Title: Joel’s Vow Part II
Rating and Warnings: No one under 17 for language, violence, hints of D & S relationship, and explicit m/m slash. If any of this offends you, PLEASE do not read.
Author’s Notes: The names of the three wiseguys are made up, but the names of the families, the relationship between the New Jersey DeCavalcantes and the New York families is all factual.
The phone conversation between Joel and David in Chicago is directly transcribed from the movie, The Watcher.
February 8, 2001, Newark, New Jersey
Trying to desperately suppress his gag reflex, Joel felt a moment of panic. He was suffocating. David Allen Griffin wasn’t going to murder him with piano wire; he was going to murder him with his cock.
“Whoa, buddy.”
Joel dimly heard the words over the buzzing in his ears, as finally the massive organ in his mouth and throat was withdrawn.
“You looked like you were starting to turn blue.” David said in a taunting tone, as he rubbed the head of his penis over Joel’s lips and cheeks.
Coughing and gagging, Joel tried to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he felt the smear of the other man’s precum on his face. Life with David Griffin was keeping him humble. Raising a hand, he felt his temple. Lack of oxygen had triggered a familiar throbbing in his head.
“Migraine?” Living with Joel now for three months, David knew the signs.
“Yeah.” Joel pressed the palm of his hand into the side of his head. “I should take a pill.” A convenient excuse to give himself a break.
“I’ll get you one.” David said as he effortlessly lifted Joel up and threw him on the bed. “In a minute.” Settling behind Joel, he positioned and pushed himself in.
Joel grimaced a bit from the sudden penetration. He had had no preparation, but months of being sodomized had loosed him to the point where he could take his captor on spit alone.
Because of Joel’s oncoming migraine, David knew that their sexual interlude should be finished quickly. Long, hard thrusts and he was coming in minutes. Head thrown back, he groaned. He would never tire of the other man’s heat and tightness.
Seconds passed as David’s breathing returned to normal, and Joel felt the familiar sensations of withdrawal and wetness. Not entirely unpleasant feelings.
“Stay where you are, buddy.” David said with a paternal tone. “I’ll get your pills, a glass of water, and a couple of towels.”
Five minutes later, Joel lay comfortably, pain pill digesting in his system, cold towel wrapped around his head, and a warm towel wiping away the spit and come from his face and ass. Life with David Griffin was certainly an interesting paradox.
**
February 9, 2001
Hugging himself against the biting wind, Joel began to think that his pettiness in telling David that he wanted to go and live in New Jersey had been a mistake. After deciding that Las Vegas wasn’t right for them, David, in a rare generous mood, had given him the opportunity to choose a place where they would settle. In a moment of churlishness, Joel had picked New Jersey, remembering his first conversation in Chicago with David.
Chicago, Illinois, November 2000
The strident ringing of the telephone awoke Joel, who had been sleeping off one of his migraine attacks. Groggy and disoriented, he fumbled for the receiver. Putting it to his ear, he heard:
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Me? Me who.”
“It’s freaking cold here. Why’d you move here?”
Realization hit Joel like a bucket of cold water. The man, who had been the cause of his downward spiral, had followed him from LA to Chicago.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
“You hardly leave your apartment. And when you do, it’s to eat at that same terrible Vietnamese restaurant night after night. You seem so bored. I was expecting a warmer welcome.”
“I didn’t fucking ask you here, did I?”
“The guy they replaced you with. I tried to make it work, but we just didn’t see eye to eye at all. I was going to quit the game entirely, but then I thought Chicago’s not so bad. At least you didn’t move to New Jersey, right?”
“Yeah. Listen, why don’t you grab a pen and I’ll give you the name and number of the agent that’s on your case. You can share your inner turmoil with him, cause I don’t give a shit.”
Taken by surprise for a moment at David let out a short laugh. “I know your job is hard, Joel, so I’m willing to take steps to try and make things work between us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The photos, Joel. I’ll send you a picture, and you can have a day to try and find her. I’ll give you till 9:00. What do you say, Joel?”
“I say, I should have moved to New Jersey, asshole.”
Another laugh, but this time it was triumphant rather than nervous surprise. “Good night, Joel.”
Ducking into a nearby pub, Joel warmed himself up with a shot and a beer. The question, he mulled, was he warm enough to brave the cold outside, or did he need more fortification. It took merely a moment to decide that another shot and beer were necessary, before he could make his way outside and wait for the bus to take him home.
There were other patrons in the pub. One man, Joel noticed was very expensively and elegantly dressed. Nowadays other people held no significance to him, but his FBI training kicked in instinctively, so he always was attentive to his environment and the persons around him.
