A gay story: Death in the Rockies Ch. 08 Within twenty-four hours I learned just how difficult this assignment was going to be and I also got a flavor of an assignment I didn’t particularly welcome of how Jesse had met his maker.
Hank, having guided the guests, Ted, Cliff, and Jim to their rooms through a back entrance was entering the lounge of the main house that also served as the lobby reception area for the ranch as I was entering the front door, shaken by the death of Jesse and looking for Chuck to see if he could get word back to the special unit in Denver before they learned of this through regular channels.
“I want you to take Cookie and his boys and the men who went out with you to Grand Lake and take the guests we have here today over to the Jacob’s ranch area,” he said, pulling me aside and speaking to me in low tones out of the hearing of the deputy who was standing by the reception desk with Slade. “It’s part of this complex we use for remote entertainment—and keep them entertained there until we’ve cleared everything with the police here. The regular hands know how to get there, and I’ll send some of the other wranglers down there to give the guests a real fuck party at the pool there. They’ll think it’s all part of the regular planned service.”
“I’ll tell Chuck—I was just going to look for him.”
“I want Chuck to stay here. I’ll drive down there and let you know when it’s safe to bring the guests back. We’ve got the police covered, but Mr. Slade doesn’t want them to even see any of the guests we’ve got here.”
So, quick, quick we rounded up all of the guests on the QT and got them and the wranglers we were taking along piled into Land Rovers parked out of site behind the barns—all except for Giacomo and his goons, who stuck to their Navigator—and we headed off for route 40 on a back road that couldn’t be seen from the main house.
Jenks must have had real clout, because as I was standing and waving away the fleet of vehicles before I got in the last Land Rover, I discovered it was just him and me in the back of that and a closed glass panel between us and the driver who I only saw as a pair of eyes looking into the backseat occasionally to watch the action.
The novelist was a big bear of a man. He minced no words and believed in no long seductions. I was kneeling between his spread legs and servicing his plump cock before we’d even reached route 40 on the back road. This was fine with me, though. Every minute that it was just Jenks and me together was a minute when I was doing what I was placed here to do—making sure that Giacomo Arcardi wasn’t getting at him.
He got hard fast and pulled me up from the floor, unzipped the opening at my ass and had me settled, facing him, on his cock in short order. I rode his cock to his obvious satisfaction, as he ran a short length of rope over my bare body and snapped me with it absentmindedly. He had it under my chin and pulled my head up with it, when I noticed that there was something happening outside the Land Rover that now fought for my attention. I brushed the rope away and began to pump him hard with a twist at every third stroke, which had him gurgling and bouncing around like a rag doll underneath me.
We were the last Land Rover in the convoy, but not the last vehicle driving down the road. I looked out of the back window in half panic as two camouflaged Hummers pulled off the side of the road and fell into line behind the convoy. But when our line of vehicles pulled off of 40 and back into the ranch property, the Hummers held up at the boundary.
I was confused and in panic, thinking that it was because the presence of Lorenzo Rapino and his thugs on the periphery of the action was one more wrinkle that I wanted to be dealing with—but as my attention returned to the interior of the Land Rover, I realized that this wasn’t what had me in confusion and panic at all. Jenks was pushing toward the edge in his fuck. He was making deep, guttural animal noises and was chewing at my nipples and his fists were closed hard around my neck as I pumped his cock. He was so much into the fuck that he didn’t realize that he was cutting off my air. In a Herculean effort, I closed my ass canal muscles tightly on his cock and went into overdrive in the pumping of my ass up and down on his staff, sending him quickly into ejaculation and making him release me and sink back into the cushions of the Land Rover in exhausted relief.
We arrived at the old Jacob’s place soon thereafter, which had been so refurbished into the same fake rustic Western style as I’d seen back at the main building, that I thought it a bit ironic to be calling it “old.” There was a pool and a game room, with several pool tables, and a giant-screen TV, and a bar that never ended, and small cell-like bedrooms aplenty. At the front of the house, pretty much deserted and in the shadows, was a long room with sofas and deep-cushion chairs, and big ottomans. And in short order Cookie and his assistants had a rolling barbeque going out by the pool.
I tried to stay as close to Jenks as possible. The fuck I’d given him apparently had satiated him for the present, as he was content to sit at the bar or by the pool and hold court. The “guests three,” which was how I was beginning to think of Ted, Jim, and Cliff, were in thrall with hearing the adventure stories from one of their favorite thriller and real-life-detective story authors. From time to time one of the three would see a piece of ass floating by that they fancied and would go off for a brief encounter. But they’d also come back for more mixing time with the novelist. He had a mesmerizing effect on them. Giacomo Arcardi and his two goons sat, for the most part, on the other side of the pool and stared Jenks down—which Jenks didn’t even seem to notice. This seemed natural enough, because Jenks gave the impression that no matter how many people were in the room, he was the only one there of interest.
From time to time Arcardi and the goons also went inside, where I assumed they were playing pool or watching TV.
I floated a bit, but spent most of my time at the pool or near the bar, out of Jenks’s aura but near enough to reach him quickly if there was trouble. He wound down when the sun hit its zenith and begged off to take a nap, but he was back out by the pool in not much more than two hours.
Late in the afternoon, though, I sensed trouble brewing. I saw Giacomo at the door into the lounge/bar area, staring out at the pool, and soon thereafter, one of his goons—the one who had approached me in the Chicago airport—came out to the pool and strode toward the area where Jenks was holding court.
