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Author's Chapter Notes:

Chapter dedicated to gotb30 who asked for more about the 'mystery'. Your wish is our command! TAG & Lorie



Chapter 11 - Tonight Let Us Assay Our Plot.



Lindsey and Mel arrived soon after Gus got up from his nap and they were immediately dragged upstairs by their son to look at his ‘Happy Room’. 


Brian got a kick out of watching the women’s faces; they seemed awestruck at how much effort Brian had gone to in order to decorate the room for ‘their’ son. Like it was somehow a hardship for Brian to do something nice for his child. Apparently, they’d never expected someone as inept at parenting as Brian Kinney to actually care about anything other than his latest business or sexual conquest. What-the-fuck-ever! Brian was done trying to win when it came to the munchers. 


Even now - seeing how happy Gus was - they weren’t exactly effusive with their praise. Lindsey seemed to think it had all been Youstin’s doing, and spent an excessive amount of time complimenting the young artist’s work. Justin, still pretending not to understand what she was saying, merely nodded vacuously at her and said ‘Da’ a lot. Mel, meanwhile, completely ignored Brian in favor of focusing on Gus’ long-winded explanations about how they’d done everything. But all that really mattered was the way Gus’ eyes glowed every time he looked up at his father. That was why he’d done it all and the rest of the world could just go fuck itself. 


As soon as he could get rid of the lesbian contingent, after first securing promises from them to let Gus come stay over in HIS room again the following weekend, Brian made excuses to Youstin about needing to put in an appearance at the office, and got the fuck out of there. Even as enjoyable as the weekend had been, he was already getting an itchy feeling caused by too much enforced domesticity. He needed a few hours of twink-free time. And, he imagined, Justin was probably equally ready to have some time to himself where he wouldn’t have to constantly act like he didn’t understand what was going on. 


Ted pounced on him almost the second Brian walked into the building. Judging by the fretful look on the CFO’s face, Brian already knew that whatever Ted wanted to tell him wouldn’t be good news. He ordered Cynthia to hold all his calls and keep the hordes away from his office before ushering Ted inside. 


Perching on the edge of his desk, Brian ordered, “Spill, Theodore!”


“You might want to sit down for this, Boss,” Ted cautioned, taking a seat on the sofa for himself. 


“If it’s that bad, it won’t matter if I’m sitting or not,” Brian reasoned, gesturing to his accountant to just get on with it.


“So, I did what you asked and dug a little more into Aleksi Kacmar,” Ted prefaced his disclosure. “What I found out . . . Well, it’s not good.” Brian merely crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t say anything, so Ted continued. “So, as you know, when we did the original due diligence on Kacmar and the Princess Mia Resorts, we were mostly focused on the company’s financial situation. As we always do, we pulled a D&B and ran a full international credit report as well as getting confirmation of his financial statements from his banks, both here and in Europe. All of that came back clean as a whistle. No red flags anywhere. But . . .”


“This may be the one time that I’m NOT happy to hear about a butt, Theodore,” Brian commented dryly without even cracking a smile. “Spit it out already.”


“Well,” Ted reluctantly continued, “because Kacmar looked so great on paper - financially, I mean - I only ordered a criminal background check on him for the US. Based on the financials, there just didn’t seem to be a need to do a full international criminal check, which can be difficult, not to mention expensive. Plus, Croatia isn’t very forthcoming on criminal records anyway. So, I didn’t bother.”


Brian thought about getting pissed off but then realized that he probably would have made the same call. “I looked at the financials too, Theodore. There wasn’t anything there that would have caused me to second guess the guy. From everything I saw, Kacmar looked squeaky clean. Not to mention the fact that, after I saw all those zeros in his bank accounts, all I thought about was how much of that green we could get him to transfer into our bank accounts.” 


“Exactly. But, after everything that happened with Youstin and then that weird conversation I had with Aleksi’s assistant, I figured maybe it was time to correct that oversight,” Ted explained. “Since Croatia is kind of a pain in the ass when it comes to that kind of investigation, though, I figured I would start by running a criminal check in some of the other countries where Princess Mia resorts have locations, like Greece and Italy, which are easier and much cheaper. And . . . I hit paydirt.” 


