A/N
Since the story is not that long I'm being greedy with it. Here's a small tease...
Booth had no idea how long he'd been out. Rebecca could show up with his son at any moment, and he fought to hold back a rising sense of panic as he desperately tried to figure out what to do. If this was a movie the hero would have something sharp tucked in his sleeve or otherwise find an edge to cut the ropes against.
That was all Hollywood bullshit. This was real life.
In a way, being tied up was a good sign – it meant that simply killing him wasn't the bastard's intent… at least not his first priority. Some opportunity just had to present itself.
It just damned well better happen soon.
However, he couldn't resist the urge to test his bonds. At least his fingers were free. Avoiding any sudden moves, he slowly tensed the muscles in his arms and shoulders, but then a sudden sharp pain made him nearly cry out against his will before taking his breath away. He managed to just clamp down, but a sharp hiss still escaped. He swore he could feel the splintered bones in his wrist grinding on the nerve. His eyes watered as he bit his lip, but the damage was done.
He heard the sounds of the rummaging to his left stop, then approaching footsteps. He slightly opened his downcast eyes again to see the pair of boots stop in front of him. The only good thing was he could see a little from his right eye, the tears apparently having loosened the bloody eyelashes. He closed them again and focused on controlling his breathing. He tried to play possum, hoping against hope for even a few more seconds, but the pathetic ruse was pointless.
He gasped again as his head was yanked up by his hair, hard. He opened his eyes and gave in to the urge to breathe heavily, no point in hiding any more.
He eyed his captor's face, stunned for a moment by what he saw. The other man gave him a tight grin before speaking.
"Bless you, my son, and just how long has it been since your last confession?"
Booth finally overcame his shock.
"Fuck you, Max."