A Sister's Love

by xtexan86

My first fanfic story. Starsky is elated when his adoptive sister shows up after a 20 year absence. But is her visit just coincidental, or does she know something that could jeopardize her brother? Last Chapter Posted - Story is Complete.

6. Chapter 6

Thanks for all your encouraging comments!

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Chapter 6

"Why don't you tell me my friend
How you'll still be there
When the heartache ends?" Rob Thomas

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Suko steered the Olds down the narrow roadway between two warehouses in the city dock district. He came to a stop in front of Rothman's building, and waited until Vinetti got out of the car.

"I'll be back as soon as I get him stitched up," Suko said, jerking his head back towards Lapentz.

Vinetti waved an acknowledgement, then walked into the building as the sedan made a u-turn and drove away. He made his way down to the basement and at the end of the hallway, entered the office and set the paper bag containing the remnants of his meal on the desk. He dug a key out from his front pants pocket and went across the hallway. The light switch to the store room was just to the right of the metal door. Before flicking it on, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a revolver.

Vinetti unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, making sure he could see his captive before he entered. Starsky was sitting in the back corner, leaning sideways against the wall, with his legs partially folded underneath him. His head hung to one side and rested on his shoulder.

Vinetti stuck the gun back in its holster and stepped closer. "Hey! You awake?" he asked.

Starsky had heard the man enter the room and recognized the voice as belonging to the thug who'd slugged him. Sure he'd get a beating for not answering, he lifted his head and replied, "You here for room service?"

Vinetti snorted. "Got yourself a sense of humor, I see." He placed a hand on Starsky's shoulder, feeling him flinch as he touched him. Vinetti pushed his body forward, making sure the handcuffs were still on securely.

"Just checkin' your cuffs," he said. Vinetti paused for a moment, giving the cop a good once over. He then grabbed the blindfold and yanked it off.

Starsky blinked his eyes a few times, adjusting to the light. Warily, he looked up at Vinetti, not sure what to expect from the giant standing over him.

"I'm not lookin' to beat you," Vinetti said, in a flippant manner, curious to see how the cop would respond.

Starsky gave him a slight smirk, then looked back down towards the floor. Vinetti thought he saw a hint of resignation on Starsky's face, which was interesting. The cop had shown only defiance since they grabbed him, but now, for the first time, he looked vulnerable. "You hungry?" Vinetti asked, glancing around. He knew they were alone, but he didn't want an audience. "I've got an extra burger if you want it."

Starsky looked back at him, not sure what to make of the offer. He wasn't really hungry, but he doubted his captivity plans included being provided food at regular intervals. "Yeah, sure," he said.

Vinetti went across the hall and fetched the paper bag off the desk. He came back in and dropped it by Starsky, saying, "Before you eat that, we're gonna do a little rearranging. Get down on your belly." Starsky glared at him, but nonetheless submitted by slowly uncurling his body and lying prone on the floor. Vinetti bent down and pressed a hand firmly between Starsky's shoulder blades. As he kept his weight centered on the arm, he moved his leg over and replaced his hand with a knee. He took the handcuff key out of a pocket, and unlocked one of the bracelets. "Okay, bring that arm around and put it on top of your head." he said, keeping hold of the still cuffed hand.

Starsky found it almost impossible to move, but managed to get the numb arm where the man wanted it. Vinetti repositioned himself, keeping one leg on Starsky's back, and brought the other cuffed arm around securing his prisoner once more. Satisfied, Vinetti stood up and walked back out into the hall. He grabbed a chair from the office and placed it by the open doorway, taking a seat.

Happy to have the goon off his back, Starsky brought his reluctant arms down in front of him and pushed himself up until he was sitting again. He grabbed the bag and scooted back against the wall, then crossed his legs like a pretzel. Reaching inside, he pulled out a cold hamburger and unfolded the paper wrap. After taking a few bites, he glanced at his watchdog, not surprised to see he was under close surveillance.

Starsky's thoughts floated to Bree. As much as he wanted to believe she was still okay, he had to accept another, more realistic, possibility. His life held some importance to these scum, but what about hers? He looked over at Vinetti, the one person who might have an answer, and wondered how far his sympathy might go. "Where's the girl at—the one who was with me?" he asked.

