U Belong 2 Me, Too! (Twisted_iN_Tux and AllThingsCuddly)

[AllThingsCuddly]

Scenario Specifics

WHO:
Samuel Chorster & Drake Valentine


Officer James Wilson, Rick Valentine, Officer Jeremy Smith


Augustus Black (Behind the Scenes)


GUEST STARRING:
Henry Cavill and Matt Bomer


RELATIONSHIPS:

WHAT:
Blackmail, Manipulation and Everything Else!

WHEN:
A Quiet Friday Evening in the Winter of 2019 until...

TIMELINE SPECIFICS:

Time	Cade	Drake	Rick	Hunter
6:00/9:00	Preparing for his charity event	His last guests are arriving for his party	On the road?	Arriving at Club Omnia, thinking he's there to meet Mateo but instead gets detained and tied up
7:00/10:00	Arrives at Club Omnia, approaches the bar and gets harassed by Augustus, losing his beautiful fur coat	Hanging out with Matt and the rest of his guests	Still on the road	Still tied up in a back room, overstimulated and ignored
8:00/11:00	The auction begins and after Augustus wins Cade, he begins to publicly humiliate Cade on stage by slowing cutting away or auctioning off his entire wardrobe	Is informed of his brother's arrest but returns to his party to mingle with his guests	Driving down I-87 at 125 M/H and gets pulled over by the cops and who proceed to drug him and put him in the back of their SUV	Still tied up in a back room, overstimulated and ignored
9:00/12:00	Things are really starting to get heated. Reduced to wearing only his cuffs, collar, suspenders and pants with a large opening in both front ant back, he is forced to his knees and tied down before being forced to suck off Mateo and Brad the first time	Most of his guests are gone, leaving him, Jensen, Jared, Matt, Henry and Samuel in the manor. Samuel discreetly excuses himself to deal with 'family business'	Wakes up in the basement of his brother's manor but has no idea where he is and starts to squirm and fight	Still tied up in a back room, overstimulated and ignored
10:00/1:00	Hunter is brought out and Cade is forced to rape him then Hunter is taken away to 'safety'. He is then forced back into a standing position and gets his nipples pierced	Is hanging out with Matt as he bids farewell to the last of his guests. He is starting to worry about his brother's and Samuel when Sam returns with news of Rick	Samuel arrives and cuts off his scalp then leaves him in the capable hands of James and Jeremy. The two cops put him in a very compromising position.	Gets raped by his brother then returns to the back room to die
11:00/2:00	Receives his dick piercing and passes out. When he's woken up he is shown the text message conversation between 'Mr. Smith' and Drake, then he is tied down to start the gangbang	Instructs Samuel to contact Mr. Smith with the okay for double hazard pay if need be	TBD	Dead

WHERE:






Drake's Office, Home and anywhere else...

The Story Thus Far

Chapter 1: U Belong 2 Me
Chapter 2 : U Belong 2 Me, 2

Thirteen Years Ago...

Restaurant Guy Savoy in Caesars Las Vegas - December 31st, 2005

"What do you mean there's no reservation for Chorster? I called three months ago." Samuel was trying to keep his voice down, but it was becoming more and more difficult. So far this weekend had been an absolute bust. Completely ruined.

Three months of planning and two years of saving completely down the drain. How could this weekend get any worse?

For years now he had been harboring feelings for his best friend, Cleopatra Black. He, Cleopatra and her brother Augustus were all close friends. In truth, he had actually met Augustus first. It was the year Samuel had transferred from another state. Being the small boy he was, he had been the subject of many bullies. His smart mouth didn't help with that. One particularly bad day Samuel had opened his big mouth and insulted the biggest jackass of the entire school and had found himself fleeing for his life as the entire baseball team chased after him with bats. No sooner had he scampered up a tree - so quickly that he earned the nickname Squirrel after that day - that Augustus had appeared.

If there was one thing that Augustus hated, it was bullies. He couldn't stand someone bullying another just because he had the advantage of height. So when he'd been sitting on a nearby fence smoking a joint and seen the new kid running for his life, he had extinguished his joint and reluctantly followed after the gang. Before the bullies knew what was happening, Augustus had taken a bat from one of the largest boys, then used it to fight off the entire gang, sending them running with multiple bruises and even a sprained wrist. Augustus himself got a black eye, a chipped tooth and bruised ribs for his trouble. From that day on, however, he and Samuel were thick as thieves.

Ten years later, Samuel was finally ready to admit that he had feelings for Cleo, something that Augustus had been urging him to do for years now, and this was the end result?

Originally he, Augustus and Cleopatra were to take a trip to Las Vegas for New Year's - or so Sam had told Cleo. It would be the three of them in the city that never sleeps. At the last minute, however, Augustus had 'decided' to stay at Harvard to study for some important exam, leaving Sam and Cleo to go alone. It would seem less suspicious if they were going as friends, right? Well, two round trip tickets to Las Vegas on New Year's weekend were not cheap. After the tickets he had paid for a cheap hotel and made reservations at a nice restaurant.

The flight was delayed by twelve hours thanks to a freak snow storm in New York. When they finally landed they had missed check-in at the hotel he had booked and ended up forfeiting the reservation. This had forced Samuel to find a third-rate motel just outside of Las Vegas for him and Cleo. He'd only managed to get a single room so he valiantly offered to sleep on the couch. Still, even after all that he had hoped to make everything up to Cleo with a fancy dinner. But evidentially even that was not in his cards.

"I am sorry sir, but I do not have a reservation under that name." The man was saying with a thick, heavy accent, seeming irritated.

"Ok, uh. Check under Black." He said, starting to feel desperate.

The man actually rolled his eyes and began to look over the list again. "No, sir. no reservations under that name either. Now, if you would please, step aside so I may help my actual customers."

"Actual customers? I am an actual customer!" Samuel snapped.

The man looked off to the side and made a summoning motion. Two large burly security guards began to push their way through the crowd.

"Come on, Sam, let's just go somewhere else." Cleo hissed, tugging on Sam's arm.

Letting out a growl of frustration, Samuel turned and walked with Cleo out of the restaurant.

"It's okay. We can just... go back to the motel. We can order room service, rent a movie... We can still have fun!" Cleo said, smiling. That was one thing Sam always loved about Cleo. Even when things seemed bleak, she always had a great outlook on things.

"Yeah... Okay, I guess we can do that." He said and offered his tuxedo-clad arm for her. She wrapped her slender, care arm around it and he looked her over again. She was wearing the most dazzling red dress and he could not help but admire the way it complemented her figure. He himself had rented a tuxedo for this evening, and now they were going back to the motel? Another waste of money.

As they were walking someone whistled loudly at them. "Oy! You there, in the red dress. Yeah, you!" They turned and looked at the well-dressed man. "My boss wanted me to come out and extend an invitation for you to join him inside." The man said, motioning to the front doors of Bliss, the night club also attached to Caesar's Palace.

Was their luck changing? Had some generous patron seen the bad luck they'd been having and decided to make their night after all? As they stepped closer, however, the man set a hand on Sam's chest. "Not you, pretty boy."

Pretty boy? No one had ever call Sam that before. Sure he had a slightly more narrow chin and finer features, but pretty boy?

"Sorry, I won't go in without him." Cleo said, pressing a little closer to Sam.

The man just shrugged. "I was told to invite the girl. No one else."

"Who's your boss, maybe we can reason wi-" Samuel started but was interrupted by the stranger.

"Mr. Valentine told me to extend his invitation to the young lady, no one else. It's either her or no one. Are you coming, yes or no?"

"N-" Cleo started to answer but Samuel pulled her off to the side, holding up a finger in a 'one minute' gesture.

"You go." He said quietly. When she started to object, he shook his head, "No, listen. I want you to go any have fun. This weekend has been a disaster but we don't both have to be miserable."

She frowned but then sighed. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Fine..." She turned to look at the well-dressed man. "I'll come with you."

---

Motel 6, just outside Las Vegas - January 1st, 2006

Samuel paced the room. His chest felt tight. She still wasn't back. Where could she have gone?

He checked his watch again and let our a shaky breath before sitting on the bed and reaching for the hotel phone. He dialed a number and then waited. It rang. And rang. And rang. Finally a familiar voice answered but instead of comforting, like it usually did, it just shot his nerves through the roof. "Hello?" The voice was firm and strong.

"Hey August... It's me."

"Sam, you son of a gun! I wasn't expecting to hear from you. How did she take it? Please spare me the juicy details, cause gross, she's my sister."

"I... I didn't tell her."

"What? Why not?"

"I, well the weekend... I lost her." The line fell quiet for a moment and Samuel imagined Augustus stiffening in his chair and leaning forward.

"What do you mean you lost her?" He asked, his voice suddenly cold. Augustus was a very over-protective brother.

Samuel swallowed through a tight lump in his throat. "I mean, I lost her. We got separated last night, she got invited into this club and... And she hasn't come back to the room yet."

More silence. The silence lasted so long, in fact, that Samuel was starting to think that the connection had dropped. Then, finally, Augustus spoke again and Sam heard the sound of a lighter in the background. "You better be joking Samuel Jones. This better be a fucking joke. If you seriously lost my sister, I will have your nuts in a vice."

Sam winced at the use of his middle name and he felt like he was going to puke. Or pass out. Or both. "It's... It's not a joke. Our plane leave in an hour and I can't find her."

"Stay where you are, actually, where are you?"

"Motel 6, just outside of Las Vegas..."

"I'm borrowing my roommate's car. I'll be there in... Fuck. Two days. I'll have my cell phone, if she turns up, call me. If anything happens to her, it'll be your hide."

---

Some flea-bag apartment, Las Angeles - May 15, 2006

It had taken four and a half months, two private investigators, and all the favors Augustus had accumulated to finally find Cleopatra. Augustus and Samuel stood on a dark street watching the apartment for hours before a figure walked down the street and approached the front door.

"It's her!" Samuel said in excitement and Augustus just glared at him. Things had been strained between them these last few months. He flinched and looked away.

"You stay here and keep watch. Someone put a lot of time and effort into hiding her, they might be keeping an eye on her. If anyone comes in after us, let me know."

"Right. Okay."

Augustus made his way across the street and up to the apartment, knocking firmly. He only had to wait for a minute before the door opened a couple inches. A chain connected the door to the frame, preventing him from opening it fully but he looked inside. Cleo's brilliant blue eyes looked back at him and he relaxed a little.

"August? Is that really you? Did they see you enter? Hold on." She closed the door and he heard the sound of the chain sliding off then the door opened again and she flung herself at him and he wrapped his arms.

"Cleo!" He said, burying his face into her hair and hugging her tightly. "You- You're pregnant!" He said, pushing her gently away from himself so that he could look down at her swollen belly. He had been about to say 'You're okay' but had been thoroughly distracted by this new development.

To his surprise, she flinched and turned away from him. That was not like her.

Then he realized what must have happened. "Cleo... Who did this to you?"

"It..." She shook her head, looking at the floor. "He told me if I told anyone... He'd kill me."

"Look at me Cleo." Slowly she did, meeting his eyes. "Who did this to you?" He asked again. His eyes were hard and dark but as she looked at him, they softened and he lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face. "I won't let any further harm come to you, but you need to tell me who did this."

"His name is Cade Valentine." She said quietly.

"You should not have said that." A deep voice said from behind them. A man was standing there in a dark suit, holding a gun with a silencer.

Augustus turned to face the man, making himself as big as possible and spreading his arms to protect Cleo. "I won't let you harm her."

The man didn't say anything else, instead he just aimed his gun.

BANG!!

Despite himself, Augustus flinched, closing his eyes and bowing his head. Then, slowly, it dawned on him that the noise had been much too loud for a silenced pistol. As he looked up the well-dressed man collapsed, falling to the floor where blood began to pool around him. Staring in disbelief, he looked passed the man and saw Samuel standing there with a gun in his hand. His eyes were wide and his hand was shaking. He began to blink rapidly. Blood was splattered all over his front, including over his face. "Oh God..." He said finally and dropped his gun.

Augustus knelt next to the man that had been shot. "Is... Is he...?" Samuel asked, staring in disbelief.

"Dead." Augustus said.

"Oh God. Oh God. What have I done? I killed him!" The panic truly set in then and Samuel began to pace.

"No." Augustus said in a cool voice. "You saved me and Cleo. He would have shot both of us. I have no doubt about that."

"What am I going to do?" Samuel asked, his voice strangely high-pitched as panic overtook him.

Standing, Augustus walked over to the younger man and slapped him. "Get it together. You are going to take Cleo out of here. You will take her someplace safe. And you will Not. Leave. Her Side. Do you understand?" Slowly Samuel nodded his head. "Go. I'll clean up this mess."

It was a sign of how bad these apartments were that not a single door had opened at the sound of the gunshot. There was no doubt in Augustus' mind, however, that the police were on the way.

As Samuel and Cleopatra ran from the building, Augustus began to search the cooling body. Soon he discovered the man's cell phone and it didn't take long to realize the man was a hit man. He'd been hired to keep an eye on Cleo and kill her - and anyone else that got in the way - if she told anyone about Cade. From what he was able to figure out from the phone, this man had never met Cade in person. In fact, he had been hired by Cade's father whom he had also never met. They only ever communicated through the phone.

Licking his lip, he composed a message to Valentine Sr. 'Job is done, plus one. Bonus is in order.' He based the message on the cryptic messages that had been exchanged back and forth.

He waited with baited breath for a long minute before a reply came. 'Roger that. Payment will be wired immediately. Good work.'

Letting out a breath, Augustus looked at the dead body. How did one dispose of a dead body?

Drake Valentine's Estate, A Random Friday Evening in the Winter of 2019

After that fateful day, Samuel had distanced himself from Cleo. It was his fault she had been raped. His fault she had become a mother at the tender age of eighteen. His fault she didn't smile anymore.

For the past ten years he had been serving his penance, working diligently as a personal assistant for Drake Valentine, Cade's younger brother. He and Augustus - okay, mostly Augustus - had been planning their revenge for thirteen years. Thirteen years of watching Cleo pull further and further away from him. Thirteen years of watching the Valentines live like nothing was wrong. Thirteen years of pain. No, tonight, the plan was finally being put into action.

He pulled out his phone and made a phone call. "It's time. Bring him in." He said then waited for the confirmation before hanging up. He sent a text to August and got no response but he knew the man already had eyes on Cade so he probably wouldn't reply.

Now he had to wait until the first video came in.

For ten years now Samuel had devoted his life to Drake Valentine. He would eat, sleep and breathe for the man. Although he had his own shabby little apartment in town, it was mostly just a glorified storage unit these days. After an incident eight years ago - wherein Samuel had proven his devotion and loyalty to Drake in the most absolute way possible - Drake had made arrangements for a room to be kept ready for Sam at all times within his own mansion.

Samuel was Drake's shadow. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the man - at least he had spent a decade convincing Drake of that. Drake was able to trust Samuel more than some of his own brothers.

That's why when this started to go down, the man wouldn't even consider that his most trusted assistant had any hand in the dealings.

---

Somewhere in upstate New York, A Random Friday Evening in the Winter of 2019

"It's time. Bring him in."

Officer James Wilson disconnected the call then revved his motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to the nice sports car he'd been talking for half an hour. Turning on his lights, he watched as the car slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. Pulling his own motorcycle up behind it, he parked and then got on his radio. If there were any investigations into this evening they would have to ensure that everything looked legitimate.

"Disbatch, this is bike 3412, I've just pulled over a vehicle with a suspected warrant. Requesting backup."

