The Gambler - Part 2

Back-up had still failed to arrive. Spencer was furious with their delay. Mel was furious with Boyd, for not waiting for them, and herself, for not stopping him. "Shit," Mel whispered. A wave of emotions washed over her. Was Boyd alive? How badly was he hurt? No noise came from the shed, just silence. Even Maya had stopped her terrified whimpers, probably in fear of expecting to be shot next. Claire's fate was entirely unknown, was Tom going to attempt to abduct her again, play out his happily-ever-after fantasy? Or would he kill her, then turn the gun on himself?

"Tom!" Spencer's voice brought Mel from her thoughts. Spence was taking action. She needed to join him, support him, find out what the hell had happened.

"Officer," Tom replied, amusement in his voice. This was all just a game to him.

"Who did you shoot, Tom?" Spence knew it was important to give Tom the question. He didn't know Spence had seen Boyd laid out. His answer would make him feel as though in a position of power, which he was, but could also give them an insight into his state of mind. Would he lie, or tell the truth?

"I shot your boss, D..S..I," he drawled the words out slowly, playing with them, "Boyd."

Mel couldn't help herself. "Is he alive?"

"I wish you would show the same concern for me as you do for him."

"Is he alive?" Mel repeated.

Laughter could be heard. Mel and Spence held their breath. "Why don't you come in and have a look for yourself?"

Mel looked at Spence, who nodded his approval for her to continue. Tom was responding to her. "If you throw out your weapon, I will."

A challenge. How would he respond?

"Tell you what, Mel." He sounded like a car salesman, doing the buyer a 'favour'; "if you come in, I'll put my weapon down. I won't give it up, but I'll put it down, you'll be safe."

Spence shook his head vehemently. "No, Tom, you know I can't do that."

"Don't you trust me?" Tom has a flirty edge in his voice that Mel remembered from the prison. It made her skin crawl. It made her want to shudder.

"You need to give me a reason to trust you."

Tom nodded his head thoughtfully. "Quite right, quite right," he sounded ever the gentleman. "Tell you what Mel, I'll sneak a peak at your boss, Boyd, see if he's alive or not. I'll warn you, I only shot to wound, and I only shot because he claimed I didn't have the nerve. You heard that, didn't you?" His voice held a tease.

"Yes," Mel gritted through her teeth, "we heard him provoke you."

"Good. Thank you Mel."

Tom released Claire from his grip. She stood in the same position, starring ahead, still in shock. Her body trembled, her hands shaking slightly. With gun in hand, still loaded and ready to fire, Tom approached Boyd.

Boyd lay on the floor on his back. One arm was splayed out across the floor, the other rested across his chest. His legs we're stretched out, one bent slightly at the knee. His head rested to one side, the left cheek pressed against the dirt floor of the shed. Tom could see a graze over the left eye from impact with the hard floor, the skin was already bruising. Gun ready, Tom opened the man's coat and jacket, then quickly patted the body down for a weapon. He was unarmed. How stupid.

Mel was growing nervous. "What are you doing Rice?"

"Mel, please be patient. I'm checking on your boss, as you asked."

Mel could think of no response. Spence just shrugged, indicating that she shouldn't bait him. Behind the cover of the shed wall neither could see anything, though they both wished they we're in the room, able to check on Boyd's condition, and take Tom out.

Boyd blinked. Slowly. Everything was blurred. It was dark. Was he in bed? He was laid out, that much he realised, but he didn't feel comfortable. Was he in the office, had he fallen asleep in his car? He tried to sit up, shifting his shoulder, and immediately fell back to the floor, almost roaring in the pain that passed through his shoulder as he did so.

"Shhh, shhh, their, their."

A voice. Comforting him. Who was it? It sounded male, but feminine at the same time.

"Don't try to move, it will make it worse."

Had he been in a car crash? Had he fallen asleep at the wheel? Boyd opened his eyes again, this time focusing, and looked up into the smirking face of serial killer Tom Rice. He lifted his head slightly, looking down at his body. He saw his open suit jacket, saw his white shirt, saw the dark red patch spreading out from his left shoulder. The pain hit him as soon as he saw the wound and he dropped his head back against the hard floor. Felt his eyes start to roll back. Felt cold hands gently tapping at his cheeks, forcing him back to consciousness before he lost it.

"Boyd, Boyd, do you remember what happened?"

Boyd groaned as pictures slowly filtered back to him. His mouth felt dry, he licked his lips as he tried to speak, A muffled groan came out. The pain was ridiculous. It was intense. It started in his shoulder, a deep, hot and sharp fiery pain that radiated outwards from that point, making any movement unbearable. "What," he whispered, "what hap-"

"Oh Boyd," Tom said in a high pitch giggle, "you don't remember?"

Boyd could remember racing here. Not waiting for back-up. Seeing Tim's body. Maya and Claire we're being held by Rice. He remembered storming in, then nothing, nothing until this; this agony.

"You we're baiting me, Boyd, which was silly, as it meant I had to shoot you."

