You're Only Dead Read online

  "No," Victor said, snatching the phone out of his hands. "Try to delete his pictures and that is a huge fucking red flag, man. You can not try to alter the content on this thing. We will get caught doing shit like that."

  Emery was shaking with anger. "That asshole has pictures of me as a child! On his person, at all times!"

  Victor stared back without understanding. "Well shit, I mean…didn't your mom marry him when you were just a kid? Why is that a shock?"

  "You don't—" Emery stopped himself, biting down hard on his tongue.

  Victor tapped his fingers on the table, eyes darting between the phone and Emery. "So he has a few photos. I don't mean to pry, but it kinda seemed like the guy cared about you."

  "If you don't mean to pry then don't," Emery snapped back. He turned, gripping at his hair and pacing a circle trying to calm himself. God he felt sick. He knew it. He just knew it. Two years and he still carried these pictures around—he hadn't let Emery go. Not by half. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head before turning back to Victor. "Give me the phone."

  "Em, you can't—"

  "I know, alright? I'm not going to fucking alter anything. Just give it to me."

  Victor regarded him skeptically for a moment before slowly handing it back. Emery pulled the pictures up again and desperately read all of the dates, but none of them were taken past August of 2014, just before he was kidnapped. He closed out of them and sank down at the table, looking through his call records and texts.

  Victor shifted in his chair and leaned over the table. "…Hey, look, if I said something that—"

  "Here," Emery said, ignoring Victor's attempt. "There's an anonymous number that phones him at exactly eight o'clock every other Tuesday evening. He never misses it and the call lasts for no longer than five seconds. That's got to be something."

  "Okay. So let's just call them up and invite whoever answers over for tea."

  Emery gave him a look. "It's Tuesday tomorrow and there's no call for last week. Could we intercept it when it comes through?"

  Victor tossed up his hands and grunted. "I mean I guess, but what do you really expect to get out of a five second phone call?"

  "I don't know. A name. A time. A location. It's better than nothing."

  "It is nothing." Victor leaned forward. "I get that you're in a hurry here, but the biggest aspect of spying on someone is patience. It just takes time."

  "Time I don't have." Emery stood up, tossing the phone on the table. "Just get the call. Please."

  Victor breathed out a long sigh and pulled the phone back towards his things.

  Chapter 5

  It was nine the next morning when Victor rolled out of bed and fumbled around for his phone to check the time. He rubbed at his face and turned to see that the bed next to his was empty. It didn't even look like it had been slept in and Emery was nowhere to be seen. He stared into the vacant space for a while before standing up and heading for the small bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was looking less gruesome. The swelling had gone down and while there were still some ugly bruises around one eye, the throbbing headache had seemed to ebb entirely. Not that his looks were going to be doing him any good in the near future. He turned on the sink and began washing his face when he heard the front door to the hotel room open and shut it off. When he exited, Emery was just then sitting down at the table with a tremendous stack of papers in his hands.

  "You've been busy," Victor remarked. "What the hell is all this?"

  Emery didn't look up. "Everything I could find on Hunter Eaton that's made public record."

  That seemed excessive. Victor's eyes followed Emery's hands as he thumbed through pages of printouts and began sorting them into piles around the table. "I'm not gonna lie; this doesn't seem like the most efficient use of our time."

  "Can't do anything but wait. You said so yourself. I'm not interested in spending it sitting around having a wank."

  Victor folded his arms. "Did you even sleep last night?"

  "I don't sleep," he replied shortly.

  "Maybe you should try it. You're not sharp when you're tired. Sleep deprivation'll eat away at you. Plus it's kind of making you a dick."

  Emery glared up at him briefly before he looked back down at his work.

  "What about food? Do you still eat, or have you given that up too?" Victor pulled out a chair and sat down. "Look, just put this on pause. Let's get some coffee or breakfast or something. You'll feel better."

  "I feel fine," Emery insisted. "I'm not interested. Go if you like."