The well dressed man was part of a group, and as Joel finished his second beer, he became aware that they were throwing him interested glances. He took note, but then quickly dismissed it as nothing. He was a faceless person now, who just wanted to go through life anonymously.
Throwing a bill down, Joel turned toward the exit. It was time to brave the cold again and decide if he wanted to admit to David that he wasn’t liking New Jersey.
**
“I’m telling you, boss, that’s him!” Vinnie the Fish was trying to keep his voice low despite his excitement.
“You’re sure about this?” Capo Anthony Salvetti chanced another quick glance at the man sitting by himself at the bar. “He doesn’t look much like a fed.” Salvetti was no fool. Joel Campbell with his gaunt figure (noticeable despite his baggy jeans and sweatshirt) and black and blue circles under his eyes, looked more like a junkie than a federal agent.
“He’s undercover.” With a hand wave, Vinnie dismissed Joel’s appearance . “Anyway, I remember that fed’s face, cos two years ago I was out in LA. There was some big to do about a woman being burned to death, because of negligence of the FBI agent involved. That FBI agent was,” he pointed discreetly at Joel, “him. His mug was on the evening news just about every night I was there.”
“That was LA.” Salvetti said. “What’s he doing here in Jersey?”
“He fucked up in LA, so he was sent here.”
Salvetti scowled at the idea that the FBI sent their agents who screwed up to Jersey. It wasn’t so different from his own people’s opinion that the New Jersey mafia family, the DeCavalcantes, were second class citizens.
Raising his drink to his lips, he thought a moment. Then nudging the man sitting next to him, he gave the order. “Tommy, go outside and wait for the fed. After he leaves, we’ll follow him. Let’s send the message to the FBI that we don’t want their kind on our turf, and that we can take care of business just as good as the families of New York or Philly.”
**
February 10, 2001
For the second time in twenty four hours, Joel managed to pry open his swollen eyes. Groaning, he found that he felt no better than the first time he had awoken and found himself in a hospital bed.
“Should I call the nurse for you?” A voice to his right asked.
Commanding his head to turn, he managed to look over at the voice. The man, who stood next to his bed was tall, well built, and an obvious FBI agent.
Joel moaned again. A FBI agent was the last person he wanted to speak to.
“I’m special agent Michael Rizarrdo. We actually met about five years ago at Quantico at a conference on serial killers.”
“And if I remember correctly,” Joel managed to croak out, “five years ago, you were in the organized crime department. I could never figure out why you were at that conference.”
“You think organized crime doesn’t have serial killers?” Rizarrdo half joked, as he reached for the cord to call for a nurse.
“No, no.” Joel lifted up a hand to stop him. “I’m okay for the moment. Just need a sip of water.”
“Here.” Rizarrdo pushed the rolling hospital tray closer to Joel, so he could reach the standard issue paper cup with straw. “The local police called me over here, when you were brought in. You were seen leaving a known mob hangout, and then it seems you had a close encounter with a few members of the DeCavalcante family. So I’m here asking, what’s a retired FBI agent doing in my jurisdiction and having fisticuffs with the very people I’m trying to take down? Are you trying to prove to someone that you’re fit to return to active duty? Because if that’s it, you didn’t do yourself or anyone else a favor.”
Having taken a few sips of water, Joel laid back with a slight grimace. “Trust me Agent Rizarrdo, I have no interest in returning to the FBI. All I did was stop to have a couple before I caught the bus home.”
“Home?” Rizarrdo raised an eyebrow. “And where do you call home? Your last known address was Chicago, and according to payroll, your last three disability checks have been returned by the post office, unopened and uncashed.”
“I wouldn’t think that the FBI is crying over the fact that I forfeited three disability checks.” Joel’s voice held a flippant tone, which was beginning to annoy Michael Rizarrdo.
“What are you doing here in New Jersey? And why did the DeCavalcantes attack you?”
“You have proof that it was the DeCavalcantes who attacked me?” Joel sidestepped the questions with a question.
“No!” Rizarrdo temper was beginning to show. “Not until you ID them.”
“Not today, Agent Rizarrdo.” Joel reached for the nurse’s cord. “Come back tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll be in a more helpful mood then.”
Narrowing his eyes, Rizarrdo stared at Joel a moment. Nothing was making sense regarding Joel Campbell, and he didn’t like it. “For a colleague, albeit an inactive one, you’re not being very cooperative.”
“Trying having a limb broken.” Joel held up his plastered cast arm. “And your face beat in, and see how cooperative you feel.”
“Okay, Campbell.” Rizarrdo said with a hint of a threat in his tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sweet dreams, Agent Rizarrdo.” Joel said sweetly, as he pressed the button for the nurse.