Then he sat and waited. If the driver of the car was suspicious, it was hard to say since he never got out or even rolled down his window. Only a few minutes later a large police SUV arrived, parking in front of the sports car, close enough to it that the car would either have to back up - into the motorcycle behind it - or drive through the SUV to leave

As Officer Jeremy Smith got out of the larger vehicle, James turned off his motorcycle and got off. Both men walked to the driver's side of the vehicle and finally the window rolled down.

"Sir, is your name Rick Valentine?" James asked, his gun clearly resting on his holstered gun.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

When one Valentine decided to paint the town red, there was this unspoken rule that each of the brothers were required to find a way to put themselves out there, wherever they were, be it home or abroad, so that the social media and news feeds were flooded with constant updates about 'The Four Horsemen.'

With word popping up, earlier in the week, that the eldest brother, Cade, would be attending a charity event in Vegas on Friday night, Drake, the second born, had decided to host an impromptu, black-tie soirée for his sixty closest friends, at his humble, three point five million dollar home in Purchase, New York. As for the youngest of the four, Hunter, he would be jetting from a week-long gig in Paris to one in New York, as Fashion Week blazed on across the globe, so his feeds were more than covered with perpetual posts of those celebrity-drenched events. Therefore, the only brother left was Rick, the third born, and while he was currently living in Drake's guesthouse, it would be poor form for him to attend his brother's party. It would seem as if he were simply riding his coattails, or so Drake had to inform him, no less than three times. So, instead, he sped off for the Canadian border, looking to spend a week in Montreal; however, by that Friday afternoon, just four days into his trip, he had had just about all he could take of the city and its people. It was all just a bit too European for him, a bit too French for him.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Deciding that a weekend in Manhattan was better suited for him, the sizable man - and I mean sizable - suited himself up, stuffed himself into his bright-blue Bugatti, and made his was back south, along I-87. If he didn't stop, which he had no intention to, he could be sitting in the VIP lounge of one of his favorite nightclubs by midnight, with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other. If he played his cards right, which he somehow often managed to do, usually by dumb luck, he would be going back to his penthouse suite with enough pussy to keep him occupied for the rest of the weekend.

Yeah, this was the type of weekend he preferred to invest in, and post about, and...

"Fuck me."

Blazing along the interstate at 125 miles an hour, it should've come as no surprise to the man that the local authorities would take issue with how he was eating up the road and, basically, putting everyone in his path in danger. But this was Rick, who wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, so when the red and blue lights began to whirl in his rearview mirror, he initially thought it was for someone else. But when they persisted, for several miles, he finally decided to pull over, punching his steering wheel with one of his massive, leather-encased hands and cursing up a storm as he did.

Watching as the pig parked his little toy cycle behind him, Rick had no intention of making this easy for the guy; however, once a lumbering, SUV-style vehicle roared into place, just a few feet away from the front of his car, he started to rethink his plan to be difficult. He was surrounded now, so it wasn't like he could just make a run for it, not unless he wanted to ruin his brand new car. No, instead, he would play nice, for as long as it suited him. Then, if that didn't work, he would bust some nuts and or crack some skulls and be done with this shit. Cop or no cop, he didn't like being told what he could and could not do. How many times had he seen these pigs practically get away with murder, just because they carried a badge and a gun? Nobody was going tell...

"Rick Valentine," he repeated, after rolling his window down and then casting his bright-blue eyes up so that they bore into the skull of the larger officer. "Yeah, that's me."

"How can I help ya...Officer Wilson?" he then questioned the other, as he pulled his eyes away from the first to focus on the second pig's badge, before giving him the same piercing look, all the while ignoring the fact that he was fingering his gun that looked more like a toy, just like his bike.

"Was backup really necessary...Officer Smith?" he then questioned, as his eyes drifted over to the other man's badge and then back up to his face, purposefully locking eyes with the obvious alpha of the pair. "Why don't ya just run along, so that Wilson here can issue me a ticket and then I can carry on with my night that's been rudely interrupted."

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

James was what many would consider a rookie cop, he'd only been on the force two years. After graduating high school he had decided to spend a year abroad before college. One year turned into two and then four, all the while living off his parents money and moving from one party to another. When six years rolled around his parents had finally had enough and cut him off, completely disinheriting the young wannabe Playboy.

Finding himself suddenly out of cash, sober for the first time in six years and somewhere in Europe with no way to get home, he went to the American embassy. That's where he met Augustus Black. It was just a chance encounter. Mr. Black was overseas to oversee the expansion of Black International and had stopped by the embassy to fill out some paperwork required of him for International business dealings and happened to overhear James's predicament.

Then and there Mr. Black offered James a job. It was bizarre. The eccentric millionaire flew James home in his private jet and spoke of righting wrongs and some other high and mighty bullshit that James completely saw through. The deal was simple though. Join the police academy, graduate and get appointed a position in New York. Then one day Mr. Black would be back to collect on his debt. On that day, James would be required to do some things that most men wouldn't even consider doing - things that, if James was being completely honest, sounded fun and exhilarating. Then after that, Augustus would ensure that James received his entire inheritance and he'd be free to do as he pleased. Until then, he'd ensure James had everything he needed to live comfortably.

That day had come.

To be honest, these last four years, learning to be a cop and then serving on the streets of New York, had been the best of James life. He felt as though he had a purpose now. He knew that even after he received his inheritance, he'd go on being a cop. In fact, he barely even wanted the inheritance anymore. It wasn't just about being a cop though. It was being a corupt cop. He was completely in Mr. Black's pocket. He didn't do it for the money but for the thrill. There was a certain rush of adrenaline he got from making a key piece of evidence disappear or from taking some 'private justice' to the ones that got away. With the influence and power Mr. Black brought to the table, James knew he could literally get away with murder.

There was a small part in the back of his mind that acknowledged that one day he would outgrow his usefulness to Mr. Black and on that day he would probably be disposed of as easily as he himself had disposed of bodies in the past, yet he didn't care. Until that day he'd make the most of what he could do.

"I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle." Was all that James said, choosing to ignore the jibe about him needing to call backup.

There was a reason James and Jeremy had both happened to be patrolling this area, one on a bike and the other in an SUV. The bike would be able to keep up with bright-blue Bugatti if Rick had chosen the flee and the SUV, well it had other usefulness.

The older of the two officers spoke up then. "I'm afraid your rudely interrupted night will continue to be interrupted for another 24-48 hours, Mr. Valentine." Jeremy had been on the police force for nearly two decades. It wasn't until well into his first decade of watching how broken the law was, of watching hard criminals be brought in then let back onto the streets because of a technicality that he turned to corruption.

When his cousin, Nick, had come to him thirteen years previously and asked him to call up one of his buddies in L.A. to ask him to overlook a key piece of evidence in some shooting, he had been hesitant. After hearing the whole story behind the shooting, however, he had decided then and there to do what he could to help. Unlike his younger partner James, who only knew enough of the plan to be useful but not enough to be a liability, Jeremy knew almost as much as his cousin.

"We are hereby placing you under arrest for evading a warrant. Please cooperate and we won't have to use force." Jeremy concluded, eying Wilson who was still nervously playing with his gun. The kid - who was really only ten years younger than Jeremy but still often acted like an immature teenager - was just itching for a reason to shoot Rick. He met the younger man's eyes and gave the barest shake or his head. A gunshot wound would take too long to heal and if James caught him in the wrong spot the shock of it could potentially kill the large body builder.

James was wearing his biker helmet so Jeremy couldn't actually see his eyes but he was sure the kid probably rolled his eyes at him. Such an immature brat.

Nevertheless, James took his hand off his holstered gun and instead pulled out his tazer. Leaning closer to the vehicle, his back to his own bike, which he knew had a dash cam, he said in a quiet voice. "We were just issued with extra strength tazers, guaranteed to bring down a bear. Just give me a reason to use it, I've been dying to see it in action." After his not so veiled threat, however, James was quick to back up away from the sports car, just waiting to see if the known hothead would be so dumb as to actually assault an officer of the law.

Jeremy groaned at his partner's brazenness and reached for his own taser, just in case. James really didn't care which of them had to taze the monster of a man, he just wanted to see him call to the ground twitching.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Confused. Rick was confused and getting angrier by the minute, which, to be perfectly honest, wasn't exactly new territory for the simpleminded bodybuilder with a penchant for breaking things with his bare hands. He truly had no clue as to what was going on here and it was really starting to piss him off. He was gonna be...detained? There was a...a warrant for his arrest? What the fuck was this all about? None of it made sense, including the fact that both of these fuckers now felt the need to show off their fancy new weapons. It seemed like they already had it out for him and they weren't going to take no for an answer.

So much for playing nice in the sandbox.

"Fine!" he barked as he killed the engine. "Back the fuck up," he then snarled, just a heartbeat before throwing the car door open, which barely missed hitting Wilson.

Sliding his long, powerful-looking legs out, Rick proceeded to extract his massive, overly muscular form from the sleek, low-lying sports car. Dressed to kill, in a double-breasted, dark-blue tuxedo that encased his bulging body beautifully - because, why the fuck not look your best when playing up your social media presence on a random Friday night? - the look on the ruggedly handsome man's goateed face spoke volumes. He wasn't happy with what was happening, he wasn't thrilled with either officer, and he certainly was not enjoying the fact that he was no longer tucked away in the comfortable, warm confines of his sexy new sports car.

Holding up a gloved hand, in a single fingered gesture that basically said, "Hold on a minute," Rick bent back down and carefully withdrew his luxurious, fur-lined leather trench coat from the passenger seat. Already wearing a pair of skin-tight, leather driving gloves, the color of his steel-blue eyes, as well as a matching silk scarf, that dangled from his enormous neck and fluttered in the night air as he moved, it took only a minute more to complete his grand outer attire as he slid into the substantial, plush overcoat that, once in place, framed his suited form splendidly.

"Okay. Start talkin'," he then had the balls to demand from Smith, as he took a commanding step forward and proceeded to gaze down upon the smaller man, who was at least a half a foot shorter than him. "What's this crap you two are goin' on about? A warrant? For little ol' me? Ya gotta be jokin', right?"

"I ain't done nothin' wrong, ya know, besides takin' my baby here out for a quick spin," he added, as he reached out with one of his imposing hands and patted the roof of the car, all the while keeping his eyes locked on the officer. "Ya gotta admit, she's a bute, ain't she?"

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

At Rick's words, James let out a laugh. "Little? I bet there isn't a single part of you that's little." He said, eying the huge man. It was certainly intimidating looking up at a man as tall as Rick, and that was without taking into account how well-built the man was. If James had to guess, he'd bet the man could lift him and throw him a decent distance without even breaking a sweat. He was starting to wonder if the restraints they had set up for the man would hold him.

Jeremy couldn't help but admire the expensive car and he gave a nod as the man set a hand on it. "She really is a beauty. Though I'm afraid you're gonna have to leave her here. We've got a bench warrant for you, so we're gonna have to take you down to the station. Now, it is just a bench warrant so we can probably get this sorted out quickly as long as you cooperate. I'll even give you a ride back out here to pick up your car when we're done. Hell, I'll be nice and not even use handcuffs on you, so long as you come quietly." Jeremy said, trying to play nice in order to get Rick to get into the SUV of his own fruition. If they really did have to taze the man, he doubted he and James would be able to lift him up into the vehicle.

As Jeremy was explaining all this to Rick, James moved up closer. "I heard you have a thing against gays. Are you secretly a faggot?" He asked in a low tone while his hand went to Rick's plump behind and groped it. James planned it perfectly so that his hand would be out of view of the dash cam on his bike.

---

It was just past eleven and so far the party was going well. No one had gotten out of hand and drinks were flowing freely. Samuel would stop and chat politely with one or more of the guests then move along to another part of the house to ensure that everyone was happy and well. Not long after calling Officer Wilson to give him the green light, another phone in his pocket began to ring.

Samuel had three phones. A 'personal' phone that he used for... Well, pretty much nothing. It was often left forgotten in his room at Drake's mannor; a phone for dealing with Valentine business (which considering that Rick had been living in Drake's mannor guesthouse for some time now often extended to dealing with Rick and any troubles he might get into that could cast negative light on Drake); and his third, much more secure, phone that he used for 'the plan'. It was his Valentine phone that was ringing right now.

Carefully extracting himself from his current conversation, Samuel found an empty office and answered the phone. "Desk of Drake Valentine, Samuel speaking. How can I help you?"

"Sam. It's Mick. Listen, I just caught wind of something I thought you'd like to know. Rick just got pulled over on I-87, just outside of Manhattan. There's a bench warrant for his arrest so he's being brought into the station."

So it was starting. Mick was a contact that Sam had inside the police department that had no connections to the plan, but the man often gave Sam a heads up before media could find out about something that could potentially have a negative impact on the Valentine name.

"Anyone else know about it?" Sam asked.

"Nah, I'm on dispatch tonight. No one else will know until he's in the station. His car is being left on the side of the highway, mile marker 287."

"Great. Let's make sure no one else know about this. I'll call his lawyer and have him down to the station before Rick gets there. We'll handle this quickly and quietly so the media doesn't catch wind of it."

After hanging up, he made his way back out into the party and found Drake. When the man wasn't in the middle of a conversation, Sam stepped up beside him. "Sir, can I speak with you a moment?" He asked and soon the two of them retreated from the party back to the same private office. "I just wanted to let you know that there's been a bit of a problem with Rick. I'm already handling it, but I know you like to be informed of his... potential dramas." One of the things Drake hated more than anything was learning about bad publicity from the news, he paid Samuel a lot of money to stay ahead of that sort of thing and wanted to know what was coming if it was something beyond Samuel's control to stop. "Apparently Rick has a bench warrant in the state of New York over that incident a few months back. He failed to show up to his court date. I don't know how I missed it." He shook his head as though already berating himself over that.

"Anyway, he's being arrested and his car is being left on the side of I-87, just outside of Manhattan. I think I caught this early enough to prevent any sort of bad publicity." While nights like this required all the Valentine brothers to make a bang, typically anything negative - like one of the four being arrested - would overshadow any of the other news so it was typically avoided at all costs. "I've already sent a couple of my guys with the spare key to Rick's car to bring that to the station he's being taken to. His lawyer is already on the way down there as well. By the time Rick gets to the station his lawyer will have everything settled to allow him to leave before the media can catch wind of his arrest. According to Rick's social media feed, he's heading for a nightclub in Manhattan. I've already sent out an update informing his eager fanbase that he'd been delayed due to car troubles." Car troubles would look bad for a man like Rick but would certainly go over much better than an arrest. If things went the way Samuel explained then Rick would be at the club only a half hour, maybe an hour past his originally intended time and his fans would quickly forget about his tardiness.

If Samuel didn't want Drake doubting him later, when things got really sticky for Rick, he had to keep the man informed of something like this. After all, there was a slight chance that the media might catch wind of Rick's arrest and if Drake learned about it from anyone other than Samuel, he'd think Sam was losing his edge - or worse, hiding things from him.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

It usually didn't take much to win Rick over. So when the one officer started to show appreciation for his prized possession and the other, well, the other continued to look up at him like he was some sort of Greek god on steroids - which, looks-wise, wasn't all that far from the truth - he started to calm down a little and he actually began to open himself up to whatever plan the two had to make this annoying issue go away as quickly as possible.

However, just like it didn't take much to make him appear agreeable, it took even less to antagonize him.

Entering his personal space was Wilson's first mistake. Nobody got that close to Rick Valentine without his permission, and especially not another dude. Touching his ass? Yeah. That was grounds for a serious pounding, which was coming, regardless of the fact that this punk was both a cop and armed. However, implying that he was a queer was what really brought out the beast in the professional bodybuilder. Nobody, absolutely nobody - not even his baby brother Hunter - could get away with saying such a thing, even as a joke.

