Warrick's exhaustion and frustration got the best of him. Instead of talking to his tormentor he screamed into the receiver, his short temper over-shadowing any objectivity.

"You don't touch a hair on her head! Why don't you be more like a man? Stop sending goon squads and hiding behind your little phone calls. You let Tina go, or so help me---"

The sounds of laughter cut off the rest of his tirade. Warrick gnawed at his lip; he sensed Nick stepping closer out of concern. A quick look with his eyes told his partner to let him deal with the call.

"Mr. Brown, you forget that I hold all the cards in this game. I know you enjoy the thrill of gambling. I didn't expect that little addiction to be so deep-rooted that it could affect such a simple exchange."

Warrick's mouth hung open as he squeezed his eyes shut. The Voice was a man of many secrets. He made it his job to learn all about the ones belonging to any possible opponent. He had been read like an open book.

"Friendship is a funny thing, wouldn't you say, Mr. Brown? It would seem that Kenny Longman dragged you unwillingly into my affairs and now you've dragged Mr. Stokes into yours. Now, my ill-tempered scientist, I will get what I want and I will find all of you. A skillful fighter puts himself into a position which makes defeat impossible, and does not miss the moment for defeating the enemy."

The line went dead and Warrick was left with nothing. He looked over at Nick who had barely been able to keep from ripping the cell phone out of his hands. Warrick winced inwardly. He'd been so intent at keeping this private matter under his vest that he had put his partner's life in danger. He cursed heavily, rubbing at his pulled shoulder absently. With his anger under control Warrick looked over at his best friend and decided to come clean with him. He owed him at least that for all of his behavior the past two nights.

"Kenny and I go way back, Bro. All the way to the old neighborhood. I mean we were best friends growing up. He got…he crossed the line with a real bad man."

Nick held back a few choice comments. He simply nodded for his partner to continue.

Warrick wiped at the cut on his forehead; the bleeding was slowing down and now a dull throb reverberated through his skull. "You remember that case you and Catherine had a few years ago with the death of that runner at the casino? The guy who took bets all over town from bookies?"

Nick bowed his head thinking, but his face lit up when he recalled the case. "Yeah, I think so. You kind of gave us some insight into sports betting."

Warrick nodded. "Yeah. There's this guy, The Voice. He runs all of Vegas's underground sports rackets. If you placed a bet on any game he had something to with it. No one knows what he looks like. He's sort of this all-knowing kind of specter. Like the Wizard of Oz."

Warrick started to pace, but glanced up to maintain eye contact. "He's hooked up with the Asian mob; no one messes with him. He prides himself on information gathering. This guy has more dirty laundry and files on the who's who than even the biggest power brokers in this city. The Voice can hack into any computer, any electronics system, and can turn your world upside down and find your darkest secrets."

Nick leaned against the brick wall as he kept his hand secured under his armpit and glanced down the alley for any sign of trouble. He chewed on his lip. "Your check card trouble, right?"

Warrick sighed. "Yeah. I helped Kenny hide him from this bad dude. Then I get home tonight and find Tina missing. Before I know what hit me, the Voice calls me. He wants me to hand Kenny over on a silver platter and he'll let Tina go." Warrick snorted under his breath, knowing full well that all three of them would end up dead.

Nick rose to his feet immediately and stalked over to his friend. "He kidnapped, Tina? Jesus, Warrick. Why didn't you call Brass? He could be helping investigate."

Warrick's face twitched, "He'd kill her, Man. He turned off my power, got my car towed. He sent that squad after us, when you came over. He didn't want me involving anyone and now I've you pulled you into my mess."

Nick shook his head as some of the things he heard started to sink in. This was no ordinary two-bit hood they were dealing with. The Asian Mob, that was heavy stakes. Still trusting that calling in to the Lab or to LVPD was the best thing, Nick pulled up his cell despite Warrick's weary expression towards the action. Nick's brow furrowed in confusion, his cell phone was dead. He checked the battery to see it was fully charged.

Nick walked back and forth, avoiding pieces of trash in his wake. His partner was silent, but they heard a noise off in the distance and both men froze.

Nick looked over, his breathing quickening as he strained to hear anything ominous. "We should get moving."

