by P. W. Davies
“Thanks, Victor. I’ll have more to tell you all when we sit down tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” The statement hung in the air, taunting Victor with unintended emphasis and double meaning.
He looked forward to seeing Nathan after the work day because it meant he’d be spending more time with the man he was steadily acknowledging his crush on.
And he was looking forward to finding out more about the case. Seeing large portions of all the paperwork this afternoon, Victor knew with even more certainty than before that Shaw Industries wanted something specific from Bechtel. Reading between the lines in all their documentation made it obvious. The Crispin & Hawke team just needed to figure out what it was, so they knew what leverage they had on behalf of their client.
Which is exactly the kind of thing that gets someone nominated for junior partner, Victor thought, not for the first time, as he set himself to the task of making the most of the remainder of the day. And that is going to be either me, or Evie. Samuel can get in the back of the line.
An office in South Philly housed the main offices for the Freeman Brothers Construction Company and while Christian often wished the mafia wasn’t so predictable, they proved consistent on either side of the pond. Have your dirty hands in construction and contracting, he thought. Easy to get blue collar workers over a barrel. Adjusting his tie, he took a deep breath and affected the air of a grifter, telling himself who he was supposed to be in this scenario, and not taking another step forward until he was ready. The sun setting in the background, he knew this would be the time when owners would be in and the rank-and-file leaving for the day.
That would make this meeting simple, he hoped.
For the intent of one encounter, he exuded the role well enough. Clad in a suit, with a leather satchel hanging from his shoulder, he’d stuffed papers into the satchel to give the appearance of a man who’d just left the office and might have made this his last stop before heading home for the night. The glasses on his face were purely cosmetic, but for as much as people argued otherwise, they muddled and confused people trying to recall faces they’d previously encountered. With his hair slicked into order, Christian wouldn’t be recognizable to the man he was about to talk to when dressed in his normal attire. The only potential thing he might remember was his accent.
“Hello,” Christian said, walking up to a desk where an older woman sat. “Could you please tell me where I might find David Freeman?”
She looked up, peering at Christian first with a neutral expression which blossomed into a smile. When Christian smirked, she arched a brow, holding fast to intrigue and amusement. “Who should I say is here for him?” she asked.
“Henry Richards.” Christian delivered the name without flinching, and even let himself communicate some intrigue back to her. The simple declaration of identity became a flirt in and of itself and worked its magic, prompting the woman to stand and tell him to wait there.
“He should be back from the jobsite, Mr. Richards,” she added.
He nodded and did as instructed. Within seconds the woman had disappeared down an adjacent corridor and, moments later, reappeared with another man in tow. Christian straightened his posture at the sight of the tall, stocky elder, exchanging a nod with the person he assumed to be David Freeman. “Mr. Richards,” Freeman said. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, I wondered if we could have a chat in private,” Christian said. He threw another disarming grin at the woman who had greeted him. “No offense to present company.”
She winked, but sat at her desk again and resumed her work. When Christian made eye contact again with David Freeman, he allowed a little darkness into his gaze, something deliberate this time about the way his lips curled. It served as enough introduction. Freeman sobered and nodded, waving Christian back with him. “Come on, follow me,” he said, turning his back to Christian.
With brisk, purposeful steps, Christian made up the distance between them in time to join Freeman in the hallway. The older man sighed, keeping quiet and continuing unfettered until they’d entered his office and shut the door. Even then, he refused to sit at his desk. Perched on the corner of it, he faced Christian and folded his arms across his chest.
“I’ve never seen you before,” he said.
Christian heard the obvious comment in the spirit it had been intended. Setting down the satchel in front of an old, worn-out couch, he lowered himself into it. “Jasper Ashcroft has been branching out to new solicitors,” he said. “I’m a recent acquisition from England.”
“Yeah, I can hear that in your voice. What kind of credentials do you have?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How the hell do I know you’re who you claim to be?”
“Trust is an important aspect of our jobs, Mr. Freeman. How would I know about your arrangement with Mr. Ashcroft otherwise?”
Holding a steady gaze, Christian allowed his smile to turn smooth and cold, hinting at danger again without revealing how much. It took a moment for David Freeman to relax his shoulders, but the moment he did, Christian knew he had sold himself. “What’s Ashcroft want?” Freeman asked.
“There seems to be some concern with the man who usually handles my job. As such I might be taking over for him,” Christian said. He crossed his legs. “Could you explain to me why you’ve been paying your contact more than the required amount?”
The way Freeman’s brow furrowed felt genuine. “Kind of a ridiculous thing to assume I’d pay him more than I fucking have to. I never liked this arrangement in the first place.”
“Well, I hate to inform you, but you have. What arrangement does our contact have set up with you?”
Freeman took a deep breath. When he relented, he lowered his arms and stood, walking around finally to his desk and taking a set of keys from his pocket. “Five percent,” he said, crouching. Something about him disappearing, even for the few seconds he remained out of Christian’s line of sight, unnerved Christian enough to feel for the dagger hilt he’d tucked under his suit jacket. It wasn’t until Freeman stood again with a ledger in hand that Christian deftly slipped his hand back to his lap.