This fucker was going to regret the day he was born.

Reacting without even really thinking, Rick turned, with nostrils flaring and his steely eyes raging, and grabbed the guy by his throat. Squeezing with the intent to crush his windpipe so that he couldn't utter another dumbass statement like the one he just did, he then began to lift him, single-handedly, with the goal of tossing him into the nearby traffic; however, before he could do that, before he could cause any more harm, Smith would have a chance to respond accordingly, more than likely putting an end to this sudden display of brutality.

---

While the Valentine brothers, as a whole, were known for a number of things, including their flawless physiques and arresting, good looks - there wasn't an ugly one among them, unlike the Jonas', the Franco's, or even the Hemsworth's, who all suffered from faulty gene distribution at one time or another - they each often made a name for themselves in the way that they handled their individual fame and fortune.

Hunter was known for his jet-setting lifestyle, collecting exotic locations like there was some sort of trophy to be had for gracing the entire planet with his presence. His feeds were flooded with thousands of glamorous selfies from some of the most remote places in the world. Rick, on the other hand, had his collection of sports cars and speed boats. He had dozens, upon dozens of ridiculously expensive, typically limited-edition vehicles, many of which he had yet to break in, barely putting more than a thousand miles on any one of them. Cade, for his part, dabbled in a lot of different business ventures, putting his name on everything from colognes to cosmetics for men to clothing lines. He was certainly the one who had made himself a brand, long before any of the others had even thought about such a thing.

But then there was Drake.

Drake wanted it all and, well, for the most part, he had it, in one form or another. He had his fair share of enviable, exotic-based selfies - just like Hunter - his impressive collection of antique cars - just like Rick - and his prestigious line of fine men's jewelry - just like Cade - however, the thing that he liked to collect the most were celebrities. It was like a game to him, seeing just how many he could connect with in any given week, and when he could acquire one that his brother Cade had failed at, even better! He loved outdoing his older brother, whenever and however he could, and it usually stung really bad when Drake was seen dining with this up and coming starlet or yachting with that megastar, both of whom Cade had tried to woo but simply couldn't win over. So when his trusted assistant, Samuel, found him, lingering in his beautifully appointed dining room, having an aperitif, he was of course schmoozing with none other than thee Mr. Bomer.

The two had actually been friends for years, having initially met the charming celebrity through Cade when the two attended school together. Flash forward roughly twenty years, and while Cade and Matt had grown apart - right around the time the latter's career had started to take off - Drake and he had become very good friends, almost to the point that he would consider him a best friend, a confidant even, regardless of the fact that his lifestyle wasn't exactly something any of the Valentine men condoned, with the exception of Hunter.

"Excuse me," he offered, as he rose from his chair and buttoned his brilliant white dinner jacket. "This will only take a minute," he then reassured Matt, before he placed a jewel-encrusted hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, in a conspiratory tone, "Jensen and Jared were taunting me earlier about taking me down in game of high stakes poker. Why don't you grab Henry and find out where those two troublemakers have gone off to. Perhaps you can throw down a similar gauntlet and teach them some manners on my behalf?"

Leaving it up to the man to decide if such a challenge sounded appealing or not, Drake proceeded to follow Samuel through the halls of his palatial mansion until the two of them were standing inside his private office. By the way that his assistant was moving, actually, from his facial expression alone, Drake could tell that whatever he was about to share with him wasn't going to be pleasant. If he had to venture a guess, Rick had done something stupid, again. Hunter was rarely any trouble, bless his good soul, and Cade, well, he had a way of taking care of his own messes, if or when he actually did something wrong, but Rick had this annoying habit of mucking things up, especially on important nights like this one.

He couldn't have been more correct in his assumption.

Taking a deep breath after all of the details were disclosed, Drake simply smiled at Samuel and calmly stated, "Well, as always, it sounds like you have everything under control. If there's nothing else, I'll return to my guests. I would hate to keep them waiting for even a minute more. It would be bad form, don't you think?"

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Clearly his words were having and effect and Rick seemed to be calming down. So much so that Jeremy was starting to put his taser away. Speaking to the man about his car seemed to be like stroking his ego. Though just as Jeremy thought he was going to be able to talk Rick into peacefully getting into the back of the SUV, James did something... Well, something only James would be stupid enough to do.

A few months ago Rick had been at a bar and a gay man - one of Augustus lackeys - had flirted with Rick and only gotten a cold shoulder in response. Though when the man had groped Rick - much like James just did - and insisted that Rick was just dying to come back to his hotel room, Rick had snapped. The large bodybuilder had always been known for his temper but actually beating a man to within an inch of his life in a public bar had been pretty drastic, even for him. The only reason Rick wasn't facing manslaughter charges is thanks to the half dozen security guards that tackled Rick off the guy. Even as it was, the poor guy was never going to walk again, Rick broke his spine.

That had been a loose end that Jeremy had to clean up. The man was supposed to be killed by Rick, not paralyzed. So only three days after the accident the man had an untimely accident wherein his caretaker had 'mixed up' his prescriptions and caused him to have an adverse reaction between the pills and the energy drink he was drinking. She was facing involuntary manslaughter charges but already her punishment had been lowered to five years in prison and she 'just so happened' to be going to the very same prison where her lover was facing a life sentence.

All that had been a lead up. A reason for Rick to be arrested when the time came because, thanks to Samuel's influence, Rick had skipped out on his hearing and been issued a bench warrant for failure to appear. Rick's lawyers had of course gotten the charges dropped down to a lower offense and reduced the penalties to a fine that was laughable to a man with the means and resources of a Valentine.

So, knowing all that - except for the bit about the gay man being a set-up - why on God's green Earth would James not only grope Rick's massive, well-toned ass and imply that he was a faggot? Did he have a death wish?

In the blink of an eye, the large bodybuilder had James by the neck and was lifting him up off the ground. James' eyes went wide and he dropped his own taser, grasping into Rick's arm with both hands as he struggled to breathe.

Acting quickly, before the large man could either strangle his partner to death or throw him into the line of oncoming vehicles, Jeremy put his taser away and instead pulled out his gun and shot Rick in the neck.

The dart that impacted the well-muscled neck would feel like a mosquito bite. Irritating and annoying but easily ignored... Until the man's limbs began to go numb. The quick-acting sedative relaxed the muscles of his limbs first so that the hand would have no choice but to drop James. Then his legs gave out, sending Rick falling to the ground. Unconsciousness would be slow in coming so he'd he awake enough to hear the older police officer berating his young, impulsive partner.

"Are you a fucking idiot? Why would you do something like that? Do you have a death wish?" Jeremy snapped at James as he watched Rick crumple like a bag of bricks.

James stumbled and found himself using Rick's car to support himself as he gasped for breath. "I, no! I wanted-"

"To antagonize him. I get it. But you almost just got yourself killed. Just Stick. To. The. Plan." As he said this he poked James in the chest with each word to emphasis his seriousness.

James shoved Jeremy away and straightened himself up, rubbing at his throat. "Fine." He said in a sullen voice.

"Now, just how are we supposed to get him into the SUV? He weighs a ton." Jeremy said, looking down at the unconscious Rick.

"Why'd you use the sedative and not the taser? I wanted to see him get tased."

"There will be time for fun later. Tasing him when he had such a strong grip on your neck would have caused his muscles to clench, clamping his hand down even tighter. The sedative made him relax. Now shut up and help me lift." Jeremy snapped as he leaned down and gripped the man under his arms.

Between Jeremy and James, they were barely able to lift Rick up enough to carry him over to the SUV. Getting him into the back of the large vehicle? Impossible. Shaking his head and wiping sweat from his forehead, Jeremy set Rick down so that he was propped up against the side of the SUV. "Damn boy." He growled at James.

"I'm not a boy." He snapped back but only got a glare in response.

Just then another care pulled up behind James' motorcycle and two men stepped out. Jeremy watched the two familiar figures approach from either side of the motorcycle. "What's going on here?" The first one asked with a laugh.

"Damn hot head over here almost got himself killed and I had to knock Rick out in order to save him." Jeremy said and James sulked but didn't say anything. Both newcomers laughed.

Between the four of them they were able to lift Rick up into the back of the SUV and close the door. If Rick had been awake he'd been able to see the bullet-proof glass separating him from the front seats. He may even have noticed the vents in the ceiling before they started spewing knock-out gas into the compartment. But he was already unconscious so that would be unnecessary.

Jeremy got into the driver's seat of the SUV and drove away, leaving Samuel's other goons to take Rick's car and James got on his motorcycle, grumbling under his breath, before following the SUV.

The procession that came up the back road to Drake's manor would look more like an honor guard than the kidnapping it was. Rick's newest luxury car with the police motorcycle in front and a police SUV behind and another low-profile Audi behind that one. They all parked in the smaller of the lower garages, the one that Drake had been allowing Rick to use for some time now, and then closed the entrance. Under the grounds of the vast estate, Drake had not one, but two underground garages that he used for collecting his luxury cars. The mansion itself already had a three-car garage but he'd quickly filled them up and being the eccentric man he was had taken a page out of Robert Downy Junior's book - or at least his character's book - and installed underground garages. The entrance was hidden under the basketball court, preventing all but Drake's closest friends from even knowing it existed.

As the four men again struggled to lift Rick out of the SUV and tie him up, the party guests upstairs had no idea what was going on down here. They carried Rick into the emergency bunker, the one Samuel had convinced Rick to add when he added on the underground garages. The bunker went deep under the mansion and was well-insulated. Not only was it three feet of thick cement all around but it had been built to be sound proof and undetectable by most ordinary means. No ultraviolet or infrared would penetrate the underground bunker. It was sturdy enough to withstand a nuclear bomb and was stocked with enough supplies to survive comfortably for up to two years. It even had it's own private generator that supplied power. Like everything the Valentines did, this emergency escape bunker was not only comfortable, but luxurious - and Drake was the only Valentine to have one. Something he had told Cade on not one, but three separate occasions - according to Samuel.

---

By the time Rick woke, he'd find himself in an interesting predicament. The room was dark and all the furniture had been removed, the walls covered with black cloth to prevent Rick from immediately recognizing the location. This room, unlike most of the underground base, had a traditional square roof because it was in the center of the base. This would prevent the odd ceiling from alerting their captive to where he was being held. Everything in the room was plain and nondescript. Even if he somehow managed to get a message to Drake, there would be nothing for him to tell his brother to narrow down the search field.

As for his position? He was still wearing his well-fitted suit and even the luxurious furs. Nothing had been removed from him other than his phone. His feet were secured into metal restraints that her drilled into the raw cement floor. His wrists had tough leather straps around them and were then secured onto a long bar that extended a foot past each of his wide-spread arms. Both ends of the cars had bevels and Rick, being the bodybuilder he was, would recognize the bar as a base bar for weightlifting. The bar itself had two sturdy ropes coming off of it. One went straight up to the ceiling, screwed into the cement ceiling while the other went up to a pully attached to the ceiling then looped back down to the ground, through another pully on the floor and strangely just coiled into a pile next to the second pully.

If someone were to grab this second rope laying on the floor and pull on it, it would certainly pull the man's hands upward.

---

Samuel smiled at his boss and nodded. "Yes. Things are well-handled. I will keep working on this problem and if any new developments rise, I will inform you appropriately." He said and gave the man a nod.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Rick...Rick's hair was...was in his face, and it was aggravating the shit out of him. As much as he preferred his thick, ebony locks to be long and flowing, cascading to nearly the middle of his broad, rippling back when not slicked back and tied off - much like Sampson, or so his adoring fans repeatedly told him - he really hated it when it became unruly and got in his face. Making a move to brush it aside, he...he found that he was unable to do so. Opening his eyes, it actually took him a full minute to comprehend why, and not because he was dimwitted, but more so because wherever the fuck he was was both dimly-lit and entirely unfamiliar.

What the...?

Tossing his sizable head back, he managed to work most of his wavy mane off of his face - that displayed an appropriately confused expression - so that he could more clearly see what he was able to, which was his still suited and coat-covered form bound both at his thick ankles and equally thick wrists. Tugging against both, it was obvious, even to him, that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, but that didn't stop him from freeing a series of growls, curses, and threats from his thick, spit-emitting lips. Whomever did this to him - assuming they were lurking nearby - was going to be made well aware that Rick Valentine had every intention of "rippin' off (their) fuckin' head and shittin' down (their) fuckin' throat," right after he, "stomp (them) into the fuckin' ground, breakin' every last fuckin' bone in (their) fuckin' worthless, piece of shit body!"

Or should that be bodies?

Because the more Rick began to put the pieces of his evening back together, proudly retracing his last known steps, as any logical, quick-witted individual would, he began to recall that the last two people whom he was talking to were those "fuckin' pigs!" Yeah. "Wilson and Smith!" he shouted, as he tugged on his restraints some more, barely breaking a sweat as he did. "You're fuckin' dead! Do you understand? DEAD!" he now threatened, shouting into the darkness, not caring in the least if his words were falling on deaf ears, not even caring now that his hair had fallen back before his furious face, like a drape of jet-black silk.

---

Feeling no need to linger in his office any longer, Drake did as he said he would. He returned to his esteemed guests, specifically seeking out Matt, whom he hoped was currently cleaning out JJ's - their little nickname for Jared and Jensen, who were practically inseparable off-set - mutual bank accounts; however, instead, he found his friend still sitting in the dining room, engaged in a private conversation with their mutual acquaintance Mr. Cavill, who had taken Drake's seat from just a moment before.

Pausing in the doorway, he chose to quietly observe the two men, instead of joining them right away.

"He's at it again, mate," he overheard Henry say as he brought his cell phone into view. "His feeds are lit up with details about that charity event that he's attending tonight," he elaborated, just a little, as he held up his sleek device that currently featured a very striking image of the eldest Valentine brother looking stunning as ever as he entered the club where the event was being held. "You know, you have to give it to him, he certainly knows how to make an entrance and...and just look at this shot of him at the bar," he continued to gush, as if he were some sort of fanboy, instead of the well-established celebrity that he was. "He's commanding that room unlike anyone I...," he began to state, until Matt cleared his throat and placed a hand on the device, gently pushing it out of view.

"Don't stop on my account," Drake spoke up, as it became obvious that his friend - his good friend - was now aware of his presence.

Entering the room, he proceeded to take a seat next to Henry, purposefully leaning in after he sat so that he could rest his elbow on the armrest, and then his chin on the back of his hand, all the while keeping his eyes on the man who suddenly seemed a bit less enthusiastic and, one could even say, a tad bit uncomfortable under his host's unwavering gaze. "Go on," Drake then prompted him, with a wave of his free hand. "I believe you were just about to bestow yet another unwarranted honor upon my dear brother, deeming him the most commanding man in all the world. Am I wrong?" he then questioned, as his eyes momentarily shifted over to Matt, so that he could toss him a knowing wink, before returning his steady gaze to Henry who was now fidgeting with his phone.

Drake enjoyed moments like this, moments where he could make not only an alpha male squirm, but a celebrity one at that! Was he sincerely upset with the Brit? No, not really. He understood Cade's allure, he most certainly did - annoyingly so - but, truth be told, he didn't appreciate such unrestrained praise being uttered under his roof, during one of his parties. If Henry wanted to spout off about his older brother, in such a favorable way, he could go do so in Vegas, which is what he pretty much told him, as he got up from his seat and quickly excused himself.

"Do you think I was too hard on him?" Drake questioned Matt, as he relaxed back in his seat, with a satisfied look upon his face.

"Nah. He's a big boy," was all Matt could initially offer, as he watched the man strut away with his tail tucked between his legs. "I probably would've rode that fine ass of his a lot harder," he then joked, knowing full well that such a suggestive comment would get a rise out of his friend.