I was between him and Jenks, though, and stood as the goon got near. To my surprise, he turned to me and said, “Mr. Arcardi wants you inside.”
“And where will you and his other guard be?” I asked. It was a gamble. I couldn’t tell him no. Those were the rules. And I was lucky Arcardi hadn’t called for me earlier. But I really didn’t want to be off fucking him with the goons on the loose doing who knew what to Jenks.
“Oh, we’ll be there too,” the goon said, giving me a cheeky leer.
“OK, I’ll be in in a minute,” I said.
To my relief that seemed to satisfy him, and he turned and reentered the house.
I called over the two old hands, who were standing around on the periphery prepared to do whatever was needed short of servicing the guests themselves—and truth be known they were such dried out and gnarled specimens that a guest request to them was highly unlikely. I asked them to keep an eye on Jenks—that Slade wanted to make sure he was safe, so they should do what they could if anyone tried to harm him. They were asked to do a whole lot of different and strange things, so the request didn’t seem to faze them a bit.
I expected to go back to the bedroom area with Arcardi, but I was caught off guard as soon as I entered the house. I was backhanded hard across the face, which made me reel toward a wall, except I never got there. A man’s long tie was slipped around my neck and my motion was arrested in a choking sound from me. That didn’t prevent me from doubling up, though, when a fist went into my solar plexus. Winded, I found myself being manhandled not toward the bedrooms, but toward the lounge area at the front of the house in an area set off from the bar, which was being manned by Roy—who just went on whistling and minding his liquor bottles—just as he was trained to do.
I was carried over to an ottoman and pulled down on top of one of Arcardi’s goons, who was naked and whose jutting cock poked up between my legs, as the other big goon, also naked, worked at pulling what little clothing I was wearing off me. The goon who was lapping me held me close to his chest with the tie around my neck, with both ends wound around his fists. The other goon lifted my hips when I was naked and impaled my ass on the cock of the goon under me.
He punched me in the face again, even though I wasn’t objecting to the treatment.
I could see Arcardi beyond him, sitting in a chair, pantless, and his hand working his cock as he watched the beat-down fuck. The goon in front of me, satisfied that I was cowed and helpless, hunched down on top of my thighs, rolled my hips up toward him, and started working his cock in on top of the one that already impaled me from the back.
I was being double fucked by two monster goons while their master watched, slightly smiling and working his cock with his fist.
He didn’t last long. I saw him shoot off when the two goons hadn’t been working me like a piston engine for more than ten minutes. And when he had shot off, I heard someone clear his throat from across the room.
“The police are gone. It’s safe to return to the main house now. Those out at the pool are already packing up.”
It was Hank, come to my rescue—sort of.
I was reluctantly released, still gagging from the tie choking me—more so than from the double fuck. I’d had thicker and managed it. The beating wasn’t my favorite touch, however. Arcardi and his goons suited up and departed quickly, leaving Hank and me alone in the lounge.
“How long were you standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough. I’m sorry if it was getting too rough, but until Arcardi ejaculated there wasn’t much hope they’d stop. And the rules—”
“It’s OK, I know the rules,” I said, as I felt my tender neck with my fingers. Hank was right. It could have gotten worse if he had tried to stop it before Arcardi got off on it. And Hank had no way of knowing Arcardi was a cold-blooded murderer.
Something about that thought worried me though, but I didn’t have time to pursue the thought as we were loading up to return to the main house.
That night I slept with Jason Jenks—who I supposedly knew as just Jay. His room was a lot more comfortable than my bunk room. But I already regretted any time I spent away from the bunk room in the hope that Hank would visit me in the middle of the night and give me a proper fucking.
Jenks started off with one that was getting rough—he liked raking my skin with his sharp fingernails when he wasn’t using a riding crop on me and his hands were fast to go to my throat—but as it was getting close to that elusive edge I was told was the boundary for what a client could do, we both looked up in shock to find Chuck standing by the bed. I don’t know what Jenks thought about that, but I saw it as Chuck watching my back, not letting things get out of control.
“Sorry,” Chuck said. “I was told to come right in. Complimentary massage. I can come back or you can just tell me you don’t—”
“No, no, that’s OK,” Jenks said gruffly. “I could use a massage.”
So, he got a massage—a superdooper massage, because as Chuck massaged his muscles, I sucked on his favorite muscle, sending him into dreamland. After Chuck left, I stretched along Jenks’s body and held him through the night. I woke him with a gentle riding of his cock ending in an ejaculation that seemed to satisfy him for then.
All hell had broken out again by the time we came out of his room for breakfast.
“When was the last time you saw Cookie’s assistant, Sam, yesterday at Jacob’s ranch?” Hank asked me as I peeled off from Jenks when he entered the main dining room. Hank’s look of concern raised my level of attention.
“Sometime in the early afternoon, I guess. Roy was manning the bar and Sam was helping Cookie at the barbeque.”
“Well, no one claims to have seen him later than that. Cookie couldn’t find him this morning, so I sent one of the wranglers back out to Jacob’s ranch. They found him dead and rolled under a bed in one of the bedrooms.”
“How—?”
“His wrists were tied with rope and he’d been brutalized and strangled.”
I walked over to the entrance to the dining room and looked in. Giacomo Arcardi was at a table by himself, blissfully eating his breakfast, a little smile on his face, apparently without a care in the world. In a table next to him were his two goons, suspicious eyes sweeping the room, ever on the lookout for whatever might develop.