Free Patrick's Plight by Stephani Hecht, Amber Kell Page B

information Patrick had laid out for him.
    Despite his mind continuing to return to his lover, the business took first place. After all if the numbers were right, Ross had been skimming money off of Vance’s production company for the past three years.
    Fuck!
    How could he have been so blind for so long and trusted Ross? He knew the man didn’t have the most upstanding character but finding someone who could run a production company and not be a sleaze ball had proven too difficult for human resources. Ross had appeared to be the least objectionable. Looking over the proof, Vance had been wrong.
    Slowly and methodically, he reviewed each and every detail.
    “You are so fired, asshole,” Vance muttered.
    Shoving back his chair, he slammed it into the wall with a loud bang as he snatched up his folder and marched down the hall. They were wrapping up a film in Studio seven and Vance knew exactly where to find Ross.

A minute later he slammed the door open to see Ross lying with his pants down and a little twink with his lips around Ross’ cock.
    “Be with you in a minute,” Ross said, a wide smile stretching his lips. “Unless you want to fuck him. I’m not too stuffy to share.”
    “Out,” Vance pointed to the door.
    The skinny actor jumped to his feet and rushed out as if his ass were on fire. Vance would have to check on him later to make sure Ross hadn’t forced the boy to be there. It was one thing if the kid thought he could suck his way to the top, another if Ross threatened him.
    “Did you have to ruin my fun?” Ross whined.
    “I don’t know? Did you have to embezzle fifty-thousand dollars from my company?” Vance waved his folder at Ross. “And that’s only the stuff I’ve caught so far. How much will I discover when I do a thorough audit?”
    Ross pulled up his pants and fastened them with shaking hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did that stupid blond bimbo think he could frame me? He’s just trying to get back at me because I told him he’s got an expiration date.”
    “You what?” Vance’s stomach churned as his discussion with Patrick took a whole new ominous turn. “You told him he would be sent packing?”
    “Of course I did,” Ross’s expression revealed

his scorn. “I thought the poor dear was too moony-eyed for his own good. Someone had to tell him you weren’t ever going to set up house and pick china.”
    “And you thought it was up to you?” Vance’s hands shook with the urge to beat the crap out of Ross.
    “Of course, as your closest friend I thought I should be the one to tell the poor puppy his fate,”
    Ross gave a fake expression of sorrow.
    “Get out!” Vance said through clenched teeth.
    “Because of a little money?” Ross scoffed. “You don’t want to do that. I know where all the skeletons are buried.”
    “Well, I’m cleaning out my coffins today. Get the fuck out! Security will show you to your car.
    Don’t return, ever. I’ll mail you your check and if you’re lucky I won’t bury you under a shower of lawyers,” Vance threatened.
    Before Ross could say anything else, the two security guards Vance had alerted on the way showed up in the doorway. “Show him out,” he ordered.
    He watched with satisfaction as the guards grabbed Ross’ arms and pulled him out of the room.
    With a groan, Vance threw himself in the chair.
    He plunged his fingers in his hair and closed his eyes. A huge headache loomed on the horizon. He

could feel it waiting to pounce and give him a migraine. He didn’t get them often, but when he did they incapacitated him.
    Between his niece and his ex-producer, Vance had two big headaches. Add in a sensitive lover with an inferiority complex, and he had the perfect recipe for a screwed up life.
    Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, Vance dialed Patrick’s number.
    A strange man’s voice answered.
    “Hello?”
    Must be one of Patrick’s roommates. “Hello.
    This is Vance Cullain. I’d like to talk