Adrift - Prologue. Part 1
Mar. 20th, 2006 10:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliAuthors:F inelinezz, Sindaliessien & Imogen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): VigOrli, Orlando/Colin, Dominic/Elijah, Keira/Marton Csoakes. Others may appear later
Warnings: attempted rape, violence, torture scenes, angst. Special warnings will be give with chapters when needed.
Summary: Paradise regained? Try again.
Note: This is a RPS version of "Lost" and a plot bunny that wouldn't let go.
Feedback: It doesn't matter which one of us you send it to, and get bit we get is greatly appreicated!
N.B. If anyone's interested there is a character list & pictures for Adrift which can be found at my joural (imogen_lily). This link will take you there: http://imogen-lily.livejournal.com/32332.html
through the crowded terminal, eyes darting about, aware of each and every person, every movement. It had been his job for so long that it had become ingrained. He sat down heavily on one of the uncomfortable airport chairs, sighing in irritation. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of this country. He needed to get away from the life he’d made for himself here- a life that was slowly eating away at his soul. He scooted down in the seat, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes, but he was ever aware of the activity going on around him.
When are they going to board this fucking plane?
It was of utmost importance that no one recognized Viggo. He had kept as low a profile as possible, but, for a man in his line of work, that was sometimes tricky. Worming his way into someone’s life, only to set them up to be killed, wasn’t easy. He only wished he could say that he got used to it, but he never really had. The first time was the hardest, of course, but he never could achieve the pure cold- heartedness of some of the others in his profession. Every time he went out on a mission, he swore that it would be his last. But someone had always called up a favour or he was offered too much money to refuse. After all, he was a businessman, wasn’t he? A guy had to make a living…
But this time, it was different. This was going to be Viggo’s last job. He meant it this time. He was going to Australia, take care of this Eriksson character, and then turn around and catch the next flight to Argentina. Viggo had been hoarding away a good part of the money he’d made from each assignment and was going to spend the rest of his life laying on a beach with a margarita in one hand and a good Cuban cigar in the other. He would gaze lovingly at the gorgeous creatures sitting about in various stages of undress, attempting to get perfect tans; making his greatest attempt to bed as many of them as he possibly could.
His last job in Britain had been more complicated than he’d anticipated. He had nearly gotten caught and, as much as the man wanted to deny it, his conscience was starting to nag at him. The businessman in Britain, Françoise Milburn, had been there with his little girl, and it had become so difficult for Viggo to find the man alone that he’d had to make the kill in front of the child.
That night, Viggo had a nightmare so real, that when he woke up, he thought he was in hell. And, perhaps that was what was happening to him. This business wasn’t for the faint of heart and, the sad truth was, Viggo was getting soft. He never allowed himself to think of his targets as anything other than that. He didn’t want to know that they were someone’s son, brother, husband or, especially, someone’s father.
If only Viggo had fought his expulsion from medical school all those years ago, his life would have taken a much different turn. He’d been accused of cheating, when it was, in fact, another student who’d been involved, and not him. But Viggo was no snitch. That was one thing living in Hell’s Kitchen had taught him. You didn’t snitch, no matter what the cost. And this had cost Viggo a whole hell of a lot. He suddenly found himself with not only no money, but creditors on his back and no way to pay them.
Some might think it odd that he went from med student to hit man, but not Viggo. He came from the streets and the dreams of being a doctor were nearly unobtainable. Then he’d gotten a scholarship and his brother had taken out a second and third mortgage on his house to help pay the tuition. Everyone had been so proud of him for being the first Mortensen to go to college. His mother had raised him and his brother as a single parent and it was her faith in him that kept him going. The shame he felt, the shame he put upon those who had believed in him so much, nearly destroyed him. He had never told anyone that it wasn’t him that cheated, but that didn’t really matter anymore. It was a long, long time ago. He had become bitter and resentful and he’d only wanted to lash out at the world. It didn’t take long for him to find a way to do that and to make a good living at the same time. And it was the perfect setup, except for the guilt.
Yeah, it was time……Time to get out.
~*~*~*~*~
Another man sank down into the seat beside Viggo. Looking down at the seemingly sleeping man, he sighed and gazed at the other people around him. The fact was that he was lonely. And he hated flying. And he hated flying alone. Yet, here he was, a big teddy bear of a man, sitting alone in an airport terminal, waiting to get on a flight he didn’t want to get on. If God wanted Man to fly, he would have given him wings. That’s what his Da always said and his Da was always right.
Yes, Sala had become tired of travelling and was more than ready to come ‘home’. He’d been away far too long and missed his girl. Once he finally landed in New Zealand, he was going to ask her to marry him. It was time to settle down, get married, be a father; the sort of father his own Da was to him, at least for the short time he was around. Unfortunately, his father had become a political prisoner in the ongoing unpleasantness in the Middle East and Sala very nearly so. He had fled Israel to avoid his commitment as a citizen there to fight in the Israeli army; he ended up finding work in New Zealand as a stuntman for a trilogy of films that were being made there. It was there he met Jasmine and there he had been badly hurt performing what should have been a minor stunt. He finally settled on becoming a car mechanic and found it a good, if not satisfying, way to make a living. But the pain of his family being so far away was always in the back of Sala’s mind and he yearned to see them again. However, that would mean being conscripted into the army and he couldn’t take that risk.
He wondered, sometimes, why he had this wanderlust, but he knew it was because he wanted to find a place where he didn’t have to worry about political upheaval. But Sala could find no such place. As a Buddhist, he was pained to see the sorrows of the world, perhaps much more sensitive to it than others, but he was tired of looking for the perfect world. It simply didn’t exist.
Maybe it was in the ‘normal’ life that Sala could find true happiness. With Jasmine as a wife and a couple of children to care for, his life might finally make sense. He remembered his favourite book, “Of Human Bondage”, where the main character found his own happiness in the seemingly mundane things in life.
He sighed heavily as he got up to stand in line to board the plane. He would be pulled aside, as he always was, to be searched a bit more thoroughly than the others flying that afternoon. He was used to it because of his dark skin and clear Mediterranean background. With the renewed fear of terrorism due to 9/11 he knew that it would reassure the other passengers on the plane. He looked over to a far corner at some sort of ruckus occurring between three men; then nodded at the attendant who pulled him aside.
