Author's note: And we're back! This is the first full chapter of Book 5. A lot happens; it was definitely a departure for me as a writer. I hope you enjoy it! (Note: I'm nowhere near an expert on the NYC subway system, so I hope I will be forgiven for any inconsistencies.)

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Chapter 1

Liam woke to a throbbing head. And an aching neck. Groaning, he tried to move, momentarily disoriented. Where the hell was he? Still in the armchair, right. Memories of the last day came back to him, which only made him feel worse. Emma was still missing. He and Killian had gone directly to the 36th precinct, just as Detective Fa suggested, but they'd had no luck. They must have looked at thousands of mugshots. Page after page of nefarious criminals led to exactly zero leads. The men who'd taken Emma wore masks, so they couldn't be identified on the video. The police were supposedly doing "everything they could," but Liam wasn't sure he bought it.

He glanced across the room; Killian was sprawled on the couch. Last thing Liam remembered clearly was his brother on the phone with contacts in London. Killian worked in secrets and intelligence for the Navy; he wasn't above trying to get their help. Liam wasn't sure if he succeeded; exhaustion and fear finally got the better of him around three in the morning.

Christ, was this how Emma felt when they were missing? Liam felt sick, worry gnawed at his gut; he was shocked he got any sleep. Not good sleep though. He felt more tired than he had when he sank into the chair a few hours ago. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something they were missing, some important detail that would unravel the whole thing. But what?

Why take Emma? Why kidnap her? They had enemies—the detective made them write a list—but as far as Liam knew they were all in Britain. Killian's ex, Milah, was out of jail, but she wasn't petty enough for something like this. Killian has severed that tie, cauterized the wound. Liam considered Clara—the woman was deranged enough to try and hurt Emma to get to Liam—but again, she was an ocean away. It just didn't make sense.

Coffee. He needed coffee. Grunting, Liam forced himself to stand, stumbling over to the sideboard. Luckily for them, the hotel graciously let them stay, extending their reservation for as long as they needed. Packing up and moving somewhere else was the last thing they needed to be doing.

With clumsy fingers, Liam managed to get the pot going. Liam liked some sugar in his coffee, but today, he was tempted to take it black. He needed the shot of caffeine.

"Liam?"

"Go back to sleep, Killian."

"Sod off." Killian forced himself to stand, rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Not long enough." Liam sighed. "Neither was I." It wasn't lost on him that neither had tried to sleep in the bed. It just felt wrong without Emma. She was the person who made their family whole. Without her, they were adrift, with no northern star to guide them.

Killian cringed at his outburst. He wasn't upset with Liam. How could he? His brother was going through the exact same hell Killian was. "Sorry, Liam. I wasn't thinking."

"Neither of us are ourselves right now, Killian." Liam was surprised when his brother hugged him, long and hard. Liam had to blink back tears; Killian was the only person in the entire world who could understand exactly how he felt in this moment. Lost and confused, afraid for the woman they both loved. It was a miracle they were standing at all.

"We're going to find her," Killian murmured. Liam couldn't tell if he was trying to convince Liam or himself.

"Aye, we are. Then we're taking her home."

They each got some coffee, returning to their corners of quiet contemplation. Killian had gotten through to Anderson the night before—much to the other man's chagrin—and practically begged him to see if there was anything the agency could do. Killian had watched the video of Emma being taken more times than he could count; there was something off about those men, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was driving him mad. He looked at his watch; it was almost seven in the morning. Which made it almost noon back in London. He had half a mind to call Anderson again, but that would only provoke his boss. Killian couldn't jeopardize Emma by being rash.

A knock startled them both. This time it was Liam who answered…only to have tiny Mary Margaret almost tackle him in a fierce hug. "Oof."

"We came as soon as Victor called," she said, her voice partially muffled by his shoulder. Just as abruptly, she released him and hugged Killian too. David stepped in behind his fiancé, clapping Liam on the shoulder. "Private plane," he explained, nodding at Mary Margaret. "Her mother."

Liam hugged David, then Ruby, and finally Victor—who looked dead on his feet. "I didn't expect you to come immediately," he scolded his friend gently.

"Have you met these people?" Victor replied, gesturing toward the rest of the gang. "The only way we could have gotten here faster was if they beamed us here." He squeezed Liam's arm. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. You need us; we're here."

Killian nodded, grateful. "It's good to see some friendly faces," he conceded. Where was Will? His friend promised to be on the first flight. Perhaps he couldn't get one until morning? He took a moment away from the others to send a text. Where are you, mate?

Liam got them all coffee; Ruby ordered them some room service. When Killian tried to argue, she shushed him. "No arguing. We got this."

"Now, wait just a minute, lass…"

"She's right," Mary Margaret confirmed. "There are some perks to being wealthy."

"We couldn't possibly accept…"

"Remember when you met my parents? They liked you. Since Emma is like a sister to me, that makes you family. Please let us help, Killian. It's all I know how to do right now."

Her face was so earnest and pleading; he couldn't say no. Besides, she was right. They had forged a little family of sorts with these people. Not one of them questioned the unconventional nature of the trio's relationship, welcoming Emma into their circle with open arms. Killian knew how much Mary Margaret and Ruby's friendship meant to her. If they wanted to help, who was he to say no? "Thanks. Can't say I've got much of an appetite though."

"We'll stick to the basics then." Ruby looked stern. "Pancakes or waffles?"

"Waffles," Killian and Liam said in unison. Pancakes were a special treat they shared with Emma; they played around with the recipe, making new variations for her to try. It was one of their rituals.

Victor was dead on his feet; Liam insisted he go rest. Someone might as well make use of the bed. The rest of them gathered around the coffee table. "Any news?"

Killian shook his head. "We spent all of yesterday evening going over mugshots. Nothing."

"Why mugshots?"

"To see of we recognized anyone from Emma's past. But she never really told us much about it." Sure, she had some colorful stories, but she never used names. She was too professional for that.

