for hours about this. Carlyle and Wallace had tersely agreed after much debate that if the opportunity presented itself that Carlyle would divert attention while he and Wallace searched Ziehe’s office. Reynolds’s behavior had given them that.
Jake had offered them a memory stick from his team that he’d collected during one of his runs. It was everything the FBI had on Ziehe, his residences and computer network: the layout, firewalls, any passwords and IDs that had been accumulated over the years. Technically, Jake was suppose to handle the information transfer if the chance presented itself, but after watching Wallace plug it in and navigate the data Jake quickly realized that he was outgunned. He agreed to let Wallace do the hacking.
Wallace moved around the desk and inserted the flash drive, and typed madly on the keyboard while Jake watched for security. The window gave him a view fifteen feet down the deck. This side of the boat was quiet.
Jake couldn’t believe their luck. They might just get away with this. Wallace had files downloading in no time. He heard footsteps before a torso came into view. Jake scurried back over to Wallace.
“Play along, baby boy,” he whispered then yanked open his trousers, pulled out his cock and tapped Jake’s lips.
Fuck. He was hung. He could barely handle Donald, and Wallace was bigger; porn star big. This was never going to work. Jake’s jaw ached and his throat was sore. Obediently, he opened wide, grimacing.
“Good boy.” Wallace fed him, pulling him close. Jake could hear the footsteps nearing, entering, and then stopping.
Wallace grunted holding Jake’s head against him, chin between his balls. Huge. What a load they’d hold. Jake had yet to see him hard, but soft, his dick was impressively sized and a mouthful. It was doubtful he’d be able to handle it fully engorged.
“Damn. Your boss lets you use his toys.” Ziehe’s security guy sounded jealous.
“Hey, Fred.” Wallace thrust his hips forward and grunted, and then pulled his dick out of Jake’s mouth. Jake tried to gobble it up again, but he tucked himself back in before he could.
“Greedy cocksucker.” Fred eyed Jake. “Want another?” he said grabbing the front of his uniform pants.
“Boss doesn’t mind me enjoying a blowjob or two, but no one touches his boy without permission.”
Jake sat back on his heels displaying himself, and Fred avidly watched, admiring the view. Wallace smiled and edged over to recline against the desk. As much as Jake resisted the idea, he was beginning to enjoy the attention he garnered while playing with Carlyle. Admired for nothing more than being and giving into both their desires.
“You’re a lucky man. I could have a granite boner and blue balls and Ziehe’d make me take care of it myself. The hand gets old, but I bet that doesn’t.” He was staring at Jake’s mouth as he licked his lips and adjusted his cock. Wallace leaned back and pulled the zip drive out as Jake panted and rocked his plug against the deck, his breathy moans getting Fred’s undivided attention.
“Sorry to hear that.�
�� Wallace picked up the end of Jake’s leash. “That really sucks, man.” He tugged it. “Gotta get back before Boss misses us.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t hurry back if I were you. Things are a bit heavy right now. You know what I mean?”
Wallace tilted his head.
Fred seemed to be conversant in Wallace’s silent communication. “Yeah, man. It’s going down, again. So keep low. It was good to see you, Wallace.”
“Take care of yourself, Fred.”
Jake just knew Fred was watching his ass as they left the cabin; he gave a little extra sway. He couldn’t help but smirk when a frustrated groan followed them out. Others wanting him wasn’t nearly as interesting as Carlyle wanting him, but it was entertaining to toy with them. Knowing that Carlyle or Wallace were there to keep him safe gave him an unaccustomed freedom.
“Come on, boy.” Wallace’s voice sounded strained. “Stay close and quiet.”
When they turned the corridor back onto the deck, what was going down was immediately clear.
The Stakes
There was a male figure strung up on the hook near the back railing, the one use for big game fishing. Wallace pulled him towards Carlyle, moving quietly until he could tuck Jake between them. Carlyle gently placed his fingers against Jake’s lips, nodded to Wallace then turned back to the spectacle.
This wasn’t a scene. They weren’t playing. The figure had been stripped. Bluish smudges covered what Jake could see of the body, as if he’d been hit and kicked repeatedly until the pale flesh mottled. The beating had been just the beginning. Splatters of red marked the railing and Ziehe’s suit. More blood dripped from the six-inch serrated blade Ziehe held, a puddle was forming beneath the long lines on the hanging figure’s back and legs.
Jesus. This was torture. Jake could barely see. Wallace had wedged him between the bench seat and their legs with a foot between Jake’s knees. Wallace’s hamstring resting against Jake’s shoulder. Pinned in place, he could do nothing but watch.
Ziehe handed off the knife to one of his thugs and took a towel, wiped his hands, and tossed it aside. He grabbed the victim’s head, lifting it. Even with all the bruising, the deformed features, Jake knew who it was—Reynolds.
Fuckity-fuck-fuck. Jake must have made a noise because Wallace pressed him harder into the seat, and Carlyle laid a hand on the back of his neck. No else dared to look away from what was going on.
“You piece of shit.” Ziehe shook Reynolds’s head. Slapped his face a few times. “Wake up! We’re not done, yet.” His eyes fluttered open, or one eye half-opened.
“I want you to know. No one will ever find you. Was it worth it?”
Reynolds groaned.
“Move him,” Ziehe ordered. Two of his larger men appeared. One grabbed the hook hanging over the edge of the boat; the other lifted Reynolds and secured his bonds to it. He took a diving weight belt and wrapped it around him, then swung the body over the side.
The winch lowered Reynolds until all Jake could see was his head dangling beneath his arms. People started getting restless, shifting in their seats, murmuring. Carlyle kept petting Jake and Wallace looked grim. Then the heads started turning away, looking anywhere but at Reynolds.