“Yeah, here it is.” Freeman gestured the book at Christian, prompting him to stand. Once they stood close enough for the exchange, Christian accepted it in hand and begun to flip through the pages. “Legal fees,” Freeman explained. “That’s how it’s being tracked. The jackass I normally talk to set it up that way. Every time he comes in here with some paperwork pertaining to one of our mutual jobs, he takes ‘legal fees’ and does whatever fucking mojo he works on his end.”
“Yes, because I’m sure he has this cleverly explained on his end of things.” Christian read over the pages, pausing only at the aforementioned entries. “Has he given you any other forms of documentation for your accountant?”
“He has, but that stuff is all in the computer. I like paper records for myself.” He nodded in the direction of the door when Christian looked up at him. “Ellen can print a couple out for you if you want. You just need to tell me what I’m telling her.”
“However you explain your dealings with Mr. Ashcroft to her. I’m your new legal contact.”
Christian flashed a toothy smile, allowing it to disappear as quickly as it surfaced. He and Freeman shared a look, until Freeman resigned himself to his task and retreated out of the office. Remaining inside, Christian took another look at the ledger, and set it on the desk once he’d been satisfied at the figure quoted. Enough of the payments reflected the percentage that Freeman had indicated, and when he returned with the promised pages, Freeman gave him concrete proof of the arrangement.
“So, what percentage should I be paying?” Freeman asked while Christian read over the print-outs.
“I’m not certain. That’s for our mutual friend to clarify for me. As we’ve both established, I’m new.” Christian retrieved the leather satchel from the floor and once he’d secured the documents inside of it, slung the str
ap around his shoulder. “I’m sure it goes without saying that Mr. Ashcroft appreciates your cooperation,” Christian said.
“Sure, as always.” His arms crossed his chest again, closing him off once more. “That it?”
“For the most part. It’s probably fruitless to ask, but our contact never provided a name to you, did he?”
“One that’s about as real as yours.” Freeman smirked. “I’m not stupid enough to believe Tom Castamere is a real name. He did let it slip at one point that he’s a big deal at some law firm. Partner or something like that. You don’t know your own people?”
“Oh no, we do, simply making note of what he’s told you.” Christian nodded. Offering a parting exchange with Freeman, he walked out of the office and summoned a ride back to his apartment. The moment he walked through the door, he had half the suit stripped off and the phone to his ear, asking for the secretary who worked with his mark. A male secretary responded, giving into a different set of manipulations before surrendering where the mark would be that night.
“He’s got brewpub at 2nd and Chestnut written down as a meeting from 8 until 10 tonight,” he said. “Is that what you’re referring to, Mr.…?”
Christian hung up without verifying anything further. Taking off his trousers, he dressed back into his jeans and t-shirt, shaking out his hair and lighting a cigarette once he’d restored order to himself. Padding into the kitchen to reheat leftovers, he set his watch for 9:30, telling himself he’d be following the mark home and checking in on his activities. A text message to Roland marked the final thing he did when his alarm chimed, before he grabbed his leather jacket and walked out the door.
I’ve got something interesting to share with you, the text read, left cryptic on purpose for the time being.
Roland didn’t respond before Christian strode to the subway. Along the way to 2nd Street, Christian prepared himself this time to be a shadow, intent on ghosting the mark. The last thing on his mind was anyone else at the firm, and if he thought for a moment he’d cross paths with the man who’d spotted him at the firm the other day, Christian knew he’d have disguised himself better. Through the window of the brewpub, however, he saw the gorgeous, suit-clad stranger, left at an instant loss.
The stranger looked in his direction and made eye contact before Christian could look away.
Fuck, he thought. Now what?
Four
That couldn’t be him.
The him in question was the courier from two days prior. Victor casually let his eyes wander up and down the length of the street visible from the windows of the bar. Despite knowing that it probably looked anything but casual, he was determined to not draw undue attention if he could help it. But when his eyes intersected with the man leaning against a street post, his deliberate assessment slowed. To anyone watching him, it might have seemed that he spotted something interesting that he wanted a better look at. They wouldn’t have been far off.
It is him.
Victor wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but if it wasn’t the courier it could have been his brother. Wearing jeans, a tight-fitting tee shirt, and a black, leather jacket that looked worn from use rather than as a fashion statement, the man looked like a cross between a model and a mechanic. Something about his slight, sinewy frame made him tempting, his blue eyes bearing a hint of darkness that held an added form of allure.
Just as he was telling himself it was time to move on, those overly perceptive blue eyes intersected with his own. Rather than look away, or appear guilty, Victor held the other man’s gaze for three long heartbeats. He watched as the stranger lifted one hand to his lips, apparently so he could take a drag from a cigarette. That’s an ugly habit, but color me jealous of the cigarette, Victor thought. Knowing he was being watched, the other man took his time, as though he was showing off just how long he could go without taking a real breath.
“Definitely a rebellious choice, darling.”
