Chapter 2

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter had no choice but to break his promise.

He silently cursed himself for falling asleep. Because of his lack of discipline, he had not escaped, and thus had failed himself, Shawn, Marlowe, and the entire SBPD. Maybe even all of Santa Barbara. If Lassiter got out of there alive, he knew he'd be practicing more kidnapping scenarios, and definitely learning the quickest and most efficient way of untying knots with nails. As it was, he tried to give Shawn a reassuring look as he was dragged away.

Shawn's brow crinkled in concern, so Lassiter supposed his reassuring look hadn't been so reassuring after all.

As the men shut the door without bothering to lock it again, Lassiter clenched the rusty nail tightly in his fist, hoping that no one found it or noticed that the rope was a tidbit looser than it was before. He cast his eyes around, looking for some sort of advantage, but found none.

They were in a cabin, by the looks of the log walls. It was relatively large for a cabin, made apparent by the several doors that branched off from the room in which he found himself. It was rather bare. Nothing hung on the walls, but the windows had blinds drawn across them so Lassiter couldn't determine their location. As far as he could see, there were only five pieces of furniture: a small, banged-up coffee table in the center of the room and four folding chairs surrounding it. A very familiar man was seated in one, watching coolly as Lassiter was forced to approach.

"Hello, Detective," said the man cordially. He was not a tall man, only reaching about five foot six. He wore a smart black suit, similar to the ones Lassiter wore, with a powerful red tie. His graying brown hair was slicked back, accentuating his high brow and angled cheeks. Despite the heavy wrinkling around his amber eyes, the man looked rather young, though he was nearing his fifties.

"Humphrey," Lassiter's lip curled in disgust.

"Ah," he smiled. "Glad to see you remember me. I almost didn't recognize you, what with your new looks. This makes revenge all the more sweet."

"Of course," Lassiter muttered, ignoring the jibe. He knew he looked like he'd been scraped up from the lowest floor of hell. He'd figured as much as revenge for his reasons for being kidnapped. Simply asking around wasn't enough to warrant his death, not when their leader was already in jail. But, since Humphrey was out on parole...It was a different matter entirely.

"I'd like to tell you a little story, Detective," Humphrey continued. "Please, sit." Lassiter didn't move or speak, but it seemed he wasn't expected to. The lackeys all took one of the available seats, almost simultaneously taking out cigarettes and lighting them up.

"Once upon a time," Humphrey began, crossing one leg over the other, "there was a little detective who thought he could save everyone. He put away lots and lots of big bad wolves, and saved lots and lots of little piggies, and made his little town all happy.

"And one day, the little detective managed to put away the biggest, baddest wolf. The biggest, baddest wolf swore revenge on the little detective, but the little detective only laughed. Little did that little detective know that the biggest, baddest wolf had many, many, many, many friends.

"And, while in jail, the biggest, baddest wolf made even more friends, and formed new connections, and grew stronger every single day. Even though the biggest, baddest wolf was behind bars, he still ruled over the little piggies and the dastardly crows who did his bidding. And soon, the biggest, baddest wolf had pulled a few strings and got out of jail early.

"Now the biggest, baddest wolf could take his revenge on the little detective. He planned it very carefully, and struck at just the right time so that he had a diamond-hard alibi. No one would ever find out that the little detective had been eaten by the biggest, baddest wolf," Humphrey finished at last, grinning and looking quite happy with his story.

Lassiter showed no signs that he had been affected by the telling, although his bruised eyes remained piercingly on Humphrey. All he could think, privately, was that Humphrey was a typical villain, what with his monologue and all.

"Nothing to say, Detective?" Humphrey raised a condescending eyebrow, eyes twinkling with pleasure.

"The man downstairs," Lassiter said sharply, "Spencer. He has nothing to do with this. He was investigating my disappearance because he was hired to, no other reason than that. If you blindfold him, he will not be able to tell anyone our location, nor who you are. Let him go, and I will not resist, nor try to escape."

He stared Humphrey down, daring him to defy his request.

As the detective had spoken, Humphrey had adopted a thoughtful expression, but now that Lassiter was finished, he was grinning fully. He and his three men burst out laughing, one of them nearly choking on his cigarette. Lassiter scowled darkly, feeling the sharp point of the nail poking into his calloused palm.

"Don't make me laugh, Detective," chortled Humphrey, wiping an eye. "You know me better than most of my men. We have never let anyone escape, least of all someone who has seen our faces."

The three men nodded in agreement. One of them reached for another cigarette.

Well, it had been worth a try.

Lassiter clenched his jaw and prepared to say nothing else. It wouldn't be difficult.

Humphrey sighed dramatically, in true bad guy fashion. "Escort the detective back to his room, if you would, boys. I have things I must attend to." With that, he pulled out his cell phone and began to text, the speed of his thumbs rivaling most teenagers'.

This time only Lefty rose, snuffing out the burning end of his cigarette on the table. That accounted for the worst of its abuse, it seemed. Lefty gripped Lassiter's arm and steered him back to the door, which he easily swung open. The detective was released and nudged forward to keep him walking downstairs of his own accord.

Lassiter's breath seemed to whoosh out of him all at once as his eyes roamed the basement, while Lefty gasped in horror.

Shawn was gone.

"Shit!" cursed Lefty, whipping around frantically. "When did he get out?!"

The others, still seated, asked what he was talking about.