**
It was more than an hour later after Joel suffered the administrations of the nurse and the nurse’s aide, that he finally felt that the coast was clear. Swinging his legs out of bed, he felt his bones creak. Pulling the IV out his hand, he eyed his room door uneasily. All he needed was a nurse, or worse, Rizarrdo to make an another appearance.
Pulling his clothes out of the closet, he dressed hurriedly. He needed to get back, or David would think the worst. Tiptoeing to the door, a wave of dizziness assailed him. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he cracked the door to peer out. Sneaking out of hospitals was becoming a habit.
**
“So, Joel.” David stared out at the black road that stretched out in front of him. They were on their way to Jersey City, putting some miles between themselves and the situation in Newark. “An old FBI buddy came to see you.”
“He wasn’t a buddy of mine.” Joel sighed. The air was thick with suspicion and distrust. “I met him at a ser. . .conference at Quantico five years ago. He’s head of the organized crime unit here in Jersey. He was claiming that the men, who attacked me were probably from the DeCavalcante family, the local mob.”
“And why would the local mob be attacking you?”
“Rizarrdo asked me the same question.” Joel slouched down in the passenger seat with another sigh, as he thought longingly of the hospital bed and painkillers he had just abandoned. “And my answer still is; I have no fucking idea. I mistakenly had a couple in a bar on their turf. Maybe they didn’t like my looks.”
David grunted but did not comment on Joel’s answer. A few more uneasy moments before he asked. “You had the perfect opportunity, Joel. Why didn’t you send your buddies to pick me up? You would have been free then.”
“We made a deal.” Joel said quickly.
“A deal. . .yeah that’s right.” David nodded his head slightly and turned to look at Joel. “You came with me in exchange for that bitch Polly Beilman’s life but her life isn’t at stake anymore, is it, Joel?”
“Actually I was referring to the second deal we made. I stay with you, and no more women die by your hands.”
“Aww, of course.” David grinned, but his grin was anything but friendly. “I forgot for a moment about that deal. Getting old I guess.” More uncomfortable silence passed. “But how do you figure I could be killing women, if your fed friends caught me and threw me in prison?”
It was a question that had been lurking in the back of Joel’s mind. A question that he didn’t want to face. Eyes full of grit, Joel raised a hand to rub them.
“Stop.” His good arm was grabbed and held. “Your eyes are swollen.” The fingers around his arm tightened to an uncomfortable level. “Rubbing them won’t help. Now, tell me truthfully, why didn’t you tell your friend about me?”
Wincing from the pain, Joel answered half truthfully. “Because I didn’t want to take the risk.”
**
February 12, 2001, Jersey City, New Jersey
“Wakey, wakey, Joel.” A hand shook his shoulder. “I’ve made breakfast.”
Groaning, Joel hated being woken up because all his aches and pains woke up with him.
“Hmm.” David stared down at Joel. “Swelling’s gone done, but your face is a nice shade of purple.” Pulling down the blanket, he studied the rest of Joel’s body. “Goes with the purple that’s covering the rest of you.”
“Good thing purple is my color.” Joel joked, as he sat up, running a hand through hair that was standing straight up.
“You’re quite a beauty first thing in the morning.” David smirked, as he stood up. “Now get up. I’ve got plans for today.”
“Plans?” Joel fell back down on his back. He really didn’t want to get out of bed.
“Yep.” David walked into their small motel kitchenette to pour a cup of coffee. “First we’re going to eat breakfast and then I’m driving you to a public phone, where you’re going to call you FBI friend, Rizzo.”
“Rizarrdo.” Joel corrected crabbily. “And why am I calling him?”
“To make ids on the men who attacked you.” David said matter-of-factly as he returned with a mug of coffee for Joel.
“I don’t give a fuck about the men who attacked me.” Joel made himself sit up again, as he took the coffee mug. “And I would think that the last person you want me talking to is Special Agent Rizarrdo. What if I suddenly have a change of heart while I’m in his company?”
David’s expression turned from cheerful to murderous in a blink of an eye. He moved like a cobra, as he suddenly struck, his knee finding Joel’s genitalia. Pressing down, he hissed a warning. “You had your chance. I know the score now. Even if you were to spill your guts to your buddy, Rizarrdo, the feds won’t catch me. And as your punishment, I’ll make sure to kill the first one slowly, very slowly.”
Face distorted in pain, Joel valiantly kept himself from dropping his coffee.
“Do we have an understanding, Joel?”
Guiding his trembling hand to the nightstand, Joel groaned out an acknowledgement, while managing to set the coffee mug down.
