Order up! :) Thanks to everyone for your kind comments! By the way, the reason you don't know who was being threatened by the person called Clayton in the prologue is because you weren't supposed to know yet. I'm sneaky that way. (Well, ok…at least I try to be.)

You'll know when you know. ;)

- Flynne :)

--------------------------------

- Chapter Three -

"The Wrong Man"

"What's the verdict?"

"Well…" Cooter pulled himself out from under the General. "The car's okay. Just banged up a bit. Most of those dents can be pounded out…the suspension got kinda screwed up, but I can fix that. And aside from needin' new tires…" The mechanic shrugged. "The ol' General got off lucky."

Luke sighed heavily, folding his arms across his broad chest as he frowned at the car. Daisy and Jesse had reported in hours ago: Bo wasn't at Tri-County and nobody fitting his description had been admitted to the Capital City hospital. It didn't help Luke to feel much better. Just because he wasn't in the hospital didn't mean he was all right. Daisy and Jesse had returned home, at a loss of what else they should do. Half the county was on the lookout, but nobody had seen hide or hair of the younger Duke boy.

"Cooter, somethin's really wrong about this. Bo Duke does not wreck cars."

Cooter took off his hat and mussed his hair. "That's true enough." He ran his hand along the body of the car as he walked behind it—and then he stopped dead in his tracks. "Whoa, now…Luke, you boys been rear-ended by anybody lately?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I think you're right about somethin' fishy goin' on—and here's the proof. Take a look at this."

Luke squatted on the ground next to his friend and took a closer look at the back end of the car. Several dark gray streaks marred the dents in the bright orange paint. "It weren't no tree that did this," Cooter said grimly. "I was so het up about this whole mess that I didn't notice before. That's auto paint. Somebody done run Bo off the road."

The faint suspicion that had been scratching at the back of Luke's mind suddenly sank its claws in deep. "I was afraid of that," he muttered. He rose to his feet and sighed heavily, resting his hands on his hips. "I don't know what to do about this now…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head helplessly.

Cooter clapped a solid hand on Luke's shoulder. "Go home, Luke. You're tired and you can't do nothin' just standin' there. We've done all we can do today. Get somethin' to eat, get some sleep, an' call me in the morning."

The mechanic's reassuring humor coaxed a shadow of a smile onto Luke's face. "All right, Doctor Davenport."

"Atta boy. Now git on outta here. I got work to do."

xxxxx

Bo forced himself to remain still and quiet while he rode with his two captors. He could tell they were sharp-witted and short-tempered, and they wouldn't take it kindly if he gave them any guff. The hard muzzle of the handgun never left his side as the car merged onto I-20 and headed west. When they passed the Georgia state line into Alabama, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness washed over him. He'd traveled all over the country on the NASCAR circuit, but he had never felt so far from home as he did right then.

"Where are we goin'?" The thought had been pounding inside his head like a drumbeat, and he didn't realize he'd finally said it aloud until the man next to him dug him sharply in the ribs with his handgun.

"Ow! Hey!" Bo half turned in his seat, burning his fellow passenger with a glare. The tenuous hold he had on his temper snapped. "I ain't done nothin', you dirty pole cat! I asked you a question and I want an answer!"

"Birmingham," the bald driver cut in. "And that's all the answer you'll get for now, so just sit still and keep your mouth shut. We'll be there before too long."

The subtle quiver of the gun against his side was enough to convince Bo that the firearms weren't just for show. These men had no qualms about killing him. So he obeyed the driver's instructions, watching the countryside fly by as the car moved down the interstate. When he saw the first exit for Birmingham he felt his heart give a nervous little flutter in his chest.

The driver steered the sedan into the business district of downtown Birmingham and parked in an underground garage. The dark-haired man didn't bother to conceal his gun as he climbed out of the car, and Bo realized that wherever he was, these men were on home territory. He followed the two men through the small parking garage and into an elevator that took him to the tenth floor of an office building. He didn't hear or see any signs of anyone else.

They ushered him down a carpeted hallway and into a large office covered in dark paneling. A middle-aged man with iron-gray hair smiled at him from behind a large desk. "Come in, Mr. Duke. I'm glad you made it here safely. You've already met Mr. Hacker and Mr. Morgan." He gestured for Hacker, the big dark-haired man, to bring a chair over. "Please sit down."