"Couldn't tell ya," Vinetti answered, giving Starsky a cold stare.

Starsky sensed he was lying. "Look…she's my sister. I just want to know if she's okay."

"Can't you hear? I said, 'I couldn't tell ya.'"

Starsky wasn't sure what to make of the response. Either the gorilla didn't know and was toying with him, or he did and wasn't saying. Since he had no choice but to accept Vinetti's answer, he halfheartedly finished eating the burger, forcing down the last few bites. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and glanced at the handcuffs. It probably wasn't going to be long before his hands were cuffed in back again.

"You got a john I could use? Starsky asked, hoping he wouldn't be told to use the floor drain.

"Only if you make it fast." Vinetti stood up and pulled the revolver out from his jacket. Pointing it down the hall, he said, "It's right next door."

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Dawn had arrived in Bay City. The eastern sky was showing signs of emerging pale yellow shades. The morning appeared to be off to a beautiful start, with cirrus clouds floating high above, ready to pick up the first pink hues of sunlight.

Hutch drowsed in bed, having just woken up from an unremarkable dream. He knew it was still too early for the alarm clock to go off, but loved when he could wake up on his own, rather than being forced to by some shrill beeping noise. Days like this always improved his attitude, at least before things at work had a chance to change his mind. Suddenly, the phone rang, instantly transforming his peaceful mood. He rolled over, looking at the clock sitting on the night stand. Thin red lines glowing against a dark background showed the numbers five, four and eight. Grabbing the receiver, he said hoarsely, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Detective Hutchinson?"

"Yeah, speaking. Who is this?"

"Detective, this is Darlene from the Glendale Police dispatch. I have a message for you."

Hutch leaned over and propped up on his elbow. "I'm listening."

"I have an officer out with a female at the Chevron station, 4508 Glen Canyon Drive. He's requesting you come there immediately. Says this woman has information regarding your partner."

Hutch struggled to get his foggy mind to understand the situation. That address was clear across town and out of his district, so what on earth did it have to do with Starsky? "Do you have her name?" he asked.

"I believe the officer said Breanna. Would you like me to confirm that?"

"No! Tell the officer to stay put." Hutch looked back at the clock. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Yes sir, I'll advise the officer."

Hutch hung up the phone, then shakily dialed Starsky's number. After six rings, he gave up and jumped out of bed, running into the bathroom. He threw some water on his face, and looked in the mirror, running a hand over his stubble. Shaving would have to wait. He found some clean clothes, and hastily threw them on. Just before heading out of the apartment, he grabbed his holster and jacket off of the closet door.

Almost half an hour later, the tan LTD arrived, siren blaring, at the Chevron station. Stopping next to the black and white, Hutch sprang out of the door and instantly saw Bree scrambling out of the patrol car. She looked terrified and her jeans were smeared with dirt and scrape marks. Just before reaching Hutch, she burst into tears, and then latched onto him in a tight embrace.

"Okay, take a deep breath," Hutch said, as he waited for her to settle down enough to talk. "That's it—now tell me what happened."

Trying to talk between sobs, Bree said, "They've got David…and I shot the guy, but he shot at me…Davey's car's up there…they pushed it off the cliff…"

Hutch tried to make sense of her ramblings. Noticing the two officers standing nearby, Hutch shot them a confused look.

The younger officer stepped in closer to the couple. "We got called here by the station attendant," he said. "When we arrived, she was pretty upset. Said something about a kidnapping and shooting someone. I patted her down—not knowing who she was, or what I had—and found this—." He handed Hutch a pair of handcuffs. "Those were in her back pocket. Then she mentioned your name and only wanted to talk to you. Looks like you know her?"

Hutch nodded at him, then gazed back into Bree's terrified eyes.

"Bree. Who's got Starsky?"

"I don't know! Three guys, wearing suits…with guns…they were in the apartment when we got home..." Bree was trembling.

Hutch worded his next question carefully. "Did you have to shoot someone?"

"I, I think so…I'm not sure I hit him…Oh, Hutch! They hurt David…" Bree broke down sobbing, but those last words made Hutch sick to his stomach.

"This 'Starsky'," the officer asked, "is he your partner?"

"Yeah—he's also her brother." Hutch grasped Bree's shoulders and tried to keep his mind focused. "Bree, listen to me. Do you know where the person is that you shot?"

