Chapter XXXIV

Queens, NY

He hadn't been able to sleep the last two nights, so everything was getting harder.

Writing. Spending time on the treadmill. Studying Salvador's routine.

For a day or so, he was convinced that his best chance to attack him again was when Sal removed the ankle chain so he could shower. Sal always watched him take off his clothes after he did it. Made him leave his clothes on the bed before going into the tiny bathroom.

Castle watched as Salvador's eyes consumed him from across the room.

"If you want to come closer, go ahead."

He'd been so hesitant. Smelling a trap.

"What do you think I'm gonna try? I know you have a gun tucked into your jeans."

Castle had let him stare as he slowly moved closer. Saw the growing bulge in Salvador's pants when he stood merely arm's length away from him.

And then he let Sal's hands explore. As much as he wanted. Watched the pure bliss and lust on the man's face and tried to take comfort in the fact his plan was working. Ojeda was already letting his guard down.

Castle shivered at the recollection. Fought to push it from his thoughts even as it came back relentlessly.

He'd been so sure that he could do this.

That he, with his boundless imagination, could picture her hands on his skin instead. That he could pretend it wasn't real, that he was merely playing a role in a morbid play. A means to an end.

But now it was all he could think of, Salvador's hands on every part of him. So much so that it was keeping him up at night. And when he did drift off for a few minutes, the thoughts became dreams. Nightmares.

His entire life, Castle had always felt comfortable in his skin, but now he wanted to crawl out of it.

He was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes.

According to the routine, Salvador would unlock the ankle cuffs again tonight so he could change his clothes and shower.

He had to do it now, before things got worse. He'd let him come close one last time, and when he did, Castle would attack.

Long Island, NY

Frustrated by her lack of ability to do anything else, Beckett decided to go to the source and stake out Papa Ojeda's place on Long Island. Her goal was to try and speak to him directly, to get a sense of whether or not he'd found Salvador's whereabouts. And to let him know that it would be in his best interest to send Castle back unharmed if indeed he did.

That's all. She wasn't a cop on a case. Just a curious civilian who needed a read on a guy.

So she left her apartment when the sun came up and, armed with a thermos of coffee and a sandwich, she'd driven to Roslyn Heights. Once there, she parked her rental car outside the gates of his Greco-Roman-wannabe McMansion

It wasn't as though she could knock on the door. Pressing the intercom button outside his gates would get her nowhere. His goons would just tell her to get lost because she had no badge to flash in their faces. But she hoped that staking him out all day might unnerve him enough to do something about it.

Now, nine hours later, her legs cramped and her bladder about to explode, Beckett was ready to call it a day and come back tomorrow. Maybe it would be another exercise in futility but at least it was doing something other than punching walls and calling Ryan every ten minutes.

She'd just started the engine, when suddenly the gates opened and a black Navigator with tinted windows drove out.

Maybe Papa Ojeda wasn't inside, but she'd follow it anyway. Just to rattle them and let them know she was on their tail.

She didn't expect the Navigator to come to an abrupt stop, right next to her car, almost close enough to scratch the paint on the passenger side's door.

A jolt of adrenaline coursed through her body, along with a healthy dose of fear that suddenly made her wish she had a gun on her.

She spotted someone step out of the car and suddenly Papa Ojeda himself was knocking on the driver's side window of her car.

She rolled it down.

"Detective Katherine Beckett, NYPD," he stated.

Kate smiled, even though a healthy dose of apprehension still tingled under her skin. It didn't surprise her that he knew who she was.

"Ramon Ojeda, Self-styled Mafia Don," she shot back. "Now that we have the introductions out of the way, how can I help you, Mr. Ojeda?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Detective? You're the one that's been sitting here staring at my house all day."

"Your house?" Kate furrowed her brows, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

Ojeda smiled at her. Amused. Like most evil men, he had an achingly ordinary appearance. Salt-and-pepper hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and a face that made it impossible to discern any particular ethnicity. He could have passed for an accountant or a watchmaker. Nothing about him screamed mobster who trafficked women and brought drugs into the country that probably killed at least one kid a week.