Boyd opened his eyes again, focused on Tom. Tom smiled down at him. "I had to shoot you. Right," his hand hovered over the wounded shoulder, "here." As he finished he smashed his hand down over the wound, holding it their. He watched as Boyd screamed in pain and withered in agony against the hand until finally his eyes rolled back in his head and the screaming stopped and he was unconscious.

Mel and Spence stood behind the door, weapons still ready. Mel closed her eyes as she listened to the exchange. The relief she felt, hearing Boyd, that he was alive, was short lived. Spence held her arm, stopping her from storming in, when they heard his screams. Now their was silence, that was more deafening than the noise it followed.

Spence tried to take charge, seeing how upset Mel was. He was feeling it too, of course, but his determination to bring Tom down helped him to seal off his concern over what Boyd was going through.

"So Boyd's alive," Spencer started, "that puts you in a good position Tom."

"I don't want to speak to you I want to speak to Mel!" Rage blistered through Tom's voice. "I want to speak to MY Mel."

Spence and Mel stared at each other. "Let me talk to him," Mel whispered.

Spence shook his head. "He's too obsessed with you Mel, it could be dangerous."

Mel allowed a hint of a smile on her face. "It's always going to be dangerous, Spence, but he won't talk with you. He wants me."

"I'm here, Tom," Mel started.

"Good, good."

"How is Boyd?" she asked. Her voice croaked as she said his name.

"Oh, he's sleeping." Tom sounded like a child. "You know," he continued, "I don't like hearing your voice. Not when I can't see your pretty face."

"Um…"

"If you came in, you could check on your boss."

Mel tried to make her voice sound reasonable. "I already told you, I can't come in while you're armed."

"Okay. But that makes me mad, Mel, very mad. I'd hate to kill Maya here, or your lovely boss, because I was upset, because you made me upset."

Spence glared at the wall, trying to stop himself from butting in.

"If you did that, you'd hurt my feelings."

"Hmmm."

"Will you throw out your weapon Tom?"

"No." He paused. "You're trying to trick me, aren't you? Thinking that because I like you, I'll do as you ask. It doesn't work that way Mel. You've hurt me. Now its only fair I hurt you. But you're not here, so I'll have to make do with the DSI instead."

"Tom I'm not trying to trick you. Tom! Tom, please, leave Boyd alone."

Tom ignored Mel's words. Instead he knelt back down to sit next to Boyd. He tried to look back at the wound and got annoyed with the heavy winter coat obstructing his view. He dragged the coat from Boyd's his shoulder, roughly pulling his arms out from the heavy material. Boyd groaned at the pain, even in his unconscious state. Tom breathed heavily from the effort, then dragged the man's suit jacket away from his wounded shoulder and gripped the material of his shirt with both hands, ripping the cotton of his shirt free from the shoulder, giving him access to the wound.

He looked at the site but could not see the bullet, just blood and pulpy tissue. Sighing he turned away from the wound and back to Boyd's face, which he gently began to slap again, trying to rouse the DSI. "Oh Boyd," he whispered in a childlike manner, "come on Boyd, wakey wakey." Boyd blearily opened his eyes but he was seeing nothing, just feeling the overwhelming pain again. He tried not to move and blinked a few times until he once again focused his vision on Tom Rice. Once more the events hit him - this wasn't a dream, he hadn't been in some accident - Tom Rice had shot him and now he was at the man's mercy.

"Mr Boyd," Tom began, trying to make his voice sound authoritive. "You're colleague Mel doesn't feel the need to help you out of your current situation."

Boyd heard Mel's voice. It sounded far away. He could make out the words but he couldn't see her. Was she in the room? Was she here? "I want to help you Tom, you know that, please, leave him alone, let me help." Boyd tried to look around to find her, but lifting his head meant more pain than he could imagine, so he stayed still, confused by what was happening.

"So," Tom continued, ignoring Mel, "here's what we're going to do." He held one hand on Boyd's arm, crushing it against his chest, preparing to hold him down, knowing he would need to do so because of the pain. "Oh, before I begin, I should add, if you fall asleep again, I'm going to kill the girl."

Maya was still kneeling against the wall in the back of the shed. From his position on the floor Boyd could just see her.

Mel's voice filtered in again. "Please don't do this Tom, please."

Tom looked down at Boyd. Boyd tried to brace himself. He didn't know what was going to happen, or how the pain could be worse than that which already riddled his body. But it was. Tom slammed his finger into the bullet hole, at the same time holding Boyd down, who pushed against his arm as he screamed from the pain. It was a reflex. If he had been able to push himself up it would have only hurt more. Tom stopped, watched as Boyd's head rolled to the side, his teeth clenched, spit on his chin, his eyes blinking repeatedly as though trying to make them stay open. He was struggling. He was panting for breath, breathing sharp, ragged breaths, almost hyperventilating from the pain. He began to cough and wince and shudder and this only aggravated the pain in his shoulder, in his entire body, further. Tom watched him struggle a moment longer and smiled at him, gently tapping his cheek with the bloody finger used to prod the wound. "Well done Peter, I'm impressed."

Please, please let me know if you are reading this!

Got a couple more chapters to go yet before I can get this story out of my head!

Thanks x