She turned slightly, then pointed towards the hill. "Up there…off the highway."

"Can you show me?"

Bree nodded affirmatively. Hutch motioned to the officers with his head. "You want to follow us?"

"Sure, lead the way."

The officer and his partner got back inside the patrol car, while Hutch slid Bree into the front seat of the LTD. As they drove up the winding road, Bree calmed down enough for Hutch to get more details of what happened. She had been walking down the canyon road for hours, trying to avoid being seen by any passing motorists, afraid that one could be the sedan responsible for shoving the Torino down the hillside. She explained about finding the gun and using it against her captor, and how she'd uncuffed herself. But Hutch wasn't able to learn any more about the kidnappers. From what Bree had seen take place in the apartment though, Starsky was in serious trouble.

"That's it!" Bree yelled, pointing towards the large pull off area.

Hutch hit the brakes and skidded in, stopping just off of the pavement. He wanted to preserve the scene as much as possible. Getting out of the LTD, he and Bree were joined by the two patrol officers. Bree pointed over to the embankment, where she had last seen the driver.

Studying the ground, Hutch saw sets of tire marks etched in the dirt, indicating where at least one vehicle had been. He walked over to the embankment and looked down the rocky hillside. The red and white paint of Starsky's car stood out plainly against the tan colored ground and olive green bushes. The Torino was still upright, resting at an angle so that most of the driver's side was visible. Thick underbrush concealed sections of the front end, but it looked heavily crumpled. Hutch hadn't doubted Bree's story, but seeing the car suddenly made everything real.

Starsky was gone.

Bree had followed Hutch as he checked over the embankment. She was relieved not to see a body lying there—at least for now it didn't look like she killed someone—but deep inside she wished her kidnapper were dead. Maybe Hutch could have found out who these guys were if her aim had been better; the dead guy might have provided a clue. As Bree took one last look at the wrecked Torino, she was grateful to have escaped with her life. At least that was one thing the kidnappers hadn't taken from her.

The officers continued checking around the area for more evidence. They located some small pools of blood on the ground about twenty feet from where the Torino had been, along with a few empty bullet casings. Hutch asked Bree to show him where she was when she lost the gun. With the sun being out, it only took a few minutes of searching before the automatic was found.

After gathering up the last pieces of evidence, Hutch sat Bree back inside the LTD and then approached the officers standing by their cruiser.

"I need to take her back to my precinct and see if she can ID some mug shots. Once the wrecker gets here, could you have the car towed to this address?" he asked, writing out the location of the police garage on a page of note pad, then handing it to the officer. "I'd like to make sure our people process it, since the kidnapping occurred in Bay City."

"No problem, Detective. Is there anything else we can do?"

"Yeah. Keep this from the media. Whoever's involved with grabbing my partner doesn't need to know anything about this right now. If your supervisor wants to talk to someone, he can call my Captain—name's Harold Dobey."

"I'll pass that along. And, Sergeant Hutchinson…we hope you find your partner."

"So do I."

Hutch got back inside the LTD and asked the dispatcher to put him through to Dobey, but was told he wasn't on duty yet. A call to the captain's house revealed he had already left for work. Hutch had an APB put out for Starsky as a missing officer and left a message for Dobey to call him as soon as possible. As he started the car and put it in gear, Hutch reached over and grasped Bree's hand. "Don't worry; every cop in the city will be looking for him." She nodded, but looked detached and lost.

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The black caddy pulled up and parked in front of the warehouse. Jenkins got out from the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger side, opening the rear door. Rothman slid out and briefly glanced around the area before walking towards the building's entrance.

Inside the basement room, Starsky sat in a wooden chair. He looked at the two men standing by the open door, each holding firearms down by their sides, and sensed he was about to meet the man responsible for his abduction. Still handcuffed, he felt powerless, but angry. He wanted to lash out at someone—anyone—responsible for bringing him here, but until he saw a break, staying in one piece was more important. Hutch had to know he was missing by now and was no doubt organizing some surefire mission to find him.

