His head pounded. Before opening his eyes he had some idea of where he was but what he wasn't sure about was why he was here or who was in the place with him. He was aware of hands holding him; of a hard surface, possibly a wall, against his back. Voices echoed in his ears their words unclear. Slowly he lifted a hand to the back of his head, it hurt when he touched it. Drawing his hand away he started to open his eyes but closed them as soon light entered them, it was too bright, it hurt too. He could feel another pair of hands caress his cheek, more words were spoken but still they meant nothing to him. It was as if someone had pressed their mouth close to his ear and was mumbling. He would have spoken to them, tried to communicate, but the thought of the action hurt more than the action itself would have done. Had he been able to speak or hear, he would have tried but not knowing exactly where he was or why he was here was a barrier. For the time being he remained silent as he hoped that he would remember what had brought him here and that the words being spoken to him would mean something.

Natalie Lambert got up from the floor and turned to Nick, "He has a very bad concussion. In other circumstances I'd say we need to get him to a hospital but there's no chance of that, not now."

"Will he be ok?"

"Give him a couple of hours and that concussion should clear up. Whoever hit him hit him hard."

Nick nodded and looked down on the man sitting a few feet from him, "I've got a hunch that he's Robyn's fiancé but until we can talk to him properly there's no way to confirm that."

"If he is her fiancé how did he find her?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there's an explanation. Do you think we should move him?"

Nat shook her head, "No, we moved him enough when we sat him up. He'll be fine there for now. I guess that LaCroix wasn't too impressed to find out that two people slipped back here right under his nose."

"He wasn't. Look, I've got to speak to him. See if he knows where Robyn is, hopefully he had her moved somewhere."

"If he didn't?"

"We have a problem. See you later, Nat. If you need anything give me a shout."

"I will."

Nick smiled before turning around and walking down the corridor. He found LaCroix standing beside the still open fire exit. There was a look on the man's face that he hadn't seen for a long time, it was a look that awakened old memories and told him something he really hadn't wanted to know. Moving closer to LaCroix, Nick turned him round to face him. LaCroix's eyes said it all and Nick struggled to contain his anger. Grabbing hold of one of LaCroix's arms he pulled the man into one of the back rooms out of everyone's earshot. When LaCroix looked at him in a frankly bored manner he could easily have lost his temper but he refrained.

"What have you done with her?" He snarled.

"I have done nothing, Nicholas, nothing that you automatically assume I've done. I am not responsible for her disappearance."

"I wasn't talking about that!" Nick snapped, "You slept with her didn't you?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Yes it is. She was put here to be protected, not used by you. Her fiancé is out there, didn't you think about him?"

LaCroix's eyes narrowed as his mouth drew back in a snarl, he had had enough. It was clear to him that Nick had forgotten just who he was talking to and he wouldn't get away with it. In response to Nick's thoughtless accusations and disrespect he backhanded the younger man with such force that he was thrown to the ground. Not done with punishing insolence that should have never taken place he picked Nick up by the lapels and hurled him across the room into a wall. Hardly fazed with this exertion he stood and waited for more defiance, when none came he walked across the room and sat on a Chaise Longe finely embroidered with velvet. With his patience restored he waited for Nick to pick himself up from the floor so that they might continue their conversation.

She felt the hands upon her flesh again, his hot breath mingling with hers. Sometimes his lips would take hers roughly holding them to his. She could smell him, sweat mingled with the clean, sharp scent of aftershave. Against her cheek she felt the rasp of his stubble. Its roughness was soon replaced by the wetness of his tongue, an action which made her flinch. She didn't know how long he had been doing this or how long he intended to continue. Fear gripped her when she thought how far he might go in his ministrations. Every now and then she would feel a hand drop from her face to touch her elsewhere. She squirmed under these touches especially when she felt one his hands slip down to her inner thigh. With deliberate slowness he traced his hand closer and closer to what lay between them.

"Stop!" Robyn cried out hoping that he would move his hand no further.

"Why?" Cain whispered his mouth close to Robyn's ear "Wouldn't you like to feel a real man between your thighs?"

The question was so absurd she might have laughed had the situation not been so dire. She knew she was in real danger, she knew that any wrong move she made would either make him go through with his intentions or hit her again which would lead to him inevitably carrying out his wish while she was unconscious. His game with her had gone much further than ever before; it was becoming sexual, a path that would lead her on a downward spiral towards her death. Even now his hand was still moving, soon it would reach its goal and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand stopped. She could feel him move his hand away from her thigh and back to her face.

Once again she felt his lips at her ear, "But perhaps not yet, there's something I have to do first. While I'm gone I'll turn a light on for you, I know you don't enjoy the darkness as much as I do."

Both of his hands were gone. She heard him walk away through the ever dense darkness that seemed to hold her in warm arms. Silence fell in the room for a few seconds before she heard a click and light flooded the room. She flinched with a sharp intake of breath as the light stung her eyes. Before he left she heard him chuckle briefly. When the door clicked shut she slowly opened her eyes into slits. Eventually they became used to the change in light and she opened them wider. Looking around the room she saw that this was a place little better than a hovel. Grimacing she looked down at her hands and saw that they were tied to a chair that she had been sat in, her legs had also been tied up.

Feeling utterly helpless under the weight of everything that had happened she began to cry, there was no way out. No one knew where she was, no one was coming to save her. Not Nick, not LaCroix, not Kit and not her father. She was going to die alone, shamed and tarnished.

Greta followed Ché out of the house. He'd taken the newspaper from Robbie's hands after seeing the man's reaction and his had been equally confused. She'd never seen such determination in his eyes. Running after him now she wished she had seen the paper too, it was the only way she'd know what had put him into this mood. Finding it difficult to keep up with his colossal strides she stopped and called after him. Thankfully he stopped and turned around to face her.

"Ché," Greta panted, "What is it? What did you see?"

"Kit was in that picture. He's in Toronto; he would only go there if he knew Robyn was there too. I have to find them both."

"Let the Network find them, they have sources. They'll be able to track them down and bring them home."

"No. I can't let them get involved."

"Why not?"

"Because Cain was in that picture too."

Greta's eyes and mouth opened wide, her face had become a mask of surprise. Knowing that she couldn't stop Ché from going she nodded stiffly before walking over to him. Kissing him she hoped that he would find both Kit and Robyn alive.