~*~*~*~*~
Clive grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably in the tiny terminal seat. Why did they have to make these things so fuckin’ small? It was bad enough he had to get on a plane, but this was just adding insult to injury. He sighed unhappily. He had no real choice. He’d made mistakes and this was the only way out; leave and to leave quickly. He didn’t fancy the idea of abandoning his family and friends, but, for their protection and his own, this was the all he could really do.
Clive had pissed off a well-connected lawyer of a certain ‘family’ who seemed to have a habit of making people who piss them off disappear. The lawyer had the bad fortune of getting off a rapist on a technicality. This rapist was clearly guilty; had, in fact, admitted to the brutal crime, but the lawyer claimed in court that Clive had coerced the confession from the son of his client. So, the kid walks, happy as you please, with Clive leaving the courthouse and finding all four tires on his car slashed and a note on the windshield suggesting he write a will.
Clive had flipped open his cell phone and called a taxi to take him to the airport before he even left the parking lot.
~*~*~*~*~
Tom was happy to be finally leaving for Australia. He was sick of this city. He’d proposed one of his best ideas to his company, only to have it rejected before he could even give his power point presentation. The stupid fucks they had in charge couldn’t find their asses from a hole in the ground. He was sick of it. Just sick of it. Okay, maybe he hadn’t graduated from an Ivy League college like that idiot who had gotten the promotion that had clearly belonged to him, but he did graduate with honours from a very good community college…
His thoughts were interrupted when he looked at the striking blonde woman who sat opposite him, flicking through a magazine. She was very attractive, and certainly interesting. There was something different about her that he just couldn’t put his finger on. She looked like money. Old money perhaps? She was wearing a vintage Valentino pantsuit and there was a Gucci carryon lying at her feet. This flight could be very interesting if he played his cards right. She looked up and straight at him for a moment, a slight smile crossing her lips as she noticed his stare. Suddenly, the annoying clatter of children pulled his focus away from the cute blonde. Why were there always a bunch of loud brats on the flights he took? What were these irresponsible parents thinking, making his trip so miserable with their unruly children’s constant running back and forth to the bathrooms and whining about their ears popping? Christ.
His attention riveted back to the woman. It was the eyes. She had one blue eye and one brown. How odd… He was about to introduce himself when his eyes flicked up in time to see two men touching each other in inappropriate ways. Fucking fags. Didn’t they have any shame? They were in a public place, for Christ’s sake! Couldn’t they keep their deviant, sickening behaviour in check? If they had to give into their disgusting base needs, couldn’t they find a hotel or some bathroom stall instead of subjecting good Christian people to it? Tom tried to focus on the lovely lady in front of him when he looked up just in time to see the two men kissing. No. He couldn’t have that. He wasn’t getting on an airplane with any queers. It just wasn’t going to happen. His anger got the best of him as he jumped out of his chair and headed over to the two men.
~*~*~*~*~
Clive finally gave up and stood to stretch. Looking around him, he spotted a newsstand and decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to buy a magazine to take his mind off the fact that in just a few minutes, he’d be boarding a large, metal bullet that would be hurling through the sky. He shuddered at the thought of it. The big man wasn’t afraid of much but it seemed as if, in the last few hours, he’d been afraid of everything.
As he walked out of the store, a TIME magazine tucked under his arm, his attention was diverted to two men, hugging each other in a more than friendly way. One man was obviously going to join Clive on the airplane and the other man was saying goodbye. He shook his head at the sight. He was far from homophobic, but for these guys to openly show this sort of affection towards one another was just asking for trouble.
As they pulled away from one another Clive was stunned at the beauty of the men. They were dark-haired, both with the most gorgeous chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. But one of them grabbed Clive’s attention the most. His hair was a bit long with soft waves curling around his long neck. The young man had a smile that could melt a heart if it was aimed at you. Shit, but that boy was stunning. But he was obviously taken and, besides, Clive had no intention of getting close to anyone until he was certain they would be safe from his new enemies.
He plopped back down in the chair and opened the magazine. In the middle of the article he was reading, the airline attendant called for the first group of people to board the plane. With a nervous sigh, Clive stood up and headed for the very back of the line.
As he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, he heard a commotion in the direction of where the two attractive men had previously been standing. One of the men was pushing a third man up against a wall, with the other, man, the one Clive had thought so lovely, trying to pull the two apart. His cop instincts kicking in, Clive pulled out of the line and quickly made his way to the arguing men.
“…This place is full of kids, man! Maybe their parents don’t want them to know about sexual deviants like you and your little ‘fag friend’ here,” Clive heard the man against the wall taunt. Colin’s mouth turned into a snarl and lunged forward at Tom. Inwardly cursing, Clive automatically grabbed the back of Colin’s shirt and roughly pulled him away.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” he said, as he turned to glare at Tom, “but I can guess. Why don’t you boys just try to keep things cool here? They’re likely to postpone this flight because of you and I don’t want to have to wait any longer than I have to.” His grip tightened slightly on Tom’s wrist, the warning was clear in his eyes and eventually both men backed of, hatred still simmering close to the surface.
He then pushed Colin back towards his boyfriend, who was looking at Clive with gratitude in his eyes. Clive nodded at the younger man and walked away, but the tremors that ran down his spine at the kid’s attention, however short, were not to be ignored. He shook his head, he couldn’t let himself go right now, any other time, perhaps he would have been openly drooling after the kid, probably tried his luck too but after what had just happened, attention was certainly something he was desperate to avoid. Besides the Irish man looked ready to flay anyone who looked at his partner and he was actively trying to avoid loosing any body parts.
Tom pushed away from the wall and straightened his jacket, shooting an angry look at the two men and shaking his head before walking towards the line to safely stand several people behind Clive.
“Are you all right?” Orlando anxiously asked Colin.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Colin answered, irritation lacing his voice. “I just get fuckin’ tired of certain….people putting their damned noses where they don’t fuckin’ belong.” Turning to Orlando, Colin’s angry expression softened. “I’m going to miss you, baby.”
“I know you are, Colin,” Orlando replied nervously. “Just try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, ok? I just don’t want any surprises when I get back.”
“What do you mean by that?” The eyes were wide with innocence. That might have fooled others but Orlando rolled his eyes.
“You know, Colin…something that I have to get a shot of penicillin for.”
“Shit, baby, you know you’re the only one for me,” Colin cooed as he bent over for another quick kiss, ever mindful of the Armani-suited bastard still lurking nearby, although his ear now glued to his phone, engaged in ranting some orders to some poor sod. Colin’s hand was still itching to punch the fucker. He could take arseholes like that, but his Orli shouldn’t have to deal with them.