"Aside from that wanker, Graham," Liam groused.

"Who's Graham?"

Liam told the story again, as well as he could remember it. He and Killian had talked about it; there was something about him that neither trusted. It was simply too convenient. Especially after the last encounter Emma had with him almost two years ago.

"He definitely sounds sketchy to me," Ruby declared. "What do the cops think?"

"They agree but they can't seem to find the bastard."

"But he's a cop," Mary Margaret argued. "How…?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Killian sighed. "But he was following us. I'd be willing to wager my next promotion that he's wrapped up in this somehow."

"But why?" David asked. "None of this makes sense."

"That's the million pound question, mate," Liam said darkly. "I can't make heads or tails of it either."

"Perhaps we could be of some assistance?"

Everyone turned toward the new voice. "How did you…?"

Regina brandished a key card. "I had the front desk give me a copy."

Liam wanted to be upset, but it was such a Regina thing to do, he just couldn't. "You never wait for permission, do you, lass?"

"Believe me, Liam, you'll thank me."

Liam got up and shook her hand. "Thanks for coming."

"I go where I'm needed," she breezed, but Liam didn't believe her. He suspected that Robin didn't either. But before he could question it, Will Scarlett entered the room.

"Will."

Will didn't hesitate to hug his best friend. Killian looked terrible. Probably felt worse. "Sorry I didn't reply to your text, mate. The Evil Queen over here was working her magic on the head honcho downstairs. She can be downright scary."

Everyone laughed, aside from Regina. "Who saved you from getting arrested at customs, Commander?"

Will blanched. "I never said scary was a bad thing, love. Right useful in certain situations."

Killian quirked a brow. "What happened at customs?"

"A misunderstanding is all. Now what's the story here?"

It was exhausting to go over everything again, but they did anyway. Perhaps the new arrivals would spot something they didn't. Killian realized his tiredness was the only thing keeping his temper in check; every fiber in his being demanded he be out there scouring the city for Emma. That wasn't very practical, but he didn't care. Anything was better than sitting around here doing nothing.

"So, this Graham person is with the police, but they don't know where he is?" Regina said, disgust all over her face. She had very little patience for incompetence. "Has anyone contacted you lately? What about this Detective Fa?"

"We haven't heard from her since last night," Liam said with a frown. "Should we have?"

"Let's see, an accident that shut down a major New York intersection, a pretty blonde kidnapped from the wreckage? That should be all over the news."

Killian blinked. "I never even thought to look."

"I did." Regina pulled out her phone, showing them the front pages of various local affiliates. None of them had anything on the accident. "This should be a story they gorge on," she observed. "A pretty blonde goes missing? Kidnapped by masked thugs? Emma's face should be splashed all over this city. The question is: why not?"

Liam didn't like it. "Surely the police have a reason…?"

Regina looked…well, not warm, but sympathetic. "I know this makes you uncomfortable. I understand. But the fact of the matter is, engaging the public might be the best way to find her."

"How?"

"She was knocked unconscious by the accident. She likely needs medical attention." Killian's stomach lurched, but Regina forged ahead. "If her face is all over the news, then it will limit the options of the people who took her. Hospitals, clinics, that kind of thing."

"And that's a good thing, why?"

"Because they might have already slipped up and gone to one. Even if they haven't, there are only so many places they could take her, even here in New York. The police only have so many eyes. This city has millions of people; we need all the help we can get."

"You want us to go on television," Liam growled. "Absolutely not."

Robin bristled. "That's not what she said, mate. Here her out."

"Sod off, Robin."

"Brother, she might be on to something," Killian interjected. "We have to do something."

"Our life has nothing to do with it!"

"You don't know that," Regina pointed. "We don't know anything yet." She looked from one brother to the other. "I would never ask you to do something you're not comfortable with. But I think we should see Detective Fa, find out what's really going on. The fact that they seem to have no leads on this Graham Cracker character is enough for me. It's my job to be thorough."

Liam sagged. Regina did have a point. He was simply on edge. "Okay. We'll go see the detective."

After breakfast (Ruby declared that no one was going anywhere until they got some food into them), Liam, Killian, Regina, and Robin piled into a cab. The others remained behind in case anyone tried to contact them at the hotel. Mary Margaret's family had some contacts with the Mayor's office; she offered to put in a word if they asked. Liam hoped it wouldn't come to that. He didn't want his photo—or that of his family—splashed all over the bloody news. They had enough of that back home. Hell, he was shocked the British tabloids hadn't cottoned on to what was happening yet.

Men and women hustled through the precinct; the guard the front pointed them in the direction of Detective Fa's desk. But she wasn't there. Regina flagged out a passing officer. "Excuse me, but can you tell us where we can find Detective Fa?"

The officer was in his early twenties, hair cropped close, brown eyes wary. "And you are…?"

"Regina Mills. I represent these gentlemen," she indicated Killian and Liam with a well manicured hand, "as well as Emma Swan-Jones, a woman no one in this department can seem to locate. Now are you going to get the detective, or do I need to find your superior?"

Before the officer could speak, the subject of their discussion appeared. "I am Detective Mulan Fa," she said, holding out her hand to Regina. Her left arm was filled with files; Killian would have felt bad for her if he wasn't so worried about Emma.

"Regina Mills."

"So I gathered." Mulan turned her attention to the Jones brothers. "I said I would call if there was any news."

"Can you blame us for being a wee bit impatient?" Killian countered. "The woman we love is missing."

"We're doing all we can."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree," Regina replied. "Mrs. Jones had been missing almost a whole day. And not just missing. You have clear evidence that she was kidnapped. My clients have a right to be kept apprised of the status of the investigation."

Mulan looked around. "Come with me." She led the group into a nearby conference room. The room was already occupied by a petite woman with white blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a dark blue business suit. "This is Inspector Elsa Arendelle, with INTERPOL. She's helping with Emma's case."

