Warrick's blood boiled at the sound of his wife's screams of panic echoing in the background. His grip on the phone tightened until the receiver dug into his palm.

"Tina!" he shouted into the receiver. Warrick's eyes scanned the room for signs of a struggle; his feet backed him into the living room of his townhouse as the criminalist side of his mind kicked in.

"Tina, honey?" Warrick tried to control his frantic voice, his anger held at bay just in case she heard him.

There was a rustling sound and then silence.

"Now listen up, CSI Brown. I'm a man of few words."

Warrick bite his lip so hard that he tasted blood on his tongue. He froze in mid pace, his training kicking in. Listen for sounds, for clues. The caller on the other end had a heavy Asian accent. He swallowed and took a deep breath. Warrick could hear Kenny's scratchy whine had reached a scared shitless kind of pitch as he bounced up and down, jittering with nervous energy a few feet away. Warrick glared at him with a look that caused his friend to shrink back into the hallway.

Warrick took a few steps away, his line of sight remaining on his friend. "You've got my attention. Who am I talking to? What the hell do you want?" He kept his voice steady, but his harshness barely contained the venom in his tone.

"You know my reputation, Mr. Brown. I have no need to identify myself."

Warrick's nostrils flared. "You're The Voice," he nearly spat in the phone.

"Yes, I am. If you do exactly-"

Warrick could feel his body tremble with anger as he slammed his fist into the living room wall. "Cut the bullshit, Man! I'm not paying any games with you," he seethed into the phone.

"Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength, Mr. Brown. Don't interrupt me again." The Voice's tone was like a splash of ice water; cold and sinister.

Warrick closed his eyes, trying to keep himself calm for the sake of his wife. "Fine."

"You are in the company of a man that I seek. My enemy. You will bring him to me."

Warrick's gaze drifted over to Kenny who cowered in the shadows. He caught Warrick's fierce eyes and slouched down to the floor, trembling. The boyhood friend began mumbling and sobbed to himself. He knew exactly whom Warrick was talking to. The CSI felt a sense of righteousness fill his being. He loathed cowards who picked on weaklings.

"Bring him? I'm not a deliveryman. You just kidnapped a cop's wife. You have any clue what kind of shit you're in? Let her go, and maybe you can still hide behind cell phones and rule your sports empire in the shadows." Warrick didn't know where his tone was coming from, but this asshole had his new bride. He wasn't going to be threatened or intimidated by some cloak and dagger obsessed mob boss.

Warrick was met by silence and after several seconds he began to worry that the person at the other end had hung up. He heard steady breathing then the voice returned with an even calmer cadence.

"You and your wife are nothing but little pawns in a grown up game. I control everything, Mr. Brown. I know exactly what I am doing and every minuscule detail about your sorry little life. I don't believe that you truly understand whose chain you think you're trying to jerk."

Warrick licked his dry lips, trying to suppress a cough. He wasn't about to show any sign of weakness.

The caller continued. "I control everything. I see and hear everything. My power knows no bounds; no detail is too small, no obstacle too easy for me to control. I broker in power."

Warrick began working his jaw back and forth; Kenny was working himself in a panic again. He heard the kid fumble with his inhaler.

"Have you been having money problems, Mr. Brown?"

Warrick's heart thumped against his sternum.

"What about that nice suburban townhouse? I know you're itching to comb through it with all of your tools of the trade. You will not process that scene. Tell your instincts to back down."

Warrick looked around the room, the gears in his head turning.

"In fact, I'll just help with your self control. It's hard to work in the dark, isn't it?"

Warrick's brow furrowed, but then the lamp in his living room went out and the sound of his air-conditioning grew silent. The clock on one of the end tables was now dark. His pulse raced at the implication.

"I hope that got your attention. Don't look into your wife's abduction. Don't involve anyone else. There are severe consequences for any indiscretion."

Warrick eyes went wide; the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He was dealing with one of the most feared men in Vegas. He had to get his attitude under wraps.

"What do you want?"

"Good. I want Kenny Longman and the files. He'll know what I'm talking about. I'll contact you with more instructions."

Warrick's mind was racing. Keep him talking; try to gain any advantage.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Warrick didn't know understand why a man like The Voice had not found Kenny any sooner. The little rat wasn't that good at dodging people, was he?

"If the enemy leaves a door open, you must rush in. Forestall your opponent by seizing what he holds dear," was his reply.

Warrick was about to ask more questions, but the phone clicked, ending any attempt at further conversation. He stared at his cell phone, as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He was now considered an enemy of The Voice? For all of his years, he could never imagine a fate worse than this. He rubbed at his goatee and dragged his now weary body over to his friend.

He grabbed Kenny by his shirt collar and not so gently pushed him up against the wall.

