Please forgive the recap of the first chapter. It was just easier to tie it all together this way – otherwise the story would have seemed, at least to me, a little disjointed.

Heart pounding painfully, Gillian followed as Cal burst through the door, already looking past the tall, skinny kid before him.

"Hey man, you can't just-"

The shove he received had him stumbling back, tripping on his own legs and baggy pants. He fell on his ass with an audible 'oof.'

Gillian followed close behind as Cal made his way through the house. She kept her eyes moving but still managed to scrutinize carefully.

They passed several kids in various states of drug or alcohol induced euphoria. Some glanced at them curiously while others couldn't care less. Cal dismissed them instantly before heading for the staircase, taking two steps at a time. At the top landing, a young man stepped out from one of the bedrooms, blinked in surprise for second before narrowing his eyes pushing himself into Cal's face. "Who the fuck are you?" The boy grabbed Cal by the front of the shirt.

Without batting an eye, the older man buried a fist in the kid's solar plexus as Gillian gasped. Reaching behind him, he caught her hand and they both stepped over the wheezing youth.

Pushing open every door, he took quick inventory, blood pressure rocketing when he didn't see her. He reached the end of the hallway only to find the door locked. Not even pausing, he threw his shoulder against it once, twice. The third time broke the flimsy latch. Cal appraised the scene before him in half a heartbeat before grabbing the dark haired kid who currently hovered over the prone figure on the bed. Fingers dug into the back of the kid's neck and with strength fueled by primal rage, he threw the boy headfirst into the closet where he fell in a stunned sprawl.

Stepping forward, Cal sat on the edge of the bed, both hands of either side of the girl's face. She was completely still. All his emotions converged into a state of dark despair when just for a fraction of a second, he didn't see her take a breath. Memories of her birth, her first steps, riding a bike, trick-or-treating, taking her to the park flashed through his mind in rapid succession, threatening to push him over the edge into some kind of bottomless abyss.

Gillian sat on the other side and they exchanged a long look before she leaned forward to check the girl's pulse. Closing her eyes in relief, she gave a small nod.

Despite what he read on Gill's face, he wasn't sure if he believed her but was terrified to check himself.

Then he heard it. A soft intake and exhalation of air.

Tears hovered close as he brushed dark hair back from her pallid face. "Hey. Can you hear me, luv?"

No response.

The girl was only dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of panties and Cal felt his rage spike all over again. He took a deep breath in an attempt to suppress it before pulling the blanket off the bed and gently wrapping it around the girl.

With ease, he picked up her small form, as if she were a baby. He held her gently to his chest and stepped out of the bedroom, with Gillian right on his heels.

The jerk in the hallway had recovered, his bravado undiminished. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Out of here. And I suggest if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way." Cal's tone was deadly and the kid looked uncertain for just a moment before his balls overcame his brains. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a switchblade and quickly flicked it out.

"Listen old man, you have no idea what you're dealing with." The blade glinted in the low light as Cal debated his options. The gun was stuck in the back of his jeans, carefully concealed under his jacket. He'd put it there automatically. Unless he dropped the girl, it was useless.

Without pause, Gillian stepped forward and nailed the kid in the face with a direct stream of pepper spray. A shriek tore out of his lungs as he once again dropped to his knees, this time palming his eyes and weeping hysterically.

Cal gave Gill a quick look of gratitude before they headed down the stairs and out of the house.

There was a tiny shift of movement in his arms and as Cal looked down and as he gave a worried smile, her eyes parted open.

"Dad?"

"Yeah darlin', it's me. I'm here."

Adam slipped out of his room just in time to see Lightman carry his daughter down the stairs with Foster trailing behind. Shit, shit, shit. This was not happening. Panic and hate darkened his insides and all he saw was blood red behind his eyes. This was going to be it. He was completely fucked because of that guy.