Liam was confused. INTERPOL was an international police force; what were they doing working on a kidnapping case? "It's nice to meet you, Inspector. Although, I don't understand why you're here."

"I'll let Mulan fill you in." Elsa's voice had a faint musical quality that was pleasing to the ear. All it did was remind Liam that Emma had promised to sing for him. He wondered if she would ever get the chance.

"It might be better if you took a seat," Mulan said, moving to Elsa's side of the conference table. The far wall was covered in photos—some mugshots, others grainy still from traffic cameras. There were even a few of the trio all around the city.

"Where did you get those?" Killian snapped accusingly.

"Security cameras, traffic cams," Mulan replied calmly. "Doesn't London have CCTV? I thought you'd be used to that."

Killian sighed; he forgot all about that. As a native Londoner, he rarely thought about it. The cameras were just there. It just hurt, seeing them so happy when he didn't know when—or if—he would hold Emma in his arms again. No, he couldn't think like that. They would find her. They had to. "I still don't see how that helps."

"We wanted to get a handle on where you'd been, especially since you said that Emma suspected you were being followed."

"We understand, Detective," Liam cut in. He looked at Killian; he wasn't crazy about this either, but what choice did they have? Every moment Emma was missing was agony. They needed to get her home, for all their sakes. "Did you find anything?"

"Well, it looks like Emma was right. You were being followed. It wasn't always the same person, but almost every time you left your hotel, someone was there. They were good; it was difficult to spot at first."

"Have you identified them?" Regina demanded.

"Enough." Mulan gestured toward Elsa. "Enough that I called in back up."

"Why?"

"Because I suspect we're dealing with something bigger than a simple kidnapping."

"How do you figure?"

Mulan extracted some photos from one of her files and placed them in front of the brothers. "Do you recognize any of these men?"

"Should we?"

"Please just look. It's probably a long shot, but it could be helpful."

Killian and Liam both examined the photos. Much like the mugshots the night before, none of the faces were familiar. "I've never seen any of them," Liam conceded.

"Nor have I."

"That's okay." Mulan put the photos back. "But you have seen him." She pointed at a picture of Graham.

"You know we have."

"I've been able to confirm that he's been the lead stalker over the past four days. He must have gotten sloppy for Emma to have spotted him."

"Emma's damn good at what she does," Liam said.

"So you've said. A PI?"

"She used to be a bailbondsperson here in New York," Killian added. "She got her investigating license when she chose to stay in London with us."

They saw Elsa writing everything down; Killian tried not to be offended. He still didn't understand exactly what the other woman was there to do.

"Have you been able to locate him?" Regina demanded. "Humbert."

"Not yet," Mulan replied. "We've searched his apartment, but someone got there first. The place had been ransacked." She got out some more pictures; it certainly looked like something happened there. Clothes tossed about, drawers and cabinets hanging open, a shattered laptop on the floor.

"Signs of a struggle?"

Mulan looked askance at the man who'd spoken. "And you are?"

"Captain Robin Hood. Emma saved me from the brig a few months ago based on trumped up charges. I'm a friend."

That seemed to be enough for Mulan. "It's meant to look that way, but I doubt it. I think he's running."

Regina scowled. "Do you have people watching the airports? The ferry? The port?"

Mulan's frown deepened. "Are you questioning my ability to do my job?"

Regina nodded. "Good of you to catch on, Detective. That's exactly what I'm doing."

Mulan turned to Liam and Killian. "We've got people at all those places and other checking the hospitals and clinics. We really are doing everything we can."

"At least you're doing one thing right," Regina muttered under her breath.

That was the last straw for Mulan. "Excuse me, councilor, but just what are you hoping will happen here? I can't snap my fingers and make Mrs. Jones just appear. There are millions of people in New York. Hell, they could have left the city by now for all we know."

Killian blinked. "Do you think that's possible?"

It was Elsa who spoke. "If Humbert is connected to who we think, then I think that is the kidnappers' ultimate plan, yes."

"Explain." This was the first they were hearing about any of this.

Elsa shared a look with Mulan, who nodded. "You might as well tell them. But I'm warning you, don't think you can play hero here," she said to Killian and Liam. "This is a job for the police."

Killian and Liam also shared a look; both were thinking the same thing. They'd take whatever information the authorities had and do their own thing. Anything to bring Emma home. "Tell us."

Elsa took out another file. She started a long winded exposition about an international gang called The Forsaken. They recruited young lost men and women, many like Emma had once been, abandoned, orphaned, alone in the world. It was disgusting. As Elsa described the various crimes the gang was involved in, Killian felt a wave of déjà vu. It was exactly like Ioan. Human trafficking, drugs, arms, it was all a noxious web of lies and broken lives. The idea of Emma anywhere near those kinds of people filled him with dread.

"So, you think Graham may be involved with this…gang?" Liam was struggling too. How could the world be so awful? First his own father, now this?

"You've been harboring a crooked cop?" Regina snapped. "I should sue the NYPD and the city."

"Regina, calm down." Robin touched her arm; he was pleased when she didn't flinch. She looked at him expectantly. "Why don't we let the detective talk to Killian and Liam alone, yeah?"

"Why?"

"Because I think you could use a coffee," he said, hoping to mollify her. He didn't know her that well yet, but he thought she was scared. Frightened to death for her friend. She wasn't doing anyone any good like this.

Regina sagged. "Fine."

Mulan waited until Regina and Robin left before answering Liam's question. "We've examined Humbert's financials and cell phone records. There are definitely some anomalies," she conceded. "Records have gone missing, that sort of thing. We haven't traced the money to its source yet, but we will."

"But none of that explains where Graham is now," Killian argued. "If he is working for these thugs and they have Emma, we have to find him. He might be the only lead."

"We're working on it."

"What happens when you find him?" Liam had to ask that; he couldn't imagine a scenario where they didn't find Emma.

"Then we'll interrogate him. We really do have this, Liam."

