Twenty-eight

Robin and Patrick were getting into their kiss, neither heard the footsteps coming towards them. The hands that grabbed at both of them and pulled them apart took them by surprise.

Robin slipped on the melted ice cream as she was dragged away from Patrick. She struggled against the arms entrapping her. "Patrick!" she yelled and was promptly silenced by a hand on her mouth. She watched in mute horror as Patrick was dragged, struggling, away from her.

She had to get away. She had to get to Patrick.

She let her body go limp. Now, that panic was past she remembered the training that had been instilled in her since she was a little girl. She felt the person holding her stumble. Taking advantage, Robin kept her body limp and planted her foot on the ground and twisted her ankle perpendicular to her body. It was a risky move, but if executed right it would give her leverage to pull out of the hold on her. It had worked in self-defense class, anyway.

Sure enough, the man holding her moved his arms to get a better grasp on her limp body. Using the leverage of his movement, she planted her foot more firmly and proceeded to slip out of the man's grasp. She hit the ground, pulling him with her, then she rolled, stood up and began to run in the direction she had seen Patrick taken. She was only a few feet away when she heard a shot ring out.

It was close by, her hearing was buzzing now, but she felt the person who had been holding her and chasing her fall to the ground. She tried to veer right and make it around and underneath a two-tiered section of the docks, but hands reached out a grabbed her again. She screamed, but it was cut off by a hand covering her mouth. This time her pursuer had another weapon at his disposal in addition to brute strength – chemical persuasion. She felt the sting of the chemical in her nose before she could actually smell it and feel the burn in her lungs. She tried to slow her breathing, but the hand tightened and instinct kicked in and she couldn't stop herself from taking a deep breath.

Everything went black.

"It's all right, you can let him go."

The arms that had been banded around Patrick's body released and he stumbled forward, gasping, into the small area of light in between the piles of wooden crates in the pier warehouse. "What the hell? Where's Robin?" He turned back towards the men who had been holding him, but they had stepped back into the darkness. He turned back towards where he had heard the familiar Australian voice come from.

"Sorry for the rough treatment, Dr. Drake. We had to get you out of the way as soon as possible. Where's my daughter?"

One of the men stepped back into the light. "We're sorry, sir. They got your daughter. They took our men out. Sykes is following them."

"Who has Robin?" Patrick demanded.

"The same man that probably has your father," Robert said tersely. "Contact me as soon as she's stationary and secure the area. I want to be one site for the retrieval."

"My father? What are you talking about?" Patrick demanded.

"Do you want to do the honors, Luv?" Robert said to someone behind him.

A determined looking Anna came striding out of the darkness, a gun in her hand.

"Robin? Are you all right?"

Every syllable of the voice's words throbbed in her head. Robin groaned and opened her eyes, only to quickly scrunch them closed again.

"Robin." The person moved to cover her and block some the harsh light from her face. "Open your eyes slowly. Let me take a look."

"Noah?" Robin said in wonder and followed his instructions. She blinked a few times until the older doctor came into focus. "Where are we? Where's Patrick?" Suddenly remembering what had happened she sat up from her prone position on the concrete floor, swaying dizzily at the movement.

"Slow down. You were drugged." Noah held her stead. "What do you mean, Patrick?"

"We were together when we were grabbed." She turned her head and looked around a the furnished office they were in. "They didn't put him in here? Where are we?"

"Not too creatively, we're at Pier 9, which means your parents should find us soon and that's probably the plan."

"My parents?" Robin narrowed her eyes. "You're not drunk."

Noah smirked for a moment. "Haven't been in a hundred and ninety-nine days. We're in one of Jason Morgan's warehouses. It's being used by Lorenzo Alcazar to smuggle arms. Whoa, you sure you're ready to get up?" Noah asked as he helped Robin steady and then stand up.

"You're working with my parents?"

"Your father. Your mother wasn't too pleased when she found out."

"I can't believe they knew and let Patrick think…I can't believe you let Patrick think that you went back to drinking. Do you have any idea how hurt he is?"

"I had my reasons."

Robin sighed and looked around the room and was pleased to discover the pounding in her head was receding. "Why didn't they put Patrick in here…" Robin broke off and frowned.

"What happened?" Noah asked worriedly.

"I don't think he was taken by Alcazar's men, if that's who have us? We were both grabbed and then whoever had me was shot, I think, and I was taken again. I was drugged." She felt the remnants of the burn in her throat.

"Your parents might have gotten to him before Alcazar."

"What does he want with us?" she asked, hoping Patrick was all right.

"Me, he's probably pissed off that I was messing in his business and he might be keeping me alive to get to Anna. You, probably to get to Robert and find out where he's hidden Alcazar's pregnant girlfriend."

"Why would he use you to get to my mother?" Robin asked, then suspicion began to dawn on her.

Noah flushed and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "This is not exactly how we envisioned telling you."

"Noah, are you involved with my mother?" Robin asked in surprise.

Noah nodded and licked his lips, waiting for Robin's reaction.

"Wow." Robin looked around. "I suppose the door is locked?" There were no windows.

"That's it? Wow?"

"We'll have plenty of time for reactions later, I hope," Robin said as she studied the door lock. Unfortunately, it wasn't pickable from inside. Robin turned around, her hands on her hips, her eyes searching for anything they could use for weapons.