"Now that's an image I didn't need planted in my head," Drake replied, with mild disgust displayed upon his face and in his voice, as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Samuel watched Drake return to the party and pulled out his phone, flipping through the feed from one security camera to the next until he found Drake's whereabouts. The man walked in on a rather interesting conversation and Samuel couldn't help but smirk. If Henry had gone to Vegas, he would have had a chance to actually ream the fine-assed man he spoke so highly of. It was a shame he hadn't been extended an offer, he was too close to Drake.

Seeing that Drake had clearly already brushed off the fact that his younger brother was in trouble and was going about his business as usual. Samuel decided to take some time to go get ready for his guest. But first he had to make his rounds. It was easy to make his way through the crowds, chatting amiably with each of them, giving tidbits of advice and going about making sure everyone was happy. Samuel wasn't just Drake's personal assistant. He was so much more. He was his butler, his confidant, his head of security... There was nothing that Samuel couldn't handle. It was the perfect position to be in for this job.

After spending so much time making sure the mood in the party was remaining cheery, by the time he got to the underground bunker he had received a message that their VIP for the evening was ready for him. They needed to send a clear message to Drake. Just seeing his brother tied up wouldn't be enough for him to call in Mr. Smith. They needed some sort of incentive. A reason for Drake to be genuinely worried about Rick, worried enough to turn straight to Mr. Smith and be willing to spend extra money on the assignment. When Hunter had been taken there had been worry from the other three brothers. Hunter was the baby and was well-loved by all his brothers. When he was in trouble, the others all rallied together to save him. In fact, when any one Valentine was in trouble the others typically rallied together. This time, however, Drake would be unable to reach either Cade or Hunter.

When he found Jeremy and James in the luxurious underground theater, he just raised an eyebrow as he spotted the purpling color around James' neck. "Kid get mouthy?" He asked Jeremy and the man just laughed then nodded.

"Yup. Stupid boy nearly got himself killed."

"I'm not a damn kid, and I can hear you!" James shouted, his face red.

Samuel just laughed and handed James a video camera. "He's already seen both your faces so we don't need to bother with masks. We can edit the recording later to that Drake won't see our faces, but I want Rick to know who's doing this to him."

James was still sulking, glaring between them but he took the video recorder and followed after the other two.

The first thing Samuel did was turn on the lights in what they were deeming the 'interrogation room'. With the black fabric on all the walls it would make any video editing they had to do later less obvious. After waiting a moment, Sam opened the door and just stood there, listening to the stream of curses coming from within the room. He glanced at the other two and winked before stepping inside. Instantly Rick stopped yelling and seemed confused at first to be seeing Samuel. His confusion quickly turned to relief as he assumed that his brother's assistant was there to save him.

"I'm glad you heeded my advice to return to Manhattan tonight. I was afraid I wouldn't get to have a hand in your part. Once Drake knows you're missing, he'll expect me to be by his side at all times. If I left for too long he would be suspicious. As it is, right now he thinks I'm working on bailing you out of jail so my absence is... overlooked."

As he spoke, he casually straightened the cuffs of his designer jacket, as though what he was saying was of little importance.

"Boys, get him ready." He called and Jeremy rolled in an 'X' shaped table that was currently tilted to be straight up and down. Together he and James positioned it behind Drake and then locked it into place with grooves in the floor meant specifically for it. Drake was already in an X shape and the legs and arms of the table matched up perfectly. Straps were wrapped around his massive body and it felt as though the padding of this table had been specially designed to fit Rick's large bulk - which it had. That had been easy. Samuel had access to all of Rick's measurements thanks to his tailor. The most important part was the leather and hard-formed plastic restraints that wrapped around the massive neck, securing his head in place. It was similar to a posture collar, lifting his head up and stretching his neck ever so slightly, cradling his head perfectly so that he couldn't turn it at all. This restraint was doubly secured to the table behind the man.

"It looks like he's restrained for brain surgery..." James remarked when Rick was secure.

"Mmm, close. I won't be opening his skull, but I will be removing his scalp." He said in his usual calm, collected voice.

"You're doing what now?" James had been unaware of this part of the plan, clearly.

"Typically when a kidnapper wants to send a message to a family member, they cut off some body part in order to show how serious they are. I am simply being more creative. Instead of sending Drake a finger or toe, I'll be sending him his brother's scalp."

James actually paled at the idea. "Can I, uh.. Wait outside for that part?"

Jeremy and Samuel both rolled their eyes. "Fine, fine. Jeremy can do the recording."

Pulling out a marker, Samuel stepped up to Drake and had to stand on his tip toes to start drawing marks on his head. "The hardest part with skinning a creature alive is ensuring that it can't move while you do so. One wrong movement and your knife will destroy the pelt you are trying to remove." He told Rick. "As you may have noticed, you are still able to speak and move your mouth, but your head is completely immobile. Don't worry, I'm quite practiced at this so it shouldn't take too long. The pain will be... I won't lie, the pain will be excruciating."

With his marks all traced out, he brought a step stool over and set it behind Rick. "Oh, I almost forgot." He said and moved out into the hall and rolled in a large standing mirror. After positioning it so that Drake would not only be able to see himself, but what Samuel was doing to him, he then climbed up on his stool and looked to Jeremy, giving him the queue to start recording.

Ignoring anything Rick might have to say to him, he pulled out his skinning knife and began to very carefully cut at the man's skin, following his lines for guidance. "I've never skinned a skull quite this large before, though I would say a deee skull is close in size, the shape is quite different. Thankfully I don't have to worry about the eye or nose since I'm going from the hairline back... These ears though, though may be difficult to work around. Let me just..."

The entire time he worked he kept up a running dialogue. As promised, the task was done rather quickly, leaving the entirety of Rick's skull - from just above his forehead, around his ears, partially down his neck to the bottom of the hairline - was removed in a single piece, leaving his skull raw and exposed.

Jeremy held up a box and Samuel gently set the piece of flesh and hair into the box before stepping down and pulling Rick's own handkerchief out of his pocket to clean his skinning knife. Just like Augustus' careful work, Samuel hadn't gotten a single drop of blood on himself.

"You look much better without hair, Rick." He taunted, looking up at the large man.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

As the evening began to wind down, at just about one in the morning, Drake found himself feeling rather pleased with how his impromptu dinner party had played out.

Everyone he had invited had shown, looking their finest and behaving as only a gathering of classy, a-list celebrities should - even with Jared and Jensen in the mix, who were known for their playful antics - and everyone, as far as he could tell, had had a truly splendid evening. Or so each of their social media feeds had reported, both throughout the night and after many had departed. Naturally, his revered guests' individual fan bases would be buzzing about the party for the remainder of the weekend, drooling over the stunning images and intimate videos that had been strategically uploaded across several platforms, many of which featured said celebrities gushing about their host and his lovely home, with more than a few featuring the very man himself.

As far as the second eldest Valentine was concerned, his star-studded event was a complete success. He was a complete success.

He only wished he could've said the same for the rest of his clan.

Hunter was the first to drop off, with his last update occurring sometime around nine o'clock Drake's time. Surprisingly, a little after eleven, Cade was the next to go silent. However, it was Rick's sudden disappearance around midnight that had him worried the most. Where was he? Was he still being detained at the police station? Knowing how skilled both his assistant, Samuel, and the family lawyer, Jonathan, were at their jobs, Rick had to have been cleared at this point, free to party at his favorite club in Manhattan like he had last posted about. Yet, there was no sign of any of them, including Samuel.

"Everything okay?" Matt questioned Drake now, as they stood shoulder to shoulder at the head of the estate's wide driveway, having just seen the last of the guests off. "You haven't been yourself for the past few hours, not since Sam pulled you aside."

"I'm fine," he lied, trying his best to keep his worries to himself. "Really," he tried to convince his friend of several years, a friend who knew him all too well.

"Drake," Matt pressed, as he turned to face the man, giving him that look that basically said, "Cut the bullshit."

"Okay. You win. I'm not fine," he quickly gave in, just before he turned on his heels and began to make his way back towards the front door that sat slightly ajar.

Following Drake inside, Matt held his tongue. He knew better than to press his friend any further. Getting him to admit that he wasn't okay was a huge step for someone who typically kept his cards close to his vest and his family troubles even more well-concealed. It was safe to assume that whatever was bothering him was indeed family-related. That was the one thing, pretty much the only thing that could shake the typically reserved man to his core. His family meant everything to him, even if they did drive him crazy at times.

Well, never Hunter, that boy was a saint - or at least he did an excellent job of making everyone believe that - but Cade and Rick? Yeah. They could certainly be a handful.

Even for Sam.

Where are you? Drake thought, as he now glanced at the silent screen of his cell phone, which he had retrieved from his coat pocket upon stepping inside, with his thoughts now torn between Rick and Sam, who had both gone oddly quiet, neither answering his texts.

This wasn't like Rick, but this was even less like Sam, whom Drake had relied on being there for him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. When the man wasn't either glued to his hip or waiting in his shadow, he was just a text away. So why wasn't he responding? Why weren't any of the men he truly cared about answering him? This...this was really starting to bother him, in a way that he wasn't accustom to.

"Something's happened," he finally confessed to Matt, as he dropped his cell phone-holding hand to his side and proceeded to face his friend, with a look of genuine concern on his typically stoic face. "Something horrible," was all he could say, as he felt that twinge of bother morph into something more serious, more sickening even.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

The smelling salts brought Rick back into the conscious world, but the pain would still be there, even if the cutting was done.

"Alright Rick… I need to get back to Drake before he starts to wonder where I am. I'm sure he'll do everything in his power to save you… well, at least he will after he learns about Hunter's sad demise. Poor kid, I actually really liked him. Just between you and me, I think he had the hots for me. I would have pounded his sweet ass if he'd asked." He smiled and reached up with a hand to pat the burly man's cheek.

"Oh, and a piece of advice? I'd suggest grabbing hold of that bar and lifting it." He motioned to the bar above the man's head, the one his wrist restraints were connected to. "I've told the boys to start you off at two hundred pounds. It's only a fraction of your dead weight record, but you'll thank me later." With that, Samuel winked at Rick and then straightened his suit and left.

Pulling out his phone he saw that he had spent far longer downstairs than he had realized. Drake had noticed his disappearance and had been sending messages that sounded almost urgent. Was the man actually worried about him?

Taking a deep breath, he reached up and ruffled his hair a little. Samuel had the habit of running his hand repeatedly through his hair when he was nervous. It often resulted in the same tousled hair so when Drake saw the state of Sam's hair, he'd know something was wrong even if his long absence hadn't been noticed.

"Sir." Samuel said as he entered the room, allowing a hint of panic into his voice, as he jogged up to the man. Matt was still here and for a moment Sam wondered about sending him away but then decided it would be meet fun to involve the celebrity. The things he would do to Matt, or have Matt do to him. It made him mentally smile while on the outside he presented a frazzled, nervous persona. "Sorry I went silent, I've been on the phone for nearly an hour..."

Samuel was rarely nervous around Drake, it only ever happened when he had bad news and knew Drake wouldn't take it well. While Drake might be a little more accustomed to this state of being for Sam - even if it was only a handful of times he had seen it - Matt had never seen Sam like this.

What was another thing Samuel never did? Call Drake by his first name. Even in private the man had to urge him to use it rather than Sir.

"I... I don't know how this happened but... Drake, I lost Rick." Even as he was saying it, Samuel remembered a phone call thirteen years ago that contained a similar conversation. Remembering the feeling he'd had in his gut then, he channeled that feeling and it wasn't too hard to fake the queasy sound to his voice. Though that phone call had been to the one man in this world that Samuel feared. August was a long time friend but he had always had a healthy amount of fear of the man. He knew he should have the same fear of Drake, but he couldn't afford to fear him. "There was a problem with Rick's arrest… he… well he never made it to the station." He swallowed hard, as though growing more nervous by the moment. "The officer that pulled him over on the highway, an Officer Wilson, called for backup to bring Rick in for the arrest. Only by the time backup arrived, Rick, his car and Officer Wilson were gone. Rick isn't answering his phone and no one can get ahold of Officer Wilson…"

He ran his hand nervously through his hair again. "What's more… you know how you and Rick have a tendency to put GPS in your cars in case they get stolen? I can't access the one in Rick's car. It's unresponsive. It seems like someone used the arrest to, uh… take Rick."

---

James smiled up at Rick. "Two hundred pounds." He said and popped his neck a couple times. "This should be fun to watch." The officer pulled out a pair of scissors and without any regard to Rick's fine clothing, began to cut away the crotch of his slacks and designer briefs.

As he was doing that, Jeremy was lifting weights up and securing them to the bar bell hanging by two ropes from the ceiling. 25 pounds on one side, 25 on the other, repeating until there was a total of 200 pounds on the barbell. The position of the bar right now made it so that if Rick did take hold of it, he'd be holding the weight at the ends of his outstretched arms.

Now the trick to the bar would be revealed.

James took the second rope, the one looped through a pulley in the ceiling to another pulley on the floor, and carried the end of the rope over to the bodybuilder. With practiced hands, he tied the rope around Rick's testicles, leaving just enough slack that the barbell could be lowered to about nipple height for Rick before he would start to feel the strain of the rope on his balls.

With the rope secure, James stepped back and Jeremy pulled out a knife, giving the slow-witted man a minute to consider his precarious position before he reached up and cut the rope securing the weights to the ceiling. Now if Rick didn't hold the bar, the entire 200+ (including the bar itself) would be taken up by his balls and would almost assuredly rip them clean off.

"Sam suggested that we add an additional 50 pounds every hour until Drake agrees to cooperate... How long do you think you can hold this weight?"

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Drake usually enjoyed being right. No, actually, he sort of thrived on rarely being wrong, especially when it came to his brothers, yet, in this particular moment, he would've been perfectly content with being absolutely and utterly wrong. Something had happened, something horrible, just like he had predicted a moment before, but that didn't make the news any easier to take. Actually, he found himself initially unable to believe the words that were coming out of his assistant's mouth - Who the hell had the audacity, let alone the brute strength, to overtake Rick? - but the longer those words hung in the air between them, the more the idea settled into place inside of his already whirling mind, it made perfect sense.

Didn't it?

While being a Valentine certainly had its fair share of rewards - far too many to list, if one were being honest - there was also the other side of the coin, the less glamorous, much darker side, that constantly had to be monitored, tended to, and kept in check. With fame came glory but also fans, many, many fans, whom, for the most part, were harmless; however, there were also those who needed to be closely watched, carefully handled, and, if deemed a legitimate threat, swiftly - and sometimes professionally - dealt with. These people weren't just fans, they were fanatics and, more often than not, freaks, who typically had no concept of how to exist in the real world. There were also those, those who were greedy and jealous, who simply wanted to run off with or, worse yet, ruin what they couldn't have.

Which were they dealing with here?

"Oh god," would be Matt's response, as he stood by his friend's side, mostly silent, until the silence became too much for him to handle. "Is that even possible in this day and age?" he questioned, as he looked from Drake to Sam then back to Drake, with his bright blue eyes wider than usual. "How does someone like Rick just...just disappear, car and all?" he continued to press, growing a bit more anxious as the minutes passed. "You said the officer on the scene is missing too?" he then asked, as his attention returned to Sam. "They, uh, they wouldn't happen to have been a she instead of a he?" he suddenly blurted, as he found himself grasping for straws, as he actually grasped for the sleeve of Sam's jacket. "I mean, knowing Rick..."