"There has to be something we can do," Killian said, echoing Liam's thoughts. "I can't sit around when our wife is missing."

"There hasn't been any sightings of anyone matching Emma's description at any of the hospitals. She looked pretty banged up in the video. Sorry," she added, seeing their faces. "But she will probably need a doctor. That's another lead we're chasing down. This really is a job for the police. I know you want to help, but I'm afraid you'll only get in the way."

Liam wanted to argue some more, but Killian pulled him back. He had connections the police didn't. This trip hadn't been a total waste. They'd gotten some information that they could use. But they needed to get back to their friends. They weren't going to accomplish anything here.

They had work to do.

Emma stared at the man in front of her, completely floored. She couldn't believe it. How was it possible? "Neal?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Miss me?"

She glared. "Definitely not."

"Come on. Not for a minute? We had some good times, didn't we?"

"Before or after you set me up to take the fall for your crime?"

"To be fair, Emma, that wasn't supposed to happen. By the time I realized it, it was too late. But that's all in the past now. I'm finally in a position to give you the life you always wanted."

Emma scoffed. "I already have that, thanks. Married and everything."

"You mean these?" To her horror, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of rings and a chain. Her anchor pendant hung from the end of it. "Is this even real gold?"

"Give those back. Now." She was beyond pissed, in pain, her head throbbing, but seeing her precious jewelry in Neal's possession made her sick.

Neal stepped closer, running a finger along her cheek. She wrenched away, even though it hurt. She didn't want him touching her. "Don't be like that, Emma."

"Get. Away. From. Me."

Neal laughed. It was a cruel sound that made her skin crawl. "You and I simply need to get reacquainted is all. I'll make you forget all about those English bastards."

She shouted after him, but he ignored her. Instead, Neal dealt with his minions. She couldn't hear exactly what they were saying; it was maddening. She wanted to scream; she wanted to run. Above all, she wanted to be home. Her boys had to be losing their minds with worry. And if they found out who'd kidnapped her? She wasn't sure she could stop them from doing something rash. She wasn't sure she even wanted to try.

All of Neal's talk about giving her the life she'd always wanted scared her. He scared her. Even after such a short conversation, she could see he'd changed. And not for the better. Neal was harder now, cruel. She'd never known him to be cruel. Blasé, perhaps. But not cruel. He left you to rot in jail, she reminded herself. How well had she really known him back then? She was just a kid. A kid who pretended she know more about the world than she really did. She put on a brave face, acted like a tough girl, but all she ever wanted was home and family. Someone to love her.

Now that she had that, her past was threatening to take it all away.

She had to get out of there. She had to do something. She surreptitiously began working her wrists again, hoping to get one loose. It was risky—the men around her were armed—but somehow, she didn't think Neal would let anyone actually hurt her. At the moment, he was chewing out Ed for letting her get hurt in the accident.

"You should have been more careful," he growled at his underling. "She could have been seriously hurt."

"So what?"

"So what?" Neal grabbed the front of Ed's shirt and got in his face; it was surprisingly intimidating, considering Ed was a couple of inches taller than Neal. "Now, genius, your laziness has nearly screwed up the entire plan. There are cops crawling all over. What if she needed the hospital? What if you'd killed her?" Neal's smile was the most frightening thing Emma has ever seen. Slowly, he pulled a gun out from somewhere she couldn't see and shoved it under Ed's chin. "If you had, this would have been your fate. Understand?"

Emma fought back a gasp. A gun? Since when did Neal become comfortable with guns? The man she'd known had been a thief, not some street thug. Then she thought back to Portland. What had he said then? Who was he involved with? Gangsters?

Oh god.

She was in very deep trouble.

Robin carried two cups of coffee back to where Regina was waiting. They were seated in the waiting room of the precinct, biding their time until the Jones brothers returned from their briefing. The chairs were hard plastic, but he'd been in worse places. The engine room of a destroyer, for one. Loud metal clanging, hot steam, men shouting? He'd take coffee with a beautiful woman any day.

Even one as prickly as Regina Mills.

He didn't quite know what to say. He thought they'd had a moment on the plane—he distinctly remembered her head on his shoulder—but it was a bit like navigating a minefield. He couldn't put his finger in why she intrigued him so much, but he found himself wanting to get to know her. Regina was a straightforward sort of person, so he decided to cut right to the chase. "So, what was that back there?"

"What back where?"

"With the Detective. You were a bit hostile."

"Just because I want to make sure all the angles are covered does not make me hostile."

Robin held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm on your side, Regina. We all want Emma to come home safe. But biting the head off the lead detective doesn't strike me as the best way to make that happen."

"Of the two of us, which one has a legal degree?" she replied archly.

Robin let that one go, taking a sip of his coffee. It tasted awful, even with milk and sugar. He missed the Navy's coffee. Hell, he'd kill for some tea. But that was neither here nor there. "This might be me poking my nose where it doesn't belong…"

"Then don't."

"But I think you're scared."

Regina glared at him, but it didn't hold the bite Robin knew she was capable of. He'd seen the footage of her at Emma's press conference; Regina was a force to be reckoned with. Will hadn't been off the mark when he jokingly referred to her as the Evil Queen. There was something regal about the way she carried herself, the way she sometimes spoke to people. She was clearly very well educated, but there was more to it than that. It was something innate, something that couldn't be taught.

But the more time Robin spent in her presence, the more he thought it was a mask, a façade. That was the woman he wanted to know, the woman beneath the mask.

Regina shifted uncomfortably, distracting herself with the nasty coffee. Seriously, what did they make it with? Sludge from the sewer? She couldn't control the face made, nearly gagging on the stuff. "That's disgusting."

"The coffee or me?"

She looked at him, nothing but kindness in Robin's blue eyes. He patted her back lightly as she coughed; she wanted to yank herself away from his touch, but she didn't. "I'm not going to say you're right, Hood."

"Let's talk about something else then."