“Right,” the younger man said sceptically. “Just try, all right?”
“You know me babe, I aim to misbehave.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Colin could have kicked himself as he saw pain flash across Orlando’s face. Orlando unconsciously fiddled with the ring Colin had given him, the shine having worn off long ago, quite similar to their relationship. He shot Orlando a crooked smile, both knowing exactly what Orlando had meant, and despite all the promises, he knew he’d probably end up betraying Orlando. Six months was a hell of a long time. He wouldn’t mean to, but it always just seemed to…happen. He remembered once asking Orlando why he stayed with him. Orlando had simply replied he felt safe around Colin. He still wasn’t sure what Orlando had meant by that. Needing a distraction he petted Sidi, who’d remained remarkably placid though out everything. Colin was half convinced Sidi would bite the bastard who’d insulted them.
He sometimes worried that Orlando and Sidi had a cosmic connection. Of course he wouldn’t dare say that to Orlando. Sidi was his baby and it was a constant battle for Colin to keep the wretched animal off their bed. The damn mutt was even flying with Orli to bloody Australia. He still wasn’t quite sure how Orlando had cleared it with immigration, but he knew first hand what a devastating impact Orlando and Sidi could make together. He’d lay bets the powers that be caved within fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty if they were tough.
Six months. Jesus, he didn’t want Orli to do this - still wasn’t quite sure why Orli insisted on going. Frankly, it would only cause trouble for them. Colin wanted to beg Orlando not to go. Six months with Eric Bastard Bloom would all but destroy any semblance of credibility Colin had left. He knew Eric and Becka, that scheming wife of his would work on Orlando day and night trying to get him to leave Colin. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried. They’d make him see the Irishman didn’t really love him and how much he’d hurt his baby brother. They’d probably even introduce Orlando to other guys, nice ones, ones that wouldn’t cheat on him every chance they got, no matter how much they professed to love him.
That Eric hated him was the world’s biggest understatement. At their first meeting even as Eric shook Colin’s hand, with a bit too much strength, he’d threatened to “pound the ever living shit out of him” if ever made his precious baby brother so much as frown. Naturally, this had been said in a such a low level hiss that Orlando had missed it, but from the hard glint in the man’s eyes and at 6’ 3’’ and 250lb of pure muscle, Colin had known it hadn’t been an idle threat. Fuck if Eric hadn’t scared the shit out of him that day, and still did now for that matter. For all his brawling ability and Irish temper, Colin knew he’d be hard pressed to even stay on his feet if he ever came up against Eric.
Fortunately, all he’d received so far was a solid punch in the jaw for his behaviour, well as far as Orlando knew anyway. He’d made it a point not to inform his lover of the kick in the nuts he’d received from Orlando’s sister. The fact that the petit blonde had actually hurt him was just too embarrassing for him to admit. Kirsten, like the rest of Orlando’s family worried herself senseless about Orlando’s coping abilities, and Colin’s apparent inability to look after her brother in any capacity. And Orli’s friends were just as bad. None of them trusted Colin in the least, but for all his faults, Colin loved Orlando. Yes, he had fucked up and hurt Orlando, badly on occasion, but they were still standing, weren’t they? Their relationship survived. They were strong and he protected Orlando to the best of his abilities. Orlando was a big boy, he didn’t need a watchdog ready to pounce at the merest hint of a threat, so what the fuck had happened to make them so hung up about protecting Orlando? Orlando had brushed off the idea, but Colin noticed how fiercely protective his siblings and father were around Orlando…that level of protectiveness just wasn’t normal…
“You going to be OK on the flight?” he asked, trying to change the subject, there was no point in ruminating over past sins was there? Orlando offered a cautious nod.
Colin sometimes forgot how much of a big deal this was for his boyfriend. Planes and crowded places were not Orlando’s strong point. He could still remember Orlando’s sudden panicked hysteria three years ago when they were intending to go to Prague. In the end they’d not gone, and Orlando had kept apologizing for three days. Of course some of those ‘apologies’, Colin hadn’t complained about….
“Remember if you need anything grab one of the stewardesses, they’ll be falling over themselves to help you and that wretched mutt. I swear the little bastard knows the effect he has on women.”
Orlando grinned as Sidi’s ears pricked up at the comment, but it soon wavered. “I’ll be fine. I just wish Dad had been here. I know things aren’t great between us but…for Christ sake would it have killed him to see me off?” Orlando demanded, his voice suddenly rising.
Colin took a deep breath, hating what he was about to say. He might not like the Blooms, but Colin came from a big family too, and knew their importance. Besides Orli was a family guy, always had been and that was something he knew wasn’t going to change.
“Look, darlin’…things aren’t going to be like this forever with your Da. He loves you. You’re the baby of the family, remember? Your Da loves you, hell everyone does. It’s just temporary.” Despite his reassurances, Colin’s voice fell flat.
Professor Bloom had taken an instant dislike to Colin, a ‘drunken, slovenly little Irishman’ had been his exact words, which Colin thought was rather unfair since half of Prof Bloom’s family, the Neesons, were Irish themselves. At first Colin had assumed that the elder Bloom had taken offence to his son’s sexuality. After all, Orlando had been a kid when they got together. Well, not a kid, but at seventeen, Colin at been on dangerous ground with the Prof, especially with him being a manipulative twenty-year old. But as he’d later found out, he didn’t give a damn about the gender of Orlando’s partner.
Turned out the old man was quite a prominent figure in the gay right’s movement. It was just Colin himself Prof objected to. But it seemed there had been… disagreements years before Colin entered the picture. He gathered it was something that lead up to Orlando’s father’s ‘accident’, as it was referred to. It was also tied into Orlando’s abhorrence of guns, but that was all he knew, but then something else had happened to cause a massive fallout, and now, ten months later they still weren’t speaking to each other, despite Eric, Kirsten and Becka’s combined efforts. Colin didn’t hold out much hope of a reunion in the future. Orlando could be stubborn as a mule when he wanted to and his father was even worse.
“It’s not gonna happen, Cols. I didn’t want things to go this way, but I’m not the one who won’t pick up the phone. He’s just being a stubborn bastard, like usual. He can never admit when he’s wrong.” A sullen expression flitted over the younger man’s expression.
