CHAPTER EIGHT: LOVE AND WAR
Justin excused himself from the dinner table, opting to make himself comfortable at the bar as everyone sat around discussing the revelations of the past hour. Michael had been gone for half that time, but he really couldn't blame the man. If Justin could have left right then and there without drawing further attention to himself, he would have. Although no one knew, Justin was a bit unnerved from his confrontation with David. The timing of it all, just didn't make sense to him at the moment.
It wasn't that he minded his sexual history being put on the spot- his proclivities were never a secret. But his shared past with Michael, was always a subject Justin considered off limits. He really had no idea how David had found out, since by all accounts he and Michael had never gotten along. The most obvious reason was jealousy and yeah, there was plenty of that on Michael's part. But it was just easier to let that wayward emotion remain the general consensus among the family.
What the fuck had David hoped to gain by rehashing this piece of ancient history?
It was the question that kept plaguing Justin's mind, as he took another slow slip of his Chivas Regal he was nursing, which was a good follow-up to the Beam he'd been drinking all night. He knew that he needed to have a conversation with Michael. Although Michael didn't seem surprised by David's actions, it was clear that Michael hadn't told him. Based on the anger displayed by David, there was more to all of this than met the eye.
"Penny for your thoughts?
Justin had jumped a little as his husband appeared by his side, seemingly out of thin air. "Not right now, Brian. I'm still trying to collect them." He watched as the bartender placed Brian's own drink in front of him. Justin wasn't even aware that he had ordered, but that didn't really matter.
"Bullshit, Justin. Based on your performance back there, I would say that your thoughts are pretty well-collected."
"Brian..."
"No, Justin. Just... no. No more secrets was the agreement, and yet you've kept this one. I can't say that I blame you entirely, because Michael had kept the same one. But what I want to know is why?"
Brian toyed with his glass as he spoke. It was the one question that David had asked, which plagued him although he didn't show it. Sure, they had lied about their careers for years; omission is still a lie, after all. But this was different. It wasn't like they didn't have an open marriage, and even though the episode with Michael and Justin happened years before they met, it still bothered him that Justin didn't trust him with it.
Justin strove to project a nonchalance he did not feel, as he answered. "There wasn't any reason to tell you about me and Michael, Brian. You knew that I was a Dominant in a sex club in my wayward youth." At Brian's guffaw, Justin smiled slightly. "I didn't see any reason to cause you to make assumptions any time Michael and I were in the same room."
"So this was a mercy secret then?" Brian sipped his drink as he waited for an answer.
"Not really a mercy secret, but a way to keep the peace, such as it was back then. Things were already strained between you and Michael. And we never really knew when he would show up. The fact that he'd actually stayed away was inconsequential to my reasoning at the time. It was one thing for me to tell you about the many random tricks I've had sex with, but this was someone close to you; someone you valued like a play-brother. I didn't know how you would have taken that."
Brian nodded in understanding. "And we were already having problems because of our jobs..."
"And familial obligations, and a host of other things. There really was no right time to tell you, even if I had no intention of telling you at all, Brian."
Then Brian asked the one question, Justin dreaded more than anything. "Did he want more from you, too?"
Justin closed his eyes in remembrance of that very painful conversation with Michael. He kept asking Justin why he wasn't good enough; why Justin couldn't see himself with a man like him? Wasn't he submissive enough? He kept promising that he would be good to Justin, and would never ask for anything in return. Justin had finally had to be hard and cruel with Michael; had to break his heart and spirit, in order for Michael to understand, and accept what Justin knew to be true about himself.
Justin needed a man, who was just as strong in mind and spirit as he was. And years later, he'd found Brian. But in truth, despite all subsequent contention, Justin had never gotten over having to hurt Michael in search of his own future happiness. But how was he to explain that to his husband, without seeming heartless and cruel; without breaking down as he had later on that long-ago fateful night? Justin huffed out a large breath, before answering Brian's question.
"Yes, he did, Brian. I know what he really wanted was you. But to him, I was the next best thing. You know how astute naturally submissive people are. They can tell a good Dom from a cruel one..."
"And yet he went with David?"
Justin nodded his head. "He adopted that theory of loving the one you're with. But in this case, it was more than that. Michael just didn't think he was destined to have more. Or maybe he was simply waiting for you to be ready for more; I can't really say, but it makes sense. Then when you and I married, I think it broke him somehow."
"He watched his two heroes commit to making a life together, while he was stuck in a loveless marriage to a detestable asshole," Brian finished Justin's train of thought.
"Yeah," Justin said, softly.
Brian looked at Justin then, discerning every emotion that was written across his still youthful face. "Don't you dare blame yourself, Sunshine. Justin, we all have choices."
Justin shook his head. "But this was a choice he didn't have to make, Brian. David Cameron is the worse kind of Dominant. He's hateful, jealous, spiteful, and cruel! A submissive that belongs to him is not allowed to have a past, or future... Fuck! They're barely even allowed to have a present, if it doesn't revolve around him. He's mean and vengeful, and... Oh God, Brian, has Michael returned to the dining room yet?"