  Victor regretted being a part of this before he even agreed to it, but he felt like he was at least entitled to a half decent conversation. Clearly Emery was in no mood. Not that Victor exactly blamed him, but running yourself ragged was a novice move. There had to be a way to convey that to him. "Fine. Maybe you're right. If we've got time on our hands we should spend it talking plans."

  "We've already got a plan."

  "Uh huh, and what happens when that falls through?"

  Emery raised his head, the light accenting the deep lines under his eyes. "Is pessimism typically helpful in your experience?"

  Jesus did he ever sound like Kurt. That shitty, reprimanding sarcasm was pretty signature. Victor shook his head. "No, and neither is blind optimism. You know what is helpful? Having all your goddamn bases covered."

  Emery looked down for a moment before locking eyes with Victor again, expression leaning towards compliance.

  "Let's say we get this call and it's nothing. Or we get it and it's a code. Or we get it and it's his fucking dry-cleaner. What then?"

  Emery flipped through a stack of papers and sighed. "I don't know. With a little research we might be able to find his contact some other way."

  "This is all public record. It's not gonna help you find dirt that's so well hidden the guy can live in the limelight without anyone seeing it."

  "Then I suppose I won't have a choice. I'll just have to confront him like he wants."

  "So, what? Just show up at his house, hands up, tail between your legs? You go in like that and chances are you're never coming out."

  Emery's eyes were darting back and forth, searching for ways to cover the gaps in his plans. "Okay, well I'll just invite him into a public space, then. He can't touch me there."

  "But he can sure touch you afterwards. He'll have guys on you the second you're out of there."

  Emery's hand fisted briefly and he set his jaw, looking away. Then he stopped, staring blankly and raising an eyebrow as he turned back. "Unless I'm not there to begin with."

  Victor canted his head.

  Emery was suddenly a lot perkier than before. "I can lure him out of his house if he thinks he can meet me elsewhere. Then I don't show. He'll have all his men there with him—I can slip into his home and find the files I need, contact his mysterious associates, and catch him unaware at a later date like I planned."

  It was a goddamn awful plan, but at least Emery was beginning to think. Victor almost hated to cut him down. "Assuming that a: he takes the bait, b: you can find his goons' identities before he realizes it's a ruse, and c: said goons don't tip him off the minute you contact them. Oh yeah, and also that we can break into a high security mansion unnoticed."

  Emery deflated, eyes going back down to his papers and his shoulders sinking. "It's not a good plan. I'm grasping at straws. I know. I…I was never very good at this part."

  "Believe me, I know. The first plan I ever heard from you was fucking terrible—I mean pretending to kill a corrupt billionaire's heir? But hey, you sure sold it," Victor recalled, rubbing his chin.

  "The selling is where I shine," Emery agreed quietly. "It's getting to that point that gives me trouble."

  Victor looked at him for a long while before resting his elbows back on the table and pushing the strewn papers aside with a hand. "Do you want to know the number one reason any operation I've ever been involved in failed?"

  Emery glanced up but didn't reply.

 
Victor held up a finger. "One stubborn bastard. The one who thinks he can make all the plans himself and sticks to his guns even when the opinions of his specialists point out how goddamn stupid they are."

  Emery remained silent.

  Victor sighed again. "Anyway, I'm gonna go get breakfast. Do whatever you want in the meantime, but if you're not gonna sleep you should at least shower or something. Take a break. Five minutes. You look like fuckin' shit. Just saying." He held up his hands, pushing away from the table and standing up.

  It was a few minutes of fumbling around for his shoes and jacket before he was ready to leave. Emery hadn't moved from the table, but he looked up as Victor reached the door. "Victor," he called.

  "Yeah?"

  Emery reached into his pants pocket slowly and held out his wallet with a frown. "Take this."

  Victor stared down at it. "Why?"

  "Because you don't have any money, genius."

  There was a long pause before he sheepishly plucked it from Emery's grasp.