Ted pulled a folded piece of paper out of his inner jacket pocket and handed it over to Brian. Brian looked at the printout, which appeared to be a report from some background check firm in Italy. Skimming over the irrelevant stuff at the top, Brian quickly focused on the one pertinent entry near the bottom of the page. There it was. A ten year old criminal prosecution against Aleksi Kacmar from the Republic of San Marino.


“San Marino?” Brian questioned, trying to remember his European geography and failing to place the name. 


“Yep. It’s, like, the world’s tiniest independent country. Or close thereto,” Ted expounded like the nerd he was. “It’s located on the west side of the Adriatic, just inland from Rimini, Italy. Their entire economy is based on tourism and . . . Of course . . . The finance industry.” 


“Finance, as in, a great place to hide your money tax free?” Brian surmised.


“Bingo! You got it in one, Bri.” Ted nodded with a tense smile at his employer. “From what I hear, San Marino happens to be a favorite haunt for the money launderers of Europe. And, based on what it says on the report you’re holding, it also appears that our dear Aleksi spent some time there awhile back. Which was when he was convicted on illegal procurement charges.”


“Procurement?” With a scowl of disgust, Brian tossed the report onto the coffee table in front of where Ted was sitting. “As in, he’s a pimp?”


“Basically, yeah. By the way, did you know that prostitition is legal in Italy, as long as it’s not what they call ‘organized prostitution’ - like running a brothel - probably because of the close association between that and the mafia . . .”


“Oh, fuck!” Brian moaned. He also took that opportunity to sit down in the chair across from Ted, because all of a sudden his knees felt like they might not hold him up much longer.


“Exactly my reaction, too, Brian.”


“We just signed up to do the advertising for the mob?”


“Well, mob-adjacent, at least,” Ted clarified. “Do you remember Aleksi telling us about his ‘silent partner’? The guy who brought in all the money they used to remodel the resorts about five years back?”


“Some guy by the name of Duke, I think?” Brian remembered seeing the name in some paperwork but not much more about the guy


“Yeah. That’s him. Although his real name is Duje Petrović. Duke is just a nickname, I think,” Ted continued, retrieving another sheaf of papers out of his pocket and handing that over with even more of a frown than he’d been wearing before. “When I asked Aleksi about Petrovic, he totally blew me off, insisting that Duke had just provided some interim financing to cover the remodeling, but that the loan had already been paid back, so I hadn’t pushed for more. The financial statements backed him up on the claim so I didn’t ask for more, although I did make a note to follow up on Petrovic later; it was one of the few unchecked items on my due diligence list. But, as soon as I saw Aleksi’s criminal check, I figured I better follow up on the silent partner too, and . . .”

  

Brian didn’t know what he expected to see on this second report, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good. And he was right. This Petrovic guy had a page and a half of criminal charges on his criminal check. Some of them were serious crimes, too. It looked like Ted had found charges in both Italy and Greece, going back more than twenty years, including pandering, theft, and even extortion. For all that, though, the guy had never done serious jail time. Brian had to wonder if he’d just gotten a bad rap or if he’d somehow managed to pay his way out of some of those more troublesome criminal convictions. But, even so, what was there was bad. If he’d seen it before the deal with Princess Mia had been finalized, it would have been a major red flag and probably would have tanked the deal altogether. 


“Damn it.” Brian tossed that report aside too. “So you’re thinking this Duke guy is what, Croatian mafia, and that Aleksi must be involved because of the money the guy sank into the resorts?”


“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ted confirmed Brian’s fears. “The only thing we don’t know is how deep Kacmar is in this mess. He could be an innocent businessman who didn’t know he was being an unwitting front for a money laundering operation,” Ted paused, dramatically, letting Brian hope for a moment that he’d overreacted, before completely dashing his employer’s nascent hopes. “However, if you look closely at Petrovic’s rap sheet . . .” 


Ted flipped to the second page and directed Brian’s attention to an entry near the bottom that had been highlighted in bright neon yellow. “Fuck!,” Brian cursed again. “That procurement charge? It's the same date, time, and location as the one on Kacmar’s criminal report. So, they were in on this together?”


“It would seem so. Which makes it a lot more plausible that Kacmar is in deeper than we’d like with his criminal pal from the past,” Ted summed everything up with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Brian. I can’t believe I missed this. I just never even thought to look . . .”