"I don't do small talk."

"Humor me. You managed it just fine on the plane."

"That was different."

"How?"

"I was delirious, obviously."

He smirked. "Obviously. Right now, I'm not sure what you're more afraid of: losing one of the only friends you have or me."

Regina stood, tossing her still steaming cup of sludge into the nearest trashcan. "I don't have time to be afraid."

Robin stood too, gently taking her wrist between his fingers. It was an accident, but he could feel her racing pulse. "It's alright to be afraid, Regina. We all are at some point in our lives. It doesn't make you weak."

"That's not what I was taught."

"Someday, I hope you'll share that story with me. Until then…" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, like some lovesick swain. Or at least how Regina had always imagined lovesick swains. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Daniel.

It scared her shitless.

She had little time to think about it, because the Jones boys appeared. "What is it?"

"We'll talk about it when we get back to the hotel," Liam said shortly. All Regina could do was follow the trio of men out of the precinct and into the afternoon sun.

When she looked at her watch, she realized with a jolt that Emma had been missing for exactly twenty four hours. The clock was ticking.

"Tying her up like this isn't helping," the doctor said to Neal. "Is it really necessary?"

"Until she learns to play well with others, yes."

The doctor was younger than Emma expected. Maybe around Liam's age? Average looking (although most men were average to Emma these days; she had two very handsome men to call her own), red hair, blue eyes. Not the sort to get caught up with gangsters. "Perhaps cuffs instead? The ropes are already causing severe abrasions on her arms. They're bleeding."

Neal eyed Emma warily. "Cuff her, then remove the ropes." He leaned in close to Emma's ear. "I bet you're just loving this aren't you? You like being tied up, don't you? Cuffed to the bed? I hear you get up to all sorts of naughty things."

Emma didn't bother to hide the shudder of revulsion that slid down her spine. Then a horrible thought struck her. How did he know that? They'd certainly never done anything remotely kinky during their brief relationship. It was all Tab A into Slot B kind of sex. Bad sex. She hadn't even experienced an orgasm until the fifth or sixth time and then she was sure it had been an accident. After that she had to start touching herself to get off during the act, because Neal didn't give a shit about her pleasure. Few of her lovers after him had either. She didn't truly understand what her body was capable of until she met the Jones boys.

To say it was the best sex she'd ever had would be a gross understatement. It was so much more than sex. It was why they scared her for so long. The things she felt in their presence didn't seem real. From the very beginning, it felt like they were a part of her soul, burrowing deep into the core of her being. They fit perfectly around her jagged edges—edges that became smoother and gentler over time. They gave her so much—their whole selves—she sometimes felt woefully inadequate, unworthy of their love. She was far more secure now that she'd been then, but it was a rough road. Deep in her gut, she knew they were doing everything they could to find her.

I'm coming home, guys, she thought as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum cuffed her to chair and not so gently removed the ropes. As soon as I can.

"There, that wasn't so hard."

Emma sat there, stonefaced, as the doctor examined her. He cleaned her bloody arms, wrapping her forearms with gauze. Then he turned his attention to her head. She knew she had a gash there, somewhere near her hairline; earlier they'd cleaned dried blood from her face. "This needs stitches," the doctor said to her. "Have you had stitches before?"

Mutely, she nodded. He numbed the area with a couple of shots, then quickly stitched her up. "Keep this dry until they come out."

"You say that like a have a choice."

The doctor looked over his shoulder. "I find it's better to humor him."

"He kidnapped me," she snapped. "That's not a reason to make nice with my ex."

The doctor blinked. "Christ, you're his ex?"

"You know me?"

"Never seen you before in my life, but everyone who answers to him knows of you."

"That's crazy."

"I just work here." The doctor got out his pen light and continued his examination. Emma didn't want to answer his questions, but she needed to know for herself how badly she was injured. Especially that concussion. If she didn't get her head clear, it would hamper her efforts to escape.

Not that she had a plan right now. That would come later.

In the end, it could have been worse. A couple of stitches at her hairline, a mild concussion, some cuts and bruises. Considering the violence of the accident, she might have been in dire shape. Thank goodness for seat belts.

That still didn't answer the question of how she got out of here. Or what exactly Neal wanted with her? Did he really want to get back together? Pretend the last fourteen years never happened? More importantly, was he so deluded that he thought she'd want to be with the man he'd become? Emma had struggled and scraped to put her life back on track once she got out of prison. It took years. There was no way in hell she was going back to that kind of life.

All she wanted was to return to London with her boys. She had a life there. One filled with family and friends, a job she loved. She wasn't giving up without a fight.

The doctor left. Neal's minions left. Suddenly, she was alone with him.

It was terrifying.

Neal took the companion chair of her own and placed it directly across from her, facing backwards. He straddled it, clearly thinking it made him look cool or sexy or something. Emma tried to back away, but there was nowhere for her to go.

"Ems, I think it's time we talked. Just the two of us."

"You know I hate that name. My name is Emma."

"I can think of a few times you didn't mind it." He leered at her, which was saying something. She felt like shit; she must have looked terrible. But the way Neal looked at her…it skeeved her out.

"I can't tell you how much I regret letting you touch me," she spat. Then she smirked, suspecting her next words would drive him crazy. If she could get him talking, then she could use such information to find a way out of this hell. "Although, on the bright side, the sex got much better once I got out of jail. It's so much better having a man that can actually bring me to orgasm."

A muscle in Neal's jaw twitched, his eyes darkened. She pissed him off. Good. Served him right for doing this to her. "Those losers you fucked? All those one night stands? I know all about those. Hell, I set half of them up."

She blinked. "What? That's impossible."

"Is it? You don't know how far I've come, baby. I practically own this town."

"I was a lot of other places, Neal."

"You think that matters? You were never far from me, Ems."

"Bullshit. I waited for you. In Tallahassee. For two years. If you knew where I was, why didn't you show up?"