Warrick stood next to him, his eyes scanning the dark shadows of the alley. Not only were they being hunted down my mob enforcement but being out in the open like this wasn't the brightest idea in the world around this end of town.

"We got to go where I stashed, Kenny. It's safe and we can think." Warrick began taking in his surroundings, as he oriented exactly where they ended up after the chase. He looked over at his partner. "We can get that hand of yours looked at," he said as he reached out to inspect it.

Nick kept it cradled against his side, brushing away from Warrick's good intentions. "Nothin' we can do about it now. So, where to?"

Warrick frowned, but knew his partner's words were true. His shoulder was killing him and his head ached. He tried to look on the bright side; he wasn't dizzy or nauseous so it probably wasn't a concussion. It didn't make his body feel any better. Maybe there was running hot water back at the old hideaway.

"We'll need to go about three miles. Maybe catch a bus around Clermont Street. No cameras around that area."

Nick motioned towards the gun in his hand. "You wanna keep the piece out?"

Warrick looked down at Nick's weapon. "Nah. We don't wanna draw too much attention." He took the Glock and slid it into his jeans waistband and covered it with his shirt. "Let's hoof it."

The two men kept towards the darkness, Warrick taking point while Nick kept an eye on their backs. They stayed to the narrow alleyways leading west back towards the older side of town, the one hit hardest by the faltering economy. For the first mile they kept a very brisk pace, just in case the goon squad wasn't far behind. They were creeping towards a more populated area. A few homeless men were scavenging trashcans and there was an undertone of hushed voices in the air.

They were in the section of town that poverty hit hard; rundown homes, bars on windows, a few scattered gang members doing deals in the far reaches of the alley. Warrick was tense; even the police didn't like this area. Only a little further away was the first bus station providing transportation to those forced to live in the inner city: single moms, minimum wage earners and people who just tried to get by the best they could.

There were a few street lamps now, the quiet road leading behind the Tinebrook neighborhood, a liquor store at the corner right next to a rundown little grocery stand. Warrick had driven through here in the daylight; if you were in your right mind you avoided it like the plague under the cover of dark. He could tell they were being watched from windows and parked cars.
They were just trying to pass through and hoped as long as they kept their eyes and nose to the ground and stayed out of everyone's business, people would continue to leave them alone.

Warrick looked over his shoulder. Nick was a few feet behind him and he kept slowing his pace for his partner to keep up. The bus stop was only a half-mile later, and he heard Nick grunt behind him. There was no time to stop; they were moving targets and they each had to suck up the pain until they reached safety.

Warrick's headache was competing with the pressure in his sinuses; he was a miserable mess. He noted Nick's pinched expression and the way he protected his hand. Warrick knew it must be throbbing, but he couldn't do anything about it while they were sitting ducks.

Both men hurried their pace when they reached the isolated bus stop. Four teenagers with over-sized jackets, smoking cigarettes gave them a weary look. Warrick and Nick were not a threatening looking pair, but they gave off the vibe that they weren't to be messed with. After twenty long minutes and a lot of nervous glances at approaching vehicles, the loud public bus arrived. Nick paid for both their fares and they headed for the old part of town that Warrick grew up in.

Nearly an hour later both men were nearing a chain-linked fence that surrounded another dilapidated set of buildings. The criminalists had gotten off at Boulevard and Church. They ankle expressed it through two more neighborhoods before passing an old high school and the back lots of more boarded up stores. Warrick had kept a vigilant eye out for any suspicious activity and they crept up to the side of what looked like one of those corner strip shopping center that had seen better days. There couldn't have been more than four small type shops, including an abandoned gas station.

Warrick wiped at the sweat at his brow and tested the sturdiness of the fence. He looked over at Nick. "It's a good layer of defense. We got to hop this thing. From the inside of that building you can see everything from that window," he said pointing at a dingy pane with boards plastered over it.

Nick grabbed Warrick's shoulder; his chilly breath could be seen in the night air. "You worried that The Voice might have this place scouted out, being so close to where you once lived?"

Warrick thought for a beat, but he seemed fairly confident. "Nah. This was my old neighborhood, but my house is closer to the west side of the tracks. I had a long ride to class, and this place is past the school me and Kenny used to go on the opposite way to walk home."

Nick looked around, trying to see through the hours of darkness. He swallowed but nodded.

