A/N: Nope, not mine (not yet, at least...)
A/N: Hey, guys! We reached 100 reviews! Thanks to Livstrong2364, onetreefan, KaydenceRei, Kelly of the midnight dawn, SVU101, XxChelly, Unconscious-Regret, TruLuv, thutinha, WuHaoNi, Abbey06, AliasCSINYFriendsER, Alicat Sanders (100th reviewer!), and Odakota, I am one very happy author. So yeah...this is the last chapter until mid-July. Enjoy and review!
The ringing of the phone sent adrenaline through Michael Bloomberg's veins. The sound was muffled; he deduced the cell phone was somewhere in the detective's pocket. Knowing he didn't have much time, he reached into the pocket, silencing the ringer. Bloomberg's fingers traced the cool plastic of the phone as he looked at the caller ID. ELLIOT STABLER, it read. Bloomberg smirked as snatched the lamp he had used against the other detective and stood in the doorway, waiting for her partner.
"Liv?" Bloomberg heard Stabler call softly. He could already sense the dread in the detective's voice. "Liv, are you in there?" Bloomberg reacted quickly as the door was pushed open by whacking the detective on the head with the lamp. Unfortunately, his aim was not accurate enough, as the detective managed to only stagger and remain standing. Bloomberg suddenly felt himself being forced up against the hard wall.
"Where's Olivia?" Stabler growled at him. Bloomberg smirked and remained silent. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Stabler lunged at Bloomberg, but Bloomberg was too quick for him. He caught him and threw the detective from him and to the ground. Bloomberg laughed as the detective's head made contact with the edge of the hall table with a sickening bang, rendering him unconscious. Bloomberg bent down and kicked him, but the detective didn't move. Satisfied, he returned to the bedroom where the female detective was now moaning slightly as she stirred. He snatched her into his arms and, with one last appraising look behind him, opened the window, climbed down the fire escape, and ran off with the detective into the night.
Bloomberg ran quickly down the back alleyway of the apartment towards his car. The detective was stirring more in his arms now and Bloomberg struggled to keep a hold of her. He reached the car quickly and laid her in the backseat. Bloomberg decided against letting her wake up right there, figuring it best and safer for him if she was unconscious for the ride. He reached a gloved hand behind her neck, finding the pressure point at the base of her skull. He pressed down hard, and instantly felt her go limp again in his arms, buying him twenty minutes of time. Relieved, Bloomberg shut the car door, climbed into the driver's seat and sped off down the quiet streets.
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Abby groaned as she sank down onto the cool tile floor of the bathroom. She had managed to keep herself from being sick on Munch's shoes as he steered her towards the restroom, but now that she was here, she couldn't stop. She grabbed her stomach and leaned over the toilet bowl again as a fresh wave of nausea hit her. Behind her, the door opened quietly.
"Abby?"
It was a woman's voice, but Abby didn't recognize it. "In here," she called weakly. The stall door opened, revealing a young woman dressed in a business suit. She knelt down beside Abby.
"Detective Munch wanted me to check on you," she said softly. Her voice was tired and she seemed tense and worried. "I'm ADA Novak, by the way," she continued, noticing Abby's blank look. "You can call me Casey."
Abby nodded vaguely at her. Casey looked at her sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do for you?" the ADA asked.
Abby shook her head. "I'm just waiting for it to stop, that's all." She leaned forward again as nausea hit her again. Coughing, she pulled back from the toilet seat, wiping her mouth. She leaned back against the wall of the stall and put her head in her hands.
"Are you okay?" Casey asked her, her voice sounding slightly alarmed. Abby suddenly felt tears begin to sting her eyes again. She blinked, trying to keep them from falling. "Abby?"
Abby blinked again, this time feeling the tear drops slip from her eyelashes. She shook her head, feeling her tears fall fasted now. She raised her head, trying to clear her mind by staring at the blank wall in front of her. Vaguely, she could feel Casey rubbing her arm gently.
"Abby, it's okay," Casey said softly. "It's okay. We're gonna find the guy; I promise. We'll find him, arrest him, and then when I get my chance in court, I'm going to make him pay for what he did to you and your family."
Abby shook her head again. "I – I'm afraid, Ms. Novak."
"Casey," the ADA said gently. "Please, call me Casey." Casey adjusted her position so she could sit more comfortably on the hard floor. "And we will protect you, Abby. You don't need to be afraid-"
"I'm not afraid for myself," Abby said, interrupting Casey abruptly. "I – Oh god, I'm so afraid for Olivia!" Abby began shaking with renewed sobs as Casey dug in her pocket for a tissue. Having found one, she handed it over to Abby, who took it gratefully.