"I had a day off," Beckett continued. "Thought this neighbourhood was a nice place to spend it. Open space. Fresh air."

"I heard you had more than a day off, Detective. More like two weeks."

A chill ran up her spine. Now that was way more information than she expected him to have. But she didn't let him see it. "Wanna file a harassment complaint with the NYPD, go ahead. I'm sure they'd love to hear from you."

"I've already been harassed by the FBI all week." He gave her a thin-lipped smile. "So what are you fishing for, Detective? Why don't you spit it out?"

"Why don't I get out of this car and tell you?" she answered, motioning for him to get out of the way so she could open the door.

The driver of the Navigator got out of the car as soon as she did, one hand on the poorly concealed gun underneath his blazer.

"How 'bout we have a chat without your bodyguard?" Beckett added with an unimpressed frown. "I promise not to kill you."

"As if you'd be up for that task."

"Now that just sounds like a challenge to me."

"Listen," Ramon Ojeda gestured for them to stand a few feet away from both cars, on a patch of grass outside the gates of his massive house. There was no sidewalk here. No foot traffic. "I don't have time to play games with you, Detective. Women like you, you're probably used to playing with men, getting what you want from them, but you're not my type and I have no use for you. Tell me what the fuck you want or stop wasting my time."

"I'm guessing you prefer girls half my age who don't talk back."

He took a step closer and got right into her face, but Beckett didn't flinch. He was barely half a head taller than she. Had she worn heels instead of her Converse sneakers, they would have been an equal height. Judging from Maria Ojeda's petite physique, Beckett guessed that he also preferred women whom he could tower over.

"You know what I prefer, Detective." Ojeda glanced at her chest and made a cupping motion with his hands. "A woman that has something I can grab on to."

"That's odd." Beckett snickered. "I figure with those little hands you'd prefer something smaller."

And with that insult he flinched first.

Gotcha.

Apparently, he drew the line at her questioning his manhood. It meant he was irritated enough now that maybe she'd get the truth out of him. She was done playing games anyway.

Beckett inched even closer into his space. "Your psycho son kidnapped the man I love," she told him. "I know you're well aware of that."

His face was an unreadable mask.

"I'm here to tell you that if you find him before we do, or if you're currently helping him, it is in your absolute best interest to make sure Richard Castle is okay and stays that way because…" She paused, taking a breath. "If he's not…then my partners and I are going to be the biggest thorns in your side for the rest of our lives. If you think me sitting outside your house, watching it all day long is a nuisance, you haven't seen anything yet."

Ojeda's nostrils flared. Finally. A sign of his irritation. "Is that a threat, Detective?"

"You can interpret that however you like. It's the truth, that's what it is. I thought you might like a heads-up before you squirrel away your little psycho again. Consider it a professional courtesy."

"I have two children, Detective. Oscar and Alejandra."

"Ah…I see. You pretend the ones you don't like don't exist."

His dark eyes pierced hers. He was used to intimidating people but she was immune to it. She'd squared off against too many macho perps to let that kind of posturing get to her.

"Is that all?"

"For now."

Ojeda turned around without so much as another word and walked back to his car.

The Navigator took off in a hurry, but not that quickly that she didn't take a photo of the license plate before watching it drive out of the suburban cul-de-sac.

She allowed herself to exhale a breath of relief, pleased with the way that went. Ojeda was now aware of how painfully inconvenient it would be for him to dispose of Richard Castle.

She took another deep breath and checked the time on her watch.

She'd promised Espo a ride from the airport, because she knew he was coming back from Puerto Rico today and because she wanted to fill him in on everything. And now she was on the verge of being late.

He'd get a kick out of her encounter with Papa Ojeda and she looked forward to telling him over a beer, while she brought him up to speed.

Beckett checked his flight information on her phone, relieved to see that it was delayed by thirty minutes. That would give her enough time to get there, and make a stop at the nearest donut shop, because now she really, really needed to pee.