“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Ted,” Brian leaned back in his chair and ran anxious fingers through his hair. “I was just as blinded by Aleksi’s money as you. The question is, how does Kinnetik figure into whatever their plans are? Because I’m assuming they want more out of us than advertising. And, since I suspect these are the kind of people you don’t want to piss off without good reason, we probably can’t just back out of the deal and walk away.”


“I was thinking the exact same thing. But, until we know more, all we have are vague suspicions,” Ted concurred. “I mean, we could try going to the cops or the FBI but, since no crime has actually been committed yet, I’m not sure what good that would do.” Ted was hunched over, looking smaller than normal, clearly as worried as Brian by that point, and obviously feeling guilty for his sloppy due diligence. “Have you found out anything more from your houseguest? I still can’t figure out how sending you a bride, who turned out to be not-a-bride but an American kid, pretending to be a Croatian, figures into this whole mess. I keep thinking I’m missing something. But, even if ‘Youstin’ isn’t part of Aleksi’s plans, maybe he at least knows something more that’ll help us figure out what the Croatians are up to.”


“And how to keep our asses out of the line of fire,” Brian agreed. “Unfortunately, I haven’t found out anything much yet. I haven’t figured out how I’m supposed to pump Youstin for information when I’m not supposed to know he understands English. Especially since, if there’s any possibility he might be in on this whole scam, I don’t want to show my hand just yet.”


“Yeah, I agree. We’re better off playing it safe for now. But, while you’re working on the Youstin angle,” Ted got to his feet and assumed a more determined air, “I’ll keep digging. My next step is to contact the US Embassy in Zagreb to see if they can help me do a full criminal check on Aleksi in Croatia.”


“Good idea.” Brian got up too, but laid a restraining hand on Ted’s shoulder before the other man could step away. “Just to be on the safe side, though, let’s not make further inquiries directly through Kinnetik. We don’t want it to get back to Aleksi that we’re checking up on him. Use that investigation service we hired for the Kip Thomas litigation. They’re sneaky and fast.”


“And expensive, if I remember correctly.”


“I’d rather be out a few thou than beholden for the rest of my life to the fucking mob,” Brian directed, getting a nod of agreement from his employee. “And, I’ll try to find another way to get my hot little twinkie visitor to spill all his secrets.”


“Any chance you’d trade jobs, Boss?” Ted asked, his mouth curling up in the first real smile Brian had seen since he’d arrived at the office that afternoon. 


“Not on your life, Theodore. Besides, you already have your own blond. Justin is mine . . .”



Justin paused in his sketching and looked down at the page. With the tip of his right pinky, he smudged the pencil line that delineated Brian’s jaw, creating a darker shadow there and emphasizing the man’s strong, angular jawline. Yes. That was perfect. 



He dropped his pencil and shook out his hand. It was stiff. He glanced over his shoulder toward the wall next to the kitchen where there was a clock. It was the most curious clock, made out of some kind of shiny metal, with odd knives, forks, and spoons sticking out from behind the clock face to indicate where the numbers should have been. Justin loved that little bit of whimsy in the otherwise very put together house. It reassured him that there was more to Brian Kinney than you’d expect from his elegant and cool exterior. 


Which made perfect sense to Justin after seeing the man with his son all weekend. Gus seemed to bring out a softer side in his father. Justin suspected that maybe Gus might have had something to do with Brian’s choice of this particular clock. And the child was probably also the reason for the strange little painting of a cartoon squirrel with a pile of acorns on its tail that was hung just next to the kitchen utensil clock. Both pieces of ‘art’ made the artist in him smile.  


Since the little hand on the clock was pointing towards the knife handle where the number seven should be, and the big hand was almost down to the fork with the curled tines that would be a six on any other clock, he figured it was seven-thirty. Which meant Justin had been sketching for more than three hours. No wonder his hand was tired. But it was the first time in days that he’d had time to just relax. He’d been enjoying the solitude, not to mention the chance to get lost in his drawing. He’d had lots of fun working together with the Kinney men on Gus’ room all weekend, but it had been too busy the past few days to get any time to himself, and he was due.


Justin was also glad to have some time away from Brian’s constant teasing and sexual innuendos. That man! He was so . . . 