"Oh," Casey said softly, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten again with more worry. She felt tears of her own forming in her eyes.
"I think she's dead," Abby said numbly, staring down at the floor.
Casey's eyes widened. "Did you – did you hear something?" she whispered.
Abby nodded, and then repeated the horrible phrase. "Jennifer is dead."
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Michael Bloomberg glanced nervously at the clock. Traffic had been in his favor; he still had eight minutes left. Quickly he opened the door to the backseat and took out the detective. Olivia, he reminded himself, allowing his eyes to scan greedily up and down her unconscious form. Beautiful name…for an even more beautiful body.
He scooped her up into his arms, kicking the door shut with his foot. He pressed a button, locking the car door. Glancing briefly around him to make sure there were still no witnesses, Bloomberg ran into the building.
He entered a plain room with only a single bed and blank white walls. Bloomberg laid Olivia on the bed, watching her chest rise slowly up and down. Perfect, Bloomberg thought to himself as he examined her body more closely. He slid a hand up her shirt, feeling her perfectly toned stomach as he moved up to her breasts. He smiled, feeling them beneath his fingers. It has been so long, Bloomberg reflected. He hadn't felt a woman's breasts since –
Don't think about it! Bloomberg reprimanded himself. Ever since his wife's death, he had kept himself away from all women. But then…when he had seen Richard and talked to him…he found the perfect way to get revenge. Richard may be dead, but Bloomberg was more than ready to continue getting revenge on the one who had made both of their lives hell.
And now, he thought contentedly to himself, I have a way. "You," he whispered aloud to Olivia, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "You are my key." He smiled widely at Olivia's still form. "And while I have you…we may have some fun."
Olivia's heart rate suddenly began increasing beneath Bloomberg's hand. He glanced at his watch: it was nearly time. Releasing her breast, Bloomberg replaced her shirt and scampered to the door. He knew there was no need to tie her to the bedposts like Richard had done with Abby. There were no windows and the door only opened from the outside.
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"Elliot," said Cragen gravely, seeing his detective attempt to steady himself using the door. The captain rose slowly from his seat. "Elliot, we haven't confirmed anything yet. Don't jump to conclusions-"
"Elliot," said Carter softly. Elliot snapped his gaze to the doctor instead. He stared hard into Carter's eyes, as though willing him – begging him – to tell him that wasn't true, that this was some kind of sick joke. But Carter could only shrug weakly, his eyes unable to convey such a fallacy.
Elliot clenched his fists. "I knew I shouldn't have left her alone!" He turned sharply on his heel and stormed from Cragen's office.
"You better follow him," said Cragen solemnly, watching Elliot leave his office. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
Carter nodded vaguely. "Where might I find him?"
Cragen paused, considering the options. "He likes the roof."
Carter exited Cragen's office quickly half a minute later. What is it with problems and roof tops?Carter wondered as he made his way up to the roof top of the precinct. He opened the door slowly, feeling the sunlight beat down on his face. Squinting, Carter saw the shadow of a man standing hear the edge of the roof top; it appeared Cragen was right.
"Elliot," Carter called out to him as he neared the detective.
Elliot turned around slowly. His face was dry, but his expression was pained. "How could I have let her die?" he asked Carter hoarsely. "Tell me that, John!" he cried, beginning to pace angrily. "How could I just have walked out the door, leaving her to die?"
Carter looked sadly at Elliot, staring at a man torn apart with guilt. "You didn't leave her to die, Elliot," Carter replied softly. "How could you possibly have known she would be kidnapped in your absence?"
"BUT IT'S STILL MY FAULT!" Elliot yelled at him. Carter took a few steps backward; he had never seen Elliot lose control like this before.
"Elliot!" Another man's voice called out. This time the voice was different and Carter didn't recognize it. He whirled around, seeing a short Asian man walked quickly towards them. "Dr. Carter, I presume?" the man asked as he neared the two men. Carter nodded. "Dr. George Huang, pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand for Carter to shake.
Carter took the hand. "You too," he said softly.
Huang nodded and walked quickly past Carter to where Elliot was. "Elliot!" he called out, causing Elliot to stop his pacing. "Elliot, listen to me, please!"
"I don't need you!" Elliot yelled, trying to push Huang away. "If I hadn't had to sit in your office remembering stupid details that are of no help to us now, Olivia might still be alive!"
"I don't think she's dead!" shouted Huang to a protesting Elliot. These words, however, caused Elliot's eyes to widen and he stopped resisting immediately.