  It was a ten minute walk to the nearest coffee house around the corner and he didn't feel like going much further. Victor always hated England's version of coffee. It was bitter and black and tasted like someone ground up the entire coffee plant, leaves and dirt and all, before brewing it with dishwater. Still, it was strong as all hell and he desperately needed it right about now. He had a feeling Emery would, too. Actually what Emery really needed was a blow to the head to knock some goddamn sense loose, but caffeine was a passable second best. Victor grumbled to himself as he stared ahead at the coffee shop's cute cashier from his place at the back of the line. It'd been way too long since he'd gotten laid. Thanks to his new pal, it was likely to be even longer now.

  You knew this was a bad idea before getting involved, his brain reminded. You should probably cut the guy some fucking slack. Sure, maybe. But at the same time you didn't just let a toddler eat crayons because he was having a bad day. There had to be some kind of rhyme or reason to their method here, and while Emery was dedicated and cocksure on the outside, he was obviously floundering underneath the surface. Victor sighed and reached a hand into his pocket to fish out his phone. When he did so, however, he realized that he had inadvertently taken the clone of Eaton's cell with him instead. He glanced around nervously for a moment before mentally berating himself. Whatever. It still showed him the time, which he glanced at before moving to stick it back into his jacket pocket. He paused just before pulling his hand away and thought for a moment.

  Victor slowly brought the phone back out and looked it over curiously. Emery had flipped his shit over the pictures Eaton had on this phone of him. He always knew there was bad blood there, but it seemed like an overreaction to say the least. He looked around him to make sure no one was staring over his shoulder before he went into the phone's picture files and browsed through them. True enough, they were all of Em. Granted, it was a little weird that they all seemed to be taken unaware... Maybe Hunter really was upset about the guy's sexual preference. He was rich and powerful—probably didn't like the idea of a gay kid tarnishing his image. Following him around and spying on him to keep him away from other guys was a dick move for sure. It made sense why Emery was mad. Then he got to the older pictures.

  Emery couldn't have been more than sixteen or so in most of them. He was asleep in bed, which was creepy enough, but the way the photos were taken was so evocative. It was hard to consider pictures from several angles of a mostly nude teenage boy as perfectly innocent any way you looked at it. Victor's blood ran cold. This situation was way more warped than he thought. Not like he ever supposed Hunter Eaton was a swell guy, but he never understood why Emery so bitterly hated someone who obviously did care about him when all was said and done. Now he did. Holy hell, no wonder he blew up when he saw these.

  His brain exploded with questions. Did Emery know beforehand that Hunter had taken these? Had he done worse than just take pictures? That would explain a lot. Like maybe why he was so upbeat about being kidnapped by a bunch of thugs. Did that mean Kurt knew about this? Oh, god, he had to—after two years together? Fuck, maybe Emery was right. Maybe Eaton did have a solid motive for abducting his lover. This was some sick shit.

  "Sir, are you next?"

  Victor looked around, realizing that there was no one in front of him any longer and an impatient line was staring him down from behind. He quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket and went forward to stammer his order.

  * * *

  Emery decided to take Victor's advice. It was probably the least he could do. He'd been a little short with the man today and it was undeserved, not to mention that all things considered he knew that Victor was right. About pretty much everything. A hot shower took the tired, cold numbness out of his skin and brought him around, sanding the edge off of his touchy temper. He wiped the steam away from the small hotel bathroom's mirror and studied his reflection for a moment, rubbing his stubbly chin. He could definitely look a little better. If he didn't have it all together on the inside he could at least look it on the out. His fingers fumbled for a razor and he leaned forward as he carefully dragged it down his jawline.

  "Stop it, stop!" Emery laughed, trying to lean his head away.

  "Ah, hold still," Kurt scolded. He kept an arm wrapped around Emery's chest from where he stood behind him, securing him in place as he held the razor up to his cheek. "Stop laughing."

  Emery barely contained his laughter, stilling with reluctant obedience as he glared at Kurt in the mirror before them. "I don't need your help."

  "If that were true you wouldn't keep cutting yourself in all the same places," Kurt said with a smirk as he gently pressed the razor down his face.

  "I've managed to successfully shave my own face for the past ten years, thank you very much."

  "Mm-hm, and here I've been doing it for all of two minutes and I'm already better at it. Hold still."