"If only it were that easy," Drake finally spoke up, as he slowly lifted his jewel-encrusted hand in an effort to quiet the now rambling man. "Regretfully, if my brother was off somewhere trying to seduce his way out of the situation, we would've heard about it by now, if not, god forbid, on one of his social feeds, than in a direct message to either myself or..."

Pausing, Drake brought his phone back into view and shot off a carefully worded group text to his brothers. If one of them knew something, he would soon know too, for in times like this they still managed to put their differences aside and come together like the united family that they typically promoted themselves to be. Did they have their share of dramas, that they often played out to the hilt for the amusement of others? Sure, they did, but it was usually over-sensationalized for the sake of their fans. Who didn't love hearing about a bit of brotherly rivalry now and again?

"Now, while we're waiting on that," he announced to the two men, as he momentarily lowered his cell, "we're going to get the ball rolling on our end by reaching out to our insider on the force. I'm not taking any chances here. If something more serious is going on, he'll certainly know. I pay that man far too much not to put his talents to good use." With those words spoken, he then shot off another text, this time to Officer Smith, who, unbeknownst to Drake, was currently in the process of torturing the very man he should've been protecting.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Leaving James to man the video camera and torment Drake as he pleased - they joked about how much of a hot head he was, but he was under direct orders and he knew the consequences of disappointing his employer and he wouldn't risk that by pushing things too far with Rick - Jeremy got in his SUV and diecretely made his way out the back entrance. After driving around for about fifteen minutes he felt his phone vibrate. Pulling over into the shoulder, he pulled out his phone and saw her had a message from Drake. Smiling, he composed a response.

'It's definitely a kidnapping. I'm already on my way to your place. Be there in ten minutes.'

After sending the message he started his drive back to Drake's mansion. This time he pulled up to the front gate. The guards at the door asked his name but clearly Drake had told them he was coming cause after saying his name and showing his ID, they let him in. As he pulled his SUV to a stop outside the front door, three men stepped out. The only one that surprised Jeremy was Matt. This wasn't part of the plan, but he didn't even have to glance at Samuel to know the man had decided to drag Matt along for the fun. Great. Another loose end to tie up.

"Evening, Mr. Valentine." He said, tipping his head slightly in respect. "You have some place quiet where we can sit and watch this?" He asked and held up an actual old school VHS cassette.

"Jesus. Who the hell even uses those any more?" Samuel asked incredulously.

"Whoever took Rick." Jeremy explained and then glanced around. "We should head inside. No telling who could be listening to us out here."

Samuel glanced over at Drake and raised an eyebrow before looking back to the officer. "We don't have anything that will play that."

"I figured you'd say that. I stopped by a pawn shop on my way over." Leaning back in through the window of his SUV, he pulled out a VCR.

Shaking his head, Samuel lead the way to the in home theater. "I'll get this set up. You get talking." He told Jeremy.

Jeremy glanced at Matt pointedly but when no one made to dismiss the man, he shrugged. "I was supposed to be James's backup tonight, after he pulled Rick over. I picked out the call and volunteered to help with the pickup. I know Rick and I know James. James is a rookie with a hot fuse. I could see him aggravating Rick just for an excuse to taze him, I know I could calmly talk Rick into coming down to the station and figured Sam and Jon were already working on getting him out." He shrugged.

His eyes were trained on Samuel as the man fumbled with cables, trying to force the dared technology to cooperate with the top-of-the-line gear already installed.

"Well, when I got on scene there was no sign of James so I called the station. They couldn't get through to James and his GPS was no longer transmitting and they couldn't access his dashcam. When I got back to the station there was a messenger waiting for me. He had me sign for a package. Unfortunately by the time I realized what it was, he was gone. But he gave me this. Whoever took Rick, I'm sure James isn't the only one involved with this, knows I work for you."

He held out a sheet of paper.

'Officer Smith,
Kindly deliver this package to Drake Valentine. Do not involve any other cops or you'll never see Rick alive again. Do not watch the video until you are with Drake Valentine. Do not open the box until you are with Drake Valentine.
We are watching.'

The note was typed and printed out on a very clean looking sheet of paper. Nothing to go on there.

When Drake had read the note, Jeremy held out the box. "I didn't want to take any chances so I haven't opened it."

Samuel cursed as the out dates technology gave him problems. Waiting until Drake had opened the box, Samuel finally got the player working. The dark room came into focus... Mostly. It was clearly shot with a shaky hand but soon zoomed in on Rick's face to show that it was, indeed the third born Valentine. Then the scalping began. The resolution was grainy, which made it impossible to make out the man behind Rick. With the way the audio cut in and out, it gave the impression that the equipment being used was just as old school and unreliable as the medium it was recorded on.

In truth Samuel had spent a lot of time editing the film to cut out any audio of his own name or anything that might give a clue as to where the man might be. He had also made it seem more unsteady and cropped it in to hide his own identity. Burning it onto a VHS was just to make it seem like the film hadn't been edited. After all, who would go through so much effort to make an old school format like a VHS?

"Well, that's definitely Rick." Sam said though he knew it was pointless. "What are they... Oh God. Are they doing what I think... Holy hell..." He trailed off, watching in morbid fascination. It was like watching a train wreck, you don't want ant to watch but you can't look away. After the scalp had been completely removed, th video fused and as Samuel was about to turn it off, another scene appeared.

"Is it recording?" James asked, looking past the camera. "It is? You sure? Okay, okay." He looked at the camera. "Mr. Valentine. As you can see, we have your brother. If you do not do exactly what we say, further harm will come to him." The video fuzzed again then went black.

Silence fell.in the room.

After a moment, Sam looked at Drake. "What's in the box, it's not his..." But he trailed off, not wanting to finish. "Oh God... These guys are serious... Amateur, but serious. Should I reach out to Mr. Smith?"

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Retiring to Drake's state-of-the-art media room on the lower level, the second eldest Valentine did his best to keep his emotions in check. He had to keep a clear head, had to remain calm, or run the risk of doing something stupid that would not only jeopardize the safety of Rick, but the entirety of his family. He was in trouble, they were in trouble, but now was not the time to act in haste, to fly off the handle. Not yet. Therefore, as he took a seat in the middle of the dimly-lit, theatre-style room, he casually unbuttoned his crisp, white dinner jacket and crossed his long legs, behaving as if he and Matt were about to watch some recently released blockbuster, instead of a ransom video.

Should Matt have even been here? Probably not, but Drake was truly thankful for his friend's presence just the same. With Cade and Hunter miles away and, more importantly, not responding to any of his texts, it was comforting to have him here by his side. In many ways, the celebrity was more like the older brother Drake wished he had, instead of the one he was dealt. Could Cade be supportive? Yes, he could be, but usually when it suited his own needs as well. Matt, on the other hand, gave without hesitation and gave without any stipulations or conditions attached, which Drake certainly appreciated more than the man would probably ever know.

"You don't have to do this," he found himself generously offering the star - who sat rigid in the seat next to him, with a look of worry upon his face - as they waited for Samuel to get things in order. "I mean, I certainly..."

Letting his words trail off as the enormous screen before them came to life, Drake's attention quickly shifted from Matt to...

"Rick," he found himself muttering, before taking a deep breath, as the first wave of anger washed over him upon seeing his well-suited, simpleminded sibling trussed up like some wild animal ripe for the picking.

Initially, it was hard to tell what was going on, since both the audio and visual were of such poor quality, crackling and jerking about respectively and repeatedly as the video played, but then, at the worst possible moment, both cleared up, becoming alarmingly and disturbingly crystal clear, just as...

"Shut up!" Drake found himself snarling at his assistant who was suddenly adding unnecessary commentary to a scene that required absolutely none.

Sitting forward in his seat, he watched now with morbid fascination - similar to when one views a brutal car accident - as the razor-sharp tip of a silver blade pierced the smooth, bronze skin of Rick's forehead, just below his jet-black hairline. Immediately, thin rivulets of crimson began to pour from the cut, freely rolling over the broad expanse until it hit his thick, furrowed brow, which was currently contorted, seeing that he was now screaming - not bellowing deeply, but screaming like a wounded animal - as the blade continued on its path of destruction. Little by little, the surgical-grade implement sliced open Rick's skin, releasing a waterfall of red that continued to soak his tortured face, as well as the oversized, plush collar of his sumptuous coat, that remained in place upon his ridiculously broad shoulders.

His assailant's intentions were clear from the start. They meant to strip Rick of one of his most prized possessions, that which he had become known for - had even taken out an insurance policy on! - and had typically worn with absolute pride, often referring to and tending to his long, lustrous locks like they were some national treasure. His captors were no fools. This was Samson being struck down by Delilah. This was a Valentine being damaged beyond repair. This was...

"Enough!" Drake demanded, with a wave of his hand, not needing to see a second more of the senseless violence, of his own flesh and blood being tortured, as yet another wave of anger washed over him. "I said ENOUGH!" he shouted now, startling those in his company, as he practically jumped from his seat and lurched towards his assistant who stood by the player. However, for probably the first time in a long time, if ever, his words were ignored as the video rolled on, all the way through the entire gruesome scalping, so that they could finally arrive at the defining moment when Rick's captors would make their demands, yet, once given, all Drake could do was look Officer Smith dead in the face and ask...

"How much?"

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Jeremy was taken aback when Drake ignored Samuel's question and instead turned to look at him. "How much?" He repeated in confusion. "For what? Wait, you don't think I have a hand in this, do you? I'm just the messenger. I know what would happen if I were to betray a Valentine, I don't have a death wish." He said, raising his hands up. It was mostly true so it came off sounding real enough. Jeremy didn't have a death wish and he did know what would happen if he betrayed a Valentine. Yes, he had still done so, but he was confident that those he had aligned himself with had the upper hand. If you messed with one Valentine, you messed with all of them, but Augustus and Nick had spent thirteen years getting all their pieces into place in order to bring the entire house of cards down. "I saw what you did. Clearly whoever is behind this is going to reach out with their demands?"

Standing from where he'd been sitting next to the VCR, Sam said glanced over at Matt. The actor looked pale. Things like this happened in movies all the time, Matt had even stared in shows that incorporated things like this, but these sorts of things never happened to people he actually knew! Poor man was having trouble processing the whole ordeal. Stepping closer so as to speak quietly to Drake he said, "Sir, I really think we should reach out to Mr. Smith. He found Hunter last time, he can find Rick. These guys think they're smart but they wreak of unpracticed slobs. It doesn't matter how much they want, you know as well as I that whatever the price is, there's no guarantee they'll return Rick once you give them the money."

Samuel moved away from Drake then, giving him time to process what was happening. Pulling out his phone, he stepped over into the corner and dialed a number. He spoke quietly but if anyone in the room tried to pick up on what he was saying, they would hear it. "Cade. It's Samuel. I know you're not returning Drake's text messages and I know your charity thing should be long over by now. Call me or Drake back when you get this, it's urgent." He then hung up and left a similar message for Hunter. Often when one of the Valentine brothers were refusing to speak to another Samuel had to act as an intermediary. There had been a number of times that one of the brothers would refuse to answer Drake's call but would answer for Samuel. The third phone call he made was to Nick, this was the first answer he got. "Hey Nick. Yeah, it's me. Listen, have you heard from Cade this evening? ... Oh shit, really? ... Yeah. ... Sounds like him. ... Ah, yeah that explains a lot. Listen, if he calls you back, tell him to call me or Drake, okay? ... Okay, thanks."

His final call was to Hunter's personal assistant, Jordan. The phone rang and rang and rang then finally a sleepy voice answered. This was the only personal assistant that wasn't part of the plan but he was a fresh-faced youth straight out of college. They hadn't bothered to get him on the payroll since they had Hunter covered with Mateo. "Hey Jordan, it's Samuel... Drake's assistant. ... Yeah, that Samuel. Have you heard from Hunter? I can't get ahold of him. ... He did? That doesn't sound like him. ... What? With who?" His voice grew louder out of surprise towards the end of the conversation and he turned to look at Drake, slowly shaking his head with an amused look on his face. "Okay, well if he calls you back, tell him to call me or Drake. It's important. Yeah, night."

Hanging up his phone, he turned to look at Drake. "Okay, so it turns out Cade's phone actually got destroyed at the club tonight. Some mishap with the wait staff or something. Cade's pissed, of course. He called Nick from a courtesy phone at the club and told him that he'd be heading to the hotel soon but has Nick combing through his contract with Club Omnia to see how much of their hide he can get for this. He's probably sound asleep at the hotel and you know him, if we try to call the hotel he won't answer. I'm sure he'll call Nick to see what he found in the morning." He explained, falsely putting some of Drake's nerves to rest. They needed his attention solely on Rick right now. "As for Hunter... Well I guess he's got a secret lover he's been seeing for a year now. He diverted his flight plans to meet up in Las Vegas. He wouldn't tell me more than that, he said Hunter doesn't want you knowing about his lover but that he often turns off his phone when they meet up."

With both other brothers handled, Drake would be able to turn his full attention to Rick, at least until things went sideways again. Speaking of which, that phone should be ringing right... about...

The box that Jeremy had delivered began to vibrate and ring. Samuel looked at Drake then picked up the box he had discarded and looked inside. "Sick fucks." He muttered under his breath and then reached in under the bloody scalp and pulled out a simple flip-phone. Hesitating only a moment, he held the phone out for Drake, sure the man would want to talk to the kidnappers himself.

Once Drake had taken the phone, he slipped his hand into his pocket and discretely sent off a text to James without looking.

---

James glanced over the piece of paper in front of him. He had a script that Samuel had written out for him and he was supposed to stick to it, no matter what Drake might say, he had to stick to the script.

If you want to see Rick again, you will follow my instructions very carefully. First, we want assurances that you are going to play along. We'll start off with an easy task. Get yourself a pink suit, and we mean pink, not salmon, but bright fushcia, neon, and you will wear it to the grand re-opening of the Gold Digger's club in LA tomorrow night.

That was it. No demands for money, no assurances that Rick was still alive. If Drake demanded to know if Rick was still alive, he would assure the man that proof of life would be delivered soon. If he tried to stall to keep him on the phone, he would hang up. This demand would give Drake roughly 36 hours to get himself a pink suit and fly from the Eastern coast to the West.

This would give them time for Drake to try to find Rick and discover that the 'kidnappers' had Cade and Hunter as well.

While he was waiting for Drake to answer the phone, James felt his other phone vibrate and he pulled it out to look at it. A message from Samuel telling him to have Drake bring everyone that was currently in the room with him to the Gold Digger's club. The grand opening was, of course, already sold out. Which meant that Drake would have to pull some strings if he wanted to get himself in, it would be even harder for him to get his entourage in.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Listening as the surprisingly defensive officer spewed a bunch of utter nonsense at him, when all he had wanted to know was the amount of the ransom - which he was assuming the man would be privy to since it hadn't been mentioned in the video and he had been the one to receive the package - Drake actually turned away without fully acknowledging his little outburst, beyond a sour expression and a slight shake of his head. Perhaps Jeremey wasn't as talented or even as well-connected as he had initially thought him to be. He hadn't failed him in the past, but he was certainly not helping their current situation.

If anything, his words made Drake even more uneasy.

Redirecting his attention to his far more capable assistant, who wouldn't let the topic of Mr. Smith go, Drake allowed him to speak his mind; however, just as with the officer, he didn't give Samuel a response one way or the other. He wasn't ready to pull that trigger just yet. He needed more information, he needed to know the full scope of what they were dealing with.

And he needed his other brothers.

Returning to his seat, he slid his alarmingly silent cell from his jacket pocket. On the verge of shooting off another round of texts to both Cade and Hunter, he stopped himself short as he heard Samuel begin to speak into his own device. Releasing a deep breath, upon hearing whom it was he was calling, he simply sat back in his seat and allowed his assistant to do his job, just as he always did. The reliable man typically knew what needed to be done, sometimes before Drake had even thought about doing it himself. He was a smart man, and a valuable asset.