Both men looked around, and still didn't see any sign of the brunet. It was apparent that they weren't the only ones, who noticed that Michael Novotny-Cameron had been gone from the gathering a very long time. Jennifer was sitting with Debbie, worried looks on both of their faces. Carl had offered to go and check the restroom for them, but Ben and Emmett had gone instead. Brian and Justin were on their way across the room, just as Ben and Emmett were re-entering the meeting place, their gaits rushed as they crossed the room to kneel in front of Debbie.
They arrived at the table in time to hear Ben offer his condolences. "I'm so sorry, Debbie. There was... nothing that anyone could do for him."
Although her eyes were tearing up, she managed to keep her voice steady and strong. "How?"
Emmett placed his hand on her shoulder in an offer of support. "Deb, I don't think..."
"How? Goddamn you, tell me how my son died?!" she demanded of the duo kneeling in front of her, trying to offer her solace.
"Tell her, boys," Jennifer said, in support of Debbie's need to know. The frosty tone of her voice, caused all of the occupants in the room to look at her. "If it were me, I would want to know so that his killer could suffer the same fate. She has every fucking right to know. And I mean now, or I'll kill you both where you fucking kneel."
To give credence to her word, Jenn reached under the back of her suit jacket, pulling out the Eagle she always had strapped to her back. Holding the gun to Emmett's head and her eyes angry, Jennifer removed the safety and cocked the hammer. Debbie looked at her and in a show of solidarity, Debbie reached down into the bosom of her blouse, pulling out a 357 Magnum. Aiming her gun between Ben's legs, she uttered one simple word, low and calm. "Speak."
Ben and every other man in the room swallowed hard, as all the other women smiled a knowing smile at the scene. Everyone of them would have done the exact same thing, if the men who were withholding information didn't come clean. None of them were mothers. But they all recognized Debbie's pain, for what it was. And they understood wholeheartedly her need for revenge.
Emmett spoke up. "The men's room is a fucking bloody mess, Deb. Literally. From what we can tell, Michael's carotid arteries were cut using a wire- the kind we all have added to our cufflinks. You can have it built into your suit jackets for the right price. The other man..."
"What other man?" Carl asked.
Ben answered him. "Retired Sergeant Reynold Wilcox. From what Emmett and I could gather, he may have happened up in the restroom just as David was finishing off Michael. Both bodies seemed to have been cut within minutes of each other. Although Michael's wounds were meant to pour out slowly, the poor Sergeant never had a chance."
They all watched as Debbie trembled. Whether it was from rage or hurt, no one could tell. However, those who were not familiar with the assassin known far and wide as Raven was surprised when she spoke; her voice low and harsh. "I want that motherfucker found tonight. He would have checked out of the hotel by now. But fuck me, if you don't find him and bring him to me, I will kill every fucking one of you. No one is to kill him, except me. You all owe me that!"
Brian cleared his throat. "Deb, we need to get out of here now. The place will probably be teeming with police, once the bodies are found. And right now, David knows exactly where we are."
Justin concurred. "He's right, Deb. And if it's as you say, David has checked out of the hotel and is on his way to wherever Sapperstein is."
Jenn pulled out her cellphone and asked, "Which hotel?"
"I think Michael said the Fairmount Hotel," Carl responded.
"Fucking idiot," Justin muttered, and rolled his eyes while feeling his pockets for his phone. "Mom, hand me your phone, please. I must have forgotten mine over at the bar. Besides since the hotel is one of mine, I'll make the call."
"What the fuck do you mean?" Brian asked, as he watched in amazement while Jennifer handed over her phone, without qualm.
Justin calmly answered, "I mean I own it, Brian. As in the entire chain of them, across country and abroad."
"I thought you said you only owned six?"
Justin chuckled. "I meant six hotel chains. I thought that was clear."
Brian shook his head. "There is a whole fucking lot more that we need to talk about, Sunshine. But right now, call and see if you can stop him."
Justin spoke to the manager, even as Daphne was on the laptop that she'd brought with her to seal the deal between the Taylor, and the Kinnetik factions. She pulled up the financial records of Doctor David Cameron, and began toying with the figures to flag his account for nonpayment. If he was still there, it would buy them some time.
"I don't give a fuck what he thinks he's doing," Justin said firmly into the phone. "He is NOT to check out of the hotel. He may come and go, but without his fucking luggage, do you hear? Not even a fucking briefcase. I'll be there as quickly as I can." Justin hung up, and made another phone call. "Give me Isaiah Hamilton now. Yeah... tell him it's Taylor-Kinney; he'll take the call." A half minute later, Justin was issuing orders to Pittsburgh's current Chief of Police, who had taken over just after Stockwell was found dead in New York. "Cross me on this, Isaiah, and you'll wish to hell you hadn't." He hung up the phone, and handed it back to his mother.
"The fucking Chief of Police, Sunshine?" Brian asked, his look incredulous.
Justin smiled his signature smile at Brian. "What can I say, Bri? I was a VERY good Dom."