Neal at least had the decency to look her in the eye, even though his gaze freaked her out. "It wasn't safe. I wasn't exaggerating when I said I got in with a rough crowd, Ems. That flyer in Portland wasn't a coincidence. I was being followed. An old friend found me, called in an old debt. It was either go with him and pay it or they were going to use you to pay it. I was protecting you, Ems. You gotta believe that."

She looked at him skeptically. There was a part of her—the hurt girl who'd gone into prison—that still wanted to believe him. Neal certainly believed his motives were pure; she could see it all over his face. He was trying to win her back, as crazy as that sounded. He couldn't accept that she'd moved on with her life. She eyed the bulge in his pocket, the outline of her rings and anchor clearly visible. Did he think that taking her jewelry would affect her? Weaken her love for her boys? If anything, her love for them burned hotter than ever; her determination to get back to them strong.

She needed to get out of this nightmare.

"Even if I did, it doesn't change anything, Neal. I grew up. I moved on. It wasn't easy, but I've made a life for myself. A good one. I don't love you anymore, if I ever really did." The childish infatuation she felt for the man she'd known then was a ghostly shadow compared to what she felt for Killian and Liam. The love she had for them was real, deep and true; she wanted to be with them for the rest of her life. They were her home.

She missed them so much; her chest ached from want of them.

Her words only pissed him off more. "I was the best thing that ever happened to you."

She laughed, but it was cold and brittle. "Yeah, says the guy who watched me to go prison for his crime."

"I told you. I didn't know. Not until it was too late. I thought you would only get probation. But I left you the Bug, didn't I?"

"You think that makes it better? Do you know what I went through in there? How broken and lost I felt?" For the first time, her lower lip trembled, as memories of prison came flooding back. She hadn't planned on telling him, but she wanted him to feel her pain. "I was pregnant."

Neal stared at her, his mouth agape. "I'm a father?" he asked in a whisper.

"No."

Neal frowned, confused. "But you said you were pregnant."

"Was. I miscarried in prison, Neal. There was no baby. Even if there had been, I'd already decided to put it up for adoption."

"What? Were you ever going to tell me? I had a right to know!"

"Why the fuck would I tell you? I had no way of contacting you, even if I wanted to tell you. But you left me. You gave up any claims on me the moment that happened. I would have followed you anywhere. I was naïve and stupid. You don't know how thankful I am now that you did leave. Because it forced me to grow up. It brought me a lot of pain, shit that I'm still working through. But it also brought my husbands into my life. And I wouldn't give them up for the world."

To her utter shock, Neal stood and slapped her across the face. Hard. She gasped in pain. "Don't ever mention them again, bitch. You're never going to see them again. You're mine now."

God, he was crazy. Whatever he'd been through in the last fourteen years had destroyed anything that had ever been good in him. But he kept talking, pacing in front of her like some kind of caged animal. "You think I don't know what you've been up to? The sick things you've stooped to? Fucking brothers, Ems? One cock's just not enough for you. Or do they fuck each other while you watch? I've never gotten a handle on that part."

Emma spat out blood; he must have cut her cheek when he slapped her. It still stung like a bitch. She didn't bother to correct him about her sex life. He wouldn't understand. No one did. How could she explain how her body craved their touch? How incredible it felt feeling their hands on her body, their mouths? Two handsome sexy men totally dedicated to her pleasure. It wasn't like they'd gone around sharing women before they met her. She was their first. Their only. There was something about the three of them together that was magical, the slightest spark could touch off their passion. And the afterglow was even more special. They made her feel safe. Loved. Cherished. All those clichés things from a Hallmark card. Every touch, every kiss conveyed love. Love so profound that it couldn't be put into words.

They didn't plan it. They struggled with it at first, especially Emma. In the end, however, they made peace with it. They were a family. Unconventional, perhaps, but it was theirs. No one was going to take it away from them, certainly not Neal Cassidy.

Who was still ranting. Neal rounded on her and leaned over her, his hands gripped the arms of the wooden chair. "I am done sharing you with the world, Ems. You're staying with me. And if you don't I'm going to finish what I started in London."

A shiver ran down her spine. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. "It was me, you know. Thanks to our mutual friend, I knew all about those sickos you lived with. I kept waiting for you to lose interest, the way you always do. But that didn't stop me from taking matters into my own hands. When some associates asked for something spectacular, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Or three in this case."

Her throat was dry, horror making her feel sick. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant. It was impossible. Wasn't it? "Neal, what have you done?"

"I've done all kinds of things, baby. You'll have to be more specific."

She looked into his eyes, more afraid than she had ever been in her life. And guilty. So guilty it would have broken her if she wasn't already cuffed hand and foot to a chair. This couldn't be happening. It was too insane. Too much. She couldn't wrap her head around the enormity of it. "It was you," she whispered. "The terrorist attack. You killed all those people."

"I merely did a favor for a friend. They were going to do something. I merely gave them a target."

Christ, it was her fault. She'd inadvertently put a target on their backs. She had no way to know that Neal had turned into some obsessed psychopath, but that didn't ease her guilt. All those people. Her precious boys. They'd almost died because of her. Now Neal was still threatening their lives. Any doubt that he would follow through was gone. He would kill them, rather than let her go.

What the hell was she going to do? She wasn't going with him, no matter what Neal wanted. She would rather die first. But what about Killian and Liam? She didn't want to endanger them anymore. But the idea of being without them—assuming she survived this—nearly ripped her in two. But how could she face them? Face them knowing everything was her fault? That she'd brought true evil into their lives. She hadn't meant to, but what did that matter? People were dead. All because a ghost from her past thought of her as his property.

Neal seemed to sense she was reeling; he retreated. "Don't get too comfortable, Ems. We'll be leaving soon." Then he was gone, leaving her alone to wallow in her shame.

