A/N: please r&r, thank you;)

Chapter 37

They burst through the doorway, Jack leading the way, followed by D and the SWAT members. In the dark cabin, the only light offered was by the flashlights built on top of the large guns they carried.

Through all the racket of heavy boots pounding against the wooden floor, there was the distinctive crash of the back door being broken down by the other FBI team members, followed by more footsteps raging into the cabin. Jack and D went their separate ways, turning into different hallways, both darkened by the black sky. SWAT members spread through the house like rushing water, swimming around any obstacle that may be in their path.

As Jack's heartbeat hastened inside of him, he longed to move faster, but forced his feet to slow; every corner in every room must be checked and cleared. He turned a corner, leading into what looked like the master bedroom. Jack manoeuvred himself around the king sized bed, towards the smaller door. He grasped the handle with one hand and thrust back the door, revealing the walk-in closet. It was empty save for the few hangers on the metal bar opposite of Jack.

He heard shouts echo through the door; although they were not the kind he had hoped for. The men were shouting 'clear', confirming his worst fear. They were either too late, or they were on the wrong track altogether. For the life of him, he couldn't decide which one put Bobby and Tara – not to mention Chloe – in a more opposing position and in more danger.

If they were too late, it could mean that Don was already on his way to finally get his revenge. It meant that once again, Don was one step ahead of them, as it had been since the case had begun, not with that fateful scream, but instead with the envy, greed and abused love Don had given Connie and had destined Chloe to a life of danger and fear until Don was put to rest, once and for all.

And if they were on the wrong track, that could lead Jack to believe that Don was closer to his partners already, which would put them at a very large disadvantage. Of course, it could also mean that he might be in an entirely different country, which in turn would reverse the roles.

Something touched his arm. Jack spun his arm, gun poised to terminate the perpetrator. He froze.

Sue froze.

Jack immediately regretted his actions and lowered the gun, he signed 'sorry'. He forced himself to breathe as he laid his hand to rest on Sue's arm and led her out of the room and towards the dining room, where the other FBI agents were to meet.

"Did anyone find anything?" Jack asked in a hoarse voice. All eyes turned to him. Jack realized his hand was still on Sue's arm, the navy blue jacket soaked from the drenching rain, spilling from the sky, as if the angels were having their own water fight. He removed his hand and rested it on the table in front of him.

Sue instantly missed the warmth radiating from Jack, through the layers of clothes she wore on the cold, autumn night.

D cleared his throat, as if trying to remove the tension and distract them from the awkward moment. "Yeah, there was a duffel bag of still packed clothes in the back hallway. It looks like he didn't have time to unpack everything."

"So, that leads us to believe-" Lucy began but was interrupted by a sopping wet man, running into the room.

"Miss Dotson."

"Uh-huh."

He handed her a sheet of paper. "These are the phone records you requested."

"Thank you, Adam." Lucy scanned over the words as the young man left the room.

"What is it?" Myles suddenly stood next to her.

"He got a call about an hour and fifteen minutes ago. It was traced to Greg Taylor."

Dead silence ensued. "How far away do you think it is from here to their cabin?" D finally broke the silence.

Jack ran a rough hand down his face. "Not long enough. We need to warn Bobby and Tara and get them out of there." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the cabin's number by heart. "Hey, Chlo'," he said into the phone, faking a cheerfulness which in itself drained him of energy. "Can I speak to Bobby or Tara, please?"

"Daddy," Chloe called from the living room.

Bobby pulled away from nuzzling Tara's neck and answered, "Yeah, sheila?"

"Phone! It's Jack so I figured he'd wonna talk ta you!"

"I'll be right there." Bobby regretfully answered.

Tara smiled reassuringly, "Go."

Bobby stood up from the loveseat in the office. "Stay put, Tara."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Bobby bent forward and gently kissed Tara, pressing his lips on hers. "Go." Tara mumbled against Bobby' s mouth, "It's probably about work."

"I don't wonna." Bobby rested his forehead against hers.

Chloe called again, "DADDY! Phone! It's not polite to keep him waiting!"

Bobby groaned, "When did she become so smart?"

Tara chuckled. "Bobby…"

"Alright, alright." He pulled back and held up his hands, walking backwards out of the room. "I'm going."

As he left he saw Tara smirk. He loved making her smile, it was the greatest feeling in the world knowing you could make the woman you loved happy.

"Here ya go, Daddy." Chloe held up the phone to Bobby.

"Thank you, hun," Bobby took the phone from the small hands and ruffled Chloe's hair. The corkscrew curls bobbed up and down as she skipped out of the room to find Tara. "Hey, Sparky."