"Wh-What?" he stammered. Carter started listening intently now too.
"I don't think she's dead," Huang repeated calmly. "I think Bloomberg is using her as bait."
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The sound of the door closing was the first thing that registered within Olivia's mind. As she struggled to regain consciousness, she became more aware of her surroundings: the bed she was laying on, the pain in her head. Moaning, she managed to open her eyes. As she gazed around the small, blank room, her memory came flooding back to her.
Elliot!
Olivia struggled to raise herself onto her elbows so she could think more clearly, but she was so tired, all she could so was close her eyes again and drift off to sleep.
Olivia awoke slowly a few hours later to find her muscles sore, thought the pain in her head had subsided substantially. As her eyes opened fully, revealing to her the gravity of her situation, Olivia suddenly heard something click. The door swung open slowly to reveal a tell man. He was looking at Olivia with a hungry glint in his eye. Olivia recognized him instantly from the mug shot.
"Michael Bloomberg," she said softly. Her voice was strong.
"Detective Olivia Benson," he responded silkily back at her. "Glad to see you're awake," he added, smirking.
Olivia pulled herself to a less vulnerable sitting position on the bed, bringing her hand instinctively to her waist, but she was surprised and slightly alarmed she didn't have her gun. Bloomberg laughed horribly.
"Looks like it's just you and me; no gun to protect you this time, princess."
"Why are you doing this, Michael?" Olivia asked him, keeping her tone as even as she could.
"Why?" Bloomberg repeated. "Well not merely for fun, if that's what you're thinking. No," he continued, "I have a couple things I…want."
Olivia stared straight at him. "And what is it that you want?"
Bloomberg smiled widely. "Well, two things, really, Detective Benson," he said slowly. "I will tell you the second in due course. But first – this!"
Olivia suddenly fought the urge to gag as Bloomberg kissed her violently. Olivia struggled against him as he dived on top of her, forcing her to lie on her back again.
Think! Olivia urged herself, as Bloomberg moaned, deepening his kiss. She tried to block him out as she thought of a solution to her problem, but she was having a difficult time. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain on her tongue, and she kicked her right knee up hard, jabbing it at the area between Bloomberg's thighs. He howled in pain and instantly released her.
"You kicked me, bitch!" he screamed at her.
Olivia looked up furiously at him, feeling her tongue gently. "You bit my tongue!"
"Don't get smart with me!" he yelled at her. He reached into his pocket and extracted a gun, which he aimed directly at her.
Olivia felt herself take a sharp intake of breath upon seeing him point his gun at her. She knew all too well she had no weapon to counter it. She therefore sat still, trying not to anger him to the point of pulling the trigger.
"Michael," said Olivia, trying to calm him. "Michael, this is a mistake."
"Mistake?" he scorned, laughing. "I see no mistake. You obviously are not obedient enough to fulfill my desires without this. Now you see, Detective Benson, this is how I play the game. And I think this is an ideal time for my second question."
Olivia didn't answer. Bloomberg continued. "So, my second question, and the real reason I brought you here, was to find out this: Where is Abby?"
Olivia exhaled and looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know," she said firmly, and then added, "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"I think you're lying!" Bloomberg shrieked. He took a step closer to Olivia.
"Why don't you drop your weapon, and we can work this out?" she suggested.
"I don't think so, Olivia," Bloomberg replied harshly. "You tell me where she is, or I'll kill you!" He advanced another step closer to her. Olivia felt her pulse quicken.
"Michael, surely you must have realized I can't tell you where she is if I am dead."
Bloomberg smirked. "But as you just said, Olivia, you wouldn't tell me if you did. That's too bad princess, I gave you your chance. But you wouldn't take it. You know something most inconvenient for you about this situation? It doesn't matter to me if you're dead or alive! I don't need you to get what I want!"
Olivia's frightened eyes widened as the roar of a gun shot exploded in her ears.
A/N: -ducks as flying objects are thrown at her- Don't hate me too much please! I told you I was leaving you with a cliffy, and here it is.
A couple of things...
1. I will be updating my author profile page shortly to give you more details about my hiatus. It may also include some answers to your questions... :D
2. My Confession and If You're Not the One are two oneshots I wrote as companion pieces to this story. You can check those out sometime over the next three weeks while you're waiting...they're both romance pieces, though not too fluffy.
3. I need to know for writing purposes...Do you guys want another sequel? I do have an idea, but I'd need to fine tune it and whatever you decide will affect the outcome of this story. So...let me know through a PM or review.
Thanks guys! Visit my profile page for more information!
-Color Esperanza (Colores, Essy, and Free)