He glanced down at Trey who was coughing and sputtering just at the top of the stairs. Normally he would have laughed. Trey was the loose cannon. He was also an angry drunk and that's what most likely caused his current state of discomfort. Adam's eyes fell to the knife lying just a few inches from the other man's hand. It was razor sharp and wicked looked. Trey cared for it meticulously. Stepping quickly, he stopped to swoop it up before pounding down the stairs.

Gillian swiped Cal's keys from his coat pocket to unlock the car before scooting across the back seat. She then held out her arms to receive the girl.

Cal tenderly placed his daughter on the seat, making sure to wrap the bedspread more securely around her. After her initial response to him, she'd gone quiet and limp once again. His anger was still uncontrolled but he took a moment to lean in and press a kiss to her brow before pulling back and shutting the door.

"Cal, look out!"

He turned just as Bressler rushed at him. His eyes fell to the knife in the man's hand and the hatred coating his features and instinctively threw himself backward against the car as the weapon made a swipe at him. It barely grazed the front of his shirt and he waited for the arm to finish its arc before grabbing the hand, sinking his fingers into the meaty part between the thumb and the forefinger and giving a violent twist. The knife fell as Bressler cried out in pain. Cal used his other hand to pull the pistol from his waistband.

And then they were still.

Adam found himself in an uncomfortable stoop but cold metal pushing into his forehead above his left eye was what held his attention.

"Oh my God, Cal!"

He heard Gillian but she seemed very far away. The only thought in the foreground of his mind was that this piece of shit had tried to take his little girl from him. How many lives had he ruined? Three that he knew of. How many more slipped under the radar? How many young girls desperate for attention or a kind word? How many thought they were just going to a party and wound up who the hell knows where? How many parents were dealing with lack of any kind of closure? Staying awake and worrying about the child they'd never see again.

Unconsciously, he shoved the gun harder into Bressler's head, who gave a whimper, all visage of being tough gone.

Rich kid. Good lawyer might twist it all around so Adam Bressler would be someone else's victim. Perhaps just a cog in a much larger machine. That was true to some degree. There was no way he was doing this on his own. But the bastard was a willing cog.

The safety wasn't on. Cal had seen to it before they'd entered the house. He tilted his head, watching impassively as the young man began to cry.

Gillian couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless. Emily was unconscious in her arms as her father held a gun to her kidnapper's head. She couldn't see Cal's face but his body language told her more than enough. As reckless as Cal could be, he'd always stopped short of crossing that line of violence. Maybe he'd toe it, hop on it or even thumb his nose at it but he wouldn't cross it. Normally. He was now a man hanging by a tenuous link and she couldn't predict the outcome and that terrified her. If Cal pulled that trigger he wouldn't have to worry about Emily being taken away from him. It would be Cal that would be taken away from both of them.

She tried again, unsure if he could even hear her. "Cal. Please."

"Shit, shit…shit…c'mon man!" Adam was sobbing, all control gone. This guy was going to kill him. He knew it as well as he knew he hated asparagus. Just looking up into the man's face told him. It almost made him wet himself. "Please! I'm sorry! Please, Jesus, don't shoot me!"

Words slowly penetrated Cal's hazy rage filled existence. Gillian's lovely voice, soft and imploring. Bressler's voice, breaking like an adolescent's but begging him between raspy sobs. Don't shoot me! He was barely more than a boy.

Oh my God. His finger had been tightening on the trigger. He was close to doing it. Cal's body sagged as he released his grip on Bressler, who just crumpled to a heap at his feet.

From somewhere off to his left, there was another voice. An unfamiliar one but it held authority.

"Drop the weapon sir! Now!"

Cal pulled his eyes from the whimpering form on the ground before him and fixed them in the direction of the new voice. The cops. They'd decided to arrive after all and now both had their weapons drawn and pointed in his direction. No, not just in his direction. At him.

"I'm not going to say it again!" The voice had become even more strident and Cal heard a click of a cocked revolver for emphasis. It wasn't necessary. He believed them. He believed that they'd cut him down.

All of a sudden he was the bad guy. When the hell had that happened?