“I just didn’t want you guys to part with bad feelings. It’s not good for the soul,” Colin blurted out, appalled at how much of an ‘Irishman’ he sounded. Why the hell was he defending Liam Bloom? Orlando didn’t respond verbally. Instead he swiftly responded with a few quick movements of the hands as he slumped back in the seat, his attention now focused on Sidi. Colin sighed in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. It amazed him how childish Orlando could be at times. Why the hell wouldn’t he just talk about it? It was a deliberate avoidance tactic Orli used, which had become a fairly recurring theme recently. He didn’t want to talk, so he shut people out with the language of the deaf, it became annoying after a while. Colin had once enjoyed trying to learn all the different combinations of sign language but now it signalled that the conversation, to Orlando, was at an end.
~*~*~*~*~
Dominic shifted uneasily in his seat. It was obvious what that ‘disagreement’ had just been about, and people said liberalisation was becoming global. He almost snorted at that idea. He could just imagine what Elijah’s reaction to it would’ve been, and was extremely grateful that his lover wasn’t here. He shuddered to think of the impact Lij and Keira could cause between them. Keira merely snorted in disgust at the fuss the Homophobic Arsehole had made. As much as people like that disgusted him, Dom had no desire to start a fight. Keira hadn’t been nearly so complacent and had made to get up and give the guy a piece of her mind but Dominic’s hand on her wrist and a pleading look had stopped her, for which Dom was incredibly grateful. Let Keira think he was a coward if she wanted. It was easier than explaining a fight to the stewards. He never understood why Keira was always so ready to fight. Of course she’d just retort why he was so ready to admit defeat.
“You should’ve stood up for those guys back there” she hissed. Fiddling with his I-pod he attempted to ignore her. “What would you have done if the guy insulted Lij? Just stand there and take it, like you always do?” she demanded. Dom shrunk down in his seat, whether in embarrassment or anger he wasn’t sure.
“The other bloke sorted it out. It’s not up to me to solve people’s arguments. Besides they’re fine. You can’t punch a guy every time he calls you a faggot,” he tried to reason, eyes begging Keira to tone her voice down.
“I doubt anyone would call me a faggot” retorted Keira, although her mouth twitched in a smirk. “Fag hag definitely, but never faggot. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that, just because he’s wearing a designer suit, and driving a corporate car. That shit doesn’t make him anything special. Bet he’s a repressed homo himself.” She sounded more aggrieved by the man’s behaviour than Dom. She might be his twin sister, but he’d be damned if he ever understood the girl. Why did homophobia rattle her cage so much? If he could deal with it, why couldn’t she?
This was supposed to be a break for him. He’d known Keira was trying to be nice when she’d secretly booked the flight but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. He hadn’t told her that he’d packed in his course yet and felt a bit guilty about that. She was taking him away to give him a break from it after all. Well, he’d just deal with that when they got back home.
Thinking of the scene he sighed. It was just another reminder of why he could never bring Elijah home. Even if he’d wanted to subject Lij to the displeasure of meeting his parents, they’d never accept it. It was his duty to continue the family name after all. At times it was all he could do not to scream with frustration over his life. Why couldn’t he break away like Keira could, like Elijah encouraged him to?
Trying to distract himself he flipped through the music choices until he found that special tune, which Lij had dubbed the ‘pick me up’. God, he missed Lij already. He was half tempted to just turn around and go back home again. How was he going to manage for two weeks without Lij, when they’d barely been separated two days since they met? Trying to ignore Keira’s sullen expression as she fiddled with her phone he stretched in the chair. He forgot just how much he hated airports.
Keira refused to even glance at her brother. Fighting the urge to slap him across the head, she was sure Elijah would understand if she accidentally gave her brother a concussion. Would it kill him to occasionally stand up to people? Just because he wasn’t a bully didn’t mean he had to just watch. Stupid arse. She wished Lij could’ve been here for this. Despite the man’s less than…intimidating stature, Elijah could scare the shit out of people at times. It was the bloody eyes. They looked so sweet and innocent one minute, the next they resembled a deranged psychopath’s, flat and full of madness. It something which Elijah seemed oddly proud of for some reason.
Although it had to be said, that there was actually very little that pissed Elijah off. In fact it added up to three things: intolerance in any form, using the last of the milk, and, last but not least, damaging in any way, shape or form his prized collection of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings memorabilia. She would have loved to see Elijah scare the shit out of Armani-suit, although, the dark-haired bloke had done a pretty good job and the Irish guy didn’t look like someone you wanted to take on in a fight. The other guy, the pretty one was obviously used to people like Armani-suit. It made her sick that people had to develop a tolerance of the intolerant.
Picking up her phone she scanned through her messages. She wasn’t really interested in their content, but needed something to distract her, half-hoping Marton had dropped her a line, although she knew he wouldn’t. Their arrangement suited her just fine but still a text would’ve been nice. Flicking through the messages, half of them from Sienna moaning about her lack of a love life (and the problem with that was?), the other half just bullshit. She had nearly reached the end when she saw it and her heart sunk.
K – any thoughts on my proposal yet? not to hurry you luv, but I want an answer. soon. don’t think I won’t carry out my promise, let’s face it – I’ve got nothing to loose, your fag bro has. Love ya. Jude.
She forced down the loud expletive waiting to erupt from her throat, mindful of Dom overhearing. Fuck it all, why would have the bastard leave her alone? It’d been foolish to assume Jude would have forgotten about this. It was the one thing she could say about Jude; he was persistent. Why he thought he get her back under normal circumstances, let alone using such base threats, was beyond her. Quickly deleting the message, she paused for a moment, mentally sighing. She couldn’t let Jude make good on his threat, and he was just enough of a vindictive bastard to do it. And Dom, the poor sod, was enough of an idiot to care if Jude carried through his threat. That would never do.
If Jude made the same threat to Keira, she’d have laughed in his face, after kicking him in the balls that is. But then she didn’t have anything to lose, not like Dom did, or at least, thought he did. The threat, or promise of parental approval, held no weight with her. they could go to hell for all she was concerned. Weighing her options, she slowly opened up a new message box on her phone:
jude, i’ve got a new proposal: go. fuck. yourself. i don’t know anyone else who’d voluntarily do it, and just for the record, you do anything to dom or lij and you’ll regret it, i promise.
Hitting ‘send’ she ground her teeth. If Jude thought she’d give into his demands he had his head further up his arse than she thought. He and Armani-suit would make a great couple. Glancing at Dom, she noticed he was already dozing in the chair. Envying his ability to sleep anywhere, she shifted in the chair in a futile attempt to get comfortable.