Victor’s eyes snapped back to the person sitting beside him. Empty glasses, dirty plates, and used silverware dotted the surface of the table in front of them, remnants of meals they’d consumed during the meeting.
Evie looked past him, and he knew without any explanation exactly what she had seen. He grumbled lightly.
Her eyes came back to him as a smirk settled onto her lips. “Go ask him out.”
Victor glanced at the room around them. Nathan had gotten a phone call and excused himself. Samuel was ‘taking a piss’ as he inelegantly stated before leaving the table. Unfortunately, Evie didn’t seem impressed by the reminder of their companions.
She set her napkin on the table. “Those blue eyes alone would be worth fucking him.”
Victor’s face flushed, which he knew she had inspired intentionally. “You –”
“Or being fucked by him,” she added her voice suggestive and taunting.
That thought made his stomach tie in knots even as the illicit idea spurred his curiosity. “Should I accuse you of liking that image?” he asked, trying to resolve his nerves.
“What image?” Nathan sat back down across from them, his presence unnoticed arriving because Victor and Evie were too busy sizing each other up. “Don’t tell me the two of you are disagreeing.”
Victor turned to him in surprise, the odd comment breaking his mind out of being trapped in the gutter. “We’d only end up competing for your approval,” he said.
“I already have you and Samuel for that,” Nathan said, looking between both in his search for the rest of the answer.
Evie opted for directness. “I was suggesting to Victor that there was an attractive man ogling him just a moment ago. He didn’t believe me.”
If Victor could have repeated that last moment, he would have found a way of silencing Evie’s comment. Instead, Victor kept himself collected. “I doubted how attractive he might be. And the wisdom of being distracted while working.”
“So, you do think he could be distracting,” Evie said before turning to Nathan. “I’d apologize but I think Victor preferred knowing he was being admired.”
“No, no,” Nathan held up his hands, straightening his posture. Victor tried not to hang onto the wording of the next part of his response, but he’d realized now what Evie was doing.
She was attempting to get an answer about Nathan’s dating habits and what he thought about Victor admiring another man.
Nathan continued. “It’s getting late. You’ve both done amazing work today. Heaven knows that we’ll all need to be fresh in the morning. We can call it.” He smiled lightly. “And whatever happens after we leave, just don’t put anything else on the company card. Business officially concluded.”
Standing, Nathan gave no other indication of his thoughts as he began gathering up the few folders they’d set onto the table earlier in the night.
Victor was thinking on what else to say as Samuel returned, who immediately noticed that Nathan was packing it in. “Nothing else for the night?” Samuel asked. “Kind of early isn’t it?”
“Some of us might have better things to do,” Victor said, reaching to help Nathan pack up.
Samuel nodded. “Not going to argue with that. I have somewhere I’d like to be.”
None of them said much else as they put themselves in order. Evie was the first one out the door after wishing them all good luck with their evenings. Victor was the last to leave, just behind Samuel and Nathan. He took one extra moment at the front of the restaurant to look out at the street, wondering if the stranger had finished his smoke and left.
No, he’s still there. Victor hesitated as he considered whether seeing the same man twice really was a sign. He seemed to be lost in thought, gazing down the street as Victor considered what to do.
Then he pushed off the street post he’d been leaning against, walking away. Victor startled with how sudden the shift had been, realizing that he was now staring at the stranger’s back. Shoulders cloaked in leather, hunched over by design, the man flicked his cigarette against the
nearest wall and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Victor showed himself outside. It didn’t take much effort to catch up to the blue-eyed stranger at the next street corner. The man tensed as he stopped alongside him.
“You have rather amazing eyes,” he said, nearly blurting the first thought that came to mind. Hoping it didn’t sound as cliché as he worried it might, Victor waited for the man to turn toward him before continuing. “I’m certain I’m not the first to say that, but I’d like credit for noticing.”
Those blue eyes studied him now, holding his gaze before flicking up and down over his body. Victor held himself still even if he was tempted to give himself a quick glance, hoping there wasn’t any mess on him from dinner.
“Noticing is appreciated,” the stranger said.
It wasn’t his tone – which was cautiously flirtatious – that caught Victor’s attention. It was the accent he spoke with that stood out most. Victor was surprised to realize it reminded him of Evie’s. He smiled at the other man, posture relaxing now that they were exchanging words. “Appreciated is a good start.”
The other man smirked, but his attention was back to the street in front of them. “Start implies there’s somewhere we’re heading toward. Does that mean I get your name?” Victor stole a moment to admire the bit of tattoo peaking from beneath his shirt. And to notice that it seemed to be inked over top of a thick scar.
“Victor,” he said. Victor was realizing the other man didn’t seem to recognize him, so he considered the possibility this wasn’t the courier from the other day. Even if it wasn’t, though, Victor was detecting enough interest to keep the conversation going. “And yours?”
“Christian.”
Uncertain what else to say in small talk, Victor resolved himself to not leaving the silence hang.
“I’d like to have a drink with you.” Victor made the statement with enough certainty that he was able to tell himself, A drink doesn’t have to be anything else.