"Hey, Grissom?" Greg asked cautiously. "Did you ever find out why Warrick was so freaked out?"
Grissom looked at him. "Don't get mad if I tell you." Greg fought the urge to laugh at how childish his usually serious supervisor sounded. He nodded. "He thought he was a target because he slept with Maddy."
Greg's eyes widened, jealousy flooded his throat like bile and he restrained himself from hitting the closest thing to him, namely the man who controlled all of his income.
After searching the entire building, Brass punched a wall in the empty warehouse. "Figures it would be the last one we checked. Let's go." He sprinted to his car and flung himself inside, not bothering to wait for Grissom, who was catching a ride with some other cops. Nick and Greg had already jumped into Nick's car, and they were pulling out of the parking lot.
"An hour left," Greg thought, "but at least we know where they are. Warehouse six."
xoxox
Nick hunched over the wheel of his Denali, speeding down side streets and going up on the curb occasionally. Greg was glued by the hand to the handle above the door, watching the flames in Nick's eyes grow as his foot slammed down on the gas. He barely noticed that they were speeding through his own neighborhood.
Then, with a sickening sizzling sound, the engine died and the SUV was sent skidding into a telephone pole. Nick and Greg just had the presence of mind to jump out and run, covering their heads. A deafening explosion reached their ears as debris and chunks of glass rained from the sky. Nick looked forlornly at his car, then turned to Greg. "How are we getting there?" he screamed in his frustration.
Greg, however, was already off and running, and Nick was too stunned to follow. He stood by the smoldering wreckage that had once been his Denali. "Lucky it wasn't my money that paid-" his thoughts were cut off as a deafening roar filled his ears. Around the corner sped a dark blur, stopping in front of him. The blur tossed him a motorcycle helmet into Nick's hands. "Put it on," Greg said, for it was Greg Sanders riding the motorcycle.
Nick was quick to obey, jamming the helmet on and sitting down behind Greg. Without warning, they were off, speeding down the street. Greg turned down another street, leaning so close to the ground that he could've touched it if he didn't have a deathgrip on the handlebars. His knuckles were white and his eyes were squinting into the distance. He glanced down at his watch, realizing there was only half an hour to go before the set time of Maddy's murder.
Nick gripped Greg's waist tightly, not caring how stupid and girly he looked. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling gravity shift sideways as they took another turn too quickly. "What, you wanna be my corset?" Greg said outloud to Nick, trying to wriggle out of his grip a little. Nick heard nothing over the roar of the engine, though, merely sqeezed a little tighter and scooched a little closer to Greg.
An acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air, as well as the screeching sound of rubber on asphalt. Greg had sqeezed the breaks and both men were nearly thrown off the motorcycle as it skidded to a halt. Warehouses six and seven were side by side, and they hurried into number six after depositing their helmets carelessly on the ground.
Brass was already inside, gun drawn, running down the many corridors. He was listening to the eerie silence. He kicked a door down in his frustration, the last one in the building. Nothing lay inside it except a few boxes of incredibly complicated sex toys. He shook his head at them, then ran back up the stairs.
xoxox
Regan walked over to Maddy, reminiscing about the day he'd first spoken to her. He had not had any idea that in a few short months, he would be killing her over a rejection.
"Do you remember the day I asked you out?" he asked softly, pulling out his revolver and fingering it lovingly.
Maddy looked puzzled. "If scum like you ever asked me out I would kill it."
"You were in the break room. Your hair was purple, in braided pigtails. You were wairing a white wifebeater and black jeans." Maddy was shocked at how much he seemed to remember. "I walked up to you as you were pouring a cup of coffee and I told you that you were pretty and asked if you'd like to go to dinner, maybe have some dessert. You looked at me, with this look like you were going to throw up, and you said if I ever talked to you again you'd break both my kneecaps."
Maddy grinned. "That's right, bitch, and if I get the chance I'm keeping to that promise."
Regan laughed and walked closer, cocking the gun and placing it, executioner-style, to the back of her skull. "Looks like you won't have that chance, babe. In four minutes and thirty-three, thirty-two seconds, you're dead meat," he snarled.