TBC in part 2 of prologue
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): VigOrli, Orlando/Colin, Dominic/Elijah, Keira/Marton Csoakes. Others may appear later
Warnings: attempted rape, violence, torture scenes, angst. Special warnings will be give with chapters when needed.
Summary: Paradise regained? Try again.
Note: This is a RPS version of "Lost" and a plot bunny that wouldn't let go.
Feedback: It doesn't matter which one of us you send it to, and get bit we get is greatly appreicated!
N.B. If anyone's interested there is a character list & pictures for Adrift which can be found at my joural (imogen_lily). This link will take you there: http://imogen-lily.livejournal.com/32332.html
through the crowded terminal, eyes darting about, aware of each and every person, every movement. It had been his job for so long that it had become ingrained. He sat down heavily on one of the uncomfortable airport chairs, sighing in irritation. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of this country. He needed to get away from the life he’d made for himself here- a life that was slowly eating away at his soul. He scooted down in the seat, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes, but he was ever aware of the activity going on around him.
When are they going to board this fucking plane?
It was of utmost importance that no one recognized Viggo. He had kept as low a profile as possible, but, for a man in his line of work, that was sometimes tricky. Worming his way into someone’s life, only to set them up to be killed, wasn’t easy. He only wished he could say that he got used to it, but he never really had. The first time was the hardest, of course, but he never could achieve the pure cold- heartedness of some of the others in his profession. Every time he went out on a mission, he swore that it would be his last. But someone had always called up a favour or he was offered too much money to refuse. After all, he was a businessman, wasn’t he? A guy had to make a living…
But this time, it was different. This was going to be Viggo’s last job. He meant it this time. He was going to Australia, take care of this Eriksson character, and then turn around and catch the next flight to Argentina. Viggo had been hoarding away a good part of the money he’d made from each assignment and was going to spend the rest of his life laying on a beach with a margarita in one hand and a good Cuban cigar in the other. He would gaze lovingly at the gorgeous creatures sitting about in various stages of undress, attempting to get perfect tans; making his greatest attempt to bed as many of them as he possibly could.
His last job in Britain had been more complicated than he’d anticipated. He had nearly gotten caught and, as much as the man wanted to deny it, his conscience was starting to nag at him. The businessman in Britain, Françoise Milburn, had been there with his little girl, and it had become so difficult for Viggo to find the man alone that he’d had to make the kill in front of the child.
That night, Viggo had a nightmare so real, that when he woke up, he thought he was in hell. And, perhaps that was what was happening to him. This business wasn’t for the faint of heart and, the sad truth was, Viggo was getting soft. He never allowed himself to think of his targets as anything other than that. He didn’t want to know that they were someone’s son, brother, husband or, especially, someone’s father.
If only Viggo had fought his expulsion from medical school all those years ago, his life would have taken a much different turn. He’d been accused of cheating, when it was, in fact, another student who’d been involved, and not him. But Viggo was no snitch. That was one thing living in Hell’s Kitchen had taught him. You didn’t snitch, no matter what the cost. And this had cost Viggo a whole hell of a lot. He suddenly found himself with not only no money, but creditors on his back and no way to pay them.
Some might think it odd that he went from med student to hit man, but not Viggo. He came from the streets and the dreams of being a doctor were nearly unobtainable. Then he’d gotten a scholarship and his brother had taken out a second and third mortgage on his house to help pay the tuition. Everyone had been so proud of him for being the first Mortensen to go to college. His mother had raised him and his brother as a single parent and it was her faith in him that kept him going. The shame he felt, the shame he put upon those who had believed in him so much, nearly destroyed him. He had never told anyone that it wasn’t him that cheated, but that didn’t really matter anymore. It was a long, long time ago. He had become bitter and resentful and he’d only wanted to lash out at the world. It didn’t take long for him to find a way to do that and to make a good living at the same time. And it was the perfect setup, except for the guilt.
Yeah, it was time……Time to get out.
~*~*~*~*~
Another man sank down into the seat beside Viggo. Looking down at the seemingly sleeping man, he sighed and gazed at the other people around him. The fact was that he was lonely. And he hated flying. And he hated flying alone. Yet, here he was, a big teddy bear of a man, sitting alone in an airport terminal, waiting to get on a flight he didn’t want to get on. If God wanted Man to fly, he would have given him wings. That’s what his Da always said and his Da was always right.
Yes, Sala had become tired of travelling and was more than ready to come ‘home’. He’d been away far too long and missed his girl. Once he finally landed in New Zealand, he was going to ask her to marry him. It was time to settle down, get married, be a father; the sort of father his own Da was to him, at least for the short time he was around. Unfortunately, his father had become a political prisoner in the ongoing unpleasantness in the Middle East and Sala very nearly so. He had fled Israel to avoid his commitment as a citizen there to fight in the Israeli army; he ended up finding work in New Zealand as a stuntman for a trilogy of films that were being made there. It was there he met Jasmine and there he had been badly hurt performing what should have been a minor stunt. He finally settled on becoming a car mechanic and found it a good, if not satisfying, way to make a living. But the pain of his family being so far away was always in the back of Sala’s mind and he yearned to see them again. However, that would mean being conscripted into the army and he couldn’t take that risk.
He wondered, sometimes, why he had this wanderlust, but he knew it was because he wanted to find a place where he didn’t have to worry about political upheaval. But Sala could find no such place. As a Buddhist, he was pained to see the sorrows of the world, perhaps much more sensitive to it than others, but he was tired of looking for the perfect world. It simply didn’t exist.
Maybe it was in the ‘normal’ life that Sala could find true happiness. With Jasmine as a wife and a couple of children to care for, his life might finally make sense. He remembered his favourite book, “Of Human Bondage”, where the main character found his own happiness in the seemingly mundane things in life.
He sighed heavily as he got up to stand in line to board the plane. He would be pulled aside, as he always was, to be searched a bit more thoroughly than the others flying that afternoon. He was used to it because of his dark skin and clear Mediterranean background. With the renewed fear of terrorism due to 9/11 he knew that it would reassure the other passengers on the plane. He looked over to a far corner at some sort of ruckus occurring between three men; then nodded at the attendant who pulled him aside.
~*~*~*~*~
Clive grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably in the tiny terminal seat. Why did they have to make these things so fuckin’ small? It was bad enough he had to get on a plane, but this was just adding insult to injury. He sighed unhappily. He had no real choice. He’d made mistakes and this was the only way out; leave and to leave quickly. He didn’t fancy the idea of abandoning his family and friends, but, for their protection and his own, this was the all he could really do.
