In It for Life Ch. 23

In It For Life

23.

Francesco touched the door knob with growing dread. To his relief, Karl hadn't locked the door, but he still slinked inside the room like a burglar, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"I'm awake." Karl's clear voice startled him. It was already night when he had finally mustered the courage to walk up the stairs and make an attempt to talk to his husband.

"Karl," Francesco began, "I didn't have a chance." His eyes grew accustomed to the dark and he could make the other's shape on the bed. Karl lay on his back, one leg bent from the knee, and seemed to be deep in thought. That to anyone not knowing him. Francesco felt his hackles rising, though. Karl lay in waiting, like a predator waiting to strike. His seemingly relaxed position was part of the act.

"Spare me. One thing dad is right about you. You're one sick whore."

Francesco had heard the word one too many times before, thrown at him in all possible ways. But now, it made him sick to the stomach. "I guess so," he said in a low, defeated voice.

"You even let him fuck you?" Karl's raised voice didn't take him by surprise. "I won't ask you if everything he said is true, because I didn't hear any denial from you. He fucked you like you were his personal whore."

There was some sort of finality in how Karl said that. No coming back, right? Francesco leaned against the door. "You know me," he said in an even voice. "I'd do anything to survive." He wouldn't grovel and beg, for sure. He wouldn't repeat that he had done it for Karl.

"Like with me, back on the island," Karl stated.

"Yes, like that," Francesco let it drop just the same.

"So, if we follow your crazy bitch logic, are you going to fall in love with my dad, too?"

"What? Are you fucking mental?" Francesco saw the trap too late. "I hate that asshole's guts."

"Yeah, maybe," Karl said mockingly, "but I bet you love his cock in your ass."

Francesco had no idea he had it in him, but he even succeeded in taking Karl by surprise. In two moves, he was on the bed, straddling Karl and trying to choke him. He barely had his hands on his husband's throat, that the tables were turned, and he was trapped under Karl. Again, his miscalculations were to blame.

With little effort, Karl pushed his arms wide open, releasing his own throat, and squeezed Francesco hard under him. Then he was the one to grab Francesco by the throat while pinning him to the bed.

At this point, Francesco felt strangely calm. What unusual way to go for him; strangled by his husband, in a house in the suburbs. Now that was something Don wouldn't see coming. His beloved son whacking his newly wed spouse wasn't something to sweep so easily under the rug. As much as he could do something like that, he started laughing, the sounds coming out of him nothing but noises of choking.

Karl eased his grip, without letting go. "Cesco," he said with a snarl. "Are you fucking laughing?"

Francesco went slack, and Karl released him. "Well, I was trying to picture your dad's face while you were taken away for offing my sorry ass."

The slap that followed didn't sting. By Karl's standards, it was a caress. "I wouldn't off your sorry ass, idiot. That's how little you know me."

Francesco grabbed Karl by his shirt before he could move away. "What's it gonna be then, Karl?"

Karl wrapped his fingers around Francesco's wrist but didn't push his hand away. "I have no fucking clue. I have no idea what the fuck to do with you."

Francesco tightened his grip. "Punish me. It worked for us before."

Karl worked his jaw. "That was before. This isn't you fooling around and sucking some rando's dick behind my back."

Francesco knew very well what was left unsaid. "Karl, I'm yours. You can do whatever you want with me."

"No," Karl said curtly and pushed himself up and away from Francesco. "I don't trust myself not to go too far. And I still like you with all your teeth."

Francesco didn't dare to run after Karl when his husband walked out of the room. He curled into himself on the bed and lay there, trying to feel nothing. Fucking Don. What the hell was he after, anyway?

***

Since he had become Karl's lawfully wedded spouse, Francesco no longer had what was called a job, and the lack of something to do struck him as particularly unnerving the next morning when he woke up. The house had enough rooms for Karl to sleep in one, and Francesco inspected them, one after the other, only to be met with the slightly stale air of unlived in space. Eventually he walked downstairs and groaned at the haphazardly thrown blanket over the sofa. Were they that much of a cliché married couple already?

"Karl?" he called out and looked for his husband in the spacious kitchen, as well. There was no sign of him anywhere.

He was about to walk outside when the front door opened, and Morgan came in.

"He took the car," the bodyguard explained. "And informed me to keep an eye on you."

