I am so glad that so many of you are addicted to this story! I am really enjoying writing it and reading your reviews and I will try very hard to live up to your expectations. If I can get it down on paper (or a computer screen) the way it is playing out in my head, I think you will be very pleased!

I just threw that "To find my wife" line at the end of the last chapter as a last resort and I am so glad I did…you guys are great! For all of the Harper fans out there, buckle up because our girl is going to have a rough time for the next few chapters but I hope that it will make what is to come all the better! Once again, enjoy…

Chapter 16 – Dangerous Games

"Fear is an emotion indispensable for survival."

~ Hannah Arendt

Somewhere in Hawaii...

Detective Harper James had the world's worst headache.

It started off behind her left temple, nothing more than a tickle underneath the skin and bone, but gradually became a pain that crept right across her brow and settled behind her eyes where no relief could reach.

She felt like hell. She had no idea where she was, or any reasonable recollection of how she got there. All she could sense was that wherever she was, it was dark, damp, and about as far from her comfortable hotel room as New Zealand was from Manhattan. But she was alive…and that was something, at least.

But she also knew to be afraid.

Harper slowly forced her eyes open and gave them a moment to adjust to her dimly lit surroundings.

A cave? A basement? A dungeon?

Pulling herself up off a dirty stone floor, she almost collapsed again from the lack of strength left in her limbs. Besides the throbbing in her head, her joints were stiff and painful, she ached all over, her throat was dry, and her tongue felt like it was in need of a shave.

The only light in the room was coming from two lanterns hung on either side of a bed that sat across the room. The walls were made of stone and caked dirt…as if she were in some sort of root cellar. And she was protected from the outside world by a huge wooden door that reminded Harper of a drawbridge. There was a small window a few feet above her, covered with bars.

Suddenly looking down at her own body, the redheaded detective realized that she was wearing a white negligee with lace trim around the bodice and a matching silken robe. Like something a bride would wear on her wedding night, she thought. It was clean and white and soft…a direct contrast to her filthy, stone surroundings.

Harper was beginning to feel more clearheaded and alert, more in command of herself. Except that she had lost track of time. She didn't know if it were morning, noon, or night. Or even what day it was.

The redheaded detective groaned again. Nothing was making sense.

It was as if she was walking a personified paradox…a simple evening at home had somehow turned into a kidnapping attempt from hell in a matter of moments. Something frightening had been born out of her routine. She remembered a struggle, an attack from behind, a cloth doused with ether, and a scream that may or may not have originated from her own vocal tissues echoed through her dazed memory. Then a word in a language she did not recognize, said with a command that turned everything black.

But before she could think about it any further, Harper heard the slightest creak in the floorboards and the door to her cell opened. Suddenly, someone that she recognized was standing right in front of her.

"I know you," she croaked out, squinting up at the young man who stood in the doorway, "I interviewed you with the Wilson Crips the other day…Michael something."

"Yes," he drawled, "Michael something."

"What's with the outfit?" the detective asked almost comically, gesturing down to the negligee that she was wearing. She suddenly realized that someone had to have stripped her of her shorts and tank top before dressing her in the ridiculous outfit, but Harper quickly put that thought out of her head. She couldn't go there. She wouldn't.

"Do you like it?" the young man asked, letting his eyes take a walk down her body, "I was the one who picked it out."

"You were in my hotel room," she whispered as her eyes darted past him and saw that he had left the door open behind him, "You drugged me."

"Not me," Michael answered with an amused shake of his head, "I ain't gotta drug my women to get into their hotel rooms. You must be thinking of someone else."

Harper James was a natural fighter. She was the daughter of a dedicated police officer and a strong, Italian woman. She was the younger sister of men who followed their father into all sorts of dangerous situations to save strangers. So her mind was willing her to go on the attack, to push away her oppressor as he came closer and run as fast as her legs would carry her…leave it all behind. Certainly her determination could outmatch his physical prowess. Whether her body just refused to cooperate on a basic feeling of fear or if her natural curiosity had transcended her waking thoughts, she couldn't say for sure.

Whatever it was, it was keeping her rooted to the spot. So instead, she asked, "What did you give me? Ethanol?"

"Told ya, it wasn't me."

"Who do you work for?" Harper demanded as if their roles were reversed and she was the one in full capacity of her senses and he was the one drugged on the floor, "Wo Fat?"