Deep in his heart, though, the fiery drive to survive was smoldering. But whatever these creeps had in mind couldn't be as bad as the heartache of knowing he hadn't protected Bree. Even if he got out of this situation, he'd have to live with that failure for the rest of his life. Bree's abduction had nothing to do with grabbing him—she was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and no doubt the kidnappers saw her as expendable. If Bree was dead, there was still one thing he could do—load up with vengeance—something strong enough to replace the guilt and pain inside him. As he heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, Starsky readied himself to meet the recipient of his anger.

Suko left the room to greet the new arrivals.

"How's our visitor doing?" Rothman asked. His gleeful tone of voice reminded Suko of a kid ready to tear into presents on Christmas Day.

"Oh, he's a real treat. Probably wants to personally thank you for the invite."

A satisfied grin formed on Rothman's face. "He probably does. Well, we shouldn't keep our guest waiting any longer."

As soon as the syndicate boss stepped into the doorway, Starsky knew who he was.

Rothman noted the look of recognition on the detective's face, and said, "Seems like introductions aren't necessary, are they, Sergeant?"

"I know who you are, Rothman, and what you do. That's what this is all about? You mad at me because I stole some of your candy?"

Rothman's mood instantly changed. "That 'candy' you're referring to cost me half a million dollars."

"Half a million dollars?" Starsky was genuinely surprised. "We figured it was only worth about half that much. Guess we didn't include your overhead costs, but thanks for mentioning that. I'll make sure it gets changed on my report."

Vinetti stole a glance over at Suko, and raised his eyebrows—son of a bitch has got balls.

Rothman's face remained unchanged, impervious to Starsky's attempt at humor. "I hope you've had your fun detective—because I'm certainly ready to have mine," he said dryly. Rothman took a few steps closer to Starsky, observing him like a hungry lion would eye a wounded gazelle. "You and your partner have cost me a great deal of money, and since I'm a business man, the time has come to eliminate the drain on my finances."

"If you kill me, there'll just be someone else takin' my place," Starsky angrily replied.

"Oh, that's quite possible, but you're missing my point. You and Sergeant Hutchinson seem to be very good at what you do, and it wouldn't be right to take you out, just like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "No, I intend to suck your life out of you one drop at a time. I've paid a lot of money for this opportunity, two hundred and fifty thousand, and I expect to enjoy every penny."

"But you said it was half a mill…" Starsky suddenly realized the implication.

"Little slow there, aren't we?" Rothman said, reading the cop's face. "Yes, this isn't all about you, Sergeant. That partner of yours also owes me big. And just like you, he'll get his chance to pay me back. But you're here now, and as long as I have you, he's not going to be worried about police work, is he? No, I didn't think so, which is very fortunate, considering the important delivery I have scheduled to arrive very shortly."

Starsky understood Rothman's plan, and what infuriated him was Rothman clearly knew them well enough to calculate how they would set their priorities. That made Starsky both a diversion and the bait to snare his partner. He dropped his head. He was already responsible for what had happened to Bree, and now his capture was going to endanger Hutch.

Rothman turned to Suko and coolly said, "I think I've been patient long enough. Are you ready?"

"Sure thing, boss." Suko holstered his weapon and looked quickly at Vinetti, who answered with a nod, keeping his gun on Starsky. Suko took off his jacket and holster, handing both to Vinetti. Starsky watched the man unbutton and remove his long sleeved shirt, leaving on a sleeveless undershirt. Vinetti took the items next door. A queasy knot formed in Starsky's stomach. Usually, thugs like Suko just went ahead and beat you—they didn't make a big production out of taking their clothes off.

As Vinetti stepped back into the room, Suko approached Starsky, and grabbed his arm, raising him out of his seat. He pushed Starsky to the side and scooted the chair over by the doorway, placing it so Rothman could sit down.

Starsky looked at Rothman and felt disgusted by the satisfied grin on the man's face. Whatever he had planned, he seemed intent on enjoying it, which probably meant something painful for Starsky. Just whatever it is, think about Hutch, and Bree. You can take whatever these scum can dish out.

Suko came back over to Starsky and took hold, twisting him around and roughly shoving him face first into the rear wall. Grabbing the center of the handcuffs, Suko twisted the bracelets, painfully pinching Starsky's wrists and making him rise up off of his heels. Suko then planted a leg in between the cop's thighs, spreading both legs out and putting him off balance.

