Guidelines, Power Play 11

[lit_gal]

The Sentinel
Guidelines: Power Play, Chapter 11
Jim/Blair

Jim is undercover investigating the death of a witness against a group trying to take over Curasco's drug business.  Blair is dealing with a psycho-domme-ex.  And despite Jim's warnings, Blair doesn't plan on sitting out on this investigation.

A quick stop at home, a quick listen to a message on the answering machine, and Blair watched out the passenger side window as Charlie drove them through some pretty tough neighborhoods. Empty warehouses crowded the dim streets and garbage rolled down the street as summer breezes cooled the night. Glancing down at the map in his lap and the slip of paper where he'd written the message, he tried to ignore the wiggling fear in his stomach.

Fear was the natural response to danger, and Jim did dangerous work, he told himself right before spotting their turn. "Here, right here," he pointed at a dark corner with a gas station on one corner and empty lots of weeds on two others. The third had a huge, old warehouse that looked exactly like all the other huge, old warehouses on the street. A chain-link fence leaned drunkenly, and Charlie drove in through the gap.

"Shit. Man, I buy drugs at nicer places than this," Charlie whispered. "Let's just go home. Hell, at this point, any place would be better."

"Chicken," Blair said without any emotion. He was too busy watching a girl with bright red lips wrap her arms around an emaciated man who pressed her up against the side of the building.

"Shit, yeah. I'm yellow clear through to my middle, and I would just as soon not have someone slice me open and discover that. This is just a little too wild and woolly for me."

Blair glanced over, but for all his complaints, Charlie drove around to the far side of the warehouse, stopping next to an old Chevy.

"Hey, there's Jim's truck," Blair said as he pointed to the old blue truck. He'd never considered it before, but it fit in a lot better than any of the shiny, new cars sitting in the car pool.

"Great, Jim's here. I'll save him the trip to track me down and murder me. Just do me a favor and make sure my body is pretty when you guys hide it," Charlie muttered.

"Oh man, you are so exaggerating."

"Okay, keeping you out of trouble does not include driving you to a place that's so wild and woolly it has me sweating."

"I've been in native tribes that looked scarier," Blair dismissed it as he pushed the car door open, thumbing the lock down before slamming it closed. A man with a spiderweb tattoo on his neck turned to look, one shoulder leaning into the building as he watched. Okay, this place was a little iffy, but it didn't rise to the level of wild and woolly no matter what Charlie said. Blair dropped his eyes to the concrete and started toward a door propped open by a large, steel barrel.

"I'm so dead," Charlie repeated softly as they closed in on the door, dim light falling out onto the concrete along with the stench of alcohol and the sharp smell of marijuana. Of course, Blair suspected those were the least dangerous drugs floating around this place. Squaring his shoulders he walked into the weak, yellow light of the warehouse, nearly stepping back as a crowd of men shouted as they huddled around a circle made out of chain link. Two black dogs threw themselves at each other under a slowly swinging bare light bulb.

"Okay, so this might qualify for woolly," Blair admitted as he forced his feet forward despite the fear currently breeding in his stomach.

"This is the whole fucking flock of angora," Charlie corrected him. I don't think we should be here."

"I need to find Jim," Blair reminded him as he took another step in, searching the crowd with his eyes. A few men and one stoned prostitute met his gaze, and Blair looked away quickly. No way he wanted to challenge anyone here to a staring match.

"Yeah, well I'm thinking that I don't want Jim to find us here," Charlie hissed in his ear. "I thought this was a bad idea before, but now I'm thinking is a fatally bad idea."

"Coward."

"Hell yes. He won't kill you, but I can see him snapping my neck like a twig."

"Jim's not going to hurt you."

"Okay, and what about that guy over there. Are you sure he's not going to hurt me either?" At Charlie's words, Blair looked over and caught sight of a burly, red-haired man with a long mustache who was staring at them.

"Oh crap."

"Yeah, crap. As in we're up to our necks in crap. Let's get out of here before the tide comes in and we drown in the stuff."

"I need to find Jim. This place is dangerous for him."

"This place is more dangerous for me if he finds out I let you come here."

"You didn't let me."

"I didn't stop you. And can we please have this fight somewhere where I'm not seeing my life flash before my face?"

"It would have taken a baseball bat to stop me."

"And suddenly I'm thinking I would have a longer life expectancy if I'd hit you."