Natasha was hurriedly trying to undo her ropes. She felt she would be lucky to get out with her own life, and it would be nearly impossible to get out with her friends in tact. "Think, Tasha," she told herself sternly, "what would Brass do?"
Maddy was thinking along the same lines, with "Robert Smith, the singer of the Cure" in place of Brass. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing scream, trying futily to alert a passerby, hopefully someone with a nice hefty gun.
Regan slapped her across the face, temporarily shutting her up, but Tasha and Pam had joined in the pitious wail that was filling the room. All three girls had their voices at maximum volume, screaming and shouting and kicking uselessly at the ropes around their legs. The three of them were sure that their lives were coming, inexplicably, to a violent end, but they kept up the racous for the sake of trying to die fighting. To make they best effort they could against their tormentor.
xoxox
Greg Sanders' ears perked up. "What was that?" he said, whirling around. Nick and Brass, both beside him, listened closely. Sure enough, it sounded as though someone was yelling, very close by.
"Is that coming from warehouse seven?" Nick asked, bewildered.
Brass drew his gun, and Nick followed suit. Without bothering to call any backup, the men ran to the next warehouse, keeping a wary eye out for unseen attackers. Halfway through the parking lot Brass issued a loud yelp. He'd tripped on a large weed growing through a crack in the sidewalk. He stood up, insisting that he was fine, though he walked now, and with a slight limp. The only reason he kept going was the thought that Natasha might be in warehouse seven.
Greg hadn't even slowed down when Brass had fallen, he kept on running right through the doors of the building. He followed the sounds of the screams, finally finding a door he was sure they were coming from. He tried the handle slightly, trying not to make too much noise, and found it to be locked. "Nick!" he called. "Help me break down this door!"
Nick came jogging up, Brass running lopsidedly behind him. The two younger men put their shoulders to the door and shoved. It came free of it's hinges and clattered to the floor.
xoxox
"It's time," Regan cooed, checking his watch. He began to count down. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five. four, three, two..."
Maddy sqeezed her eyes shut, willing death to come quickly, eternal sleep to bring her sweet dreams, for her friends to be spared if her own life could not. She heard a bang, but felt no accompanying pain, no flash of light, no chorus of angels (or in her case, demons) greeting her to life after death.
She opened one eye, and saw not Regan standing beside her, but Greg. He had grabbed Nick's gun out of it's holster and shot, without thinking, at the man menacing the hostages. Maddy turned, and nearly vomited when she saw Regan's body sprawled on the floor, a bullet hole squarely in his chest. Instead of being sick, her vision went black and she fainted cleanly away. Greg hurriedly untied her and held her, his fallen goddess, in his arms. He carried her away, planting kisses on her face, her neck, her teal blue hair. He never once touched her lips, though. He needed her to be awake for that.
Meanwhile, Brass had rushed over to the table on which Natasha lay, her breath ragged, her eyes bright and wild. He collapsed onto it, taking her face in his hands, and it was only the most passionate, romantic, beautiful kiss that he layed on her tender lips. She shut her eyes, willing the moment to last forever, and kissed him back, wishing only that she could be closer to him, be within him as his soul so they would never be without eachother.
Nick had already gone to Pamela's side, even before he was sure the kidnapper was dead, and gathered her up in a warm embrace, parting only to pull her into a whirling vortex of mouths and emotion. His hot tears spilled down her face, and she began to cry to. Sobbing into his kiss she let go of all her feelings, finding the one thing that mattered in the lips of another.
xoxox
Endnotes: So, everyone. If you want to continue reading the adventures of Maddy, Natasha, and Pam, there's going to be a sequel to this called
Another One Bites The Dust, by Silver Hair Fox. After the Queen song. And myself, but it will be under her pen name. So I hope you enjoyed this, and to clear up any confusion, I named this after the Agatha Christie novel, "And Then There Were None." I didn't remember there was an episode of CSI with that title. So please, check out the next fic. It's bound to be good.