Suko put his mouth to Starsky's ear, keeping his voice low and forceful as he said, "Now…I'm gonna remove these cuffs, so you just stay there kissin' that wall until I tell you to move. Got it?"

"Yeah, I gotcha."

Starsky's calm response actually excited Suko. He liked it when his victims put up a strong front, especially in the beginning. Suko removed the cuffs, and slipped them into his back pocket. Returning to the center of the room, he said, "Okay, cop. You've got two minutes to get some circulation back in those arms, then you and me are gonna have a little fun."

Starsky turned around and faced Suko. The man was stretching out his thickly muscled arms, keeping his fingers interlocked as he flexed both hands. Trying to stall for time so his own arms could recover sensation, Starsky asked, "There any rules to this game of yours?"

"Rules are, there are no rules. I'm just gonna beat the shit out of you. When the boss thinks you've had enough, he'll call time," Suko said, cracking his knuckles.

"Yeah, that's terrific." Great, I feel like a pigeon being thrown into a cock fight. "So, who's gonna be helping you?" he asked.

"Just me. You done wasting everyone's time?"

Suko's forceful look told Starsky the fight was on. As each squared off against the other, it was Suko who came in with the first punch. Starsky was able to sidestep out of its path and land a solid hit on Suko's jaw, but was unprepared for the ensuing side kick as his opponent pivoted beside him. The hard leather shoe rammed into his back, dropping Starsky to the ground and sending a sickening rupture through his side. Shaking off the pain, he leapt back up. The floor was the last place he wanted to be with this gorilla.

Starsky lunged at Suko. He grabbed the thug around the neck, but before he could get his arms locked, Suko twisted sideways and got a hold of Starsky's upper arm. As Suko jerked forward, he flipped Starsky over his shoulder, forcing both of them to the ground. Starsky hit first with Suko landing on top of him. He managed to squeeze out from underneath, and scrambled to his feet, but the impact had winded him. Suko jumped up, and before Starsky could recover, belted him hard across the face. Dazed, he came back at Suko and got in another good hit, but wasn't able to fend off the next devastating punch. Eventually beaten to the ground, Starsky's body refused to get back up. As Suko struck four hard kicks to his stomach, Starsky lost the ability to shield the vital area with his arms. After one last boot to his unprotected rib cage, the sound of a muffled crack prompted Rothman to stand up and call Suko off.

Breathing heavily, Suko shuffled on tired legs to Starsky's side. Vinetti helped him get the cop up and drag him over to the wall where he was once more cuffed behind the back. Held so he wouldn't fall, Starsky was turned around to face Rothman.

Starsky blinked several times, attempting to clear the blood-tinged sweat that dripped into his eye from his cut forehead. Struggling to give his lungs a chance to replenish with oxygen, he tried taking some deep breaths, but the pain in his back and stomach made it nearly impossible. As his vision cleared, he saw Rothman take out a switchblade from his pocket and hand it to Suko.

Rothman enjoyed the fear forming on Starsky's face. His plan was succeeding perfectly. "You seem surprised, detective. I told you I was going to suck the life out of you one drop at a time. I just didn't say how fast those drops might be, did I?"

As Starsky looked at the knife, he realized he wasn't going to win this round. He couldn't tell if Rothman planned to kill him now or just cut him enough to make him suffer. Either way, it was going to hurt, and bad. Scared of what lay ahead, he forced a hard swallow down, trying to keep the nausea in his gut from climbing out.

As Suko sprang the steel blade from its metal sheath, Rothman said, "Remember, not too deep. We still need him alive for a while."

With that, Suko inserted his hand into the opened front of Starsky's shirt and tore downwards, ripping the buttons apart. He placed the blade edge up against the perspiring skin over the stomach, and snarled when Starsky tried to jerk away. Pressing the tip in firmer, he said, "Damn it, hold still or I'm gonna shove it all the way in!" Vinetti slipped in further behind Starsky, and folded one arm around his neck, using the other to grab hold of a cuffed hand in back. Braced tightly up against Vinetti's massive chest, and unable to resist, Starsky closed his eyes. He took in a quick breath and tensed up, hoping Suko would be quick.