Clive had pissed off a well-connected lawyer of a certain ‘family’ who seemed to have a habit of making people who piss them off disappear. The lawyer had the bad fortune of getting off a rapist on a technicality. This rapist was clearly guilty; had, in fact, admitted to the brutal crime, but the lawyer claimed in court that Clive had coerced the confession from the son of his client. So, the kid walks, happy as you please, with Clive leaving the courthouse and finding all four tires on his car slashed and a note on the windshield suggesting he write a will.
Clive had flipped open his cell phone and called a taxi to take him to the airport before he even left the parking lot.
~*~*~*~*~
Tom was happy to be finally leaving for Australia. He was sick of this city. He’d proposed one of his best ideas to his company, only to have it rejected before he could even give his power point presentation. The stupid fucks they had in charge couldn’t find their asses from a hole in the ground. He was sick of it. Just sick of it. Okay, maybe he hadn’t graduated from an Ivy League college like that idiot who had gotten the promotion that had clearly belonged to him, but he did graduate with honours from a very good community college…
His thoughts were interrupted when he looked at the striking blonde woman who sat opposite him, flicking through a magazine. She was very attractive, and certainly interesting. There was something different about her that he just couldn’t put his finger on. She looked like money. Old money perhaps? She was wearing a vintage Valentino pantsuit and there was a Gucci carryon lying at her feet. This flight could be very interesting if he played his cards right. She looked up and straight at him for a moment, a slight smile crossing her lips as she noticed his stare. Suddenly, the annoying clatter of children pulled his focus away from the cute blonde. Why were there always a bunch of loud brats on the flights he took? What were these irresponsible parents thinking, making his trip so miserable with their unruly children’s constant running back and forth to the bathrooms and whining about their ears popping? Christ.
His attention riveted back to the woman. It was the eyes. She had one blue eye and one brown. How odd… He was about to introduce himself when his eyes flicked up in time to see two men touching each other in inappropriate ways. Fucking fags. Didn’t they have any shame? They were in a public place, for Christ’s sake! Couldn’t they keep their deviant, sickening behaviour in check? If they had to give into their disgusting base needs, couldn’t they find a hotel or some bathroom stall instead of subjecting good Christian people to it? Tom tried to focus on the lovely lady in front of him when he looked up just in time to see the two men kissing. No. He couldn’t have that. He wasn’t getting on an airplane with any queers. It just wasn’t going to happen. His anger got the best of him as he jumped out of his chair and headed over to the two men.
~*~*~*~*~
Clive finally gave up and stood to stretch. Looking around him, he spotted a newsstand and decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to buy a magazine to take his mind off the fact that in just a few minutes, he’d be boarding a large, metal bullet that would be hurling through the sky. He shuddered at the thought of it. The big man wasn’t afraid of much but it seemed as if, in the last few hours, he’d been afraid of everything.
As he walked out of the store, a TIME magazine tucked under his arm, his attention was diverted to two men, hugging each other in a more than friendly way. One man was obviously going to join Clive on the airplane and the other man was saying goodbye. He shook his head at the sight. He was far from homophobic, but for these guys to openly show this sort of affection towards one another was just asking for trouble.
As they pulled away from one another Clive was stunned at the beauty of the men. They were dark-haired, both with the most gorgeous chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. But one of them grabbed Clive’s attention the most. His hair was a bit long with soft waves curling around his long neck. The young man had a smile that could melt a heart if it was aimed at you. Shit, but that boy was stunning. But he was obviously taken and, besides, Clive had no intention of getting close to anyone until he was certain they would be safe from his new enemies.
He plopped back down in the chair and opened the magazine. In the middle of the article he was reading, the airline attendant called for the first group of people to board the plane. With a nervous sigh, Clive stood up and headed for the very back of the line.
As he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, he heard a commotion in the direction of where the two attractive men had previously been standing. One of the men was pushing a third man up against a wall, with the other, man, the one Clive had thought so lovely, trying to pull the two apart. His cop instincts kicking in, Clive pulled out of the line and quickly made his way to the arguing men.
“…This place is full of kids, man! Maybe their parents don’t want them to know about sexual deviants like you and your little ‘fag friend’ here,” Clive heard the man against the wall taunt. Colin’s mouth turned into a snarl and lunged forward at Tom. Inwardly cursing, Clive automatically grabbed the back of Colin’s shirt and roughly pulled him away.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” he said, as he turned to glare at Tom, “but I can guess. Why don’t you boys just try to keep things cool here? They’re likely to postpone this flight because of you and I don’t want to have to wait any longer than I have to.” His grip tightened slightly on Tom’s wrist, the warning was clear in his eyes and eventually both men backed of, hatred still simmering close to the surface.
He then pushed Colin back towards his boyfriend, who was looking at Clive with gratitude in his eyes. Clive nodded at the younger man and walked away, but the tremors that ran down his spine at the kid’s attention, however short, were not to be ignored. He shook his head, he couldn’t let himself go right now, any other time, perhaps he would have been openly drooling after the kid, probably tried his luck too but after what had just happened, attention was certainly something he was desperate to avoid. Besides the Irish man looked ready to flay anyone who looked at his partner and he was actively trying to avoid loosing any body parts.
Tom pushed away from the wall and straightened his jacket, shooting an angry look at the two men and shaking his head before walking towards the line to safely stand several people behind Clive.
“Are you all right?” Orlando anxiously asked Colin.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Colin answered, irritation lacing his voice. “I just get fuckin’ tired of certain….people putting their damned noses where they don’t fuckin’ belong.” Turning to Orlando, Colin’s angry expression softened. “I’m going to miss you, baby.”
“I know you are, Colin,” Orlando replied nervously. “Just try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, ok? I just don’t want any surprises when I get back.”
“What do you mean by that?” The eyes were wide with innocence. That might have fooled others but Orlando rolled his eyes.
“You know, Colin…something that I have to get a shot of penicillin for.”
“Shit, baby, you know you’re the only one for me,” Colin cooed as he bent over for another quick kiss, ever mindful of the Armani-suited bastard still lurking nearby, although his ear now glued to his phone, engaged in ranting some orders to some poor sod. Colin’s hand was still itching to punch the fucker. He could take arseholes like that, but his Orli shouldn’t have to deal with them.