"What did you to do The Voice, Man?" he demanded, his voice breaking with tension.

Kenny tried to wiggle out of the bigger man's grasp.

"Answer me, Kenny! What the fuck did you get yourself into? The man has my wife. My wife, Man! What did you drag me into?" Warrick growled, the cords along his neck bulging in intensity.

Kenny flailed about, clutching onto his medication, trying to look anywhere but at the seething man in front of him. He took two shaky breaths. His lower lip trembled as he spoke.

"I- I…hacked into his syndicate of websites for all of his sports betting. I- I…um… distributed denial of service threats during peak times."

Warrick cocked his head, trying to digest all the information. "The websites that you can make online bets for, like all the games? College football, baseball, and stuff?"

Kenny took several more shaky breaths, a small sense of calm taking over a little. The pride in what he had achieved seemed to keep his voice steady. "Yeah. His web networks take in millions from people all over the world. Spreads his empire to all new levels. It's like having bookies everywhere."

Warrick stood up to his full height and backed off so he wasn't looming over the smaller man so much. "Keep going," he said tersely.

"Well...uh…I sent out the e-mails saying if he didn't give me money to protect his website from an outside attack, then I'd hit it with a worm or a denial of service."

Warrick radiated enraged bafflement. "You …you threatened to shut down The Voice! You nuts, man?"

Kenny gathered himself up a bit. He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. His voice lost some of its polish but gained an air of indignant bravado. "Yeah, Man. What, you think I couldn't? Mr. Scientist Brown can work for the cops, but old Kenny wouldn't amount to anything? Well, I did! And I did it on college game day! Cost his ass millions."

Warrick's eyes narrowed. "You idiot! You messed with a hornet's nest and now you got my me and my wife in deep with you." Warrick fumed, his blood pumping wildly through his veins.

Kenny began to quiver again, his bravado evaporating. "You're not gonna do it, are ya Ricky? Please, don't hand me over to him."

"I should turn your sorry ass over! Kenny, Man! What the hell were you thinking?" Warrick's voice trailed off, his anger dissolving in the face of the enormity of the situation. "What the hell were you thinking?" he repeated, almost to himself.

"Ricky, man, I swear- I thought it'd be easy - make some quick money- hell, the dude has billions- figured he'd just send the money to make me go away - like I'd just be a minor annoyance …never thought he'd go so …so ape shit!"

"Ape shit, Kenny? The man has kidnapped my wife. I think it's gone beyond ape shit. How could you think he'd pay you?" He resumed shaking his head and slumped down on the couch in the dark of his living room. The a/c had only been off for a few minutes but the air was already getting close and warm. He could smell the fear radiating off of Kenny; the pungent tang of sweat and adrenaline.

He gave the smaller man a look. Kenny was jittering up and down on the balls of his feet looking like he was going to take off like a scared rabbit or collapse there at Warrick's feet. He remembered when it was Kenny who used to be the stronger one. When he was the rabbit.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, the scratch in his throat intensified by the screaming he had done on the phone.

"Don't worry, Kenny. We'll get you taken care of. But right now, I got a job to do. And I can't do it with you here."

"Whatdya mean, Ricky? Where am I gonna go?"

"I'll take you back to our old hangout." He saw Kenny was about to protest again and held a tired hand up. "Kenny, Man, you gotta stop fighting me. You came to me for help, and I'm gonna help. Just relax, Bro. Okay?"

The jittering slowed but didn't stop. Kenny's hand rose to play nervously with his braids again. "Yeah, okay. Okay. But you can't leave me there forever, Man. He'll find it eventually. He'll find me eventually…"

"Yeah, well you've been doing a pretty good job of hiding so far, yeah?"

This gained him a small smile, echoes of the former cocky pride showing. "Yeah, I guess I have. But …you can't leave me hanging, Bro."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Kenny. C'mon - lets ride."

"Hey, Nicky. Looks like it's you and me tonight."

Catherine gave him a smile and started tossing equipment into her case.

"Oh, yeah? Just like old times, huh? Whatcha got Warrick on?"

"Nothing." Her voice was terse and she continued to busy herself with her prep work.

Nick had sensed that Warrick's new marriage had thrown Catherine for a bit of a loop - Hell, it had taken all of them by surprise. In fact, he was probably the only one who even knew Warrick and Tina had even been seeing each other until Warrick chose to announce his marriage at a crime scene. Nick guessed that what with the shiny new gold ring and all it would have come out sooner or later, but man! A crime scene? He shook his head to himself and watched Catherine continue to pack with a small sad look on his face. A lot of things had changed since his Incident, and this was one of the Big Ones.

He put a hand on her shoulder to try to stop her fussing and waited until she stopped and looked up at him.