With the sleek motion of a skilled surgeon, Suko inserted the blade into one of Starsky's tight abdominal muscles, plunging the sharp tip in about an inch—deep enough to cut the muscle, but not enough to penetrate into the stomach cavity. Starsky's face tightened into an agonized grimace as Suko sliced the knife edge up about four inches, splitting the tissue open and allowing blood to ooze out of the cut. As Starsky let out a deep groan, Suko withdrew the blade then wiped the bloody end on the cop's faded jeans. Inspecting the cut, Suko was satisfied it would bleed for a while then seal up on its own. He nodded to Vinetti, who let go of his grip on Starsky, letting him fall into a heap on the cement floor.

Looking at the wounded detective and the blood beginning to spill onto the floor, Rothman asked Suko, "Where are his credentials? His police ID and badge?" Suko walked over to the office next door and retrieved Starsky's wallet from his jacket. He handed it to Rothman, who took it and opened up the billfold, glancing at the metal shield and identification card. Giving it back to Suko, Rothman said, "Get his blood on it—see if you can soak it real good. I'd like to send it to his partner."

Suko dug a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped the wallet's surface before dropping it into the small crimson pool forming by Starsky's stomach. The three men then joined Jenkins out in the hall, closing the metal door as they left.

Demolished, Starsky lay on the floor, periodically shivering from the wrenching spasms in his body. The knife wound and the cramping radiating from his beaten stomach were combining into an unbearable mass of excruciating pain. He could smell the metallic odor from the blood, and wanted to crawl away from it. But he knew the less he moved, the faster the cut would clot over and stop bleeding.

As the pain in his body kept burning, Starsky felt his fear increasing. Other than his injuries, he was terrified that Rothman's plans were only beginning. Plans that included making sure he paid dearly for just doing his job. Ah, Hutch…are you getting close? Some sicko's got his hands on me again.

Suddenly, an intense spasm shot through his abdomen, making his cuffed hands want to wrap around his aching body. He hated that he was bound up, unable to fight, and at the mercy of some psycho. Real cops died in blazing gun fights, trying to save an innocent victim or another officer, not after being splayed out and sliced open then used as bait to lure their partner into a trap. He looked at the wallet lying by his side, knowing Hutch would be touching it soon—probably feeling the same revulsion he was.

As a nauseous churning began building in his gut, Starsky tried to hold it down, but his brain was slowly losing the battle over his stomach. Unable to prolong the impulse any longer, he miserably gave in. The acrid puke left his throat burnt and his stomach retching back in protest as pain erupted from the stab wound. The vomit smelled horrible, and along with stinging drops of sweat trickling into his eyes, only added to his misery. Starsky remembered how bad he hurt after Bellamy stuck him. What he was feeling now was even worse. He desperately needed his partner—one comforting touch from him would feel better than a shot of morphine. Hutch…where are ya? This hurts so much…oh shit it really hurts…

.

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Bree had cradled herself up against Hutch as he drove back to the precinct. Every few minutes, he would squeeze her shoulders tightly, as if trying to wring the terror out of her body. She had been very quiet for the last several miles, and Hutch wondered if she was up to looking through dozens of pages of mug photos.

"Hey, ya doing okay?" he asked, as he gave her another squeeze.

She nodded slightly and tightened her folded arms closer to her body.

Hutch pulled the LTD over and stopped. He put the car in park, and shifted over a little, trying to get a closer look at Bree's face—much like he had done the other night at the beach. Gently taking her chin in his hand, he looked at her eyes. Her soft but wounded stare greeting his sent a wave of heartache through him.

"Hey…level with me. You doing okay? Do you want to go to the hospital? Let somebody check you out?"

Quietly, she said, "No, you have to find who did this." Looking down at her jeans, Bree scratched at a spot of dirt on her thigh. "Is David's place on the way to the station? Maybe I could…"

When she didn't finish, Hutch wondered if she could handle going back into Starsky's apartment. He wanted to look at the place himself, but knew it would have to wait until he could get Bree to the precinct.

"Bree, I'm sorry, but it's a crime scene right now."

"Okay, let's just go to the station. The sooner I can look at those pictures, the sooner you can find him."

Hutch gave her a comforting smile, but her voice had sounded tired and defeated. Just as he pulled back onto the road, Dobey called him on the radio.

"Captain, I'm on my way in with a female victim of a kidnapping from last night. If Minnie's around, see if she can meet us in one of the interview rooms."