“Right,” the younger man said sceptically. “Just try, all right?”
“You know me babe, I aim to misbehave.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Colin could have kicked himself as he saw pain flash across Orlando’s face. Orlando unconsciously fiddled with the ring Colin had given him, the shine having worn off long ago, quite similar to their relationship. He shot Orlando a crooked smile, both knowing exactly what Orlando had meant, and despite all the promises, he knew he’d probably end up betraying Orlando. Six months was a hell of a long time. He wouldn’t mean to, but it always just seemed to…happen. He remembered once asking Orlando why he stayed with him. Orlando had simply replied he felt safe around Colin. He still wasn’t sure what Orlando had meant by that. Needing a distraction he petted Sidi, who’d remained remarkably placid though out everything. Colin was half convinced Sidi would bite the bastard who’d insulted them.
He sometimes worried that Orlando and Sidi had a cosmic connection. Of course he wouldn’t dare say that to Orlando. Sidi was his baby and it was a constant battle for Colin to keep the wretched animal off their bed. The damn mutt was even flying with Orli to bloody Australia. He still wasn’t quite sure how Orlando had cleared it with immigration, but he knew first hand what a devastating impact Orlando and Sidi could make together. He’d lay bets the powers that be caved within fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty if they were tough.
Six months. Jesus, he didn’t want Orli to do this - still wasn’t quite sure why Orli insisted on going. Frankly, it would only cause trouble for them. Colin wanted to beg Orlando not to go. Six months with Eric Bastard Bloom would all but destroy any semblance of credibility Colin had left. He knew Eric and Becka, that scheming wife of his would work on Orlando day and night trying to get him to leave Colin. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried. They’d make him see the Irishman didn’t really love him and how much he’d hurt his baby brother. They’d probably even introduce Orlando to other guys, nice ones, ones that wouldn’t cheat on him every chance they got, no matter how much they professed to love him.
That Eric hated him was the world’s biggest understatement. At their first meeting even as Eric shook Colin’s hand, with a bit too much strength, he’d threatened to “pound the ever living shit out of him” if ever made his precious baby brother so much as frown. Naturally, this had been said in a such a low level hiss that Orlando had missed it, but from the hard glint in the man’s eyes and at 6’ 3’’ and 250lb of pure muscle, Colin had known it hadn’t been an idle threat. Fuck if Eric hadn’t scared the shit out of him that day, and still did now for that matter. For all his brawling ability and Irish temper, Colin knew he’d be hard pressed to even stay on his feet if he ever came up against Eric.
Fortunately, all he’d received so far was a solid punch in the jaw for his behaviour, well as far as Orlando knew anyway. He’d made it a point not to inform his lover of the kick in the nuts he’d received from Orlando’s sister. The fact that the petit blonde had actually hurt him was just too embarrassing for him to admit. Kirsten, like the rest of Orlando’s family worried herself senseless about Orlando’s coping abilities, and Colin’s apparent inability to look after her brother in any capacity. And Orli’s friends were just as bad. None of them trusted Colin in the least, but for all his faults, Colin loved Orlando. Yes, he had fucked up and hurt Orlando, badly on occasion, but they were still standing, weren’t they? Their relationship survived. They were strong and he protected Orlando to the best of his abilities. Orlando was a big boy, he didn’t need a watchdog ready to pounce at the merest hint of a threat, so what the fuck had happened to make them so hung up about protecting Orlando? Orlando had brushed off the idea, but Colin noticed how fiercely protective his siblings and father were around Orlando…that level of protectiveness just wasn’t normal…
“You going to be OK on the flight?” he asked, trying to change the subject, there was no point in ruminating over past sins was there? Orlando offered a cautious nod.
Colin sometimes forgot how much of a big deal this was for his boyfriend. Planes and crowded places were not Orlando’s strong point. He could still remember Orlando’s sudden panicked hysteria three years ago when they were intending to go to Prague. In the end they’d not gone, and Orlando had kept apologizing for three days. Of course some of those ‘apologies’, Colin hadn’t complained about….
“Remember if you need anything grab one of the stewardesses, they’ll be falling over themselves to help you and that wretched mutt. I swear the little bastard knows the effect he has on women.”
Orlando grinned as Sidi’s ears pricked up at the comment, but it soon wavered. “I’ll be fine. I just wish Dad had been here. I know things aren’t great between us but…for Christ sake would it have killed him to see me off?” Orlando demanded, his voice suddenly rising.
Colin took a deep breath, hating what he was about to say. He might not like the Blooms, but Colin came from a big family too, and knew their importance. Besides Orli was a family guy, always had been and that was something he knew wasn’t going to change.
“Look, darlin’…things aren’t going to be like this forever with your Da. He loves you. You’re the baby of the family, remember? Your Da loves you, hell everyone does. It’s just temporary.” Despite his reassurances, Colin’s voice fell flat.
Professor Bloom had taken an instant dislike to Colin, a ‘drunken, slovenly little Irishman’ had been his exact words, which Colin thought was rather unfair since half of Prof Bloom’s family, the Neesons, were Irish themselves. At first Colin had assumed that the elder Bloom had taken offence to his son’s sexuality. After all, Orlando had been a kid when they got together. Well, not a kid, but at seventeen, Colin at been on dangerous ground with the Prof, especially with him being a manipulative twenty-year old. But as he’d later found out, he didn’t give a damn about the gender of Orlando’s partner.
Turned out the old man was quite a prominent figure in the gay right’s movement. It was just Colin himself Prof objected to. But it seemed there had been… disagreements years before Colin entered the picture. He gathered it was something that lead up to Orlando’s father’s ‘accident’, as it was referred to. It was also tied into Orlando’s abhorrence of guns, but that was all he knew, but then something else had happened to cause a massive fallout, and now, ten months later they still weren’t speaking to each other, despite Eric, Kirsten and Becka’s combined efforts. Colin didn’t hold out much hope of a reunion in the future. Orlando could be stubborn as a mule when he wanted to and his father was even worse.
“It’s not gonna happen, Cols. I didn’t want things to go this way, but I’m not the one who won’t pick up the phone. He’s just being a stubborn bastard, like usual. He can never admit when he’s wrong.” A sullen expression flitted over the younger man’s expression.