Drake was lucky to have him at his disposal.

With little to do but wait, he then turned his attention towards Matt, who was beginning to look more like himself and less like the shaken individual he was a moment before. He didn't blame his friend for paling as he had upon seeing Rick being tortured. He himself would've probably reacted a bit more poorly, had they not been in mixed company, but he couldn't allow himself to show any sign of weakness. Anger? Yes. Fury and even rage? More than likely. But not weakness.

Never weakness.

"How about a drink?" he directed his friend in a tone that sounded less like a suggestion and more like a command.

Watching as Matt silently rose from his seat and made his way towards the minibar, clearly agreeing with the concept of a stiff one on the rocks, Drake's gaze then fell upon Samuel once more, just as he was finishing up with his third call. In a matter of minutes, Drake soon had a better understanding of what was going on, at least when it came to Cade and Hunter. They hadn't vanished, at least not in the way that Rick had. No, they were simply 'off the grid' or 'radio silent,' for lack of a better term, which was both reassuring and, well, a tad bit infuriating.

But not surprising in the least.

Leave it to Cade and Hunter to unwittingly remove themselves from such a dire situation. This wasn't exactly the first time that Drake would have to handle a family crisis on his own, and it most certainly would not be the last, not unless he felt like starting World War III, which, for the moment, he had no intention of doing. He would let them have their space, for now, rising to the occasion as the most mature and level-headed Valentine always did, but they would both get more than an earful once this situation with Rick was resolved.

And it would be resolved.

Perhaps even sooner than he had initially thought.

Sitting up in his seat as a muffled ring sounded, Drake watched as Samuel proceeded to withdraw a phone from the box that sat upon the seat to his left. Blanching at the idea of having to touch the filthy device, which appeared to have a smear of blood on it - a smear of Rick's blood on it - Drake was quick to remove his silk pocket square from his outer breast pocket so that he could not only take the cell from his assistant, but answer it.

Flipping it open, he simply sat where he was and listened as whomever was on the other end of the line spewed the most ludicrous demands possible. Had it not been for the bloody scalp, which was sitting just a foot or so away, or the related evidence of the disturbing video, Drake probably would've not only laughed aloud, but he would've told the individual on the other end of the line to 'Get fucked' before hanging up on them; however, since this did indeed appear to be his new reality and not some sort of sick and twisted prank, he simply replied, "Understood," before disconnecting.

Skillfully tossing the phone across the room at the officer - not really caring if he caught it or not - he instructed him to "Do your job," which basically meant for him to do all of the things Drake hired him to do, such as, in this case, find out who the phone belonged to, where the call had originated, and whatever else he could manage to muster up, as quickly as possible. As for Samuel, he gave him the entirely unusual orders of getting Tom Ford on the phone, not caring in the least what hour it was. If he was going to follow through with these insane demands - which he was actually starting to wonder if he would or even should - he was not going to play or look the part of the fool. He knew for a fact that the designer had crafted more than a few striking suits in the most brilliant shades of pink, so he was certainly going to put his talents to good use.

"Oh, and, before I forget, inform Tom that we'll be needing four of his pinkest suits," he made certain to add as he rose from his seat and approached Matt. "One for myself, Mr. Bomer here, you, and..."

Pausing, he took a moment to reconsider his next move. Did he really want to drag yet another high-profile individual into this mess? Truth be told, at this point, at this very moment, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. As luck would have it, Drake was quick to recall that one of his guests had been going on about how they had been invited to this very event, but that they hadn't really given it a second thought given the nature of the establishment. Well, like it or not, they would be attending, if for no other reason than to make it up to Drake for speaking so favorably about his older brother, under his roof, during his party, earlier in the evening.

"And Mr. Cavill," he finally announced, before taking out his own cell so that he could call the a-list celebrity himself. "I'm sure he'll have the necessary measurements on hand, seeing that he's dressed all of us at one time or another," he added, before dialing.

"I wont take no for an answer."

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Samuel was actually quite surprised when Drake gave him orders to have four pink designer suits made. It wasn't the fact that Drake, the epitome of masculinity if ever there was one, had ordered them to be pink, but that he was actually playing along with the game already. He had only uttered a single word to James, as affirmative an answer as he could have hoped for, no arguments, no placating. The man still hadn't said anything about Mr. Smith. Damn it. He needed Drake to give him the approval to call Mr. Smith. Augustus was expecting it.

"Yes sir, right a-" He trailed off as if he had only just fully processed Drake's words. "Pink? Did you say pink?" He asked and glanced over at Matt. Okay, so the plan had only been for Drake to wear pink, but clearly he wasn't going to take any chances. If he was going to play along, he'd ensure his entire entourage was robed in pink. Hell, this might have the opposite effect of what he was wanting. If Drake alone showed up in pink - entourage or not - he would stand out and there would be talk. If Drake and his entourage all showed up in pink, two of which being a-list actors, then he might just start a new trend. Damn. Well played Drake.

Hearing that Drake wanted to tie Henry up in all this aroused Samuel on a new level. Two a-list actors for him to play with? Now that was spectacular. Glancing briefly over at Matt, he wondered what it would take to get the tall man to fuck the shorter Henry. Mmm, that that would be a sight.

He'd have to ensure that the next demand was a little more humiliating. "Yes sir." He said quickly to make it clear he wasn't questioning the order, just clarifying that he heard the man correctly. Knowing his place, he didn't bother to ask why pink, or what the man on the phone had said. If Drake wanted him to know, he would know.

Not bothering to open his contact list, Samuel dialed the number for Tom Ford. His eidetic memory had come in handy many times with this job. It was yet another reason he was so valuable to Drake. Even if somehow both of them lost their phones, Samuel would be able to use a public phone to call anyone and everyone of importance. The phone kept ringing and when he got voicemail, he hung up and dialed it a second time. This time someone answered on the third ring. The man sounded both tired and annoyed. "Mr. Ford." When it came to the other Valentine assistants, and even the other brothers, he used first names. The assistants because they were like comrades in arms and the brothers, well because it would be confusing to simply call them Mr. Valentine. Outside of them, however, he almost always used last names. It was a sign of respect. "It's Samuel Chorster. I apologize for waking you but I have a wardrobe emergency. Mr. Valentine has received a last minute invitation for a very important event and he requires your assistance."

He would never explain why Drake needed a last minute suit, but this explanation would suffice without giving away too much. "Rush charges?" He asked and glanced at Drake to see what his reaction was. "We would be willing to negotiate a fair trade. He will be needing four suits. ... Yes, one for himself, one for Matt Bomer. ... Yes. ... One for Henry Cavill and one for myself. ... Yes, that's right. You should have all the proper measurements. Oh, and Mr. Ford, Mr. Valentine requires all four to be pink. ... Yes, that's right. ... Well I can't tell you that, Mr. Ford. Suffice it to say that Mr. Valentine is making a statement." He said and glanced over at Drake and gave him a shrug. "When?" Again he looked to Drake before saying, "The sooner the better. Could you have them ready in twenty-four hours?" He nodded his head then said, "that sounds fair. We will see you then. Thank you good sir."

With that, he hung up and pocketed his phone. "Mr. Ford will have four suits ready by midnight tonight for us to fit. He will make any final adjustments after that and guarantees they can be done by noon tomorrow. Will that work?" He asked, since Drake had never told him what, if any, their deadline was. He of course knew the deadline but didn't want Drake to know he already knew it.

After getting a reply from Drake, he pulled his phone out again, this time to monitor social feeds and the usual he often did in idle time for Drake. He mentally made note of the fact that it was getting close to two o'clock in the morning. He needed Drake to give him the go ahead to contact Mr. Smith but he couldn't say anything else to him about the man or Drake would start to get suspicious - if he wasn't already. He needed something, anything to nudge Drake into making that call. Resisting the urge to smile, he saw a new unopened email from an unknown sender.

Another part of his job was to monitor Drake's personal email. He would deal with most of the messages that came through, only bringing them to Drake's attention if absolutely necessary. Typically it was just formal invitations for some party or other and Samuel would have to see if the man had time to fit them into his busy schedule. Any really important invitations were delivered to Drake in person so the email ones were always secondary. His personal email was just that, personal. It was only handed out to a select few but on occasion a die-hard fan got a hold of it and would spam his inbox and Samuel would have to deal with the nuisance of clearing it up.

This new email, however, he knew what was going to be in it before he even opened it up. Open it he did. There was a simple message and a link. When he clicked on the link he was treated to the live feed of Rick standing in the precarious position of holding a weight above his head with the rope looped through two different pulleys before attaching to his balls. His face was covered in dry blood but by now his head had mostly stopped bleeding. Occasionally another drop would slide down his face from the strain of holding so much weight but Samuel's cut had been clean, leaving his skull exposed. By now there was a gag in his mouth to prevent him saying anything that might implicate Samuel - perhaps it had been unwise to let the man see him but that moment when he'd looked into Rick's eyes and pulled out his skinning knife had been such a thrill!

"Uh, sir?" He asked, glancing up from his phone. Drake was on the phone, presumably with Henry. "Sorry, but you're going to want to see this." Walking over, he held out his phone. A clock was the only thing hanging on the wall and it was displaying the current time, a clear indication that the feed was live. After showing Drake the live footage, he pressed the back button to show the email that had included the link.

Mr. Valentine,
I'm pleased you seem so eager to play along. I have attached a link so that you may observe your brother and know that he is well... Or as well as he can be. I wonder how long he can maintain his current position? As added incentive, I think I shall keep him like this until the party. What do you think, will he succeed in keeping his family jewels?

Already Rick had been in his current position for just over an hour so James had already added more weight onto the bar, making it more difficult for Rick. The strain of maintaining this position was already evident on the large man. How much longer would it be before his arms gave out?

Samuel wanted to make a point with this, but he didn't want to actually rip Rick's balls off - at least not like this - so he had installed a stopper on the bottom pulley. If the man did end up dropping the barbell, it would only fall so far as his naval before being caught up by the stopper. It would still put enough pressure on the large man's balls that it would ensure he wasn't going anywhere, but at that point there would be nothing making the muscular man remain standing. His hands were no longer attached to the bar so if he wanted to, he could squat down. It would relieve the pulling on his balls but instead cause the muscles in his legs to cramp. With the way his feet were tied to the ground he wouldn't be able to undo the restraints with his hands but he wouldn't be able to actually sit either. It would be maddening. Either squat to relieve the pain in his balls and instead strain his legs; or stand and hold an increasingly heavy weight.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

It never ceased to amaze Drake how, with the right wording and the most minimal of promises made, he could get pretty much anyone to do his bidding. Henry was no exception. By the time the two disconnected, the a-list celebrity had not only agreed to attend a party he had previously had no intention of going anywhere near, but he agreed to host Drake and his guests the evening before at his Hollywood estate, not all that far from the club.

"Everything is set," was all Drake said to those in the room upon hanging up and returning to his seat. "Cheers," he then added, before taking a long draw on the strong drink Matt had prepared for him.

Sitting in silence for longer than even he had expected to - Wasn't his brother in danger? Shouldn't he be doing something more than making plans for an evening out?! - he reached for his cell once more, shooting off two curt texts to Cade and Hunter before switching over to his personal voicemail. Not really sure what he expected to find there, waiting for him in his mailbox, he was quick to disconnect as Sam approached with a concerned look on his face. Wanting to ask "Now what?" it soon became abundantly clear just how serious this situation was.

"Jesus Christ!" he let fly from his lips as he was more or less forced to look upon an unnerving image of Rick - AND his massive genitals! - being tortured in, quite possibly, the most brutal way imaginable. "Is that...? Is his...?" Unable to put his thoughts into words, for the image was that unsettling, he simply watched in horror, before he was then made to read the email that came attached to the very sickening and very live feed. Reading it quickly once, then a second time, just to ensure that he had a good grasp of what was going on here, he met Samuel's somewhat expectant gaze and uttered just three words that he knew would set a new plan in motion, one that would more than likely get the results he now so desperately needed.

"Make the call."

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Not for the first time, Samuel made note of Drake and Matt sharing a drink without offering him one. For years it had been this way. Samuel was on the job. He was always on the job. Even on nights like this where he had been by the man's side all night and were facing a difficult situation and most likely little to no sleep tonight, he was never offered a drink.

As usual, he made no comment and did not draw attention to the fact. Instead he thought about how when all this was done he and Augustus would share a hard drink and laugh about how thoroughly they had destroyed the entire Valentine line.

At Drake's words, he nodded his head. "Right away." They both knew that Mr. Smith didn't do phone calls. He never had, even before Augustus had assumed his identity. It was a quirk that had made it so much easier for Augustus to pretend to be the man. The meaning was clear though so Samuel pulled out his phone and sent off a message to Augustus Mr. Smith.

[I've got a new job for you.]

The reply that came in return was rather quick in coming.

[I'm already on a job.]

He read it and paused. What was Augustus playing at? Thinking how Mr. Smith would normally reply, he nodded. It was a ploy to get more money. There were few occurances where Mr. Smith had turned down a job for the Valentine's but he was a busy man and would sometimes have to put a Valentine job off until he was done with his current job. In the past there had been jobs Sam had sent the man that were not time sensitive so they could afford to postpone them in order to keep their usual rate. This job, however, was very time sensitive so if they wanted Mr. Smith to drop or postpone his current job, they'd have to offer more money.

"He's already on a job. Shall I offer double hazard pay for him to drop it?" He asked, knowing better than to make such a large offer without consent. When Drake agreed, he sent another test message.

[This job is of the utmost importance and can't be trusted to anyone else. I'll pay double your hazard pay if you drop what you're working on.]

The reply this time was almost instant. [What's the job?]

That was as good as an acceptance. The man knew better than to ask about the job if he didn't intend to take it.

[Find Rick Valentine.] He sent back.

[I'm on it.]

At those words, Sam let out a small breath of relief. "He's on it." He said and then glanced at Drake. From his posture and expression it seemed like there was little to no chance the man would be getting any sleep tonight. At best he might doze where he was for twenty to thirty minutes, but he doubted he would be heading to his bedroom. Samuel certainly wouldn't, he couldn't risk missing a text message from one of his brothers or a reply from Mr. Smith. "I'll be right back." Sam said and gave a nod before leaving the entertainment room.

Making his way to the kitchen, he considered the next step of the plan and smiled to himself as he made a full pot of coffee. It was an expensive blend of course. Despite all the downsides to devoting his life to another, there were many benefits as well. He always had the finest foods and drinks. In truth Drake wasn't too particular about his coffee and left it up to Samuel's discretion to pick it out. Sam on the other hand, lived on the stuff and would mix it up every now and then just because he was in the mood for a new flavor. This current batch was cocoa infused coffee beans with a hint of hazlenut flavoring.

Coffee and chocolate, Sam's two weaknesses.

Just smelling the dark liquid as it brewed brought a smile to his face. Truth be told, he'd rather had a large cup of coffee over a stout drink any day. It better indulged his rather insatiable sweet tooth.

Adding just enough sugar to his coffee mug to take an edge off the bitterness, he then poured in the steaming black liquid. When he was younger he used so much cream and sugar that August had often joked if he wanted some coffee to go with his cream. He had learned, however, that the same tactic wasn't necessary for the expensive coffee he now drank. The piss-water he drank in his youth was only tolerable when mixed heavily with cream and sugar but this stuff was like nectar of the Gods. Only a pinch of sugar was require to hide the bitterness. Any more would just ruin the delicae flavors of the expensive beans.