Blair just snorted his answer as he searched the crowd. Now, he couldn't see the dogs as the crowd thickened. Cigarette smoke floated in clouds across the stuffy interior of the warehouse, and Blair worried that Jim could have already become overwhelmed. This was definitely not Sentinel-friendly territory. The growls and snapping of angry dogs was nearly lost under the shouts and curses of the audience.

Blair started circling the crowd trying to spot Jim through the forest of unshaven, poorly-dressed men, and Charlie followed close behind still whispering complaints. A huge shout went up from the men around the dog fight, and Blair jerked in surprise. Mentally deriding himself for looking even more nervous and out of place, he walked forward with confident steps to try and undo the damage. Considering that more and more people had started watching with expressions that ranged from suspicious to lecherous, Blair started wondering if he had made a mistake after all.

"I'm thinking hasty retreat," Blair said as he turned to Charlie. Charlie's eyes opened in surprise until white appeared all around the iris. "Charlie?" Blair had time to whisper before a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, fingers tightening on the sensitive skin over his collar bone. Blair instinctively hunched his shoulders and pulled away from his attacker, but the iron hand pulled him back so sharply that he lost his balance and fell back into a body.

"Sandburg," Jim growled softly, and Blair shivered at the raw aggression in that voice.

"And I'm agreeing with the retreat since you found your caveman. So, I think I'll be going now," Blair watched as Charlie started backing up. He opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie turned and darted toward the exit at speeds the man normally only used around free food, free booze, and free drugs.

"Uh, Jim. Hey." Blair winced a little when the hand on his shoulder tightened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jim demanded, his mouth right against Blair's ear so that warm breath moved through his hair. Blair struggled to get his cock to understand this was not foreplay.

"I thought you might want company," Blair countered, careful with his words even though everyone else wandered away. Of course, looking up at Jim's cold face and scruffy beard, Blair might have made a run for it too if not for the iron grip holding him still.

"Well, I guess prison really did change you, Peters. You never liked the pussy boys before, but that's a real nice piece of tail you have there." Blair gasped at the speed at which Jim spun, holding Blair in place with one hand so that now Blair found himself tucked close to Jim's back.

"Back off, Hanes," Jim growled.

"Just pointing out the obvious. Of course, if he isn't yours, I wouldn't mind grabbing a handful of that hair myself." Hanes' ugly voice and even uglier words didn't seem to match with the meek appearing man with short brown hair and a slight pot belly. Blair pushed into Jim's back as he realized just how much trouble he might have caused by coming. A huge man with folds of fat supporting his head walked toward them, and Blair curled his fingers around Jim's belt at the look the man gave him.

"Jimmy, Bobby, you boys play nice now." The fat man moved closer to Jim. "Relax, Peters, you're hardly the first man to discover men in prison. Enjoying a tough little bottom who doesn't need flowers doesn't make you a fag."

Blair shot the fat man a confused glance since he was fairly sure that sex with men did make a guy gay. Jim's hand tightened on his arm and persuaded him to keep his opinions to himself. The man had a wheezing voice, and Blair moved slightly so that Jim would be between him and the new man.

Jim snorted. "I don’t' give a rat's ass what you or anyone else thinks, but when I get him home, he's not going to know his own name for a week. I told you to stay home." Jim reached back and pulled on Blair's arm so that Blair had to come out from behind Jim. Looking around briefly, he noticed that many of the men had given up watching the dog fights in order to watch them. He also noticed they watched from a safe distance, at least everyone except for Hanes and Fatboy.

Blair felt righteous indignation bubble up as Jim manhandled him, but when he turned o reply, he could see near panic in Jim's face. Glancing over at their disreputable audience, he realized just how close Jim was to losing it… he realized how he had put his Sentinel in a position to lose it. "Sorry," Blair said softly, hoping Jim would understand what he really meant. The fat man laughed.

"I like him, what do you call him?"

"Mine," Jim snarled, and Blair ducked his head at the anger he could hear in that voice. "I don't care who the hell you think you are, Wallace, you keep your hands off him."

"Fair enough. The pretty little fuck-toy's yours, Jimmy." Blair didn't protest either the offensive name, or the hand that pushed him toward the back of the warehouse away from the crowd. The men around the ring now turned back to the dog fight since the chance of a more interesting fight had passed.

"Sharing is the polite thing, Jimmy-boy," Hanes said as he followed behind, and the hand that had guided Blair disappeared. It took Blair a moment to realize that Jim had Hanes by the neck pressed up against a square concrete pillar. Hanes' hands scratched at Jim's arms, and Jim lifted until the man dangled a good inch off the floor with a face that was turning beet red. Blair shivered. Even though he'd known Jim wouldn't act like a cop when he was undercover, he hadn't expected this raw rage and malice that flowed from his Sentinel.