Queens, NY

Castle had been planning it in his head the whole day. If a brute attack could really be considered a plan.

He'd wait until Salvador undid the ankle cuffs. That was essential. That was largely what had doomed his first attempt.

At first he considered launching his attack then and there, but Ojeda would still be on guard at this point. It was only when Castle took his clothes off that Sal's attention was no longer focused on his own security.

Castle knew that in order to knock him unconscious he had to hit him on the side of the head, hard enough for the brain to swing against his skull.

He remembered doing this move in a self-defense class taught by a former Navy SEAL and current boxer. Part of his research for Derrick Storm.

A blow to the temple takes a bit more accuracy but if you hit that sweet spot, your chances of knocking your opponent out are high.

You can aim for the jaw as well, but if you don't muster enough force, it might not be enough to knock him out.

And he'd get added force by moving one foot in front of another and using his hips.

He'd often gone through the motions of these moves in those self-defense classes. But it was years ago. When the only stakes were his pride.

Distract him. Knock him out. Get the gun. Get out.

Distract him.

Knock him out.

Get the gun.

Get out.

He repeated it in his head all day long. His Escape Mantra.

If it worked and he got out of this house, wherever the hell it was, he'd be buck naked. But he didn't care. It might even work to his advantage. People tended to call the cops pretty quick when they saw a naked guy running down a street.

When it was time, Castle pushed himself off his bed and took off his t-shirt.

"Do you think I can shower once a day?" he asked Salvador casually, as if contemplating a future here. "Now that I use the treadmill, I get sweaty."

Salvador considered the question. "Maybe." Then he moved closer. "Put your leg on the bed."

Castle did as he asked and watched the man undo his ankle cuffs, before he stepped away again. Too far for him to strike a blow.

He needed Salvador to come closer. Much closer.

He took off his boxer shorts and stood across from him. Met his eyes.

Salvador stood still as a statue. Didn't move an inch.

Fuck.

"You don't want…?"

Salvador's pupils dilated. He definitely did want.

"Do you?" Salvador asked him tentatively. "I want you to want it too."

Hell no. He didn't. But if he had to convince Salvador he did, in order for the guy to come and stand next to him then so be it.

He thought of Beckett naked. On top of him, going down on him. Her breasts in his hands and her tongue inside his mouth. The taste and feel of her. He could feel himself growing hard, in spite of everything.

Castle shifted his gaze back to Salvador, whose happiness was suddenly uncontainable. "You do…"

Castle said nothing as the Sal moved closer.

He let him come close enough to feel the man's hands on his body. Let him get thoroughly distracted with what he had to offer and then focused all his attention on that sweet spot right in the middle of his temple.

In less than a second, he took a step forward, rotated his hips and channeled all his rage into that one motion as he swung a fist right into that sweet spot. Into the side of Salvador's head.

And this time he had him.

He could feel the force of the impact as it ricocheted painfully back up his arm. Could hear the crushing sound it made as Sal's body crumpled right in front of him. Would have crumpled into him if Castle hadn't taken a step back.

Castle was shaking in stunned disbelief.

It worked. This time it worked!

Get the gun.

His Escape Mantra came back to him and Castle squatted down over Ojeda's motionless body and he ran his hands over the top of the man's jeans, looking for the gun he knew was tucked in there, unable to find it. What the hell?

Castle turned him over and kept searching for it but it wasn't there. Maybe he hadn't worn it tonight? The movement made Ojeda groan and it sent a burst of panic through Castle.

Forget the gun. Just get out.

He bounced up and ran towards the door leading outside.

It was locked.

Locked? How the hell was that possible? Why would Ojeda lock the door from inside? And how hadn't he noticed?

Fuck.

Castle was sure Sal had the keys on him but that would mean going back and possibly rousing him. The door was made of thin plywood. He was certain he could ram it down, using the force of his body alone. He'd seen Beckett and the boys do this on cases. Usually it was Esposito, who did it with his boot just to show them he could. But he'd seen Beckett, whose body weight was considerably less than his, do it too.