Warrick tested his shoulder, pain ripping through what had to be badly torn or bruised muscle. It'd hold up though. He glanced at his buddy, knowing Nick had a larger issue to contend with. "I'll swing up the top and give you a hand over."

Nick actually smirked. Warrick laughed at his bad pun, "Man, you're really trippin' now."

Warrick patted Nick on the back and scaled the fence. He pulled one leg over and balanced over the top. He signaled for his partner to follow suit. Nick backed up, his left hand cradled to his chest and he darted up the fence, the toes of his boots catching in the metal weave. Warrick grabbed an elbow to steady him until Nick got both legs over, holding on with his good right hand for balance. Then he scaled all the way over and jumped down. Warrick watched him land ungracefully, his right ankle almost rolling under his weight as he limped into a standing position.

Warrick finished climbing over and joined him on the ground. He gave his partner a strange expression. "Your ankle all right?"

Nick was obviously walking off any discomfort. "Just a twinge from last night." Not wanting to waste time he nodded towards the nailed up old store. "You lead the way."

Warrick would ask his partner about things later. He went over to the door and knocked on it. "It's me, Man. Let us in."

Warrick wrapped his arms around his chest trying to keep warm. He gave Nick an irritated expression. "He can see us from in there." Warrick pounded away again until he heard things being shoved away. After several agonizing minutes and lot of odd noise, the door creaked open cautiously. Warrick swung the door all the way open and hustled in with Nick close behind him.

Kenny quickly slammed the door close in the dimly lit room and began shoving crates to block the entrance. His skinny little frame had a ton of difficulty trying to move boxes that had to weigh more than the scrawny man. Annoyed, both criminalists began to shove three more crates over despite their own aches and pains.

After getting the entrance secured, Warrick sat down heavily in a fold-up chair, rubbing his tired face with his hand. Kenny quickly scrambled towards him, wildly pointing behind him.

"Why'd you bring him here? What's goin' on, Man? He can't be here." Kenny's voice rose an octave higher, the elevated pitch grating on Warrick's ears.

Nick for his part gave the high-strung geeky guy a perplexed stare and brushed past him as he plopped down on the floor next to his partner. The skittish man adjusted his glasses as he practically bounced around both men.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone, Warrick. Man, oh, man," he whined.

Nick squinted his face in annoyance and glanced back up at Warrick who tried to bury his head further into his hand. The Texan sighed. "Why don't you take another one of your cold tablets, Man? You look terrible."

Warrick wiped at his face, shaking his head. He chuckled under his breath and looked over at his partner, completely exhausted; his red-rimmed eyes and haggard appearance a testament to the mounting stress. "I will in a moment."

Nick scanned the darkened room, noting the only source of light was a bunch of candles, a few flashlights and the moonlight peeking through the cracks of another window over head. He whistled. "Great hide out, Man. Safety conditions are top notch."

"I was out of designer getaways last I checked," Warrick mumbled.

Kenny began to pace, mumbling under his breath. It was apparent that he didn't enjoy not being the center of attention. "Ricky, you broke your promise to me, Man. I can't trust anyone. Can't even count on ya word," he complained.

Nick narrowed his eyes. He got to his feet and grabbed the smaller man by one of his shoulders, his nerves frayed from the cloak and dagger of the past few hours. "Don't you ever say that about Warrick. You have no idea what we just went through to get here, you ungrateful--"

"Nick!" Warrick's voice broke off the tirade.

Kenny wiggled away from the imposing figure and scampered towards the lanky criminalist, seeking shelter behind his taller form. He almost basked in false pretenses and a fake sense of bravado. "Yeah, Man. Don't lay a hand on me. Don't mess with---"

"Kenny, shut the Hell up, before I slap you something fierce."

Nick didn't hide a slight smile at Kenny's shocked expression. He watched Warrick glare at the little oaf as he shrunk back at the anger-laced tone. Nick knew all the signs of a Warrick Brown smack down and he crossed his arms across his chest in amusement as he waited for his partner to let out all of his frustration at the source of their problems.

Kenny slunk off, looking like a dog that someone had kicked. Seeing the fight had gone somewhat out of the smaller man, Nick collapsed back to the ground next to his partner, his back against a wall for support.