Breathing in the scent of the coffee certainly perked him up and he quickly made two more cups before setting all three on a tray and returning to the room where he had left Drake and Matt. Very carefully he set a cup down on the table next to each man, not bothering to say anything. Then he carried his own cup to the back of the room and set it on a table. Before sitting down to drink it, however, he dimmed the lights some and used his phone to access the large TV, putting on one of Drake's favorite movies.

No words were required.

Taking his seat, Sam sipped at his carefully prepared coffee as he flipped through social media sites on his phone. It was habitual after so many years. He couldn't sit still for long without pulling out his phone. It was why he habitually sat at the back of the room, so that the light of his phone wouldn't disturb Drake or any other guests he may have at the time. Currently his phone was still set to silent because of the party so he didn't have to change any settings as he flipped from site to site.

---

By mid-morning they had all been fed a generous meal of their liking. Sam hadn't really slept at all. He had gone through three more coffees and had managed to get a short thirty minute cat nap around 6 but he was still exhausted. There was still no word from either Cade or Hunter and when Sam called their assistants, both claimed to have not heard from either of them. On top of that, Jeremy had returned with the phone and explained that it left no clues to who had done this. It was a cheap burner phone and it wasn't registered to anyone. As far as he and his buddy in the tech department could determine there was no way to trace the phone back to whoever bought it.

As per usual, Sam was always close by Drake, making sure his needs were tended to, often before he himself could even acknowledged that they needed tending to. So when Sam's phone vibrated and let out a text message alert - he had taken it off silent after they ate - he was nearby Drake and figured the man would be waiting to hear what it was about.

The message was short and sweet, as usual. [I found him.]

"It's from Mr. Smith." He said and looked up, visibly relaxing some as he actually smiled. "He's found Rick."

Quickly Sam replied with, [Where?]

In response Sam got the address of what he already knew was an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Things like this always happened near the docks. It was so cliche, but then that's why Augustus had picked it.

"He sent me an address. Says the place is clear, we just need to come get Rick."

The effeciency at which Mr. Smith did his job was well known by Drake. Mr. Smith had a knack for finding clues that even the cops were unable to find. Samuel had sent the man the link to the live feed of Rick and supposedly he had used that to trace back to the source.

Glancing at Drake, Sam opened up the link to the live feed of Rick. He had glanced at it from time to time to check on the large burly man but mostly avoided it.

As Sam opened the feed this time, however, he saw that Rick had been untied and was laying on the floor, apparently asleep. Another man stood in front of him, waving at the camera. This new man was wearing a dark suit with dark glasses and a somber expression. A well-built Latino man with dark hair. They had never met Mr. Smith, nor had they ever seen a picture of him. This man, however, looked like what Samuel envisioned when he thought of Mr. Smith - well when he pretended he didn't know the man was Augustus.

Showing the phone to Rick, he allowed the man to take in the scene. It would seem as though the nightmare was over. When in reality, it was only just beginning. Downstairs James had indeed untied Rick, but he had injected him with a sedative first. They'd let the man rest a little for now.

When Drake, Matt and Samuel got to the abandoned warehouse, what they would find is a dead man - one that looked nothing like the one from the video feed - and a room with three tvs. On one tv would be live feed of Rick unconscious on the floor, alone now. The second TV would show Cade, stripped down to his cuffs, collar and destroyed pants, on his knees with his arms secured to his feet while Mateo and Brad made him suck their cocks. Though this one was cropped in tight so that all they could see was Cade and the cocks he was forced to suck, there was no way to tell it was at Club Omnia nor identify the men he was sucking off The third screen would show Hunter secure to the floor, completely naked save for a collar around his neck with his ass in the air, feet spread wide with a spreader bar and wrists secured to the bar, a large butt plug in his ass and his cock painfully hard with a ring around the base. Again the footage was cropped tight enough that all that was clear is that Hunter was in some sort of office but it was so generic it would be impossible to identify the location.

Samuel was secretly excited to see how Drake would respond to seeing the precarious positions of all his brothers.

At that point if they tried to call or text Mr. Smith, they would instead get through to James, who now had the phone Augustus had been using for the past thirteen years. Delivered by Augustus himself. He, Mateo and Brad were now down in the basement before Drake's manner. It had been Mateo in the live footage with Rick, of course. It would make it seem as though all three Valentine men were being held in the same location, especially after Hunter's death scene.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Standing in the middle of the dilapidated warehouse, wearing the same pristine formal attire from the evening before, with the addition of a sumptuous, full-length coat to keep the cold out, Drake looked upon the three screens set out before him and began to laugh, wildly and uncontrollably, which, because of his typically stoic nature, was certainly an unexpected and rather alarming reaction to witness firsthand.

At first, Matt thought that his best friend had finally snapped, and why shouldn't he? How else should he respond to the sudden and shocking news that all three of his brothers were now not only being held against their own will, but being violated in the worst way imaginable. To see such strong and powerful men, men who were his own flesh and blood, reduced to this, in less than a day, was, well, unsettling to say the least, hence the fits of nervous laughter. However, as the seconds ticked away and Drake began to cackle like a madman, even doubling over at one point, it became a bit more obvious to the celebrity that his friend clearly thought that this was some sort of elaborate joke, a sick and twisted one, but a joke just the same.

"Alright, guys, you can come out now," he finally called out, once he was able to catch his breath. "Go...go fetch them," he then directed his assistant, with a shooing motion of his gloved hand, assuming that he too was in on the hoax that had nearly fooled him. "You must admit," he then directed his words towards Matt, as he waved his already extended hand at the oversized, plasma screens, "this all looks very convincing, doesn't it?"

"Uh...yeah, it...it certainly does," Matt cautiously replied, after letting a nervous chuckle of his own escape his lips, as he stepped closer to the screen that contained the sexually charged image of a dressed down Cade being brutally face fucked. "Very convincing," he confirmed, before clearing his throat and averting his eyes, as he felt a pang of arousal take shape in his tuxedo-clad loins. Thank god he chose to don his own full-length coat, because he was certainly going to need its ample covering in roughly a minute's time.

"Well?" Drake then returned his attention to Samuel. "Where are they?" he then questioned, as he glanced around the warehouse, expecting to see his siblings, who had gone to such great lengths to mess with him.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

Taking Drake's lead, Samuel was also still wearing his formal attire. He had thought about changing into something else, but instead had simply put on his overcoat. He paid attention to fashion enough to know what not to wear and how to fit in at formal occasions with Drake but he had never shared the older man's fetish for furs so he had gotten himself a double breasted Cashmere wool coat. It kept him warm enough though at times he did find himself envious of the thick furs that Drake wore. The man never seemed to feel the cold. Those thick, plush collars even covered the man's neck, whereas Samuel's was left dreadfully exposed.

As the three men made their way inside the warehouse, it was cold and dark. Samuel looked around and even though he already knew what he was going to find, he felt a shiver run up his spine. The place was eery. And dirty. And god, what was that smell? Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he placed it over his nose to try to block out the smell. Every step they made echoed back to them, sounding louder than it should have. Every wall was covered in so many gang tags it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began. Up ahead was the only light. A flickering sort of light that didn't seem at all inviting at all. In fact, it gave off a vibe that made Samuel want to turn and leave.

None the less, they walked towards the light. As they carefully stepped into the smaller room - that looked like it had been an office when the warehouse was still operational - they found large plasma screens mounted to each of the walls. Each of the other Valentine brothers were represented on one of the screens. They were all silent, but the images spoke for themselves.

Samuel's attention was flicking from one monitor to another, as though taking it all in, when a noise broke the silence. The noise was so unexpected, so strange, that it made him jump. Looking over at Drake his first thought, much like Matt's was that Drake was having a mental breakdown. Had they pushed him too far? But then he realized that the man thought all of this was some long, twisted joke. If only he knew.

It was when the man called for the others to come out that Samuel started to slowly shake his head. At the command to fetch, he could just stare in dumbfounded horror. "Uh, Sir..." He said and lowered the handkerchief from his face. "If this is some sort of elaborate trick, I'm not in on it." He said, his face serious.

That is when Samuel spotted the dead man in the corner. With the bright screens casting such deep shadows in the corners, it was hard to notice at first. "What's that?" He asked and walked over to the body. Carefully he rolled the man onto his back. He wasn't really sure where Augustus had gotten the body, he hadn't bothered to ask, but the man was well dressed. Stumbling away from the dead body, he quickly managed to get back to his feet, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. "He's dead. The body is still warm though." Then, acting as though suddenly struck by a feeling of dread, he dialed a number. He put his phone on speakerphone and the sound of ringing echoed through the place.

"Mr. Smith?" He asked when the call was answered.

"Hardly." James said and chuckled. "Your hired hand thought he was smart enough to trace me back to my whereabouts."

At that moment, James stepped into view on the camera in front of Rick. He waved at the camera and then the video of Cade disappeared to be replaced by a live feed of the small room they were all standing in. Then the video of Hunter disappeared to reveal a recorded video of Matt, Drake and Samuel inside of Drake's home, in the entertainment room where they had been discussing what their plans. "But as you can see, I've been two steps ahead of you all along. Enough games, Mr. Valentine. You will not try to find me again. This time Hunter and Cade will pay the price..."

The video of Cade returned, showing a similar scene as before, but then the other screen showed a man holding Hunter. The same well-dressed Latino they had seen on the live footage of Rick before. He seemed to be cradling the somehow frail looking Valentine. Then the door to the office opened and a large man was silhouetted there. Cade's voice spoke - even though he was still displayed on the screen next to it - and then Hunter began to flail and cry out. Then he fell still. The Latino man was instructed to place the body into Cade's trunk. Hunter's screen went black.

"Cade will be framed for Hunter's murder. In an hour the news will be out. Your haste has cost two of your brothers dearly, Drake. If you cooperate, you might still be able to save dear Rick."

Both of the other screens went black and the line went dead.

Samuel stood there, holding the phone in numb fingers. He hadn't known that they were going to reveal Hunter's death like this. It was... Chilling. After a moment of standing there, phone still outstretched, he finally pocketed it and looked at Drake but said nothing.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

There really could be no other explanation. This is a joke, Drake repeatedly told himself as he stood gazing upon the images set out before him. A sick and twisted joke.

Seeing Rick in his current, passed out state was almost to be expected. Out of all of the brothers, he was indeed the laziest. Not necessarily in the physical sense, since he was built like an Olympic god, but in the sense that he typically made very little effort to build up and maintain his end of their empire. The scalping had been a nice touch, but Drake knew that that too had to be fake, since Rick would've instantly assaulted - and probably killed - any individual who dared to touch his luxurious hair in the wrong way. As for Hunter, well, Drake actually knew all about his sexual preferences, as well as his little rendezvous - which were apparently rather spicy in nature! - that he wished to keep secret. So to see him in such a prone position, being violated by a sizable sex toy, didn't actually come as much of a surprise. Hunter may have been an angel on the outside, but Drake was certain he was a little devil behind closed doors. No. It was the final footage that pushed this whole thing a bit too far, for seeing Cade not only dressed down, but gagging on two cocks, in what appeared to be a public place, well, that...that just wasn't possible. It was absolutely and undeniably ludicrous. There was no way in hell he would ever allow such a thing to occur, even for the sake of a...

"Drake. You should probably come take a look at this," he suddenly heard a voice call for him from the shadows, only to realize that it was Matt and not Samuel who had snapped him out of his thoughts.

Crossing the filthy floor, which was covered in bits of unrecognizable rubbish, Drake slowed in his steps as he came to stand next to his friend, who was looking at his assistant, who was in turn standing over a body. On the verge of simply dismissing it as a necessary prop to really sell this whole 'someone's kidnapped ALL of your siblings' storyline his brothers had concocted, Drake held his tongue as Samuel quickly whipped out his phone and swiftly speed dialed a number that was probably going to bring about 'the big reveal.'

Little did he know how correct he was, just not in the way he had expected.

Listening as the line opened up, Drake immediately became convinced that Samuel was in on this game - regardless of his recent claim of innocence - for they never just called Mr. Smith with the hopes that he would pick up. Their communications with him were always done via texts or emails, that was just how things were done, regardless of the fact that it foolishly left quite a paper trail. So for Sam to stand here and make such a call, only worked to cement his guilt. The fact that Mr. Smith actually answered only served to undo this elaborate joke even further.

But...but it wasn't Mr. Smith on the other end of the line.

Or was it?

How would either of them actually know, seeing that they had never spoken with him. But as the somewhat familiar voice proceeded to fill the still air and the image on one of the screens shifted, Drake came to quickly understand that it was Rick's captor who was on the phone, and he was not only mad, but ready to take things to the next level.

In quick succession, and with a series of images to support his carefully chosen words, he proceeded to explain to them that he was in complete and utter control of what was going down here tonight. He had been watching them all along, both inside Drake's private estate and here, now, in this abandoned warehouse. They had been fools to think that they could so easily gain the upper hand, and now, because of their own stupid actions, Mr. Smith was dead.

But he wasn't the only one who had paid the ultimate price.

Drawn closer to the ever-shifting screen, like a moth to a flame, Drake now watched as his baby brother was murdered, in cold blood, right before his eyes! Shook to his very core, his body began to uncontrollably vibrate. How...how was this even happening to him, to them? And why, goddamnit, WHY was it happening? It...they... NO! his mind screamed, as his actual voice failed him, as he watched in silent horror as Hunter's lifeless body was taken off screen. And...and he was suppose to believe that this - this grotesque and senseless act - was Cade's doing? Well fuck that and fuck this!

Lashing out at the nearest object, Drake drove his gloved fist through the very screen that had just had the audacity to assault every fiber of his being. Not stopping there, for this sudden fit of rage was now all consuming, he lunged for the next one, only to be held back by...

Matt?

Unable to just stand by and watch his best friend lose total control - even though it made perfect sense, given the circumstance - Matt made the bold move to step in and stop Drake from causing himself any more harm, for, unbeknownst to the furious man, he had managed to shred not only the once pristine leather of his brilliant white gloves, but the sensitive skin of his knuckles below.

More or less tackling him before he was able to make his next move, Matt caught the crazed man in a bear-hug, only to end up being punched, several times, in the chest, until...

Until the reality finally hit him.

Like a ton of bricks, it came, bringing waves of despair and grief with it, along with tears, hot, stinging tears that burned his eyes. His kid brother, the light of his life, was gone, snuffed out in an instant, right before him. This wasn't a joke after all - far from it - it was a nightmare, and it was his new reality, and for the first time in his life, Drake had absolutely no idea how to handle such a horrific, life-altering, soul-crushing turn of events.

How...how would he go on?

Without Hunter?

Without Cade?

Without Rick?

No! This wasn't possible. To lose one would've been enough of a crushing blow, but all three? He...he wouldn't allow it, he couldn't allow it. There...there was still time to save one, if not two of them. Cade...Cade was more or less safe for the time being, behind bars, but safe. Rick, on the other hand, was still out there, somewhere, being tortured. He...he still had a chance to save him, he just...he needed to do whatever these monsters wanted him to do, no questions asked.

Pulling himself away from Matt, who initially fought such a move, but ultimately gave in, seeing that his friend's disposition had somehow already morphed from one of utter despair to absolute determination, Drake made his way across the warehouse floor, wiping tears from his face as he did, only to bring himself to stand before Samuel who still had the cell phone gripped in his hand.

"Let Henry know we'll be at his place, later today, probably in time for dinner," he began to give his assistant orders, in a voice that started off unsteady, but leveled out the more he spoke. "Then call Tom, and confirm our appointment for this evening. If he needs to come to us, I'm sure that can be arranged. Given the circumstances, I don't believe Henry will mind opening up his house to Tom and his team."