"What?" she asked with badly feigned nonchalance.

"Just wondering why it's just you and me. I know Warrick is supposed to be on tonight."

"Yeah, well, he called in sick."

"Sick? Really?"

She made a small hmph and went back to angrily stuffing equipment in her bag. She finished up and slung the strap over her shoulder. "Yes, sick. Why- didn't he seem sick to you before?" she asked with a sarcastic smile on her face.

"Well, yeah. Actually, he did pick up some cold medicine at the pharmacy yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure he's fine. He's got a nurse at home you know," she tossed off breezily.

His eyes widened at her obvious display of jealousy. Knew better than to poke at sore wounds. "Yeah. Yeah, he does. Still, calling in sick for a cold… so, where we off to?"

"We have an A & B over at the Peek-a-boo Palace. Someone got rough with one of the girls there and we gotta run the drunken asshole. Should be a nice treat for you, Nicky," she said, a genuine smile now on her face.

His smile widened at the prospect of a few hours spent in the company of scantily clad dancers. "Well, why didn't you say so?" he said, taking her arm in a gentlemanly manner and leading her towards the door. "Boy, Rick is gonna be ticked he missed out on this for a drippy nose!" The teasing did the trick and Catherine laughed as they walked out the door towards the parking lot.

They passed a few almost pleasant hours at the Palace. The girl wasn't that badly hurt and the club really wanted charges pressed so they could keep the guy from ever coming back.

They walked out into the parking lot together and as they began to load up their trucks they exchanged a few jokes about the club, Catherine teasing Nick about his eyes following a certain redhead in particular.

"She looked familiar, that's all."

"Riiight, Nicky. Maybe you went to school with her? She was the girl whose pigtails you pulled in first grade, right?"

He chuckled and a light blush covered his cheeks. He was suddenly grateful for the harsh neon lighting flashing red and purple across the lot as the huge sign outside the club flashed Peek…a…boo!

"Damn it, Cath! Keep your investigator eyes on the crime scene would ya?" He shook his head, still laughing ruefully. "I'm telling ya- she just looked familiar is all."

"Whatever, Nick. Whatever," she drawled. "So, dinner?"

"Nah. Think I'm gonna take dinner to check on Rick."

"Check on Warrick? For a cold?"

"Yeah, well, I know it's probably either a cold or some extra squeeze time with the new missus…" He squinted an eye shut at the look she shot him "…but we kinda had words earlier. He's been kinda off lately, Cath. Have you noticed anything?"

"No, can't say as I have, Nick," she said with a tense smile.

"Yeah, well, can I get a rain check on dinner?"

"Sure. Tell Warrick I hope he feels better soon."

"Thanks, Cath. I'll tell him."

He pulled up out front of the Brown residence and sat with his truck idling. The house was dark as a tomb, but Warrick's truck was sitting parked in the drive.

He considered that his friend might be sleeping and had reached to the gear to shift the truck back into drive when his eye caught a small circle of light moving within the darkened house. It looked like a flashlight …

He took a quick survey of the neighborhood, thinking maybe there was a power outage but all the houses on the street were brightly lit, the glow from lamps and TVs showing in most of them.

He turned the engine off and shut the truck door behind him gently, not really knowing why but not wanting to make any loud noise. The neighborhood was quiet. Not even a dog barked.

He walked up to the front door and knocked gently. When there was no answer he put his hand to his hip and released the catch on his holster. With his hand on the butt of his gun he eased the front door open.

He was gonna be really embarrassed if Warrick was sleeping on the couch or otherwise engaged with the missus but he figured he had earned the right to be a bit paranoid.

"Warrick?" he called out softly. His eyes took in the living room, the books that had been knocked over, a lamp on the floor, and Warrick's prized baseball trophy knocked from the mantle and laying on the hearth. He loosened the gun fully from its place on his hip and thumbed the safety off.

The flashlight glow he had seen seemed to be coming from the second floor so he hugged his back against the railing and began to sidestep quietly up the stairs, then stopped mid way, his gun muzzle front and center. His breathing was harsh in his ears and he held it for a moment, listening intently for any movement or sound. He heard a rustling from upstairs and began to ascend again.

He briefly considered calling 911, but his fear of embarrassment if this turned out to be nothing more than a newlywed fracas was too great.

He reached the landing and held his back against the wall. Two bedrooms and a bathroom if he remembered the layout correctly. He headed for the master bedroom, gun still held steadily out, finger resting on the trigger.

The noise was definitely coming from the bedroom. He approached the half-closed door and pushed it open harshly, throwing his gun out and glancing wide-eyed at the room. A figure was crouched on hands and knees by the bedside table, a flashlight in one hand, the other using a small tool of some kind.