Lefty slammed the door shut and locked it hurriedly. Lassiter could hear the startled and confused murmuring in the next room from his place by the door, then the stamping feet as they ran out to search. Lassiter racked his brain for a moment that Shawn could have snuck out of the door, but failed to find one.

Needless to say, Lassiter was thoroughly impressed.

He descended the rest of the stairs carefully, then proceeded to his spot by the wall. He hoped that Spencer had managed to get enough of a head start so that he could call for -

"Aren't you untied yet?" whispered Shawn from his hiding place underneath the stairs. "Come on, hurry! We need to get free before they come back!"

Lassiter gaped at him for a moment, then sputtered, "Spencer, you idiot!"

Shawn smirked mischievously and shrugged.

With a short growl, Lassiter renewed his fervent efforts of loosening the knots. He'd already managed to slip one out, but that left the second one. Lassiter twisted, feeling the burn in his wrists something fierce, but he steadfastly refused to give up. If they were caught, more specifically the idiot, they were in for a world of trouble.

Barking victoriously, Lassiter pulled his arms to his sides, the ropes sliding and falling. He snatched them up and pushed himself into the small space Shawn had taken up. He stuffed the nail into his pants pocket, then immediately set to work on Shawn's bonds.

Shawn hissed uncomfortably at Lassiter's rough tugging, but stayed still without complaint. It was all too possible for the men to barge back in and discover their hideout, and neither Shawn nor Lassiter liked the odds of them winning, weakened as Lassiter was, and the currently useless Shawn.

Luckily for them both, Lassiter was quite adept at untying knots. It stemmed from his youth, when his baby sister brought tangled yo-yos to him in tears, and then after he had graduated the police academy, when he decided that in order to be the best, he needed to be able to get out of any situation. Though many regarded his ideas as unnecessary and ridiculous, Lassiter owed his life to them - and now, Shawn might, too.

Oh, the fun Lassiter would have rubbing it in Shawn's face after they escaped.

Once he was freed, Shawn brought his hands in front of him to cradle his swollen left wrist to his chest. The unlikely (and temporary) partners waited with bated breath for the gang to return, crouching uncomfortably close in the cramped space under the dusty steps.

Their only chance of getting out alive was to incapacitate the men above and procure their weapons. They could even use the ropes to bind the men together, take their phones, and lock them in the basement for a taste of their own medicine. Then Lassiter would contact the SBPD, have Shawn carted off in an ambulance to deal with Guster and his father at the hospital, be reunited with his official junior detective, and file a report. Only then would he go home to Marlowe, eat a hot meal with her, and maybe have sex, if he was feeling up to it. Oh, who was he kidding - He was always up for sex with Marlowe. Unless he was trying to figure out a case: Then it could wait a while.

It wasn't long before the thundering steps returned, the men shouting at one another. Humphrey could be heard above the other three, berating them for being idiots and threatening to end their lives. From what Shawn could gather, they were planning on packing Lassiter into the Honda Civic and getting the hell out of there to another hideout. They obviously had found no trace of Shawn's escape and believed he had managed to get away successfully.

He smirked proudly despite the pain it caused him, resisting the urge to turn so Lassiter could see his face. It was a bit too dark for that, anyway.

The door was slammed open, and pounding feet sent plumes of dust showering down on the men below.

"What the fuck?!"

So they discovered that Lassiter was missing as well.

"Find him!" roared Humphrey.

Shawn felt uneasy about attacking the men, seeing as they were outnumbered, weak, and at the disadvantage of being weaponless. But he steeled himself, knowing that if they didn't try with the element of surprise, they'd be dead.

That just wouldn't do.

With the men's backs turned, and feeling Lassiter tense beside him, Shawn prepared himself to carry out a reckless plan. He knew instantly that the head detective was going to grab the sturdier-looking one, so Shawn was left with, well, Lefty. Good thing Shawn was a righty.

They attacked silently.

The element of surprise gave them an advantage, but only for a few seconds. In that time, Humphrey and the youngest thug, who had stayed back, had seemed to rouse themselves and pulled their weapons. The two who were under attack also got their bearings as well, particularly the more experienced Lefty, who immediately spotted Shawn's weakness and went for it.

Lassiter, startled by Shawn's cry of pain as his sprained wrist was forced into a pressure position, was quickly overpowered by his own adversary and forced to his knees at the base of the stairs. A moment after, Shawn joined him, wrist throbbing so intensely that it brought tears to his eyes.

Humphrey chuckled through clenched teeth, a rather dangerous gleam in his eyes. He descended the steps slowly and stopped a few from the bottom, glaring down at his prisoners. "Well done, well done," he said, smiling tightly.

Shawn spit, landing a direct hit on Humphrey's polished shoe.

Lassiter's stomach sank in dismay, knowing that Shawn's hotheadedness could very well be the difference between a quick death or a slow, agonizing one. By the expression on Humphrey's face, he was leaning verily toward the latter.

The younger Spencer glared defiantly. "You shouldn't smoke, you know," he announced loudly. "Smoking causes cancer, stroke, and can even lead to -"

A brutal left hook to the ribs was enough to shut Shawn up and send him into a wheezy coughing fit.

Humphrey waited patiently for Shawn to pull himself together before continuing, directing his attention to Lassiter. "Very clever, Detective. Very brave. But not clever nor brave enough. I'm afraid I'll have to punish you."

Before Lassiter could even open his mouth to claim that the plan was all his, there was a sharp, blinding pain on the back of his head. He knew very well that he had been struck with the butt of a gun, but before his brain could comprehend that knowledge he was already unconscious.