"You touch him, and I'll rip your bowels out," Jim snarled dangerously. Eventually, Jim dropped Hanes and spun on his heel.

Blair gave a small gasp at the black eyes that confronted him.

"And you, you stay where I put you," Jim took three steps forward and grabbed Blair by the back of the neck. Jim pulled Blair to his side, and Blair submitted to the manhandling silently. Without another word, Jim stalked back to a table in the far corner before settling back into a scarred wooden chair. Blair stumbled into a second chair as Jim shoved him. Wincing as knee met wood, he quickly settled in, scooting his chair closer to Jim.

"Temper, temper," the fat man said when he reached the table and lowered himself into another seat with both hands braced on the tabletop.

Looking over at the flexing jaw, Blair knew that Jim wanted him anywhere other than the middle of enemy territory, and yet that's where they were, and now Jim was making fear-based decisions… or maybe rage-based decisions. Looking around at the table, the others didn't seem particularly bothered.

"So, let's talk nuts and bolts," the fat man said as he picked up a cigarette left burning in an overflowing ashtray. He sucked at it, and the red end glowed, highlighting his features sharply.

"Rumor is Carasco met with a hood from Cranbrook named Mondell. Could be he—" Jim glanced over, and Blair tried to look innocent. Jim raised an eyebrow and paused, "—he might be interested in your business," Jim finally finished. Then he leaned back and braced one of his boots on the leg of the table.

"Rumors? We're paying you all this money and you come back with rumors?" Hanes practically spluttered, but Jim kept watching the fat man. "I say we cut our losses with this joker and hire someone who isn't afraid of making a few waves."

"Calm down, Hanes," the fat man answered as he flicked his cigarette ash, watching Jim carefully.

"It's all falling apart, Wallace. We need that shipment or we need to close up shop. Carasco and Furukawa… we do not need to have a war with them."

Blair watched as Hanes pounded the table with a closed fist. The more the man lost it, the more Jim relaxed, smiling coldly as he watched Hanes plead with Wallace. Blair sucked in a gasp when Jim's large hand casually reached over and molested his inner thigh. Knowing that this was a dominance display that was part of Jim's cover, Blair struggled to stay still for it. He grabbed the edge of the chair and held on.

"Peters," the fat man, Wallace, addressed Jim, "I'm not impressed by rumors."

"Let's just say I trust the source," Jim shrugged as he continued to kneed Blair's thigh. As much as Blair tried to talk to his cock about inappropriate woodies, the damn thing insisted on hardening under Jim's rough touch. "Now, this is a little less reliable, but word's out that Carasco and Mondell had a small disagreement. Could be that your… merchandise ended up as part of that disagreement," Jim said as he finally stopped rubbing Blair. Blair could only gasp for breath helplessly as his body ignored the smoke and the sour smell of human sweat and the danger in favor of silently moaning Jim's name.

"So, you think you can track down this Mondell? Think he still might sell to us?" Wallace asked.

Jim shrugged. Suddenly Blair made the connection. Mondell and Carasco had a disagreement, meaning it was probably Mondell's blood on the chair in Carasco's greenhouse. Despite the nearly overwhelming heat, Blair shivered with cold as it occurred to him that Jim was using the man's possible torture and death to work his way in farther with these criminals. Looking sideways, he searched for some hint of the protective Sentinel he knew, but Jim's cold expression remained firmly in place.

Jim glanced over and then took a second look at Blair. "Boy, don't go getting curious or I will tie you to the bed for the next week," he growled. Blair jumped, but when Jim gave a small wink, he thought about what it would be like to be tied to their bed, especially considered what Jim liked to do when Blair was tied. Jim added a squeeze of the hand that rested on Blair's knee. Ducking his head, Blair hid a smile as he realized his Jim was still there, under the gruff and cold surface.

"I'm still offering the bonus," Wallace said before he broke down into wet-sounding coughing. Blair grabbed Jim's wrist as a blank expression crossed the Sentinel's face, and zoning here really wasn't an option. He squeezed until he could feel Jim's pulse below his fingers, and then Jim blinked back into motion.

"I assume this can wait until tomorrow. Tonight I have to remind someone that when I tell him to stay home, I mean what I say." Jim stood up, and grabbed Blair's hair. However, Blair noticed that for all of his aggressiveness, Jim grabbed a large enough handful that when he gently pulled at it, it didn't hurt. Of course, Blair couldn't exactly free himself, but that powerful hand pulling close so that he had to lean into his Sentinel told him that Jim was still protecting him, no matter what the other men saw.