"Las Vegas Police! Freeze!"

The figure dropped the flashlight, its beam briefly illuminating the face of his partner as it fell.

"Jesus, Nick! What the fuck are you doing here?" Warrick asked in what could only be described as a whispered yell.

"Christ, Rick!" he exclaimed, lowering his gun with a slightly shaking hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Get outa here, Nick. Now!"

"What the hell are you talking about? What is going on here, Warrick?"

"I mean it, Nick. Leave before it's too late."

He holstered the gun and wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on? Is this about that friend of yours? Kenny? Is it?"

Warrick shook his head angrily and picked the flashlight back up.

He got up from his crouch and moved in close to Nick

"I'm telling you, Man. Leave. I got this."

"You got what, Rick? Jesus, is that print powder in your hand?"

Warrick sighed explosively and stared at the brush in his hand. He'd been trying to lift prints from the bedside table in the dark and the task was going excruciatingly slowly, hindered by the darkness and the necessity of holding the light with the other hand.

"Please, Nick." His voice was almost plaintive and Nick was shocked at the fear he saw in his friend's eyes, glowing in the ambient room light.

He lowered his voice to match Warrick's. "Please, what, Bro? Please, leave? Picture that."

He gave a small smile, throwing back one of his partner's favorite expressions.

Warrick appeared to dissolve in front of him, raising a shaky hand to rub at the sweat that had gathered on his own head. He gave a small tight smile back. "Yeah. Picture that."

"C'mon, Bro. Spill it. Please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Warrick opened his mouth, apparently to start explaining when a loud noise was heard from outside the house. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, "What the fu..? What now?" He shook his head angrily and dashed the brush and flashlight onto the floor, elbowing past Nick and heading for the stairs. He took the stairs two at a time and landed lightly on the ground floor, rushing to the front door and ripping it open.

A large dark tow truck was hooking up to his SUV in his driveway. No markings on the tow truck. No "Tom's Tow Service". No "AAA". Just a big black truck with two men dressed in plain black coveralls, one working on the winch, the other sitting in the passenger seat talking on a cell phone. The man with the phone stared balefully at Warrick, his lips continuing to move as he discussed something on the phone. He shut it up with a slap and gave Warrick a small wave and a creepy smile.

Warrick stood on his front porch, his jaw hanging open, shock stealing his voice. Nick had come down to join him and stared equally incredulously as the winch man finished up with his part of the job and opened the driver side door.

"What the…" was all Nick managed before Warrick finally found his footing and dashed out into his front yard.

"What are you assholes doing?"

"Taking your truck, Mr. Brown," the man with the phone said from his seat.

"What? You can't take my truck!"

"Bank says I can, Mr. Brown. Might wanna give them a call in the morning."

"The bank? I'm not behind- - who do you work for?"

"Have a nice night, Mr. Brown," the man said, the icy grin never leaving his face. He gave a small wave as the driver revved up the truck and began to pull out of the driveway.

Warrick ran over and grabbed the passenger side door handle but the truck had built up too much speed and the handle was ripped painfully from his hand as it rumbled on down his street.

He stood at the end of his driveway rubbing mindlessly at his sore hand. He felt Nick's presence at his side. A hand on his shoulder. "I think we need to talk, Buddy. C'mon inside." He allowed Nick to lead him back into the house, still too stunned to fully process.

Nick picked up a stray chair cushion from the floor and tucked it back in place. Pulled the chair over to face the couch and gestured for Warrick to take a seat.

Warrick fell back limply against the cushions, his hands lying loosely in his lap. He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed frantically at his face. Let out another explosive sigh that turned into a frustrated yell as he tossed his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Where's Tina, Warrick? I should call her if she's at the hospital. She should come home."

Warrick stared at him for a moment. "I don't know where Tina is, Nick. He has her."

"Wha-? Who? Who has Tina?"

"The Voice."

"The Voi--who in hell is The Voice, Rick? You're not making sense. This is crazy. I'm calling Brass." He reached a hand to his cell phone when Warrick reached out and grabbed his hand.

"No, Nick. You can't call Brass. You can't call anyone. Damn it, you can't even be here. He'll know …"

"Rick-"

The ring of Warrick's cell phone interrupted him.

Warrick closed his eyes and picked up the phone slowly, reluctantly.

"Yeah?" he asked tiredly.

"You disappoint me, Mr. Brown. I thought my instructions quite clear. No using your clever little forensics tricks, and no help."

"I didn't- "

"Tut, tut, Mr. Brown. Please stop, as your lies only serve to infuriate me more. I see you need another demonstration of my sincerity…"

The phone went dead. Moments later there was the sound of car doors closing outside and several black clad forms began to stream in through his front door.

tbc...

A/N:

Let the games begin!