Everything hurt. Her body ached, but her soul ached more. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed to at least try to escape. Even if she didn't succeed, she would never forgive herself for not trying. It was possible that Liam and Killian would want nothing to do with her once they discovered the truth, but she wanted to be the one to tell them. She had to make sure they were safe. That was all that mattered.

The question was: how?

Killian filled the others in while Liam stepped into the bedroom to make his call. They'd talked about it in the cab ride back, planning their next move. They were going to find Graham. Neither had the patience to wait for the police. The police would be hampered by legalities the brothers didn't have to worry about. It was dangerous, but so was losing Emma. That wasn't an option.

The first call was to Lily. If there was any connection between the Forsaken and their father, she would know about it. The idea nearly made Liam sick, but they had to chase down that angle. They would leave no stone unturned in their search.

"Wyvern."

"Lily, it's Liam."

"Jones?" she asked, surprised.

He frowned into the phone. "Um, yeah. Listen there's no easy way to say this, but Emma's missing."

"Missing? How? When? Where?"

He gave her all the pertinent details; it didn't get easier. There wasn't a part of him that didn't ache for Emma. He needed her back in his arms. He needed to know she was alright. Emma was tough, but he knew she had to be terrified. He was. "I know it's a big ask, but do you know anything about the Forsaken?"

"How do you know that name?"

"The police here seem to think they had something to do with Emma's abduction. They had a cop on the inside. Emma knew him, and we ran into him the other day. The police have evidence that he's been stalking us the whole time we've been in New York."

"I see. I'm assuming they don't know where this dirty cop is?"

"No. We're trying to find him ourselves."

"I don't have to tell you that it's dangerous."

Liam bit back a growl of frustration. Why was she being so condescending? Emma was missing, damn it. "No, but we're doing this with or without you. We have to get her back."

"What do you think I can do?"

"Did my father have a history with the Forsaken? There's a chance he might know something." Remote, but they were desperate.

"I can't just give you that kind of information, Liam. Even if I wanted to."

"So he does." Despite all Ioan had done, it hit him like a punch in the gut. Had he and Killian inadvertently placed Emma in danger?

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Liam wasn't stupid. He knew Ioan was involved in some nasty business. It was why he was in prison. The trio were the primary witnesses against him, but that seemed inconsequential compared to their current predicament. Emma was far more important. "Did Emma know?" Lily had given Emma some his father's financial records; she'd been going through them with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the source.

"Liam, about that…"

His hackles were instantly raised. "What now?" he growled.

He heard Lily blow out a long breath. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but…the records I gave her were fake. I was trying to protect her."

"What?"

"Having her snooping around could jeopardize the whole thing. Don't you want justice?"

"What I want is my wife back. I don't give a damn about him or your investigation. All I want is Emma back safe. Now are you going to help me or not?"

There was a long pause. "Give me an hour. Maybe less."

"Thank you." Liam hung up and leaned against the wall. He was exhausted. He was lost. He was hanging on by a thread. The longer Emma was missing the more his treacherous brain conjured up images of her bleeding, broken, or worse. He was trying to be strong, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. Killian needed him. Emma needed him.

Killian stepped in cautiously. "Any luck?"

"He knows something, Killian. Lily wouldn't come right out and say it, but he does."

"I wish I was surprised."

"Every time I think things can't get worse…"

Killian laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I understand, brother. Completely." This was the worst kind of hell. If this was how Emma had felt when they were missing, he didn't give her enough credit for her strength. He was falling apart. He felt gutted. All that mattered was getting her back. He didn't care what they had to do.

"In this case, I'm not sure you do." Liam explained what Lily had told him about the records. His brother's colorful profanity echoed the feelings in his own heart. Emma was brilliant at what she did; was it so taboo to include her input? She'd singlehandedly saved Robin from the brig! She helped people every day.

"So what? She's not going to help?"

Liam shook his head. "She's going to let us talk to him. As much as I don't want to."

Killian understood. Of the two of them, Liam had the rougher time accepting that their father had become a monster. Under the right circumstances, anyone could become a monster. With a start, Killian realized something. They couldn't lose themselves. To find Emma, they had to remain true to the men Emma loved. If they didn't, they would be no better than the ones who took her.

"How long?"

"An hour. Maybe less."

"Okay. In the meantime, I've got Anderson on it too. We should hear something soon. We'll find him. And he'll lead us to Emma. I know it."

"I pray you're right, brother."

"Me too, Liam. Me too."

Forty-five minutes later, Liam's phone rang. "Okay, Lily. Thanks." He looked at Killian. "She got us in."

"Can you put him on speaker?"

"Aye." The brothers stepped into the bathroom, away from the others. As much as they appreciated their friends' support, this needed to be a private conversation. "We're here."

"Liam? Killian?" Ioan sounded tired, diminished. He'd been in prison for some months; they couldn't see him, but Liam could imagine him in a jumpsuit. Was he grayer now? Probably.

"Aye, it's us."

"It's good to hear your voices."

"I wish we could say the same," Killian said acidly. His feelings toward Ioan were complicated; they always would be.

"You have every right to hate me," Ioan conceded. "I treated you in a way a father should never treat his sons."

Liam took control. "Papa, we didn't call to hear an apology."

"Yes, I heard. How long has she been missing?"

"A little over a day. The police believe an organization called the Forsaken is involved."

"Oh dear."

Killian's fist clenched. "What does that mean? Have you heard of them?"

"I have. They're a nasty bunch. Based out of Russia."

There was Russia again. Killian had a sinking feeling. Why did that not feel like a coincidence? He was beginning to suspect Russian involvement in the Whitehall bombing, but he and his team had yet to uncover concrete evidence. "What does that mean?"

"It means that Emma is in very real danger."

Liam's heart clenched. "Can you help?"

"I think so. I never worked for them, but word gets around. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, Papa."