Bo glared at him and folded his arms across his chest. "I'd rather stand." Hacker and Morgan stepped forward and each put a hand on one of his shoulders. They gave him a firm push and forced him down. Bo shrugged them off angrily, but decided it wasn't worth fighting over. He settled into the chair and turned to look across the desk again.

The man behind it smiled again as he looked his guest over, obviously amused by the young man's well-worn t-shirt and torn jeans in comparison with his own polished appearance. "My name is Robert Clayton," he began. "I'm trying to negotiate a business deal with a member of your family and he's been making it difficult for me. You are here to help convince him to cooperate with me."

Bo scowled. He wasn't sure exactly which one of his family this guy was after, but nobody got away with pushing a Duke around. "That ain't no business deal. Say what you really mean: I'm a hostage, and you're a crook."

Clayton narrowed his eyes. "Count your blessings, boy. You could be dead now. I gave him two days to think over my offer. He has not responded. I had planned for your death to be a consequence for such tardiness, but I wanted to give him one last chance. He has until eight o'clock tomorrow night to decide what he will do. For your sake, I hope he makes the right decision." Bo felt his stomach twist into a hard knot. This guy meant what he said.

Clayton rose, crossing the room to rest his heavy hand on Bo's shoulder. Bo flinched away, clenching his fists as he fought down the urge to pound the self-confident smirk off the older man's face.

The businessman smiled mirthlessly. "I wouldn't worry too much, Luke. He seemed quite anxious to keep you safe. I'm sure he'll come around." He gave Bo's shoulder a final pat and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

Bo stiffened, his pulse racing in his ears. He took a slow, shallow breath. Luke. He called me Luke. That means…that means he got the wrong guy and he don't know it.

"Get up," Morgan said behind him. "We're leaving." Bo slowly stood, watching both men warily as they escorted him from the room and headed back to the garage. Morgan reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a dark length of cloth. He held it out wordlessly, giving Bo an expectant stare. When Bo made no move towards him, Morgan stepped forward, reaching for his head.

"All right! I'll do it myself," Bo growled. He bound his own eyes, flinching as Hacker pawed the blindfold to make sure it was secure. They maneuvered him into the car again and drove off. It was impossible to tell how far or how fast they were going. Bo gulped against a faint twinge of nausea as he felt the car turn off the asphalt street onto a dirt road. He wasn't sure if the queasiness was from not being able to see as the car rolled along or if it was because he was so nervous, but either way all it did was make things worse.

He let out a sigh of relief when the car finally stopped and Hacker pulled the blindfold off. They were out in the country in front of a well-kept plantation-style house. His two escorts led him inside and took him down a long hallway, leaving him in a comfortably furnished, windowless room. The lock on the thick wooden door clicked shut as they walked away.

Now that he was alone, Bo had time to think. He sank into an overstuffed chair, brow furrowed, face filled with confusion. His mind was racing. So Clayton don't want anything from Luke. It's Uncle Jesse, then, and Luke's the key to it somehow. But what the heck could Uncle Jesse have that this guy would want? He leaned back in the chair to stare at the ceiling. He couldn't remember anything unusual happening at home lately. They'd been busy with spring planting; they'd hardly left the farm, and only Cooter and Enos had come visiting within the past two weeks.

Bo knew that he and Luke were like Jesse's own sons. What in the world could someone want from the kind old man that they would threaten his family for? And what would Jesse want to withhold so badly that even death threats against his children wouldn't sway him? Whatever it was, Bo knew it had to be something beyond his power to understand. It didn't make any sense at all…but he had trusted his uncle for as long as he could remember, and a little rough spot wasn't going to change that now.

And then he wondered: what would Clayton do if he found out he'd kidnapped the wrong man? I know what he'll do. He don't want me…he'll send his boys out again for Luke, and this time there won't be no mistake. Bo's heartbeat quickened and he swallowed hard. He knew what would happen then. Clayton would have reached the end of his patience. If he and his men got their hands on Luke, there would be no more chances. They would kill him.

I can't let that happen. His handsome face filled with determination and a sharp gleam came into his soft blue eyes. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and hid it out of sight deep inside the cushions of his chair. Well, Clayton…you wanted Luke Duke…and now you got him!