The first scream was loud; the second, blood curdling; by the third, it was only a whimper. There was nothing but the sound of splashing, like something large was breaching the water, repeatedly. Suddenly, Reynolds slipped free from the hook, disappeared.
Jake started shivering. He couldn’t control it. He didn’t even notice, couldn’t register enough to be scared that Ziehe was now standing right in front of them. Looking down at him.
“That was dramatic,” said Carlyle. His hand caressed Jake’s neck; the one thing holding him together, so he didn’t quiver into pieces at their feet.
“Just a reminder. Hopefully, this one will stick.” Ziehe’s hands were stained. Jake couldn’t help staring at them. All that was left of Reynolds was smeared into that skin.
“If another body washes up on my shore there are going to be significant impediments,” Carlyle commented as one of the crew washed down the deck. Rivulets of red faded to pink as they swirled down the drain.
“That’s why we put the weight belt on. Cade Reynolds, or what’s left of him, is not surfacing anytime soon.” Ziehe gave Carlyle’s cheek a light slap. “I’ve found better ways of getting rid of trouble.”
Carlyle looked murderous. “He’d better not.
Shock. He knew the symptoms, but Jake couldn’t do anything. He sat there curled into Carlyle’s legs for the remainder of the sail. He couldn’t tell you how long it was or what else happened.
When it was finally time to disembark, Jake was eager to go, but Carlyle lingered saying goodbyes. At last, they were headed down the gangway. Jake’s movements were so uncoordinated. One hand slipped off the gangway railing, and he nearly fell, scraping his arm and almost braining himself. At which point, Wallace picked Jake up, carrying his shaking body. They were moving faster now.
Wallace opened the back door of Carlyle’s car. Carlyle slid smoothly into the back seat, then held out his arms for Jake. Wallace passed him over. The door had just shut before he started sobbing. Reynolds was dead: tortured, mauled to death by sharks, and left to the sea. He’d hated him for what he’d done, but Jake never would have wished that end on anyone.
And he didn’t do anything to stop it.
A damp cloth wiped the cold sweat from his body while a bottle was pressed to his lips. Jake took a single sip. “Go on,” urged Carlyle. “More.” Jake forced himself to finish half the bottle. .
Enveloped in a sheet, the crisp cotton was cool and soothing as Wallace hustled them into Carlyle’s villa. The resort was quiet. A few birds sang, and the waves lapped. In the far distance he could hear the murmur of a crowd. The perfect crimson sunset proved it was just another day.
Jake was losing time, all he had were flashes of memory. Wallace paced, talking, but Jake couldn’t understand a word he said. Lying on his side wrapped in Carlyle’s arms Jake watched his lips move, the sound distorted. Jake’s hair was damp. Had they bathed him again? Jake sank further into the mattress, pulling Carlyle’s arm around him tighter.
He rolled over. Empty. He was alone. Sunshine streamed in. It was later than he usually woke. After yesterday, he was glad to be up before noon. He padded to the toilet and pissed, smiling as he shook his dick before sliding it back into his briefs. He liked his hands; liked using them. Carlyle had ways of messing with his head that three older brothers had never managed to achieve.
Achieve. The data. Jake needed to deliver the zip drive. He tore back into the bedroom looking around. He wasn’t wearing any clothes yesterday. Wallace had it in his pocket, but they weren’t here. He checked the pile on the chair, the things he’d worn yesterday before the sail. Before he’d stripped in the car.
He dug through the pockets, shook them out, but there was nothing. Fuck. He had to have it. They wouldn’t have kept it, would they? Shit. Frustrated he fell back on the bed.
There it was, a black oblong in his peripheral vision. Sitting right on the bedside table was the drive holding down a note: In meetings, drop by after noon. –C.
He threw on some shorts and a crewneck. Sliding the stick into his sock, Jake headed out for a run. He was trying to figure out what to do about Reynolds. Was there enough information copied over to finally bring in Ziehe? And what was going to happen to Carlyle during the investigation.
Carlyle had refused to make any deals, but Jake could have gotten some of the charges dropped. Carlyle had never asked, though. Maybe he could petition Johnson to make some exemptions for aiding in the investigation. Jake wanted to help them.
Now that it was nearing the end, Jake was more confused than when they started. He wanted things he couldn’t have, a man that he shouldn’t, and enjoyed things he wouldn’t have dreamt of. This case had made a mess of his life.
Jake reviewed his pitch to Carlyle as he followed the meandering pat
h to his villa. He could get him to ask for a plea bargain. The FBI would be in a lather to get him as a material witness against Ziehe. With any luck, Carlyle would serve months, not years with a smart prosecutor and a lenient judge.
Months. Jake could handle that, but would Carlyle want anything to do with him after the trial and sentencing? As much as Jake wanted to believe that all the care and attention Carlyle paid him was more than just sex and good practices, he had his doubts. They’d never shared personal details; rather, Carlyle never shared with Jake. Jake’s past was spread out in front of him, yet he didn’t know a single thing that wasn’t related to the case and told to him beforehand in a briefing. Perhaps it was best to make a break, now.
Rounding the sweeping curve of the path, breathing in the heady perfume of orange blossoms, Jake approached the beach and Carlyle’s patio doors. He was early, but Jake too anxious to wait until noon. Through the glass Wallace gesticulated. Jake had never seen the man so animated. Raised voices drifted on the breeze, too muted to make out the words, but clearly Wallace and Carlyle were disagreeing about something. He thought he saw Wallace look out and see him, but he was walking towards the front door when Jake waved.
A Shift in Sands Page 6