They listened to their father's description of the organization. Coming from someone on the inside, it sounded even worse than what Elsa had told them. It used to be run by a nasty piece of work, Gagarin Konstantin, but he'd been ousted a few years ago by a man known only as Vatra. Coups were rare in Russian organized crime, but Vatra was a ghost. No one knew where he'd come from, or why he'd taken over the organization. But they'd stepped up their work in recent years, almost becoming an arm of the Russian state.

"Could they have moles in the American police?" Killian asked.

"Definitely. Do you have a suspect?"

"Aye. He's gone to ground though."

"If the police are on to him, it's no wonder. Try the bus station. Or the train stations. Those are modes of transportation that most people don't think of these days. Outdated. Cheap. They'll pay in cash."

"So it can't be traced," Killian finished.

"Exactly. But that's where I would start."

Liam's hand shook as he held the phone. He still hated the mess his father had gotten into, but it was a mess of his own making. But he was helping them, even though he didn't have to. There was no promise of leniency. Ioan would still be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. He would spend the rest of his life in prison. But—just this once—Ioan was helping his sons. And Liam was grateful. "Thank you, Papa."

"I hope you find her," Ioan replied. "I still don't quite understand it, but I've only ever wanted you to be happy."

"We'll find her, Papa," Killian said. "We'll call back when we do."

"I would like that."

They hung up and Liam looked at his brother. "You meant that, didn't you?"

Killian sighed and nodded. "Aye. He didn't have to help. But he did."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Wanker still deserves to rot in jail."

"Agreed. Now let's see if we can find ourselves a weasel."

This is where having their friends on hand was a godsend. They could split up the search: David and Mary Margaret headed to Grand Central, Victor and Ruby to Penn. Regina, Robin and Will volunteered to check the bus stations. Killian didn't miss the fact that Regina was spending time with Robin. Perhaps it would be good for her.

Killian and Liam planned on taking on the 33rd Street station, which had access to Amtrak. Killian just hoped the found Humbert before he got out of the city.

"Good luck, mate," Will said, giving Killian a quick hug.

"You too. Remember if you find him…"

"Don't rough him up too much, I heard you, mate."

"Thanks for this, Will."

Will glanced away, as unused to praise as Killian himself. "No worries, mate."

Killian and Liam actually walked to the nearest subway station and took it all the way to 33rd. It was a bit strange to them, since they were accustomed to the London black cabs. Once Emma got her SUV, they'd started using them less and less. Emma had told them stories from the New York subways; they seemed funny then. Now he scanned every face, searching for Graham Humbert.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Liam said, unnecessarily.

"Your trust is overwhelming."

Liam stopped. "Sorry, brother. I'm just on edge."

"Me too. Let's do this."

It was a weekday, just after lunch. The station was busy, mostly business people, but there were a few tourists. Killian focused on the nondescript people; Humbert wouldn't want to draw attention to himself. Liam went off to the ticket counter at Amtrak, in the off chance anyone had seen their prey.

Anyone in a ball cap came under scrutiny. Leather jackets. Skinny jeans. Killian could recall vividly what Humbert looked like the day they cornered him in the alley. If he was smart, the man would ditch that look as soon as he could. He was on the run for more than his fellow cops. If Elsa was right, he was on the run from the Forsaken too. Not that Killian credited Humbert with an overabundance of brains. He'd managed to get in bed with gangsters, after all.

When Killian turned around, he saw Liam melting back into the crowd. No luck then. Keep looking, he scolded himself. Emma's counting on you. But it was frustrating. Graham was tall, like Liam. One would think his distinctive accent would help, but this was New York. A place that was home to hundreds—if not thousands—of people and accents.

"Hey, watch it!" An irate older bald overweight gentleman glared as he was roughly pushed out of the way by a passerby. But it wasn't Killian doing the pushing. A tall fellow with a hat pulled over his eyes strode determinedly through the crowd, back toward the Amtrak ticket booth. Killian immediately went in pursuit. He frantically texted his brother. Suspicious bloke, headed for the ticket counter.

It took only a few seconds for Liam to reply. On my way.

The station was brightly lit; the light glared off the tile. People jostled him as he made his way through the crowd; Killian nearly got run over by a stroller pushed by a flustered mother. She scowled at him as he passed; he didn't waste time apologizing. He didn't want to lose the suspect. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Liam approaching, off to the left. It was like they were moving in a pincer movement. They watched as the man made a purchase of a ticket and turned.

It wasn't Graham.

Killian deflated, furious with himself. He had been so sure it was him! Perhaps he just wanted to believe, because he was so sick with worry for Emma. The man took his ticket, walking briskly. At first, Killian simply thought he was in a hurry, but then he noticed that he was looking for someone. Scanning the crowd much like Killian had done.

Killian decided to follow him, just in case. Soon his suspicion paid off. The man found his target and began to unobtrusively make his way through the crowd. Liam caught on, following close behind. Killian's heart pounded, fear that he would lose the guy in the crowd coiling in his belly. Emma. He had to think of Emma. She was counting on them.

The man pulled something out of his pocket, slipping it to another. Killian almost missed it, his view obscured by a pillar. When he focused on the other person, his breath caught. The man was tall, clean shaven, a hat yanked down over his head, but it was Humbert.

He didn't think. He just ran, pushing his way through the crowd. People cried out and complained, drawing attention. Humbert's eyes came up. He spotted Killian. And took off running, trying to get to the escalator. The late lunch crowds hindered both pursuer and pursuee, but Humbert didn't count on Liam.

Liam came out of nowhere, shoving people out of the way. Just before Humbert could reach the escalator, he launched himself at the bastard, both men groaning and grunting as they fell to the ground. Crowds fled, but Killian pushed through. Humbert clawed and fought, but Liam was too heavy and too skilled. He quickly subdued their prey, holding him with his arm wrenched up behind his back.

"Hold still, you wanker," Liam growled.

"Bugger off."

"Not until you help us find Emma."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. We know everything. You're going to help us, whether you want to or not." He looked at Liam. "We best get out of here before the cops get here."

"Aye."

One way or another, they were finding Emma.