Jack didn't bother with unnecessary pleasantries, "Is everyone alright?"

"Well, Tara's recuperating from my dashing smile, but other than that, yeah. We're all good out here. Why?"

"We found Don's lair. One problem, the evil king was missing."

"And you suspect…what? That he's already on his way here?"

"Yes. We don't know when he left or how far he is from there, but you need to get out of there. Tell Braden and Joel to get outside and keep a tight perimeter."

The urgency of the situation slowly set in. "Consider it done, mate."

"Good." Jack paused. "Be careful, Bobby. Don't do anything stupid that'll land you another law suit, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll call you when we're on the road," he glanced at his watch, which was easy to see since the sleeves of his bright blue flannel shirt were rolled up, "which should be in about five minutes."

"Alright. Talk to ya later."

Bobby heard the familiar click in his ear that told him Jack had hung up. He jogged over to the office. "Tara."

She looked up from the children's book she was reading Chloe. Oh, how he wished he could've frozen that image and stare at it everyday. "Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Okay." Tara turned to Chloe, "I'll be right back, Chlo', if you want, you can try reading it by yourself."

"Okay Mommy." Chloe was instantly absorbed in the book – although mostly in the pictures – as Tara stood up and joined Bobby out in the hall.

He kept his voice low, "They found the cabin, but no one was there. Jack thinks that Don could be headed here right now."

"What?" Tara breathed, struggling to keep her voice down.

"It's still raining pretty hard so I'll go and get the car. Radio Braden and Joel, tell them to keep on the lookout."

Tara nodded; she was to scared to speak.

Bobby's eyes softened, he rubbed Tara's arms. "It'll be alright. I promise."

"'Kay."

Bobby softly pecked her on the lips and ran towards the door; making sure he had his gun with just in case.

Tara leaned hard against the wall. She squeezed the bridge of her nose before pulling out her radio, giving the Marshal's their orders. Tara re-entered the office and knelt down in front of Chloe. "Hun, we need to go now, alright?"

"Why?"

"Can you wait to ask questions later, please, Mommy's not thinking very straight right now."

Chloe nodded. "Alri-" She froze.

Tara spun around as Chloe's screams filled the cabin. Tara straightened and felt for her gun; it was on the desk, which was at the very least two meters out of reach.

"I've been looking all over for you two. Especially you, Chloe."

"Don," Tara whispered, her mind going blank, muscles unable to move, brain unable to think and process.

Don smirked and let out a laugh; the sound disgusted Tara.

She protectively moved towards Tara but Don held a gun in the air, pointed directly to Tara's head. He slowly moved forward until the cold metal pressed up against Tara's skin, sending shivers of not only cold, but shivers of gut wrenching hatred down her tingling spine.

Don stops the car a while from their cabin. He quietly shuts the door as he steps out and heads into the thick forest. His first task is too take out any competition. He scours the forest, combing through it. He hears a voice over a radio, not that far from him. He recognizes the voice as Tara Williams. He doesn't know how he knows, but something in his gut tells him that he is right. Don has seen pictures of her, she's pretty. He might even consider her his type, if she wasn't trying to ruin him.

Don pulls out a canister and covers his mouth with a handkerchief. He uncaps it and throws it towards the voice. Sleeping gas pours from the metal tin and Don hears the drop of an unconscious body.

One down…how many more to go?

Don keeps going, walking slower than he likes, but faster than he knows he should. Before long he hears another pair of footsteps. He pulls out another canister and repeats his former movements.

Don wants to kill both of them but reminds himself that he will be better off if he doesn't use his gun. He doesn't like guns and the only other weapon he has on him in his tire wrench and Don wants to save that for Tara and Chloe, not waste it on some hotshot guards.

He scrapes through the rest of the forest until he is positive that there is no one else. He doesn't have to worry about Bobby; he's getting the car. The only obstacle is Tara.

Don jogs to the back door of the cabin. He gently tries to turn it but it's locked. Not a problem for him, he simply picks it.

Don quietly wanders through the halls until he hears Tara's voice again, this time it is accompanied by Chloe's. Slowly, he closes in on the door way…

Bobby put the car in park in front of the porch and stepped out, instantly pelted with large drops of rain. He slammed the door shut and walked up the steps, taking too at a time.

His hand rested on the doorknob when a scream rippled through the air. It wasn't a playful one; it was overwhelmed with white-hot fear. Bobby grasped his firearm, holding it off to the side before him.

Bobby quietly twisted the doorknob…

A/N: heeheehee, i've said it before and i'll say it again...please review!