"Christ, Man," he muttered. "How do you put up with him?"

Warrick answered him in a similarly lowered voice. "Nah, Kenny's okay. He's just scared. Dude's been on the run for a while now."

"What did he do to piss this guy off? Besides yammer at him?"

"Yeah, no doubt. No," he sighed, "Kenny got this bright idea to rip The Voice off- took some of the dude's gambling websites hostage and tried to shake him down." He shook his head. "You know Kenny was the brightest guy I knew in school. Made me look like the town idiot. But not so street smart, ya know?"

"So your friend's greed and stupidity got Tina taken and us on the run? Warrick, Man. Why not just turn his skinny ass over to the guy? If this guy is the way you say he is- he probably would return Tina to you."

He shook his head harder before Nick had even finished his sentence. "You know, I thought about it. But I really do owe Kenny a chance to get clear. And I think The Voice is so pissed right now, I don't see him turning Tina over. I think it's gonna be up to me to get her back …"

"You mean us."

"No, I mean me. Nick, this is already too much. Those goons the dude sent meant business."

"Yeah, I could tell when I lost my truck, Bro," he said with a small laugh.

"Shit. See? You've already lost a truck, and by the looks of it, your left hand."

Nick pulled his hand in tighter at the remark. Ignored the look of concern from his friend.

"So you're gonna take on the Wizard of Oz all by your lonesome, huh? Kingpin of a global gangster enterprise? Who are you, Shaft?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Shaft. Yeah- picture that. No. But then what do you suggest?"

"How about we call in reinforcements? Brass at least. And Grissom. You know we've got access to all kinds of information if you'd just let people help."

"Letting people help is just gonna make things worse, Bro."

"How can they get worse, Rick?"

Warrick sighed, not wanting to even entertain the many ways it could get oh so much worse.

He was, for once, thankfully distracted by Kenny's return.

The smaller man had gotten over his initial meekness, and re-entered the room with his bluster back in full swing.

"Warrick, Man. Why ain't you ditched this guy yet? Why's he still hanging around?"

"Ditched him? Hanging around? Are you-? Kenny, just shut the hell up about things you know nothing about."

"I know the voice told you not to get anyone else involved, yet you got some cop friend of yours tagging along. Get. Rid. Of. Him, Warrick. We can't be pissing the voice off anymore than you have already."

"I pissed--?" Warrick was apoplectic in his anger. "Kenny, Man. You best muzzle that mouth of yours, little dog, or I'll muzzle it for you. You have no idea what Hell we just went through. Five or six guys just showed up at my house; big Ninja-looking fuckers. Strapped. They chased us all over God's creation. Smashed up the truck. Damn near killed us. It wasn't for my man, Mario Andretti over here, we'd be dead. Drive by shooting, no survivors, film at eleven.

Now I'm tired, I'm hurting, and I'm just about to lose it all over you. Don't make me get up or I'll be putting you down. For good. Just quit jawing at me and go see what we have for first aid."

Kenny bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, a retort just hanging on his lips. He saw two red-rimmed green eyes narrow threateningly at him and decided discretion was the better part of whatever valor he had and hightailed back into the darkness.

Warrick let out an explosive sigh, cut short by his glance over at Nick. His friend had a bemused expression on his face. "What?"

"Little dog. I like it. Your boy's got little dog syndrome written in bold face all over him."

"Wha-?"

"You know. The way little dogs always seem to have an attitude. Wanna take on all the biggest dogs in the yard. Like they don't know they're little."

"Yeah, well, Kenny wasn't always the littlest dog. That would have been me."

"You? What are you? Six two?"

"Yeah, well I didn't start sproutin' til like my senior year. I was short, geeky. These contacts were thick Coke-bottom glasses. My Grams couldn't afford much so my clothes were like Salvation Army specials. I was a vision to behold, my friend. Resplendent in all my nerdiness."

Nick laughed out loud. "Yeah, well, at least you grew up. And I don't mean physically. Your buddy's got some issues. And I think they're only gonna make things worse for us," he said in a lowered voice. "So what does this guy have on you anyway?"

"Nothing. It's just… Kenny saved my ass from a beat down. He risked his hideout for me, when he could just thrown me to the wolves. And he didn't hafta do it. Kenny had it rough, Man. I mean, at least I had my Grams and she was a good woman. She did right by me, you know?" Nick nodded.