"Oh, and before I forget," he then added, as he started to step away, started to make his way back towards Matt, who was standing by with a somewhat dumbfounded look on his handsome face, clearly at a loss for how well Drake was now handling all of this, "I'll need you to coordinate a brief layover in Vegas. It shouldn't take us more than an hour or two to wrap up any loose ends there. It is on our way, after all."

"And Samuel, I'm sure I don't need to remind you that discretion is key in all of this," he finally stated, before placing his arm around Matt's shoulder, so that he could direct him back towards the door that they entered through. "Do whatever it takes to keep this neat and clean," he called over his own shoulder, as he continued to walk ahead of him.

"Do whatever it takes," he repeated, more so for his own benefit, seeing that that would now be his own personal mantra, until he and his remaining siblings were once again safe.

Whatever it takes.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

It should have surprised Samuel when Drake managed to pull himself together so quickly. He had gone from disbelief to utter despair to resolve so quickly that a normal man would have backlash, but Samuel wasn't surprised. In the years he had served Drake he had seen the man go through a lot. The death of his father, fights with his brothers (both physically and verbally), both ups and downs of business. All of it effected the man but he tried hard to put on a solid, uncompromising expression through all of it. These moments of emotional outburst - as seen when he had punched a plasma tv - were rare and fleeting.

The assistant hadn't even been surprised when Matt had been the one to intervene in the madness that was Drake's brief mental breakdown. Samuel and Drake had a relationship, maybe even a close one, but it was still business in nature. He and Matt were actually friends so it didn't bother Samuel when Drake turned to him for comfort, in his own Drake Valentine way.

In fact, this was one instance where he was glad he wasn't the emotional support sort of friend as it had resulted in Matt getting punched repeatedly until Drake had calmed.

Snapping the phone closed - the one he used exclusively for communicating with Mr. Smith may have been outdated but it had no association with Drake Valentine or Samuel Chroster, allowing them to more easily dispose of the paper trail if something were to happen - he dropped it to the ground and smashed it under his boot, shattering the cheap plastic and fiberglass into a million pieces. Mr. Smith was dead, there would be no reason to keep this phone.

Just as quickly, he pulled out his work phone and was already half-way through typing up Drake's instructions before the man turned with Matt's help and began to leave the room. Samuel had an eidetic memory but it only worked with things he had read so it was common practice for him to type up all instructions given to him by Drake to ensure he didn't overlook or forget something. "Yes sir. It will be done."

Even as they were walking back through the long abandoned warehouse, Samuel was getting to work. "Good morning Mr. Cavill, Samuel Chorster calling on behalf of Drake Valentine. Yes, I am aware what time it is." He glanced at his watch and rolled his eyes. It was just after nine o'clock. "I do apologize for waking you sir, I should have realized you'd be sleeping in after such a late party. If you would like, I can call you back later?" The best way to get people like this to play along was to treat them like they owned you, to placate them in whatever means they wanted. Unlike Drake, who was an equal - or possibly superior - Samuel was only an assistant. Assistants, no matter how good they were, didn't go around demanding things of men like Henry Cavill. Under normal circumstances Samuel would contact Henry's assistant and have him pass the message along but these were not normal circumstances and he needed to relay the information more quickly.

"Thank you for your generosity, Sir. " He said as Henry grudgingly told him to go ahead. "We will be joining you at your manor later today. Mr. Valentine believes we should make it there in time for dinner. It will be Mr. Valentine, Mr. Bomer and myself." He nodded his head and then smiled. "Yes sir. We will see you then. Thank you."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he hung up, Samuel quickly dialed another number. "Mr. Ford, hello again. I wanted to call and confirm our appointment later today... Yes. Of course. I see. Well the event we will be attending is in California." He explained and then nodded. "Yes. We can make arrangements for you and your team to join us out there if need me in order to get these suits completed. Excellent. I'll be in touch. Thank you."

Given the reasoning behind why they had come out to this warehouse in the first place, they had brought two vehicles - Drake driving one and Samuel the other. They weren't sure what state Rick would be in when they found him and so had intended for the large man to be able to lay down in the back of Samuel's car if need be. Now they were leaving just as empty handed, and much more down trodden, than they had been upon entering. Giving a nod to Drake, Samuel climbed into the driver's seat of his car as he inserted a bluetooth piece into his ear.

On the way back to Drake's house he was able to set up the proper arrangements for the flight, as well as have a brief conversation with Augustus. The next step would be to get Drake to the grand opening.

By the time Samuel was walking in the door of the large estate, he was already finding news articles on Cade's arrest. They were very lacking in detail, just stating that the affluent man had been apprehended. So far there was no public announcement of Hunter's death. He showed the articles to Drake without comment and then went to start packing their things for the trip out to California. Not knowing how long they would be there made it more difficult to decide what to take so Samuel fell back on his standby of 'Always Be Prepared'. He'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

Once he was finished packing he found Drake again. "Sir, the jet will be ready for us at eleven. We will lay over in Las Vegas from 2:30 to 3:30 local time and then we will touch down again in California just after 5:00. Both Jordan and Nick will be meeting us at the airport in Vegas. And Henry has already agreed to send a car to pick us up from the airport in California."

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Finally electing to change out of his formal attire from the night before - into something a bit more practical and, well, somber - Drake instructed Samuel to incinerate every last scrap of it, including the brand new, thirty-five thousand dollar coat he had just worn - only once, mind you - to the warehouse. Never in his life would he ever wear white again, regardless of the fact that it was, no, had been his 'signature color,' for it would forever be associated with one of the worst events of his entire existence...

The death of his brother.

No, wait, the murder of his most beloved sibling by another.

Yet, he still couldn't - no, he just wouldn't - wrap his head around the thought that Cade was the one who had committed the unthinkable, heinous crime. His brother could certainly be many things - pompous, hedonistic, even ruthless and cruel at times - but trying to imagine him killing their kid brother in cold blood just didn't resonate with him.

"It just doesn't make any sense," he now confessed to Matt, as they sped towards the airport in his brilliant white Mercedes, which would have to be scrapped at some point. "He would..."

"Never do it. I know," Matt cautiously cut his dear friend off, as he shifted in his seat, feeling a tad bit odd wearing Drake's clothes instead of his own. "You...you heard the kidnapper, didn't you?" he continued to speak in a gentle tone, not wanting to upset the man more than he already was. "He admitted that it was some sort of set-up. Cade was framed, Drake. He didn't do it," he more firmly stated now, just as they arrived at the private hanger, which housed several luxury aircrafts, all belonging to the Valentine men.

"No, I know that, but, he..."

"Was an impersonator, Drake, a body double. That's what we both saw in the feed. Nothing more, nothing less," Matt explained, knowing all too well about stand-ins and doubles. "I mean, how many times have we joked about Cade looking exactly like one of my former co-stars from that stripper movie that I did?" he reminded his friend now, as the engine was killed, and they both prepared themselves to step out of the auto.

"You're right."

"I know I'm right," Matt beamed, only to quickly cut his enthusiasm short, since it didn't exactly feel right to be excited about such serious things.

"Matt, have I told you lately how much I appreciate you, our friendship, and the fact that you've stayed right by my side through this entire ordeal?" Drake sincerely questioned the man now, as they stood just a few feet away from the sleek jet that would take them across the country and, hopefully, bring them one step closer to not only getting the answers they needed, but, more importantly, closer to finding Rick before, well...

"You have, Drake," Matt replied quick enough to cut his friend's troubling thoughts off at the knees. "And the feeling is mutual," he openly admitted, just as Samuel - who had arrived separately, a good hour before them, so that he could get things in order - waved them over to the opening of the jet. "I'm truly thankful for what we have."

Not uttering another word, until they were onboard and safely in the air, Drake had every intention of excusing himself to his private cabin, so that he could grab a quick nap, for he was both mentally and physically exhausted; however, just as he made a move to do that, his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Excusing himself to take the call in private, he found himself uncontrollably shaking as the all too familiar voice on the other end began to lick at his ear.

"How's it goin', Drake? May I call you, Drake?" James cheerfully questioned, not really caring if the man gave him permission or not. It was safe to assume the answer would be a resounding no, after all. "So, I've been thinking about a lot of things since we last spoke, but the one little kernel that I can't seem to get unstuck, that I can't seem to work out in my mind is, why does Mr. Chorster put up with you? I mean, sure, he's got it pretty good, doesn't he? You provide him with thee best of thee best, along with a sweet salary, I'm sure, but, Drake, my friend, you also put that poor man through hell. Don't you?"

"WELL DON'T YOU, YOU POMPOUS FUCK!?" he then screamed, when Drake took too long to answer.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, the already worked up man proceeded to take a very deep breath before making a move to respond; however, before he could, the voice on the other end started up again, nearly as loud as before.

"DRAKE? Drake, old buddy, old pal. You still there, chump?"

"Yes. I'm still here," was all he was allowed to get out.

"Gooood. I would hate to think what would happen to Rick if you gave up so soon," James threatened, before launching into the true purpose of his call. "Anyway. Here's what I'm thinking. For the next few hours, I want you to wait on Mr. Chorster and Mr. Bomer as if you were their personal assistant. I want you to fetch them a drink when they grow thirsty, a snack when they become hungry, and I want you to do so before they even ask, just like your hardworking, undervalued slave, I mean, servant...ahem, assistant, does for you. Understood?"

"UNDERSTOOD, DICKWAD?!"

"YEAH, ASSHOLE!" Drake found himself suddenly barking back into the phone, loud enough to fill the small space he was standing in, but not quite loud enough to disturb the others.

"Now, Drake. Is that any way to speak to the man who has your only other brother, quite literally, by his balls? Say you're sorry, and then go give Mr. Chorster a backrub for being such a naughty boy. While you're at it, give Mr. Bomer a peck on the cheek, too. God knows he's wanted your lips on his skin since the day he first laid eyes on you. You, uh, do know that he has quite the crush on you, don't you?"

"Oh! Would you look at the time? I must dash, but know that..."

"Iiiii'll beeeee waaaaatching yooooouuuuu!" James sang, before rudely hanging up.

What sort of fucked up kind of freak show am I dealing with here? Drake was quick to question himself as he stared at the dead phone for a good long minute or two. "He...he can't be serious," he then muttered to himself, as he ran a hand through his hair; however, just as those words left his mouth, a nearby video screen, which was imbedded in the jet's wall, came to life and flashed two words...

DEAD SERIOUS

...before an image of Hunter took its place.

Starting to shake once more, Drake let slip an anguished moan, which he tried his best to muffle with a fist pressed against his lips, as he was forced to gaze upon the angelic face of his now very dead brother.

I...I can't do this. I can't do any of this, he began to ramble, inside his head, as he lifted a trembling hand towards the screen. Not by myself. Not now. I can't. I need my brothers. I need Cade, and I need Rick, and I need... but just as his mind grasped for Hunter's name, and the tips of his fingers fluttered over the beautiful face that sat, rather serenely, before him, it, quite literally, melted away, as if someone had ignited the sun an inch away from the stunning man's face.

His flawless skin was suddenly liquified, instantly pouring like a river of hot wax, as his brilliant blue eyes bulged and then bubbled over their sockets, only to be consumed by the now crimson colored flow, which struggled to remain in place upon the brilliant white skull beneath. In a heartbeat, Drake was no longer looking at Hunter, but the universal symbol for death.

The message was painfully clear.

This was do or die, there was no in-between.

And there was no going back.

 

[AllThingsCuddly]

There were many times in his career that Samuel had felt bone tired. Countless sleepless nights. It could be said that doing the job of a small crew had done it's toll on the young man. After they had finished with Drake, he'd have so much free time on his hands he'd probably feel lost. It was a strange thought for Sam. He had thought many times about what would happen when Drake was gone. There was some small part of him that had grown to... like Drake? Was that the right word? Part of him felt bad about putting the regal man through what they were. It wasn't Drake's fault that his older brother was a raping asshole. There had been one point he had actually tried to convince Augustus to leave Drake out of the revenge plot - after he'd been working for the man for half a decade - but then there were times like this.

Just because he was out of sight, didn't mean he couldn't hear.

Matt, have I told you lately how much I appreciate you, our friendship, and the fact that you've stayed right by my side through this entire ordeal?

Hearing those words felt like a stab in the back to the young professional. He actually felt his eye twitch. What the fuck was Samuel, chucked meat? Taking a deep breath, he made his way towards them and motioned them onto the plane, unable to make himself speak.

Stepping out from the shadows would allow the other two men to take in the more or less casual attire he himself had changed into. It was a lot more colorful - less somber - than what both the others were wearing, but it was one of Samuel's signature looks. He enjoyed his double-breasted jackets and often wore blue to match his eyes.

Was it Matt who had stayed up all night preparing for a very important party, only to turn around and stay up all night a second night to try and cater to a pompous ass and his best friend? Did Matt try to save Rick? Was it Matt that tried to use social media feeds to cover up Rick's sudden disappearance, or Matt that made sure that Drake's guests were not only comfortable but unaware of Drake's sudden distraction?

Pushing these thoughts aside, he followed the other two into the jet. Being a shadow was a hard life.

While Drake and Matt relaxed, Samuel was busy preparing the plane for lift-off. The last minute preparations were already in place, the bar was stocked, the luggage stowed, the plane fueled up, the pilot and co-pilot in their seats. There wasn't much for Samuel to do at this point but he made himself busy, unable to look at Drake at this moment.

All he really wanted to do was sleep. He'd gotten maybe two hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours and he could feel the strain starting to wear on him. If he didn't sleep soon he was bound to simply crash when he didn't want to. He had trained himself to work on such little sleep but he knew it wasn't healthy.

With a yawn, he ensured that both Drake and Matt had a drink for take-off then he made his way to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, finally carrying it out to the main seating area and noticed Drake and Matt sitting on the large plush couch so he sat in one of the solo seats near the window. Setting the coffee cup down next to the chair, he sat and took a sip. The plane was deathly quiet and it was probably this that was enough to send Samuel into a light doze, sitting up in the white seat.

The sound of Drake standing and leaving the room was enough to startle Sam out of his light sleep and he quickly looked around before rubbing at his eyes. Fuck, how long had he been asleep? Had Drake noticed?

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath and leaned back in the chair and pulled a prescription bottle from his pocket. Pouring a single pill into his hand, he swallowed it dry then took a sip of his coffee. It was still warm so he couldn't have been asleep that long.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned bleary eyes to the solo seat in front of him as Matt sat in it. The man seemed lost in thought, staring out the window.

"You're a good friend, Matt." He said with another yawn as he stretched and rubbed his face, glancing over his shoulder at Drake's personal cabin. Was he in there sleeping? Damn, he wanted to be in there sleeping. They were in for a five hour flight so he could probably afford to get some z's. Right now, however, something else was drawing his attention and that something else... Was Matt. Asshole. Why did Drake thank him but not Samuel? Part of him knew the resent was unfounded, the guy was just trying to be a friend, it wasn't his fault Drake was a thankless dick. But he was tired and clearly not thinking, well, clearly.

"I don't know a lot of people that would stick by someone through something like this, especially considering the risk to your own self." He yawned again, his eyes feeling like they were burning with tiredness - part of it was an act, overplaying how tired he was, but it was also very real. "I mean, this fuckers came after Cade, Rick and Hunter, three of the four men that Drake loves. If-" Yaaaawn. "Oh, sorry... If they learned about his feelings towards you, they'd probably come after you too..."

He trailed off and stared out the window for a long minute before jumping. "Shit! I didn't, I mean forget I said anything. Fuck, he'd skin me alive if he knew I told you."