  Emery grinned and tilted his head to give Kurt a better angle. "Are you going to brush my teeth for me, too?"

  "You seem to do that alright."

  "Oh, good. So I'm not a total idiot."

  Kurt snorted. "Shut up and hold…still…"

  Emery quieted down and watched Kurt scrape the hair from his face in long, careful strokes, leaving perfectly smooth skin beneath. At first it had been a little obnoxious, then a little amusing. Now it was starting to be a little arousing. He let Kurt have his way for a while with his meticulous efforts but stared into his eyes with blatant desire every time Kurt's flickered his way. A few minutes later his face was bare and Kurt set down the razor, running a thumb along his jaw and admiring him in the mirror.

  "Perfect."

  Emery huffed, wiping a line of shaving cream away from his cheek. "It's a good shave, I'll give you that."

  "I was talking about the face."

  Emery gave him a coy glance before bending over slightly to wash said face clean, purposefully pushing back into Kurt's groin in the process. Unsurprisingly Kurt was already hard, as that seemed to be his natural state, and bent over him, keeping him leaning down. Emery turned his head over his shoulder and set a hand on the counter to steady himself. "Can I help you?"

  "No," Kurt said with feigned exasperation. "I'm beyond help."

  Emery connected their lips and Kurt pushed forward, pulling at his towel, fondling him and rolling his hips against Emery's backside. Lips moved from his to spread kisses all along the back of his neck and shoulders. The counter in here was unusually low, but it did make this easier, so Emery quickly stopped thinking that this was an annoying trait for a bathroom to have and adjusted so that his stance was a bit wider. There was nothing hotter than being able to watch Kurt like this as he bit down gently on the nape of Emery's neck and met his eyes with a dark promise in their hazel depths. Emery made a show of licking his lower lip and then bit it gently until it flushed red. Kurt rutted up hard against him and reached forward quickly to snatch a bottle of lotion off a nearby corner. Emery tittered softly.

/>   He closed his eyes for a moment as coated fingers sought entrance. When he opened them he could see Kurt looking down, presumably slicking himself with his other hand as he paved his way. "I want it hard," Emery noted throatily.

  Kurt's eyes quickly snapped back to his in the mirror and he obliged. The staff pushing into him felt incredible. He himself was already stiffer than a board and the internal pressure almost had him going off right then and there. Once Kurt was inside, his hands moved to distribute the moisture left on his hands across Emery's body, rubbing it into his stomach, across his back, and down his arms. He reveled in Kurt's heavy breathing and pushed back. This was positively his favorite way to ruin a recent shower, but fucking Kurt always made him feel cleaner than he ever had before. Kurt leaned down over him again and lifted a hand to stroke his throat and pull his head back for a kiss. He suddenly felt extremely tense in the most enjoyable way. His brow furrowed and he began groaning as he was pounded roughly into the counter, one hand gripping hard into a hand towel while the other held him up.

  "Hard enough?" Kurt teased against his ear in that deep tone that made Emery shiver. "Do you like that?"

  Emery bowed his head as Kurt straightened back up a bit to pick up his pace, hands at his partner's hips. He met Kurt's eyes again in the mirror, panting a bit. "See for yourself."

  Kurt did as he was told and stroked Emery's cock a few times with his hand. He hummed in satisfaction. "Yes…that's very nice."

  "Yes, yes, do that," Emery begged. "Ah, I'm almost there…"

  "I'm following," Kurt replied, head dropping forward. He kept a nice pace with his hand even as he began to shudder and tense.

  Emery stared wide-eyed in the mirror at Kurt's hand pumping him before everything inside him seemed to collapse inward and he was depositing his seed into the sink with a burst of hot pleasure. He made another strangled groan and clenched his eyes shut. He could hear Kurt's breath coming in shorter and shorter until he was swearing loudly, squeezing Emery's rear a bit as he came. God that felt nice. He moaned and sank down against the counter with a hazy smile, looking back up at Kurt with a great load of affection bubbling inside of him. Kurt looked back down at him and offered a slanted grin.