You got this.

He rammed into with his shoulder and thought he could feel the whole wall shake. The door budged but it wasn't enough.

He heard Ojeda groan again.

Another attack, with the same shoulder. Plowing all his body weight against the plywood.

This time the whole thing crashed down on the other side! Along with Castle, who crashed right on top of the now flattened door. His hands and knees were bruised and bloodied but he pushed himself up. There was a kitchenette right outside the room. This was where Ojeda cooked their meals.

And right after that a staircase leading up, confirming that they were in a basement.

Castle had no idea what or who was upstairs. He pushed himself up on shaky legs and saw a basic cutlery knife lying on a dirty kitchen counter.

He grabbed it and curled his fingers around it. Just in case.

And then he bolted towards the stairs.

He was barely halfway up when he heard Salvador's voice behind him.

"Stop!"

How the hell was that possible? The guy was out cold.

Castle took a split second to turn around and there was Salvador Ojeda standing on top of the door he'd broken down, pointing a gun at him.

"Come back, or else I will use this. Don't make me use this, Rick."

Goosebumps ran up his bare arm and for a second he was frozen in place.

Neither stopping or going back was an option. He'd rather die.

Castle kept running, taking two steps at a time.

He was nearly at the top of the staircase when he felt the searing heat of the bullet entering his back. Slicing through him as though his flesh was nothing more than a minor obstacle in his path.

The pain that followed was so sharp that it stole his breath and made his legs give out.

Made him topple to the ground at the top of the stairs, much like Salvador's body had toppled at his feet only a minute earlier.

By the time he saw a visibly distressed Salvador Ojeda hovering over him, the pain was getting worse, so much so that it nearly made him pass out.

He knew that it wouldn't be long before he did.

And after that, there would be no way out.

He was going to die here.

Queens, NY

One day later

He's gotten worse.

When I first checked the bullet wound and saw that it was a clean shot that went straight through, near his shoulder blade, I thought I could take care of it. I'm real good at patching myself up.

I chained him to the bed and went to the nearest Walgreens and bought a shit ton of first aid supplies and over-the-counter pills for pain and fever.

I cleaned it as much as I could. But it was hard. It was disgusting.

He lost so much blood when I did it. Kept passing out on me. And it was so hard to stay awake 'cause my head hurt so fucking much. I kept puking too.

Now he's got a fever.

He's gonna die unless he gets medical care. Bleed out on my or something stupid like that.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

How the fuck did it all go so wrong?

I kept pacing around the apartment, staring at him lying on top of that giant bloodstain on the bed. It took so much damn effort to drag him there.

I don't know what to do.

I can't think straight. Fuck, my head hurts.

I thought about getting a car, dumping him at the entrance of an ER. I've seen them do that on TV shows.

But then I lose him for good.

I can't lose him.

But I can't let him die either. I'll never forgive myself.

It all hurts so fucking much. I have to think and I can't. I hate what I did to him. Hate that I hurt him the way Papa used to hurt me.

But Rick made me do it. He lied and pretended and he fucking made me do it.

I keep pacing.

And finally I do it. I take the risk.

I call the only person who might be able to help me.

Lower East Side, NY

Her ears were buzzing and she tried to make it stop. Turned around and burrowed into the pillows deeper, away from the sound.

And then a bang made her jump right into terrified wakefulness.

Kate Beckett was already sitting up when she noticed herself on the couch and her laptop on the floor. Again. It was her new sleep routine, dozing off on the sofa while attached to her computer.

The buzzing noise.

It was still there.

Shit.

It was her phone, vibrating on the coffee table because she must have accidentally turned off the ringer.

Kate grabbed it as fast as she could. Noticing the time before she swiped right.

2:47am.

At first she didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

-Kate? It's Sara. Sara Martinez.

She sat up straight, fully awake now. Her heart pounding. "Sara…hi. What is it?"

-It's Salvador. He called me.