"Okay, Hutch, I'll see what I can do. This got anything to do with that APB on Starsky?"

Flatly, Hutch answered, "Yeah, I'm afraid it does. I'll tell you more once I get there."

Hutch hung up the mike and put his arm back around Bree. "It's gonna be okay, Bree—I promise. We'll find him."

After arriving at the precinct, Hutch got Bree settled with Minnie in one of the interview rooms. Introducing her as a relative of a good friend, Hutch wanted to keep the news of Starsky's kidnapping and Bree's escape confined to as few people as possible until he had a chance to talk to Dobey.

When Hutch walked into his office, Dobey could tell from his unshaven appearance and anxious demeanor that he wasn't going to like what his detective was about to tell him. What worried him the most though, was the obvious absence of his partner.

Ten minutes later, the captain felt twenty years older. "So Breanna saw all this happen to Starsky, then had her own nightmare to deal with," Dobey said, his mouth dry and his voice thick with despair.

"Yeah, but she's strong, Capt'n. She had to be to get away like she did."

"From what she described of these men, it sounds like syndicate people. You think this is payback from the drug bust?" Tightlipped, Dobey stared at Hutch.

"It has to be. But we've got nothing so far to tie this to Rothman. I could go pay him a visit, but that wouldn't accomplish anything." Hutch stared down at the floor, wishing the world could just stop spinning for a moment.

"You're damn straight! And don't even think about making this your private party. If Rothman's got Starsky, chances are he'll want to grab you too."

Hutch yanked his head up and glared intensely at Dobey. "Well, he can sure as hell try—but that isn't going to happen."

Dobey shifted in his chair, sighing heavily. "I'm going to get a lab team headed out to Starsky's apartment, and amend that APB you put out so he's listed as a kidnapping victim. I think you did the right thing with the Glendale police. We need to keep Breanna under wraps until we know more about what we're dealing with."

"Yeah, I know. Is there some place she can stay, somewhere safe?"

"I can find her a safe house. It might take a few hours to get something lined up."

"I'll keep her with me until then." Standing up, Hutch said, "I'm going to run out to Starsky's. I told Minnie to get a hold of me when Bree got done. She might need to go back to the apartment and grab some things, maybe some clean clothes."

"That's fine. Let me know when she's done going through those books, I'd like to meet her—tell her we're doing everything we can to find her brother." Dobey picked up the phone and started dialing.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that, Capt'n."

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.

Starsky suddenly jerked awake. Opening heavy eyelids, he groggily came out of a dream, and took in the reality of his basement dungeon. The arm he was lying on had gone numb, but as he tried to change position, fresh aches pulsed through his body, protesting any movement. The cold from the cement floor had seeped into his muscles, making them stiff and sore. He breathed out a disheartened sigh, wondering how long he had been asleep, and whether it was still daylight outside or not. He wished there was a window in the joint; at least he'd have a way of measuring time.

He looked down, and noticed the wallet was still there beside him, somewhat darker in color than before. He couldn't see any fresh blood on the floor, and hoped the knife wound had stopped bleeding. Still feeling woozy, Starsky closed his eyes, wanting to go back to the numbing effects of sleep, but the sound of footsteps out in the hallway changed that plan, and sent a new dose of apprehension through him.

The metal door was unlocked, then swung open with a creak. Suko entered the room, while Vinetti stayed in the doorway, taking a guarded stance. Carrying a small envelope, Suko walked over to the prone detective and knelt down, checking his condition. The cop's face was pale, and even though his eyes were open, their gaze seemed unfocused and distant. Suko examined the amount of blood on the floor, and decided it wasn't bad enough to worry about. He pulled out a handkerchief, and retrieved the billfold from the dried pool, placing it into the envelope. Setting it off to the side, he tried to lift Starsky's shirt flap to check his handiwork, but the bloodied material had dried and stuck to the wound.

"I'm gonna need some water. And bring me in a gauze pad or two," he said, as he glanced over his shoulder at Vinetti.

Curious about Suko's actions and needing someone to talk to, even if it was this scum, Starsky asked, "How's it look?"

Suko hesitated, wanting to ignore him. His jaw still hurt where Starsky had connected with his first punch. But he'd made sure the cop got the worst end of their fight, and Starsky hadn't gone down easy. "I can't see any fresh blood," he said, checking the floor again and around the wound. "Doesn't look too bad."

