CHAPTER 5

It didn't matter that the situation was dire, or that she was injured, or that they were talking seriously. Ilsa was not a tease or a quick romp, and just because she'd shown up unannounced and expected him to drop everything to help her did not mean she was using him. She would have done the same for him.

Casey couldn't get her to sit – either injury of restlessness – so she stood in the middle of the living room, staring at Quincy and Casey lifted her shirt gingerly so he could find and bandage that wound on her spine that he'd inadvertently opened when he'd pulled her inside.

"Why is he sleeping in the chair?"

"I got tired of tucking him in," Casey shrugged. "He slept a few hours, then got up and started plotting his escape. He's been in and out ever since."

She winced as he patted the first aid tape against her skin, securing the bandage. Pressing gently with his fingers, he could see her fighting her reflexes to cry out. Her ribs were bruised and he figured at least one was broken.

"The boy mentioned a crash." When she'd lifted her shirt, he could see the dark bruises across her torso where she'd slammed into safety restraints. He held up the gauze as if to ask if she had more injuries, but she shook her head.

"Is it dusty in here?" She was asking if the place was bugged. He loved her so much more now that they shared occupations.

"Swept a half hour ago, then again when you walked through the door."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Compulsive."

"It's been a slow day," he said coyly, standing up and trying to massage the tension from her neck without getting too close to the bruises.

"There's a bounty on my head," she explained.

"That explains the tension." He wanted to protect her and speak peace into her life, and he wished like hell they could skip that intermediate step of hunting down and killing whoever was after her.

"One of the hunters thought it prudent to use my family as bait."

There was pain in her voice, but she wouldn't let the tears fall. He hugged her gently from behind, clasping her trembling hands as she stared at Quincy and the boy stirred. Ilsa stepped out of his embrace and knelt next to the chair where her little brother slept.

"Petit frère," she said."C'est moi, Kara."

"Kara?" Quincy blinked wearily, his voice soft and confused. He whimpered as he instinctively rubbed his face with his broken hand, then opened his eyes and cried out gleefully. "Soeur!"

Nearly tearing his shirt trying to free his legs, Quincy threw himself at Ilsa, knocking her backwards, and she screeched sharply in pain. Casey fell to his knees next to them, pulling Quincy off of Ilsa's injured ribs. The boy embraced him to, speaking rapidly, and Casey caught the words 'just like you promised' repeated over and over.

*~*

Chuck sat agitatedly in the cage at the Buy More, waving a screwdriver animatedly, fixing a computer and arguing with Morgan. His friend paced in front of their latest Call of Duty strategy, pencil at ready, sketching different paths on the battle plan he'd tacked to the wall.

"You have to time it!" Chuck cried. "Our forces will be obliterated."

"We have a team on the east side –"

"Doesn't matter. Their squad's coming from the north."

The door to the back creaked open and Morgan snatched the plans off the wall, hiding them quickly. Chuck tried to look busy fixing the computer, because Emmett was breathing down his neck. At some point in the last few months, the Intersect had taken such a forefront, that he felt like this was a fake job. His fake relationship felt more real than his real job. Having Emmett on his case was almost a relief, because it reminded him this life was real.

"I'm sorry sir, customers can't be back here," Morgan said.

Chuck looked up and froze. Whereas Morgan interpreted every non-Buy More-employee as a customer, Chuck was pretty good at picking out bad guys. Maybe he'd just learned to recognize the hard, dead-eye stares, or the subtle outline of concealed weapons. His mouth went dry and he gripped his screwdriver more firmly, then subtly dropped one hand under the table to get his phone out of his pocket and speed dial Sarah. Why didn't he have signal? He planned to complain very loudly to Verizon if he lived.

The man looked like a cross between Inigo Montoya and John McClane – comical, yet scary.

"I am looking for John Casey," the man said in a deep, base voice.

"Oh, um. He took a personal day," Chuck said, as Morgan shooed the guy back toward the main floor.

The man reached behind his back, getting that same grimace that Casey got just before pulling his weapon. "You are on my list too, Mr –"

"Bartowski. Charles Bartowski," Morgan finished, then squeaked. "Hey, is that a gun?"

Chuck swallowed hard, standing up, if for no other reason than it freed him to run. "You really shouldn't try to hold up this store. The last guy who tried to hold up the store died."

"I thought the police …" Morgan trailed off, thinking it was a ploy. Then he crossed his arms and puffed his chest confidently. "Oh, right. We took him out."

Inigo McClane was not intimidated. "Walk to the back door. Quietly."

"And if we say no?"

"Morgan!" Chuck hissed, raising his hands, praying that he wouldn't get shot. Casey would choose today to take a personal day.

*~*

Quincy rested comfortably in Ilsa's arms and she rested in Casey's. He could sense the pain radiating off her skin, but she'd masked it from the boy, and Casey wasn't going to point it out. As much as there was urgent need for action, there was peace in the moment – or perhaps intense weariness. Ilsa leaned her head against Casey's shoulder and sighed softly when he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple.