“I just didn’t want you guys to part with bad feelings. It’s not good for the soul,” Colin blurted out, appalled at how much of an ‘Irishman’ he sounded. Why the hell was he defending Liam Bloom? Orlando didn’t respond verbally. Instead he swiftly responded with a few quick movements of the hands as he slumped back in the seat, his attention now focused on Sidi. Colin sighed in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. It amazed him how childish Orlando could be at times. Why the hell wouldn’t he just talk about it? It was a deliberate avoidance tactic Orli used, which had become a fairly recurring theme recently. He didn’t want to talk, so he shut people out with the language of the deaf, it became annoying after a while. Colin had once enjoyed trying to learn all the different combinations of sign language but now it signalled that the conversation, to Orlando, was at an end.
~*~*~*~*~
Dominic shifted uneasily in his seat. It was obvious what that ‘disagreement’ had just been about, and people said liberalisation was becoming global. He almost snorted at that idea. He could just imagine what Elijah’s reaction to it would’ve been, and was extremely grateful that his lover wasn’t here. He shuddered to think of the impact Lij and Keira could cause between them. Keira merely snorted in disgust at the fuss the Homophobic Arsehole had made. As much as people like that disgusted him, Dom had no desire to start a fight. Keira hadn’t been nearly so complacent and had made to get up and give the guy a piece of her mind but Dominic’s hand on her wrist and a pleading look had stopped her, for which Dom was incredibly grateful. Let Keira think he was a coward if she wanted. It was easier than explaining a fight to the stewards. He never understood why Keira was always so ready to fight. Of course she’d just retort why he was so ready to admit defeat.
“You should’ve stood up for those guys back there” she hissed. Fiddling with his I-pod he attempted to ignore her. “What would you have done if the guy insulted Lij? Just stand there and take it, like you always do?” she demanded. Dom shrunk down in his seat, whether in embarrassment or anger he wasn’t sure.
“The other bloke sorted it out. It’s not up to me to solve people’s arguments. Besides they’re fine. You can’t punch a guy every time he calls you a faggot,” he tried to reason, eyes begging Keira to tone her voice down.
“I doubt anyone would call me a faggot” retorted Keira, although her mouth twitched in a smirk. “Fag hag definitely, but never faggot. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that, just because he’s wearing a designer suit, and driving a corporate car. That shit doesn’t make him anything special. Bet he’s a repressed homo himself.” She sounded more aggrieved by the man’s behaviour than Dom. She might be his twin sister, but he’d be damned if he ever understood the girl. Why did homophobia rattle her cage so much? If he could deal with it, why couldn’t she?
This was supposed to be a break for him. He’d known Keira was trying to be nice when she’d secretly booked the flight but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. He hadn’t told her that he’d packed in his course yet and felt a bit guilty about that. She was taking him away to give him a break from it after all. Well, he’d just deal with that when they got back home.
Thinking of the scene he sighed. It was just another reminder of why he could never bring Elijah home. Even if he’d wanted to subject Lij to the displeasure of meeting his parents, they’d never accept it. It was his duty to continue the family name after all. At times it was all he could do not to scream with frustration over his life. Why couldn’t he break away like Keira could, like Elijah encouraged him to?
Trying to distract himself he flipped through the music choices until he found that special tune, which Lij had dubbed the ‘pick me up’. God, he missed Lij already. He was half tempted to just turn around and go back home again. How was he going to manage for two weeks without Lij, when they’d barely been separated two days since they met? Trying to ignore Keira’s sullen expression as she fiddled with her phone he stretched in the chair. He forgot just how much he hated airports.
Keira refused to even glance at her brother. Fighting the urge to slap him across the head, she was sure Elijah would understand if she accidentally gave her brother a concussion. Would it kill him to occasionally stand up to people? Just because he wasn’t a bully didn’t mean he had to just watch. Stupid arse. She wished Lij could’ve been here for this. Despite the man’s less than…intimidating stature, Elijah could scare the shit out of people at times. It was the bloody eyes. They looked so sweet and innocent one minute, the next they resembled a deranged psychopath’s, flat and full of madness. It something which Elijah seemed oddly proud of for some reason.
Although it had to be said, that there was actually very little that pissed Elijah off. In fact it added up to three things: intolerance in any form, using the last of the milk, and, last but not least, damaging in any way, shape or form his prized collection of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings memorabilia. She would have loved to see Elijah scare the shit out of Armani-suit, although, the dark-haired bloke had done a pretty good job and the Irish guy didn’t look like someone you wanted to take on in a fight. The other guy, the pretty one was obviously used to people like Armani-suit. It made her sick that people had to develop a tolerance of the intolerant.
Picking up her phone she scanned through her messages. She wasn’t really interested in their content, but needed something to distract her, half-hoping Marton had dropped her a line, although she knew he wouldn’t. Their arrangement suited her just fine but still a text would’ve been nice. Flicking through the messages, half of them from Sienna moaning about her lack of a love life (and the problem with that was?), the other half just bullshit. She had nearly reached the end when she saw it and her heart sunk.
K – any thoughts on my proposal yet? not to hurry you luv, but I want an answer. soon. don’t think I won’t carry out my promise, let’s face it – I’ve got nothing to loose, your fag bro has. Love ya. Jude.
She forced down the loud expletive waiting to erupt from her throat, mindful of Dom overhearing. Fuck it all, why would have the bastard leave her alone? It’d been foolish to assume Jude would have forgotten about this. It was the one thing she could say about Jude; he was persistent. Why he thought he get her back under normal circumstances, let alone using such base threats, was beyond her. Quickly deleting the message, she paused for a moment, mentally sighing. She couldn’t let Jude make good on his threat, and he was just enough of a vindictive bastard to do it. And Dom, the poor sod, was enough of an idiot to care if Jude carried through his threat. That would never do.
If Jude made the same threat to Keira, she’d have laughed in his face, after kicking him in the balls that is. But then she didn’t have anything to lose, not like Dom did, or at least, thought he did. The threat, or promise of parental approval, held no weight with her. they could go to hell for all she was concerned. Weighing her options, she slowly opened up a new message box on her phone:
jude, i’ve got a new proposal: go. fuck. yourself. i don’t know anyone else who’d voluntarily do it, and just for the record, you do anything to dom or lij and you’ll regret it, i promise.
Hitting ‘send’ she ground her teeth. If Jude thought she’d give into his demands he had his head further up his arse than she thought. He and Armani-suit would make a great couple. Glancing at Dom, she noticed he was already dozing in the chair. Envying his ability to sleep anywhere, she shifted in the chair in a futile attempt to get comfortable.
TBC in part 2 of prologue
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