2. Chill
It was dark, and he was moving. His head was big and heavy. Something hard
and bumpy under his cheek. Opening his eyes turned out to be a bad idea, as
the world lurched and spun around him in a queasy streak of shadows.
Not good.
Rumble of an engine under him. Van maybe.
Where the hell was Sonny?
Later. Quiet, the engine sound gone. Still - not moving - damp cement
floor leeching the warmth from his body. He shivered and felt the pull on
his wrists, realized his arms were twisted behind his back.
Damn.
Tested his legs and found them unbound. He was lying on his side, face
pressed to the floor from the awkward position of his arms. His jacket was
missing.
Rico squashed the urge to pull on his wrists again, to panic. Tried to
listen to the room. Keep calm. Stay limp, like he wasn't awake. Someone
wanted something from him, or he'd be dead already. And by now Castillo
should know the meet went sour.
At first all he could hear was his own heartbeat throbbing in his ears.
Then breathing. Couldn't tell if it was echoes of his own until he held his
breath, and the sound continued. Quicker than he was breathing, fast and
shallow.
Rico opened his eyelids to slits. This time the world stayed pretty still.
He had a clear view of a grimy floor and grey cinderblock walls. Dim light
- a window? He couldn't see one. Then he noticed a foot in the upper range
of his vision. A bare foot.
He hadn't heard any sign of a third presence. Decided to risk moving.
Rico pulled his knees up and pushed with his feet until he slid over the
floor a few feet. He craned his neck to get a better look at the owner of
the foot. Had to shut his eyes a moment as the world greyed out and his
head protested.
Rico waited for his stomach to stop trying to crawl up his throat and then
opened his eyes again. About five feet away there was another man lying on
the floor with his back to Rico. Wrists bound with wire. The hands were
limp. Rico couldn't see much of the other captive's head but there was no
way the peach sleeveless t-shirt belonged to anyone but his partner.
Rico's chest went tight with relief.
"Sonny," he hissed, "Sonny, you alright?"
Sonny didn't move. That quick way he was breathing didn't change either.
Damn.
Sonny was curled on his side, his legs bent. One of his shoes was missing.
His linen pants were crumpled and stained. There was a dark patch of oil
soaked into the material, near the back of his knee. He was lying in a
small puddle of it.
Rico went cold. He was on his knees before he knew it. His head spun but
all he could think was that it wasn't oil that Sonny was lying in.
He tried to pull himself to his feet. All he gained was a scraped jaw and a
renewed flare of pain in his head when he couldn't catch his fall. The
floor and he were starting to be great friends. He regained his knees and
shuffled to the nearest wall, braced his shoulder against it and pushed,
using the solid support to counterbalance his bound arms until he was mostly
upright.
Then he had to wait until the room swam back into focus and he caught his
breath. Rico rested his temple against the cool brick wall. The right side
of his head felt encased in hot metal, and for the first time he noticed the
itch of drying blood. Great. Like he needed a concussion to complicate
what was shaping up to be one of his worst days in Miami.
"Sonny." One of his partner's bound hands twitched. "Sonny, come on man."
Once he was sure he wasn't going to kiss the floor again if he moved, Rico
staggered toward Sonny, shoulder to the wall for balance. One foot, then
the other, and his feet were so heavy. By the time he reached his partner
sweat was running down his back again despite the room's chill. He couldn't
hear Sonny's breathing anymore through the roaring in his own ears.
"You better not be dead, partner."
Rico eased himself back to his knees, sure he'd fall if he tried to walk
without the wall's support. The light was brighter here. A small barred
window hovered over his shoulder, near the ceiling. He could see greenery
outside the glass. They were in a basement.
Turned out Rico had got off pretty light. Sonny was pale under his tan,
where he wasn't black and blue. The side of his face that Rico could see
was cut and swollen. His nose was bloody and looked broken. And there was a
small dark circle above and to the side of his left knee. Entry wound.
Must not have hit a major artery or he'd have bled out by now.
Not that Rico could have done anything anyway without his hands. He
couldn't even check Sonny's pulse. His partner's chest still rose and fell
and Rico had to accept that there wasn't much he could do for Sonny 'cept
sit watch over him.