"There are several highly experienced and dangerous hunters still chasing us." Her eyebrows crinkled, but then she forced a smile. "In today's economy, few can afford to turn down work."

"Fuel costs and airfare alone," Casey joked, picking up on her humor and nuzzling against her ear. "Do you now who's funding them?"

"Victor –"

"Your ex-fiancé Victor?" Casey interrupted, suddenly alarmed, breaking contact. That threat was supposed to have been neutralized. Victor knew too much! Sarah had been right! Quincy was a magnet, drawing trouble to Chuck. "You could have warned me!"

"I just made the connection myself an hour ago," she stammered, watching as he stood and paced the room, already speed dialing Walker. Four rings, then voice mail.

He looked at Ilsa and Quincy. "Do you have a safe place to take him from here?"

She shook her head apologetically, her mind racing, working scenarios. "Not in this condition. He can't keep up."

Giving up on Sarah, Casey found Devon's number and dialed that. Devon answered on the second ring.

"I need the location of that clinic. Also, a safe house would be good. Call me when you have an address."

He hung up curtly, but hopefully that would impress upon his neighbor the urgency of the situation. No one would expect Ilsa to take refuge in a civilian operation, and she and Quincy certainly looked the part of a battered mother/son runaway.

"What are your resources?"

"A few blades and an empty gun," she answered.

Casey tried Sarah again, then he tried Chuck. While his phone continued to ring unanswered, he went to his gun closet and started stocking up on gear.

"This is just vengeance, right?" So long as it was a vengeance run, Casey could safely call in the cavalry to intercept. He tried dialing into the castle, but Sarah wasn't there. He tapped into the surveillance, and his blood ran cold.

Ilsa pressed her lips together. "It may be more."

*~*

The man made them put their hands down, and Chuck and Morgan walked shoulder to shoulder. He didn't know if his text to Sarah had gotten through, by the time Casey came to his rescue, he'd be long gone, and the Intersect hadn't even had the decency to flash and tell him why he was in this mess or give him any intel to use as a bargaining chip on the way out. He couldn't even tell Morgan that this wasn't likely a random act of evil.

And just when it seemed things couldn't get worse, Emmett came in.

"Sneaking out again, Bartowski," he sneered, blocking the back door, apparently oblivious to their quirky kidnapper, who had a bit of an odor Chuck noticed now. He smelled like fish and dried beer.

"Actually, no," Morgan croaked, then choked back at the growl of their captor.

"Mr. Grimes, please take this man back to the sales floor. Sorry, sir, this is an employee only zone." Emmett flashed Inigo McClane an appeasing smile, then turned back to berating. "You two cannot wander out of her at every whim. We need a certain number of heads on the floor to maintain order."

Tired of the delay, Inigo McClane brought the gun up for Emmett to see and Emmett shrieked. Chuck immediately dove in, pressing his captor's hand skyward so he wouldn't hurt anyone, and the man grabbed his throat and slammed him against the wall. Through the stars, Chuck gasped for breath, pleading "Wait!"

The man's grasp loosened and Chuck felt his toes touch the ground again.

"Please don't shoot!" Chuck continued. "Buy More has a strict zero body count policy."

Emmett and Morgan were backed against the wall, no doubt blind to anything but the gun aimed directly at them.

"Please let me go," Emmett whimpered over and over.

"Here's a thought," Morgan chimed in, unnervingly calm about the entire thing. "Let us all go."

Their captor swung his fist. Morgan ducked, but Emmett took the hit right to the nose and went down.

"Carry him," their captor ordered. Morgan curled his lip, biting back a complaint, and Chuck was just glad not to have a hand clamped over his throat. Chuck took the shoulders, Morgan the knees, and now the gun was out in the open, but they were already practically out the back door. A white van was parked in the loading dock, and their captor opened the back doors, motioning them in. They slid Emmett inside, then the captor tossed a roll of duct tape to Morgan and instructed him to start binding wrists.

Now would have been an excellent time for Sarah to come rescue them. Now. Or now… Slowly, Chuck reached toward his pocket for his phone again, hoping that Morgan tying up Emmett was enough to keep Inigo McClane occupied. No such luck. Emmett came screaming back to consciousness and launched out of the van, not nearly felling their captor, until Morgan and Chuck joined the confused half tackle.

His pulse racing, Chuck tried squeezing the guy's wrist, wondering that Casey made this look so easy. Finally, he dove in with his teeth, biting down on the guy's wrist until McClane screamed and released the weapon. Chuck fumbled for the gun and backed off.

"Go!" Chuck shouted, and Emmett ran immediately. Chuck grabbed Morgan by the elbow and the two of them started off too before the man could chase. When he glanced over his shoulder, the man was reaching for his ankle. Of course he'd have a second weapon! Chuck dove sideways when he heard the weapon fire, hitting the pavement hard enough to scrape his palms. Morgan cried out as the shot connected to his knee and red blood sprayed in every direction.

After that, it was too hard to breathe.

*~*