“Good.” Standing up, David once again had a charming grin on his face. “Now, you’re going to give Rizarrdo a call and tell him you’re going to cooperate. Come on Joel, you’re a federal agent for God‘s sake. How can you not want to help bring down the bad guys?”
**
February 13, 2001, Newark, New Jersey
“So, you are sure of these ids?” Michael Rizarrdo pulled the three photographs across the table to himself.
“I may be disabled, but I still have an eye for detail and a very good memory.” Joel tipped his chair back. He could feel the beginning of a headache.
“Okay, Campbell.” Rizarrdo gave Joel a half hostile, half puzzled look. “The next step, as you know, is to pick out the men in a lineup. It will take me a day or two to arrange that. Can you call me tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Standing up, Joel was relieved that he was done for the day. Turning, he headed for the door, but was stopped by another question from Rizarrdo.
“When you took off from the hospital, I never thought I’d hear from you again. Why the change of attitude?”
“Speaking of the hospital,” Joel deflected the question, “did you square the bill like I requested?”
“It wasn’t hard.” Rizarrdo shrugged. “You’re still technically a FBI agent. You have insurance coverage.”
“Oh.” Joel pretended to be semi surprised by the news. “Then that’s why I’m being cooperative Agent Rizarrdo I’m a FBI agent.”
**
February 15, 2001
After an afternoon of viewing lineups, Joel took his leave of Agent Rizarrdo. Climbing into the cab, he was aware of the FBI agent’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head. He was a riddle to Rizarrdo, and he knew the man wouldn’t be satisfied until the puzzle of Joel Campbell was solved.
“Take me to the Short Hills Mall.” Joel instructed the cab driver, as he turned to give Rizarrdo a wave. His route had already been planned out. From the mall he would take another cab to the subway, where David would be waiting for him. It was time consuming, but it was insurance in case Rizarrdo tried to have him followed.
Staring out the cab window, Joel watched the passing scenery while contemplating his situation. David had been adamant that he follow through with identifying his assailants. That had him mystified. A serial killer, who was demanding that the bad guys be brought to justice! If he wasn’t in the middle of it all, it would actually be kind of funny.
“We’re here.” The driver said, as he turned into the mall parking lot. “Where do you want to be dropped off?”
“Drop me at Nordstroms.” Joel directed. He’d walk through the mall to Bloomingdale’s, checking to see if he was being tailed. As the cab came to a stop, he slid out and handed the driver a couple of bill.
“Thanks.” The driver said, taking the money. “Try and keep warm.”
“Yeah.” Joel agreed, as a gust of wind blew across his bare head. Was he really going to have to stay here for a possible trial, which could take years? He had been ready to concede to David that New Jersey wasn’t for him, and that he was ready for someplace warm, Miami perhaps.
He took his time, walking leisurely through the mall. After about forty five minutes, he detected no one following him, so he made his way through Bloomingdale’s and caught a cab outside its main entrance. The ride to the subway seemed interminable, and Joel sighed with relief when his destination was finally reached.
“Now just another long fucking ride back to Jersey City.” He griped, as he looked around for David’s car. A few minutes of searching and he found the car parked neatly away with no one in it. Fumbling for his spare car key, Joel could feel his heart racing. What the hell was going on?
Somehow he managed to open the driver side car door and thankfully jump in. It was a relief to get out of the cold. On the car seat was a note and hotel key card.
Joel,
I’ve made a hotel reservation at the Country Inn & Suites in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Go there and wait for me. I’m attending to some business.
D
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Joel swore as he started up the car. What the hell was David up to?
**
February 17, 2001, Elizabeth, New Jersey
Sprawled out on the hotel bed, Joel flipped through channels on the television. He had been doing that since he had checked into the Country Inn & Suites. Sleep was impossible. He had last seen David on the 15th and hadn’t heard a word from the man since.
He looked guiltily over at the telephone. One call to Michael Rizarrdo and the FBI would be alerted to the serial killer being in the area and possible new victims. But he had kept his word, so why would David go and kill again? Joel had been debating with himself for more than a day. He knew he should do something, but what? A migraine pounding around through his head was only making his decision making process more impossible.
The door banging open made him wince, but also sigh with relief as David walked in. “Hey, Joel the maid wants to get in here, and whoa.” He looked around the room which had clothes, water bottles, soda cans, and rolled up newspaper (which Joel had used as he was throwing up from migraine pain) strewn about. “Guess the maid should get in here quickly.”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Joel tried to raise his voice, but it only made his head hurt worse. “And if you tell me attending to business, I’ll. . . .” He held up his old FBI handgun.