Warrick raised a hand and wiped at his face, letting in old memories. "Kenny's mom was a junkie. She used to bring guys by the house…some of them would get rough with Kenny. She never knew how to handle him. He was too smart. Too bookish. The only way the kid had to cope was to withdraw deeper in his books. He never...learned to adapt. To fit in. By the time I hit college, I'd figured out how to play the game. How to become a round peg? You get me?"

"Yeah," Nick said quietly.

"Yeah, well Kenny is just as square a peg as ever…"

The aforementioned square peg came back in the room toting a white box with a red cross on the front. "I looked in my backpack, got nuthin' in there. I found this, though. Think this was an old kit the employees used," Kenny said in a milder tone. "Dunno what all is in it…"

Warrick reached up and took it. "Thanks, Bro."

He opened the kit. Old bottle of aspirin. Iodine. Some gauze and some bandage tape. He sighed with frustration. "This all there is? Kenny, can you find something we can use as a brace? Some wood or stiff cardboard?"

Kenny gave him an exasperated look at being sent away again, but went to scrounge down the requested items.

"A'ight, Bro. Lets see the hand…"

Nick flashed him a look, then reluctantly held his left hand out. It was swollen to almost twice its normal size. "Damn, Nick. Why didn't you say how bad it was?"

"What were ya gonna do? Find some plaster in a dark alleyway somewhere? Besides, I think it's just sprained."

"No way. You musta broken a couple bones in your wrist and hand. Can you move your fingers?"

Nick sucked in a breath and slowly wiggled each finger. The pain in doing so was obvious, but the fingers all seemed to work.

Kenny came back with a shoebox and thrust it in Warrick's direction. The CSI glared at him but grabbed it, then began ripping the sides off of the box. When he was done he had two long pieces of stiff cardboard that he then folded in half for extra strength.

He gave Nick a look and a "gimme" gesture with his hand. Nick rolled his eyes but held his hand out to his partner. Warrick took the two slats of cardboard and placed them on either side of the injured wrist and palm. "Kenny, Man. Come over here. Make yourself useful."

Kenny inched over, then at the glare Warrick shot him, came up next to the men and squatted down to their level.

"Okay, hold the cardboard. Don't move it."

Kenny gave a look of supreme distaste at having to help Nick but held the cardboard in place while Warrick began to wrap the white tape around the makeshift brace. Nick twitched a bit but kept silent, letting the two men set and secure his hand. The moment his help wasn't needed any longer Kenny scrambled back up and began pacing back and forth as Warrick finished up.

The job completed, Nick let his hand fall gently back onto his lap. "Thanks. Feels better already. What about you?" he said, gesturing at the cut on Warrick's forehead.

Warrick put a hand up to it and brought his fingers back down. Dry. "Nah, the bleeding's stopped. Nothing can be done about it for now. I think we've done all we can here. Kenny! Why don't you take a piece of floor, Man? You're making me nervous. All that damn pacing."

The smaller man gave him a huffy look but folded his legs up Indian style and sat down on the floor, a finger in his mouth as he began to gnaw at a ragged fingernail.

Nick leaned over to speak to Warrick without being overheard. "You give anymore thought to my suggestion?"

Warrick thought on all the equipment they had back at the lab. All the databases and connections and calls they could make. Weighed it against the fear of their being discovered looking for help. He knew there was no way the three of them could stand against their foe. As much as he hated to admit it, Nick was right. They needed help.

"Yeah. You're right. I'll try Brass first."

He flipped open his cell and dialed the detective's number, waiting through two rings while avoiding the suspicious look that Kenny was shooting at him.

When he heard the sound of the phone being answered he cut through the greeting. "Jim?"

"No, Mr. Brown. It is not your friend at the Police Station." The Voice let out a long dramatic sigh. "I thought we had this covered Mr. Brown. You have no avenues that I have not covered. You have no friends that I have not already placed under my watchful eye. You have no ability to continue to deny me what I want. The general who is skilled in defense hides in the most secret recesses of the earth; he who is skilled in attack flashes forth from the topmost heights of heaven. And I assure you. Mr. Brown. I am skilled."

tbc...