Justin struggled to come up with a word that would adequately describe the man. Brian Kinney almost defied description. Which was saying a lot for someone like Justin, who considered himself quite eloquent. Hell, Justin was the kid who’d had the Thesaurus bookmarked on his phone just so he’d always have the perfect word at his command. But now, when he tried to think about the man whose house he was hiding out in, he was practically wordless. Brian was simply too large, too much of everything, for mere words to encompass it all. 


Looking back down at the sketch he’d been caught up in for the past several hours, the only word Justin could think of was, ‘Compelling’. Which seemed like a good title for the drawing. With a smirk of satisfaction, Justin wrote the word in the bottom right corner of the sketch and signed his name below the way he always did, ‘J.Taylor’. 


The sketch was the one he’d started earlier while spying on Brian reading to his son. It showed the regular Brian sitting on the couch with Gus in his lap but with four other Brian faces surrounding the central scene. And, when he’d started the drawing, he’d meant to depict the four funny voices Brian had been imitating as he read the story. However, the longer he played with the drawing, the more it became a testament to his confusion about the man who’d so quickly become such a central figure in his life. 


These were all the faces of Brian Kinney. There was the serious Brian; a little somber, with his mouth a straight line, his eyes dark and his gaze inward. There was the playful Brian; laughing at his son, his hazel eyes glittering with greener glints, his beautiful lips curling up at the corners like a cat, and his whole expression somehow lighter. There was the ominous Brian; the one who looked like he might be dangerous, with nostrils flared and the vee formed by his brows angling downward, dipping all the way to the bridge of his nose, his mouth a pinched little bud of displeasure. And, finally, there was the sexy Brian; the one whose eyes turned a darker brown as they smoldered with desire, a mischievous grin on his sensual lips, and an intensity to his gaze that seemed to penetrate to a man’s very core. 


How could any one word - or even a handful of carefully chosen words - describe all that?  


Justin chuckled at himself as he tossed the sketchbook aside. Just looking at that damned picture had caused him to pop a boner. He didn’t know what the fuck had come over him. He had never before reacted so immediately to any other man. And Justin had had his fair share of lovers over the past couple of eventful years. He’d slept his way across Europe, for fuck’s sake, so it wasn’t like he was some naive little twink who didn’t know what he liked. But, then again, he’d never met someone as compelling as Brian Kinney, either. 


Which only made it more difficult for Justin to figure out what he was going to do. Thinking about all the fun they’d had, and how mixed up his feelings about Brian were, made him feel even worse about continuing to deceive the man. He couldn’t just stay there forever, hiding out in Brian’s guest room, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, while waiting for some guy he didn’t know to hunt him down. He wished he’d never stolen that fucking plane ticket. But, now that he had, he didn’t know how to get himself out of this mess. 


His options were limited. If he’d had any money, he could’ve left and quietly disappeared somewhere. But, since he barely had enough spare change on him to buy a bus ticket that might get him as far as the airport, disappearing wasn’t an option. He could still go to the police, admit to stealing the ticket - with a promise to pay back the money if need be - and ask the authorities to look into the guy who had called and threatened him. Just because the guy had said ‘he knew people everywhere’ didn’t necessarily mean he was ‘mafia’. Perhaps Justin had overreacted? Even if Kacmar was YACS, the US government should be able to protect him, right? I mean, it was only one lousy stolen plane ticket, right? How big a deal could that be? Either way, he couldn’t just stay there, pretending he didn’t speak English, and hiding in Brian Kinney’s beautiful remodeled firehouse forever, while his host tormented him with lustful innuendos until he thought his dick was going to explode. Could he?  


“Fuck my life,” Justin whimpered, getting up off the sofa and bending down to retrieve the sketch that had brought on all this fruitless contemplation. “I need to figure out a way out of the mess I’ve got myself into. Somehow.” With a deep sigh he started towards the stairs, intending to go back to his room and take a shower, hoping that would shock him out of this melancholy mood. “I wish I could at least talk to Daphne and get her to help me figure out some kind of plan . . .”


 

 

Chapter End Notes:

5/2/22 - Look at all that annoying plot interrupting the sexy teasing scenes. Don’t ya hate it? But we do have to advance the story somehow, so I guess you’ll have to put up with a little plot. We promise to have less of it in the next chapter, though, so please bear with us! Also, congratulate us because we successfully met our CampNaNoWriMo goal of writing 50k words in one month! Hoorah! Not that this story is done yet, though. There’s still LOTS to come. Enjoy! Lorie & TAG

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