Title: Twisted Plans
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Spencer Reid
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Spencer Reid, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Greg took a deep breath as he pushed open the door of the restaurant he was supposed to meet the client he'd agreed to escort this evening at. It was a nice place, one that he'd been taken to often; he hoped that it would prove to be a pleasant evening.

He had already explained to his boss that he wasn't going to be spending the night with clients any more; he was still available as an escort, but nothing more than being someone's arm candy in a crowded public place. He wasn't going to take any chances.

This man was apparently in Vegas for a gallery opening; he had requested an escort to accompany him to dinner and the art showing, but after that, he had assured the woman in charge of the agency, he didn't plan for their acquaintance to go any further.

That was just what Greg was looking for -- a client who wanted nothing more than for him to be company for something like the gallery opening, then a handshake and a firm good night. He wasn't interested in anything more -- and now that he had Spencer in his life, he didn't need to be.

He didn't even need to do this at all, he told himself ruefully. He was going to stop, but he was still feeling more than a little guilty about Spencer feeling as though he had to help with the rent. It was a good solution for Greg's financial problems, but it didn't seem right to him.

He almost felt as though he was being put in the position of being a kept man -- and he didn't like that feeling. Of course, most people would say that before he'd met Spencer, he had been nothing but a common whore, paid to sleep with a lot of his clients.

It didn't matter how other people might have looked at him then, Greg told himself firmly, running a hand through his hair as he followed the maitre d' to the table his client had booked for them. All that mattered was that he no longer led that kind of life.

He slid into the chair across the table from a man who looked interesting, older but still attractive. Urbane and sophisticated, that was Greg's first impression -- he would find out after they'd been talking for a while if that impression had been accurate.

The man looked up at him and smiled, then held out a hand across the table. "Hi," he said in a soft voice as he took Greg's hand. "I'm George. And you must be Greg. I've been looking forward to meeting you more than you know."

Greg nodded, returning the smile as they shook hands, though he felt a little nervous and uneasy. He couldn't quite say why, but something about George made him feel that he had to be on his guard. Maybe it was something about the way this man looked at him.

There was something strangely predatory about George, something in the way that he watched Greg that made him feel ill at ease. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy, but Greg was sure that there were some hidden depths in the man that he didn't want to probe.

But as they talked a little and then ordered dinner, Greg began to relax. George was an interesting person to talk to, charming and attentive. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would have to book an escort, but maybe he simply didn't know anyone here in Vegas.

"Why did you need an escort tonight, anyway?" Greg asked bluntly, swirling the wine around in his glass. "I'm betting you could get a date with no trouble. It's not like there aren't a lot of guys who would like to spend time with somebody like you."

"And you wouldn't?" George asked with a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know anybody here, Greg. That's why I booked you. The agency was recommended to me as a place where I could find some company for the evening who wouldn't .... expect anything."

"I don't expect anything other than keeping you company this evening and then going home alone," Greg told him, glad that he and George seemed to be on the same page with that. "I might work for an escort service, but I'm not available for anything more than company."

"That's why I chose you," George told him, his smile flashing across the table at Greg again. "You were the perfect escort for the evening I wanted to have." Greg could almost feel himself relaxing at the other man's words, feeling more at ease.

But there was still something about George that he couldn't quite put his finger on that made him feel strange. It was as though the other man was watching him, waiting for him to say or do something that would start some chain of events that George was anticipating.

Why should he feel that way? George hadn't said or done anything that should make him feel so restless, so watchful. Maybe he was just feeling that way because he missed Spencer, and he wished more than anything that he was with his boyfriend and not a client.

It didn't take them long to finish their meal; it went by quickly as they chatted, and George told Greg about the art gallery opening that they would be attending. It didn't sound like something that he would usually go to, but it was part of the job.

Greg didn't tell George that things like that weren't really his style; the other man didn't need to know that. He wasn't going to reveal his personal life, or say that he had a boyfriend; that was no one's business but his own. Some things should be kept to himself.

George looked at his watch, frowning slightly. "The gallery opening starts in less than twenty minutes," he said, looking over at Greg. "Shall we go? I can't promise you that it'll be the most exciting time in the world, but I hope we'll both get something out of it."

Greg nodded, draining the last of his wine quickly and immediately wishing that he hadn't done so. He felt a little lightheaded, but that was normal when he was drinking. It wasn't that he couldn't hold his liquor, but it seemed like the wine he'd been drinking was awfully potent.

"Sure, I'm ready," he said with a smile. This might not be the best evening of his life, but at least the man he was escorting was interesting, and he didn't doubt that George knew a lot about art and could make this evening bearable, at least.

As they headed out of the restaurant, George turned to him with another of those charming smiles. "I had the maitre d' call us a cab," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. "It should be here in a few minutes. They promised me a very short wait."

Greg hardly felt the small needle sinking into the side of his neck; his lashes fluttered for just a moment before he lost consciousness, slumping into George's waiting arms just as the cab pulled up to the sidewalk and the maitre d' opened the door with a worried look at Greg.

"He's fainted," George explained, letting the man help him get Greg's inert body into the cab. "I think he may have had too much wine. I'm just going to take him to the hotel I'm staying at. I don't mind missing my evening. I think making sure he's all right is a bit more important."

The maitre d' nodded before closing the door; Foyet leaned back against the seat, holding Greg against him and stroking the young man's hair. He gave the cab driver the address of his hotel, looking out of the window with a wolfish smile on his face.

"I think it's time to give Doctor Reid a scare, don't you, beauty?" he asked softly, looking down at Greg. The young man's body was limp in his arms; he had no doubt that the drug he had injected Greg with wasn't going to wear off until he safely inside Foyet's hotel room.

"It's past time the BAU found out just what they're dealing with, and that they realized I can get the better of them any time I want to," Foyet muttered, as though Greg could actually hear him. "Doctor Reid is going to be the first one of them to find out just how strong I am."

His arm tightened around Greg's waist, pulling the unconscious man closer to him. If the cab driver had bothered to look into the back seat at his passengers, he would have thought they were lovers, one of whom had indulged in a few too many.

"This night is only just beginning, pretty boy," Foyet whispered into Greg's ear. "I'm going to enjoy having my way with you. And letting Doctor Reid know that I have. I don't doubt that he's coming after me right now. But I've got all the cards this time."

Foyet smiled as the cab came to a stop in front of the hotel. He had plans for the evening ahead -- and the night was only just beginning. His mind curled around his twisted plan, holding it close to him, even as he took the first steps to bring that plan to fruition.

***