What Happens When You Throw Out the Rulebook
By RascalFlattsS
Disclaimer: Still do not own White Collar.
Warnings: Some minor swearing and violence. Nothing too bad, I promise.
Any grammatical errors are my own.
Sorry I haven't been able to update sooner. It's been a busy week at work and I haven't had a chance to update. But to make up for making you wait so long, I've written a nice long chapter for you all! Enjoy!
Thank you all so much for your reviews! They made me so happy!
The first thing that Neal was aware of was a horrible pain in his leg. He gasped and cried out in pain as his eyes snapped open.
Neal lifted his head up and was meet with a world of pain He groaned and almost slipped back to unconsciousness as stars danced in front of him and his vision swarmed.
Oh great, a concussion, thought Neal, that's just what I need…
The van hit a giant pothole and the van jerked causing Neal to snap back. He opened his eyes and looked around alert.
Neal was in the back of a large cargo van. His hands were handcuffed above his head, with the handcuffs being tied to one of the long bars in the van. Neal looked down at his leg. He saw that Navarro had been nice enough to wrap his wound with some gaze and an Ace bandage wrap. Neal could see a little bit of red was sweeping through the bandage. His leg still hurt but at least Neal wasn't hopefully going to die of blood loss anytime soon.
The van stopped suddenly and Neal's head smacked against the wall. His head swam and he fought to stay consciousness.
The back door open and Neal had to squint as the back of the van was flooded with light. He turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Neal heard the sound of someone of stepping up into the van.
"Aw, look," said Navarro. "Our new friend is awake." He grabbed Neal's chin and turn it towards him. "And how are you doing, Caffrey?"
"Peachy," rasped Neal. He jerk upwards towards the cuffs, "Any chance of getting out of these? My wrist is really starting to itch."
Navarro laughed. He patted Neal's cheek. "I'm sorry, but that won't be possible. I've heard a lot about your "multiple escapes". But this time, you will not be making an escape."
"That's what they all say," said Neal. "And you'd be surprised how many escapes I've made."
Navarro laughed. "Well, go ahead and try your best Caffrey, but you won't be getting out of those handcuffs. I do have some good news though."
"You're letting me go?" asked Neal.
"Not you," said Navarro. He pulled up the cuff of Neal's pant leg, revealing the anklet. "Just your tracking device."
"That's not a tracker," said Neal as calmly as he could. "It's the newest fad—didn't you read about it?"
Navarro slapped Neal hard across the face. Neal felt his head jerk back.
"I don't appreciate back talk from my staff," said Navarro.
"I don't work for you," snapped Neal.
"You do now," said Navarro. He pulled out a knife and sliced the anklet off. The blade made a small cut along Neal's ankle. Neal cringed slightly as the cut winced. He looked down at his ankle and saw a small red line of blood, rolling down his ankle.
Navarro held the tracker which was now blinking red. He smiled and handed it off to one of the other men.
"Make sure this gets delivered to the Feds," said Navarro. The man nodded and walked away carrying Neal's tracker. Neal felt his heart drop as he watched the tracker-the only way for the FBI to find him- had just slipped away.
And what's worse, with the tracker cut, Peter and the rest of the FBI was going to think Neal had cut the anklet and ran.
Navarro turned back to Neal. "The FBI is about to learn that Neal Caffrey doesn't work for them anymore. You, Neal Caffrey, now work for me."
And with that Navarro closed the van door shut.