"You're a smart one, Detective James," came the answer. But it wasn't the voice of Michael Sugimoto. Out from behind the young gang member stepped a man that Harper had never seen before except in the photos Steve had shown her.

Wo Fat.

For reasons she didn't understand, Harper couldn't stop all of her muscles from twitching in fear. She'd been coaching herself to remain calm. To speak evenly and confidently when she finally came face to face with the man responsible for the murders of her partner and her in-laws. But her body betrayed her and the sight of him stepping into the room had a paralyzing affect that must have shown in her eyes. Smiling a smooth and dangerous smile, the criminal continued, "That's one of the reasons I picked you. Your intelligence. I appreciate that. I know most men don't…can't. But I'm different. You'll see that in time."

Wo Fat moved closer to her and Harper instinctively backed up. She felt her legs hit the edge of the makeshift bed and sat down in surprise as he continued, "Your ex-husband certainly didn't. He didn't appreciate the things I like best about you. He lied to you. Abandoned you. Made a fool out of you. You shouldn't have married for physical reasons, Harper. Good looks, muscles, sex…they all fail you in the end. Didn't your father teach you that?"

"How do you know my father?"

"The infamous Mickey James?" he asked, the sound of her father's name on his lips turning her stomach. "Who doesn't know Mickey James?"

Harper swallowed the fear in her throat and asked in a shaky breath, "Why did you do this? You have to know that taking me isn't going to accomplish anything."

Wo Fat squatted down in front of where Harper was forced to sit on the bed, her legs pulled close her body and drawled, "How do you know what I'm trying to accomplish?"

He had her there. She had no idea what she was doing there as his captive, but she was going to find out.

"You killed my partner, Detective First Grade Samuel Jameson Norval of the Chicago Police Department," she hissed at him, "What did that accomplish except to leave two children without their father?"

"Feisty," her captor drawled with a wicked smile, "that must have been what Commander McGarrett saw in you. Don't worry, Jimmy, everything has a purpose and all will be revealed in due time…"

How did he know her nickname?

But Harper didn't have time to think on that for too long because her eyes trailed down to see him taking something out of his back pocket.

"…but for now, you should get some rest. You are going to need your strength."

The detective realized too late that it was a syringe in his hand and she backed up toward the head of the bed as he reached for her and purred, "Don't fight me, Harper. I know you are trained, I know you are strong…but none of that will do you any good now."

The redhead ignored his warning and kicked at him with her bare feet, but he was too strong. Grabbing her ankle in one of his large hands, he stabbed her left thigh and injected her with some sort of drug.

"No!" she screamed. "Aaah! My God! What was that…"

"You're in my house now, Detective James, and I need to tell you the rules," the criminal whispered softly, pulling her closer to him. She tried to fight back, but whatever he had given her worked fast. All of the strength drained from her limbs and she went limp on the bed. Leaning over her lifeless body, Wo Fat brought his face down close to her ear and whispered, "I know you don't like rules, but I need you to take what I say very seriously, all right? I am not crazy. Or out of control. Actually, I am quite the opposite. Most people don't know what they want, but I do. I know exactly what I want. And the way to get it…is you."

His breath was hot and foul as it tickled her ear. Smiling wickedly, he continued, "It is important that you know how important you are to me. You are almost as important to me as you are to Commander McGarrett. That is why you are completely safe here and I will try to make your stay as comfortable as possible. But you must play by my rules. And the most important rule is that you must never try to escape. I saw you look at the door and I know what you were thinking. If you try, you will be executed within hours, however painful that will be for me. There can be no reprieve following an escape attempt."

Hot tears involuntarily welled up behind Harper's eyes and her mind was beginning to go fuzzy again. Whatever he had injected her with rendered her paralyzed first and then began to play tricks on her subconscious.

Date rape drug?

"I will cut that beautiful face of yours and you will no longer be able to charm every male who crosses your path. Instead, you will horrify them," Wo Fat continued as Harper fought with all of her might to keep hold of her senses. But it was a losing battle. The drug coursing through her nervous system was stronger than she was. "Do you understand? I don't want to hurt you, Detective. You see, this isn't really about you at all. It's about them. And you just happened to get caught in the middle."

And as the darkness finally took her, the true reality of their situation began to set in. She was a pawn in whatever deadly game this psychopath was playing. A game that had already claimed the lives of Sammy and Steve's parents.

A game that was going to be worse than Harper or any of them had ever imagined.