Francesco groaned and walked back into the hallway. "He's the one who needs that. Care for a coffee? Breakfast?" He assumed that the large fridge he had noticed must have been stocked with everything they needed. Minus marital bliss, of course.

"I already ate, but you should eat something."

Francesco opened the fridge, looked inside, and closed it. "I don't think I can do that."

"I bet you wouldn't say such a thing if you were still on that godforsaken island."

Francesco wanted to argue for a moment but then he laughed. "Yeah, I would have stuffed my face with half a pig, no matter how pissed Karl was."

"Come here, Francesco," Morgan said gently. He moved into the older man's arms and sighed into the tight hug. Morgan caressed his cheek and made him look up by cupping his jaw. "You're one pretty thing," the bodyguard said in a thick voice. "I guess that's your curse."

"It wasn't supposed to be a bad thing, right?" Francesco said quietly.

Morgan continued to caress his cheek and brushed his thumb over Francesco's lower lip. "Don called me this morning, asked about how you two were doing."

"What did you tell him?" Francesco felt slightly distracted by how Morgan played with his bottom lip. He moved his head and caught the man's thumb in his mouth for a moment. Morgan watched him with dark eyes. Karl was right about him being a crazy bitch, after all. After sleeping alone the night before and walking up cold and unwanted, now this man's warm touch was definitely helping.

"I told him that you two aren't on speaking terms, and that Karl went for a ride."

"Were you supposed to follow Karl?"

"Don isn't concerned, not really. My educated guess is that he expects a visit from his son."

Francesco stopped. "Is that where Karl went?"

"It could be. They need to have a serious conversation."

"Fuck." Francesco moved away from Morgan and sat on a chair. He ran his hands over his face. "It's one fucked up family I got in, right? What the hell are they going to say to each other? Are they going to compare notes about my ass?"

"It's hard to tell." Morgan ignored his bitter joke. "Karl might try to set some ground rules, and yes, concerning that fuckable ass of yours."

Francesco grunted and let his forehead drop on the cool granite countertop. "Did I fuck up completely, Morgan? Should I have told Karl about his dad and how he fucked me, screw the consequences?"

"I doubt it would have changed a lot. Karl would still be mad about you, and Don would have shown his hand only when he chose, anyway."

"What is it with the men in this family that they all want to fuck me?" Francesco asked. "Good thing Karl is a single child, or his brothers would have lined up to fuck my ass."

Morgan chuckled. "I'd say you have that effect on many men."

"I'm really not that special. I have no idea what they see in me. Even on the island. I would have just been happy with Mouse."

"I doubt that. Mouse knew how to survive out there, but once alone, just the two of you, you would have been at risk a lot more than him."

Morgan wasn't saying everything. Francesco looked up. "I survived for one year."

"Yes. But how about ten? Or twenty? Or your entire life?"

"We would have been fine," he said stubbornly.

"Not with dozens and dozens of criminals sent there, year after year, season after season."

"What? But is there enough room..." Francesco didn't continue. "So it was some sort of a fucked up experiment? We were the first?"

Morgan nodded. "On that island, yes. Let's call it an ambitious gambit. With so many imprisoned across the country, the system can last so much without buckling under its own weight. It's expensive to keep inmates on food and board for years."

"Not if you only need some fuel for a chopper to land them on an island where they'd have to see to all that by themselves," Francesco completed Morgan's words.

The bodyguard confirmed with a nod.

"Well, he surely didn't have to pay for us anything while we were out there," Francesco concluded. "What happened to the rest of the guys? Do you know?" He hadn't thought of everyone in a long time, but now, as he talked to Morgan about it, he felt some bout of nostalgia washing over him.

"Ollie and Leon, they have it good," Morgan said. "They went to Leon's grandparents, they live up north in the countryside. Ollie's a smart one, as you may as well remember. He started organizing the farm and everything. Leon's the brawn. They work together, like always."

"That's good to know. I wish I could pay them a visit sometime."

"You should."

"Would Don agree to that?" Francesco snorted. "God forbids someone learns about how Karl did time and what friends he keeps."

"He knows these boys won't say a word. Don't worry; he never leaves anything to chance."

"Then I'd love to go and see them sometime. Maybe even convince Karl to tag alone. What about the rest?"

"Ty, oh, well," Morgan said with a sigh.

