A/N: Dedicated to Torilei for her ideas and to all my readers who have waited (and waited...and waited) for this next chapter to finally be written. Enjoy, and please review! They really do inspire and make the next chapters come faster. Also, I'm going on vacation, so I should be able to write lots...

The steering wheel was taking a battering. It had been squeezed and hit and jerked around until it was nearly ready to fall off. The only reason it was still in place was Bobby had his fingers wrapped around it, flexing them until they hurt.

Jack was gone.

He had gone to the store manager, finally, and had them call over the intercom for Jack Get-Your-Rear-Over-Here Mercer. Bobby knew Jack was smart; he would follow the directions radioed over the speakers and find Bobby at the checkout.

But Jack hadn't come.

Under Bobby's forceful glare and a few colorful phrases, most of the store's employees had fanned out, taking each aisle at a time to look for the kid. Bobby had almost demanded a lock-down, nobody in or out, until they found Jack. But after fifteen minutes of searching and nothing coming up besides disgruntled customers, Bobby left.

In a way he almost hoped that Jack wasn't there. He had told Jack he would never leave him and he would hate to break his promise, even if he did so unwittingly. But the largest part of his anxious heart hoped, prayed, that Jack was just hiding very well and someone would call the Mercer residence to report he had turned up later on this evening.

The radio droned in the background and Bobby turned it up, not caring what it was so long as it drowned out his worried thoughts. "…icy roads. Another thing to look out for this evening: two convicts have supposedly escaped from prison and are rumored to be in the Detroit area. Families should be on the watch for these two, and keep a sharp eye on the kids. Beulah and Don have been known to keep children for ransom. The last incident concerning Beulah and Don, two years ago, involved a young boy whose whereabouts have yet to be discovered. The boy, they say, is not dead to their knowledge, but was sold to drug—"

The radio was abruptly cut off. Bobby's trembling hand hovered over the knob just a moment as he swallowed thickly, and then he drew in a shuddering breath. Jack was smart. Jack was smart. He was street-wise. He could take care of himself. He'd lasted for years in foster care. He'd survived attacks on his emotions, his childhood, his happiness. He could survive this.

There was no doubt in Bobby's mind where Jack was now. He's with those two… Bobby could hardly finish his thought coherently. He had no idea how he was going to get Jack back, but he would die trying.

"Come on," the man growled, tugging at Jack's jacket and jerking him along.

For the first fifteen minutes he had let the woman hold his hand as they walked along the street, ducking into alleys and running on the other side, then going back again when there was a dead-end. It was like they were trying to throw someone off their trail, but Jack couldn't imagine anyone following them. But now Don had his hand wrapped around Jack's shoulder and was much rougher than Beulah had been.

And they were definitely not going to find his parents. Jack had known that the moment the woman had mentioned it. He didn't have any parents and Bobby was in the store, not outside or in a dark alley. He hadn't been lost. These people had made up excuses for him and then dragged him outside, glad that his quiet state lent an edge to their ploy. As long as the kid wasn't screaming, they could pretend most anything with him.

"One big happy family," Don had chuckled, obviously delighted at the ease of their prey. "He'll be an easy hand-off. Hardly any convincing we'll have to do. The kid speaks for himself, don't you?" Jack had grit his teeth at the way Don rubbed his hair. Bobby could do that, someone he could trust, but not this man. "Just don't talk until I tell you and we won't have any problems."

After a while they turned into an alley and got into a van parked at the end of it. Jack climbed into the backseat and buckled his seatbelt without anyone telling him to, knowing that Bobby would have made him do it even if Bobby wasn't here. He must have fallen asleep because he opened his eyes to see they had stopped outside an unfamiliar and deserted-looking gas station. Both Don and Beulah got out of the van and escorted Jack to a phone booth. Don fished in his pocket for a few quarters, muttering all the while. He fed them into the machine and then turned to Jack. "What's your number, kid?"

Jack stayed stubbornly silent.

"Your phone number, what is it?"

Don was still looking at him expectantly, but when Jack still didn't answer he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm warning you, kid, you tell me the number now or you're going to be doing it through bleeding lips."

"Don," the woman objected, moving to stand behind Jack.

"Alright. You want to punch it in?" Don handed the phone to Jack and moved away so that Jack could push the buttons. Jack lifted the receiver to his ear, holding it with two hands because of its weight, and closed his eyes. He liked phones. He liked listening intently for the dial tone, and then the sound of the phone connecting, and then the rings which sent small shivers of anticipation into his stomach as he waited for the surprise of who was going to pick up the line…

"Is anyone there?" Don barked impatiently, jerking Jack from his thoughts.

"Wait a second," Jack said quietly, licking his lips. The danger hadn't settled in—not yet. Not until now. He was somewhere he didn't know with people he didn't know. For the first time in years he was without at least one of his brothers and he wasn't safe. The thought scared him more than a little, more than it had when he was used to it, before Evelyn.

"Hello?"

It was Angel.

Jack gulped to hold back the quick tears and held the phone even tighter. "Angel, it's Jack."

Don's face broke into a rare smile. "Tell him where you are."

"Um, Angel, I'm at a gas station."

"What? Jack, what are you doing? Where's Bobby?"

"Tell him we want money."

Jack's face paled at Don's prompting. "Angel," he whispered into the phone, "they want money."

He could almost feel Angel's urgency over the phone. "Jack, who are you with and where are you? I'm coming to pick you up. Where's Bobby, put him on the phone."

"Bobby's not here, Angel." Jack's voice quivered. "Please…please…"

Jack heard Angel sigh as though frustrated. He knew that Angel could tell he was scared and couldn't do anything about it. Jack didn't even know what he wanted to ask, but he also knew that Angel understood.

"Put them on the phone, the people you're with." Angel must have known that Jack hesitated because he continued, "Come on, Jackie. Put 'em on. I want to talk to them."

Don took the phone from Jack's outstretched hands and answered as though talking to an old friend, smacking on a piece of gum. "Yeah?"

Jack could only hear one part of the conversation, but he gathered from the angry light in Don's eyes that Angel was cursing the man out and probably threatening him too. When Don was finally able to speak, the conversation was harder to follow.

"Yeah, that's right. A ransom. I'm sure you've heard the phrase before…. Ten thousand. Cash…. I'm not making any promises. He's alive for now, that's all I'm saying…. Within the hour, or Jack here is going to take a hit. And no cops. Hear me? The kid's life is at stake here, got it? That gives you until ten."

Don hung up the phone and turned to Jack again, still smacking. "Looks like we're waiting here for a bit. Don't get any ideas." He led the way back to the van. "It doesn't pay to have any ideas."