Wow, thanks for the reviews! Glad people liked it. This is the next chapter, hope you all enjoy!

Blood and Gunfire

Ryan came round slowly. His head was pounding , the skin tight with dried blood. He blinked and shut his eyes quickly, trying to keep his breathing slow and even. Pretend he was still unconscious. The car was still moving, and quickly.

He listened. Intently. Sometimes the importance of hearing was underrated. The few weeks when he'd been terrified of losing his eyesight had made him appreciate his hearing a little more. Now he was depending upon his hearing to find out as much about what was happening as he could.

This was his car. The sound of the engine was familiar, he was certain it was his car. Eric, he thought with wry amusement, could probably tell what type of car it was by the sound of the engine but all he was sure of was that it was his. He wasn't tied up. His attacker had probably been in a rush, acting upon impulse. He clearly wasn't professional since so far he had been acting with stupidity in not tying Ryan up. He could hear the man's breathing, fast and shallow, the breathing of a frightened or angry man. The dim light in the car told him that it was early morning. Very early, but since it was summer the mornings got light very quickly. He tried to work out a rough time frame in his head. It had been about half past ten when he had stormed out of the restaurant, since they had spent ages on drinks and conversation before they even took their table. It took him about half an hour to drive home, and he'd been sat in the car for a while. Okay. That might take him up to about half eleven at the latest. A few hours trying to sleep, trying to find something to do to take his mind off how angry and miserable he had been.

Then he'd decided to go for a drive, go to work and find something to do there. Something useful. He'd left at fourish. Could be five or even six by now.

Then someone had hit him, knocked him out and taken him somewhere. In his car.

Well, he thought, I guess I can rule out robbery.

He wondered exactly what would happen next. He opened his eyes very slightly and examined the car door, wondering if he could risk opening it and throwing himself out of the door. It was locked. He considered it for a moment more but something else changed him mind.

His gun was gone. He couldn't feel its weight against his hip anymore. He'd taken it with him, had it on him when he'd got in the car. That meant his attacker had it. He felt a moment of sick fear and tried to calm himself.

The car stopped.

Ryan didn't open his eyes.

The man reached over and took hold of his wrists. Ryan unfroze and lashed out with a fist, aiming to strike the other man and try and make a run for it. The man yelled and smacked him across the side of the head. Pain lanced through Ryan's head but he tried to ignore it, even though it blurred his vision and made his head spin crazily.

'Keep still!' the man snarled and brought the muzzle of the gun hard against Ryan's head. 'Keep still or I will shoot you!'

Ryan stopped struggling and glared into his attacker's face. He didn't recognise the man, had no idea who he was and what he might have done to him.

The man continued, 'You don't make a single move or else I will kill you. Understand?'

Ryan nodded. 'Who are you? What have I ever done to you?' he asked.

'Shut up,' the man said.

Ryan ignored that. 'Look. Let me go, okay? Just let me go and I'll forget I ever saw you, that any of this happened.' Lying through his teeth, but it was worth a shot.

'I told you to shut up.'

The man was so obviously not a professional, so obviously had no idea exactly what he was doing here that Ryan wondered what on earth had possessed him to do this. It was only the fact that the man held the gun expertly that kept him from trying to make a run for it. That and the fact that he was pretty certain that he might have concussion. He didn't feel like he could actually stand, let alone run.

'Get out of the car,' the man said.

Ryan got out.

'Hold your hands in the air.'

He lifted his hands above his head.

'Walk forwards.'

The man had got out of the car and was stood behind him, the muzzled of the gun resting between Ryan's shoulder blades. He walked forwards.

'You don't want to do this,' Ryan said quietly.

'Shut up.'

'You really don't. You can still go back now. Let me go and you'll be treated leniently.'

'Shut up.'

'I think you've got the wrong person.'

'I told you to shut up.'

Ryan took a quick look around. It was some kind of multi-storey car park, but apart from his car, it was deserted. Maybe still under construction, or about to be demolished. They were a few stories up, he realised, because he could see the tops of buildings through the gaps in the sides.

With a sinking feeling, he realised that he really had been brought up here to die. Somewhere out of the way, somewhere his body might not be found if this place was to be demolished. His instinct told him it was.

'Let me go and we can forget this,' he said again.

'You're police, kid. You won't forget.'

'I work for Horatio Caine,' Ryan said. 'You can bet he won't forget the murder of one of his officers. He tends to take that kind of thing personally.'

The man laughed grimly. 'Shut it. Stop.'

Ryan felt the pressure between his shoulders ease.

It was now or never.

He had absolutely no delusions about getting out of this alive. He had little chance of that now. But what he could do was make sure that, if he died and his body was found, then the team would be able to catch this son of a bitch.

He spun and struck out at the man. He punched him and brought his other hand up, so that his fingernails could be used. It wasn't a very masculine way of fighting, he thought with some grim amusement, but that wasn't really the point. The point was to get as much of the bastard's DNA on him as possible.

Ryan felt some satisfaction as his attack drew blood, and a fair bit of it. He punched the man again and grabbed his wrist, trying to wrestle the gun back.

The man snarled and punched Ryan in the face, hitting him directly in the mouth. Ryan actually felt his teeth puncture the man's skin and tasted blood.

The man backhanded him across the face, sending him crashing to the floor. He rolled, and landed on his back. He started to get up and a bullet took him in the shoulder.

The second took him in the stomach.

Ryan collapsed backwards onto the ground.

Through the ringing in his ears he heard the man sighed. He looked up and saw the man carefully wiping the gun clean with a handkerchief and throw it aside. The gun landed with a loud clatter beside Ryan.

Then the man walked away. Ryan heard the car start up and drive away.

He gasped, trying to breath normally. It hurt. Beyond anything else, even that damned nail, it hurt. He couldn't move without agony flaring through every part of his body.

Ryan lay there a moment. He was bleeding badly. He didn't know why that fact surprised him. He'd seen shooting victims before, had heard Alexx's comments upon the physical damage they caused, the rate of blood loss. But it was difficult to believe that this was now happening to him. At least with the nail injury he had been able to move, a little, even if that movement had consisted mainly of Eric dragging him at full speed.

He gasped, trying to breath. His chest felt – heavy, leaden. His shoulder and chest were infused with agony, so intense he could barely keep consciousness. He could smell the gun-smoke in the air, feel the hot balls of lead inside his body and the wet warmth of a blood pool spreading beneath him. He gasped again, coughed, blood spraying upwards. Arterial, he thought numbly. Bright red, coming up from the stomach. Couldn't have hit anything major. I'd be dead by now, but something inside's seriously damaged. I don't think I've got much time.

He was amazed at how calmly his mind was working under the circumstances.

I think without a doubt, this has to be the single most stressful moment of my life, he thought dully.

Inside his head, he heard Alexx's voice. 'Died of exsanguination. Poor baby bled out. Didn't stand a chance.'

Not me, he thought angrily. Not this time. And if this is how I have to go, they're going to catch this bastard…

He had always made sure he carried his phone on him. Even more so since the nail incident. He could feel it in his pocket. Slowly, painfully, he reached into his pocket and managed to pull it out. He couldn't see properly. He tried to dial, but his fingers were now slippery with blood and he left bloody prints all over the phone.

He never had any idea how he managed to even dial, let alone dial a correct number.

But he did.

It rang. And rang.

Nobody answered.