"What about him? Did he go back to school?"

"Yes, he did. It's his extracurricular activities that might worry his parents if they knew about that."

"What does he do?" Francesco couldn't imagine what the purple hair activist might be doing right now. "Don't tell me he's trying to save the planet again by blowing up gas stations."

"Nothing that dangerous for other people. No, he's just hanging around truck stops, offering blowjobs to willing partners."

"Shit."

"Yes, he's playing a bit fast and loose. But it's his choice," Morgan added. "I was hoping he'd go looking for fun in less seedy places."

"Like college," Francesco said.

Morgan nodded. There was still someone they hadn't talked about.

"Anya?" he asked hesitantly.

It wasn't like the tough bodyguard to look away.

"What happened to him?" Francesco insisted. "Is he on that witness protection program? Is that why you can't talk about him?"

Morgan shook his head and a deep frown creased his forehead. "No, he's not anywhere he can be reached."

"What the hell?" Francesco felt his feet getting cold. "Is he dead?" he asked, choking on his own words.

"Not that we know of. My gut tells me that he's alive and even well, as much as that word can describe his situation."

"But you said that he would be protected," Francesco insisted. "And what happened? Did his former master get a hold of him? Is that what you're not saying?"

Morgan gave him a curt look. "Yes," he breathed out. "Anya, yes, you're right, Francesco, he was supposed to be in good hands. Someone got bought, and now he's rotting in jail, but all the information extracted from him is useless. Anya's lover found him before he had a chance to tell us anything."

"Lover?" Francesco asked. "You mean that really bad guy you were talking about? The one who passed Anya around to his friends to fuck him until they got their fill? I thought Anya was sent to the island because he tried to kill the fucker."

"And yet, Anya wouldn't say a word about the man's dealings," Morgan pointed out calmly. "Being accepted on the program was conditioned by his willingness to talk. Each time he got asked about that man, Anya stubbornly kept quiet."

"That doesn't mean that he loves the asshole or anything. Maybe he was smart enough to realize that keeping his mouth shut was the right thing to do, seeing how you failed to protect him." It wasn't even probably Morgan in charge of that job, but Francesco still wanted to shout at the man. "And now, he might be sleeping with the fish, anyway."

"No, that man wouldn't kill Anya."

"Who says that?" Francesco should have been focused on his own problems, but the news about Anya was rattling him to the core.

"He left a note, you know," Morgan said, "after he took Anya from the house where he was kept hidden."

"A note? What the hell did he say? Thank you for bringing my toy back?" Francesco crossed his arms. What changes did he think he would have in front of someone like Karl's dad? There was no one to care about him, or who could offer him protection.

"No, he said that we should stop looking for Anya because the boy is finally home. And that he'll be in good care, so unless we want to waste time and money searching for his body, we better find something else to do."

"That doesn't mean a thing," Francesco argued. "Except maybe that he's good at hiding bodies."

"Anya has a very complex relationship with that man," Morgan explained further.

"What? Do they love each other?" Francesco hoped his sarcasm was clear as day.

Morgan shrugged. "I can't say if that's the truth. But just like Karl and his father cannot keep away from you, that man thinks he cannot live without Anya."

"Maybe Anya will succeed next time, and the guy won't have that problem anymore."

Morgan offered him a crooked grin. "I doubt he'll do that. No matter what and how much he was offered, Anya kept his mouth shut, and our psychologist strongly believes he suffers from a serious case of Stockholm syndrome. As much as you might find it hard to believe, it's very possible that Anya is not unhappy where he is right now."

"Allow me not to believe this shit," Francesco said promptly. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and groaned. "So, Karl went to see his dad? Is he in any danger?" As much as Anya's situation could be helpless, his wasn't necessarily better. And it only now occurred to him that Don could be enough of an asshole to punish Karl in ways that he didn't want to start to imagine.

"I won't say he won't get hurt. But he won't break, and I know both men involved."

Francesco pushed himself off the chair. "It was really enlightening talking to you, Morgan, what can I say? Now I'm going to bed and feel depressed all day long, like some desperate wife from the suburbs."

He had no intention to do that. As much as he hated to think that Morgan would report on him going out of the house, he knew that the bodyguard didn't have much choice, either. Which left him with the only choice of sneaking out of the house and pay a visit to daddy-in-law, as well.

tbc