When Vinetti came back into the room, he set a glass of water and some medical gauze down by Suko.

Starsky gazed at the items. "Gotta say, not every day someone tries to gut you then fixes you up," he said wryly.

"Yeah, well don't go writing me into your will just yet," Suko said, picking up the glass. "We don't like it when people die on us before we're through with them. Takes all the fun out of things." He poured a little of the water on top of the crusted shirt, letting it soak down into the cut.

Flinching at the sting, Starsky said curtly, "Yeah, I bet." Exhausted, he laid his head back down on the floor and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, Suko was able to lift the shirt away, and using a wet cloth, cleaned the area around the wound enough so he could tape some gauze over it. Seeing the abdomen shiver at his touch, Suko ran his fingers lightly through the hair on Starsky's stomach, then moved his hand up, exploring around the nipples. Feeling the invasive touch, Starsky opened his eyes and drew back, trying to escape the prying fingers.

Continuing his exploration, Suko said, "What? You still shy? I thought I introduced myself to you back at your apartment. You know, when you were spread out all nice and ready on your table?"

Vinetti watched them, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Look, you sick pervert! I'm not your sex toy so keep your fuckin' hands off of me!" Starsky was feeling stabs of pain from his wound, making his voice sound tight and raspy.

Suko grabbed and twisted a nipple, watching with amusement as Starsky grimaced. "You're gonna be whatever I want you to be," he murmured, then reached down and yanked open the zipper on the faded jeans.

"Get your paws off of me!" Starsky said, a panicked edge in his voice.

"Suko, knock it off," Vinetti said offhandedly.

"Go mind your own business!" Suko shot back, engaged in trying to peel the jeans off of Starsky's hips. Addressing his victim, he said, "Quit fighting me, dammit!" Then, more seductively, "It only makes me harder…"

Starsky quickly began to lose strength fending off Suko's advances. The pain in his abdomen was too much. After lashing out a missed kick at Suko, he dropped his head down to the floor, exhausted and gasping for air.

Suko grabbed Starsky's hips and flipped him over, causing the cop to wheeze out a painful yelp as the knife wound contacted the floor. Suko tried to lift his victim's thighs and prop them against his own legs, but the effort was exhausting. Turning to Vinetti, he said, "C'mere and help me!"

Vinetti shot him a disgusted glare. "Let him be—can't you tell he don't like boys?"

"This ain't a democracy! Get over here!" Suko had exposed Starsky's rear, and began to unzip his own pants. Looking back at Vinetti, he hissed, "Lou, I said get over here!"

Vinetti stood up and walked over. He placed a hand on Suko's shoulder, then clamping down in a vise-like grip, launched the surprised man as hard as he could across the room. Advancing on Suko like a mad bull, he stopped just short of stomping on him. Vinetti grabbed his wallet, pulled out a twenty and threw it at Suko. "Here! Go buy you a piece of ass somewhere! Just leave him alone!"

Suko stood up, giving Vinetti a wide smirk. Zipping up his pants, he reached down and picked up the money. He walked over, snatched up the paper bag containing the billfold, and stuffed it under his arm. Before stepping out of the room, he turned and said, "Geez, Lou, if you'd wanted him for yourself, you should've just asked."

Vinetti stood still for a while, then walked over to Starsky. The detective had rolled onto his side, and from his uneven, labored breathing, appeared to be in tremendous pain. Vinetti knelt down and lifted open the shirt, checking the knife wound. Blood had soaked through the bandage, but the cut didn't appear to be hemorrhaging. Vinetti pulled a key out of his jacket and uncuffed one of Starsky's wrists. Standing back up, he said, "Whenever you're ready, you can pull your pants back up." Starsky didn't say anything but continued to breathe heavily through his open mouth, his eyes closed tightly. Vinetti walked out of the room, keeping the door open, and took a seat in the office across the hall.

Starsky blindly reached down with one hand, finding the waistband of his briefs. Pulling them up on one side and then the other, he gradually got the underwear back around his hips. He had no energy left to try the same thing with his jeans. Resting his head on a folded arm, he used the other to cover the side of his face. Not caring whether the man across the hall heard or not, Starsky released the choked sobs he'd been holding.