"Just be careful with that face and hair," the fat man laughed. "Don't want to damage the goods. Where did you find him anyway?"

"He got in over his head with people he couldn't handle. I had better use for him, so I took him off their hands," Jim said, "but right now he's in a little over his head with me, so I'll look into your… problem tomorrow.


Blair remained silent as Jim pulled the truck into the parking lot on Prospect Place. He thought he might actually be close to his record for staying silent, a record he'd set when he was ten years old and Daryn Hoffman bet him two Hardy Boys books that Blair couldn't be silent for a whole day. Blair briefly wondered where the books had gone, but then Jim was out of the truck, standing under the streetlight with his arms crossed, watching the truck.

Blair got out of the truck and followed as Jim headed for the stairs. Great. Stairs meant Jim was pissed and needed to burn off some energy.

"I know it was a little woolly down there, but I really thought—"

"Woolly?" Jim nearly exploded as he unlocked the loft door. "Woolly? That's how you describe a building full of drug deals and pimps and assholes who fight animals for amusement?"

"Hey, Mrs. Denier," Blair offered a smile as their neighbor paused in the hallway, a bag of kitchen garbage dangling from one hand as she stared at Mount St. Ellison. Jim pulled him into the loft before Mrs. Denier could do more than open her mouth to return the greeting.

"Woolly?" Jim demanded again once he'd closed the door.

"Wild and woolly? It's an expression," Blair pointed out. Jim's jaw tightened.

"That was dangerous."

"Oh man, I'm there with you. Dangerous, hazardous, perilous, AND woolly," Blair agreed. He only had a second to enjoy the shocked expression on Jim's face.

"Then why were you there at all?" Jim demanded.

"Because you were," Blair answered softly. He leaned back against the kitchen table and blinked up as Jim glared at him.

"Damn it, you could have been killed."

"Yeah," Blair agreed slowly. "I know it was dangerous, but when I heard Rafe's message about the new warehouse location, I knew you were in danger. Man, if you're in danger, I’m going to be there with you."

The fight seemed to go out of Jim as the man turned to the couch and dropped down. Resting his elbows on his knees, he let his face rest on his open hands.

"Blair, I can't…"

"Can't what?" Blair asked when Jim stopped.

"I can't have you walk into the middle of an operation. I swear, I will tie you to that bed if I have to," Jim answered as he looked up.

"Yeah, but then if there were a fire I'd be tied up and helpless, and what if someone broke in and found me there or if some big hairy spider came walking over me or even if I had to pee. You wouldn't put me at risk like that," Blair shrugged confidently.

"But you would put yourself at risk," Jim pointed out.

"I wouldn't just risk my own life because I know you'd get yourself killed before letting some doped up pimp shoot me. So, I won't risk myself any more than I have to. I won't risk myself because I won't risk you. But if you zone… if you get killed because I'm not there…" Blair let his words trail off because he really couldn’t imagine life without Jim.

"If you aren't trying to get yourself killed, what were you doing there?" Jim asked in confusion.

"Trusting you to keep me safe," Blair answered. "I trust you to keep me safe, and you need to trust me to follow your lead. Because, man, I don't need to tell you that not many people get away with calling me a fucktoy," Blair joked. That made Jim smile.

"I could feel you coming up with an answer for that one," Jim said wryly. Blair sat on the couch next to him.

"Oh hell, yeah. And that crap about not being gay if you're the top… who makes that shit up. And while we're at it, why does everyone assume I'm the bottom here? It's not like I need Viagra to get it up; I could top. Not that I'm suggesting I want to," Blair quickly interrupted himself, cursing at his own stupidity as he broached the subject of topping. He expected Jim to get that flash of guilt he got whenever Blair brought up the past, but Jim just laughed.

"I guess we're going to be in a lot of woolly situations, but you need to do what I tell you and no more showing up unannounced. I'll be more open about taking you with me, but only if you never pull a stunt like this again," Jim said seriously.

"Really?" Blair asked. Somehow he'd expected more of a fight.

"Well, I have to admit that with you there, I might have used the senses a little more, found a few new clues," Jim said, a smile slowly transforming his face. He threw an arm over Blair's shoulder and pulled him close. "Do you know any dealers who smell of diesel fuel and orchids?  More to the point, do you know why Hanes would smell of diesel fuel and orchids?"