“Didn’t think we had any bullets for that thing.” David commented, as he spread out his arms in a semi surrender motion. Grinning, he then pointed to the phone. “Before you start shooting me, call your buddy, Rizarrdo.”
Looking over at the phone, Joel frowned in confusion. David never reacted like he anticipated. “And say what? That the serial killer, who killed young women in LA and Chicago, is here in New Jersey?”
Unfazed, David just grinned again. “Before you start telling a tale about a serial killer, let Rizarrdo tell you his news first.”
Reaching for the telephone, Joel’s eyes never left David. It took a few awkward moments as he fumbled for Rizarrdo’s card. More long minutes as the receptionist had to page Rizarrdo, being that it was Saturday. Finally the voice Joel wanted to hear came over the line.
“Agent Michael Rizarrdo.”
“Rizarrdo, it’s Campbell. I. . . .”
“Jesus, Campbell, I would have called you as soon as I heard the news, but since you didn’t give me a number. . . .”
“New? What news?” Joel interrupted, as he eyed David, who was now sitting on the motel couch, looking smug.
“Anthony Salvetti, Vinnie the Fish, and Timmy Vaccarella were all murdered yesterday. Rumor has it that it was a hit man from the either the Gambino or the Genovese family. There’s been tensions for sometime, since the New York families believe that the DeCavalcantes aren’t always sharing the wealth like they should. But there’s also another rumor floating around, that the New York families caught wind of their botched attempt on your life and weren’t too happy about it. Either way, I think this is going to start a chain reaction that will be the eventual downfall of the DeCavalcante family. Something I’ve worked for, for years.”
“Congratulations, Agent Rizarrdo.” Migraine forgotten for a moment, Joel was busily putting the pieces together.
“And thank you, Agent Campbell.” Rizarrdo replied. “I believe that what happened to you last week was one of the factors that brought about this current situation.”
Joel shrugged. He hadn’t really done anything, except have a drink in the wrong bar. “And you’re sure that these men were victims of mob rivals?”
“With the mob, one can never be sure, but that‘s the likelihood.”
“And just how were these men killed?” Joel feigned polite curiosity, while watching David, who was now humming to himself.
“Strangled by piano wire.”
**
Epilogue
Charlotte, North Carolina
“Guaranteed to cure a migraine.” David wrapped a frozen towel around Joel’s head. “Now just lie down, buddy, and take it easy. I’m thinking, maybe we’ll just stick around here for a bit.”
“We can’t.” Joel spoke quietly, as he pulled a blanket up over him. “We need to get as far away from New Jersey as we can. The quicker the better.”
“Are you troubled about something, Joel?” David jumped off the bed to check the hotel room’s thermostat. “I keep telling you that worrying will only make your headaches worse.”
Eyes covered by the towel, Joel couldn’t see David; a definite disadvantage when trying to carry on a conversation with the man. “Killing three wise guys is something anyone, who is sane should worry about.”
“You didn’t kill any wise guys.” David said in a mocking tone, as he fiddled with the hotel’s thermostat.
“No, but you did.” Joel couldn’t help but snap out. A whole day traveling in the car with a migraine didn’t help his stress level. “And how did you know who the right men were, and how to find. . . ?” Breaking off, he just shook his head at his own stupid questions. David had proven time and time again in the more than three years that Joel had hunted him that he was a clever and wily son-of-a-bitch.
“If I put my mind to it, I can do just about anything to anyone.” David pulled off his clothing and slid into bed next to Joel. “But then you already know that about me. Oh, and by the way, I turned the temperature up, so you can dispense with this.” He threw the blanket off the bed. “Gives me a better view.” His eyes ran appreciatively over the naked form next to him.
“Does no one scare you?” Joel asked. “In my talks with Rizarrdo, he asked me more than once if I wanted to go into protective custody. The mob has far reaching connections.”
“Joel, Joel.” David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The FBI with one of their best men couldn’t catch me.” Grabbing some oil off the nightstand, he soaked his hands, then rolling over, he began to grab and fondle “So what makes you think the mob can?”
“They’re dangerous and. . . .” Joel tried to continue, but the fingers that had been rubbing his perineum had moved to caress the ring of muscle of his ass.
“And what?” David leaned closer to Joel, as his fingers found their way inside.
“And I. . . . ,” Joel moaned, as he felt himself hardening. “I, you, I forgot.”
“Well, just don’t forget,” David was finished with foreplay, as he lined himself up against Joel’s ass, “there isn’t anyone more dangerous than me.”
“I won’t.” Joel whispered, as the familiar hardness filled him and began its rhythmic in and out movements. “I won’t.”
****
Finis