Chapter 14

Eliot Spencer knew about pain. He knew how to make someone feel every little thing he did to them so intensely that it felt like the world was coming to an end. More, he knew how to make someone realize that dying wasn't what they should fear, instead, they should be afraid of not dying.

And right now, Darrien was feeling that. Eliot stepped back, breathing a little quick, and surveyed the battered heap on the ground in front of him. His lip curled a little, and he stepped back.

"Don't move," he ordered absently as he turned his attention to Parker. "Parker," he said softly, crouching down next to her, and turning her head in his palms. "Parker, wake up."

Parker moaned a little, and her eyes slid open. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused, and she looked simply miserable. "I don't feel good," she said. Her voice was slurring just a touch. If Eliot didn't know better, he'd have thought she was drunk.

"I know, babe, just hang on," Eliot said gently. He ran his hands down her neck, shoulders, and the rest of her, checking for injuries. "Tell me if it hurts, Parker," he ordered quietly. She grimaced when he pressed lightly on her ribs. "There?" he asked.

"He kicked me," she muttered. "I couldn't get up. Why couldn't I get up, Eliot?" She couldn't focus.

"Good question," Eliot growled, and reached back, not even bothering to look. His hand clamped around the kneecap of the man behind him. The one that was currently the size of a basketball and probably shattered. He squeezed.

Darrien shrieked in pain, and Eliot could feel him body arching behind him. "What'd you give her, Darrien?" Eliot said clearly, letting go. "What was it?"

"I… I don't…" Darrien panted. Eliot squeezed again and listened to him scream. Good thing the trees were so thick and the bar was pumping with music. He let go again. "Rohypnol," the crumpled mass of man behind him panted. "Bartender put it in her drink for me."

"How much?" Eliot snarled. Fucker had dosed Parker with a date rape drug? Eliot's blood was ice cold, thinking what might have happened if he'd taken longer with Tiny Tim. He squeezed again, harder this time. "HOW MUCH?"

"I don't know, I don't know," the fucker sobbed. "I don't know, he did it for me, I paid him to do it…"

Parker moaned a little, pulling Eliot's attention back to her. "Hey, there, darlin', stay with me," he said gently, using his free hand to brush her hair back from her face. "I'll get you outta here in a minute. Promise." Shit. No way of knowing how much she'd had. He didn't think she was going to overdose, she was still coherent enough. Only thing to do without getting a hospital involved was to take her back to Nate's, probably, and let it get out of her system.

Eliot turned and leaned over Darrien. "Hey," he said, tapping the man's cheek. "Listen up, Dumbass," he said, watching the man's eyes slide open and the fear that filled them. "Here's what's going to happen. You listening?" When the man didn't respond, Eliot stood up and casually kicked him in the ribs. Like he must have done to Parker. He crouched back down while the man was gagging on his own blood. "You listening?" he said again. Mildly.

The pathetic excuse for a man in front of him nodded frantically. "Good. Here's what happened tonight, Darrien. You got drunk. You wandered out into the woods for a piss. You fell." Eliot shook his head and tsked. "Very clumsy of you. It was quite a fall, and that's what happened to your ribs. And knee. And face, and all those other spots that hurt. You got me?" The other man nodded again.

Eliot smiled. "Good." He started to get up, and then crouched back down. "Oh, and Darrien? Let me make one thing very clear." He waited for a moment, his eyes locked onto the terrified ones on the ground in front of him. "Before I became Parker's partner, I hurt people for a living. So when I tell you that if you ever, ever cause trouble for her or I again, you'll regret it… well, I think you understand that I mean it." Eliot cocked his head and waited for it sink in. "I don't like men who beat on women," he said very softly. "So when I say that if you ever lay a finger, or even a discourteous eye on a woman again, I will know… And I will find you, and make tonight feel like a kid's birthday party."

Eliot stood up and smiled at him. Not a nice smile. "Later," he said, and turned back to Parker. His smile shifted, softened. "Come on, darlin'," he crooned at her, crouching back down. "I'm gonna get you out of here and back to Nate, ok?"

Parker was managing a partial pout, even with the drugs. "I wanted to hit him," she slurred. Eliot gently shifted her into his arms, careful of the ribs. The rest was bruises, painful but not serious. Parker's head dropped onto his shoulder as he stood. "I don't feel good, and it's his fault."

Eliot started carefully down the hill, mindful of jostling the woman in his arms. "I know, sweetheart, but you're having a little trouble right now," he said quietly. "Mind if I took care of it for you?"

Parker sighed, a warm exhalation against his neck. "You always take care of me," she said. "Eliot always makes me safe."

Eliot felt that warmth in his chest, and had to clear his throat. "Always will, darlin'," he said softly. "Always will."

Nate and Sophie and Hardison must have been pressed against the windows waiting for them to pull up, because they all three came rushing out when Eliot pulled up to the house.

"Eliot, how is she?" Sophie came rushing down the steps.

"Easy, Sophie, step back and let me get her in," Eliot ordered gruffly, straightening from the passenger seat with Parker in his arms again. He let Sophie close the car door behind him and trail along behind as he started up the steps. Hardison was holding the door open, looking anxious.

"She gonna be ok, bro?" the hacker asked. His eyes were glued to Parker's face. "How bad'd he dose her?"

Nate was waiting back inside, by the couch. "I've got a med kit ready," the mastermind said as Eliot made his way over to the couch. "Back bedroom." Eliot changed direction at that. Made sense. He needed to tape Parker's ribs, too, and that shouldn't be done in the living room. Plus she'd need to sleep off the drugs, and that was better done in a good bed than the couch.

Eliot laid Parker down on the bed. She was pretty out of it now, the drugs having pulled her under. He straightened up and looked at the three teammates hovering in the doorway. "She'll be ok," he told them, voice a little rough. "I don't think she got too high a dose, and otherwise it's bruises and a couple of cracked ribs. Parker'll be fine."

Hardison opened his mouth, but Sophie beat him to it. "Then we'll let you get her set, and meet us back out in the living room," the grifter said. Firmly. And she followed her words by pulling Hardison with her and giving Nate a pointed look.

Nate stood a moment longer, looking at Parker before raising his eyes to Eliot. The two men studied each other a long moment, before Nate nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him. Eliot let a breath out that he hadn't realized he was holding. Nate's opinion… mattered to him.

Eliot turned back to the unconscious little blonde on the bed. "Ok, sweetheart," he said softly, "let's get you cleaned up."

Parker was still unconscious when Eliot stepped back out of the room, leaving the door open. He didn't want to miss her waking up. His anger was tamped down for the moment, but it was still there, rolling beneath the surface. Seeing all the bruises, cut, the smooth perfection of Parker's skin broken… he didn't regret one thing he'd done to Darrien. At all.

Nate was sitting on the couch, glass of booze in his hands. Sophie was perched next to him and Hardison was idly tapping on his keyboard from the other side of the room. They all looked up at him as he came out.

"She ok?" Hardison asked again.

Eliot nodded and sank down into the armchair, taking the beer that Sophie had gotten up to hand him. "Yeah," he said, and swallowed a mouthful gratefully. It helped hold that anger back.

Nate sipped his own drink. "How did he get her?" he asked quietly.

Eliot consciously kept his fingers from tightening too much around the neck of the bottle. "Bartender was in on it," he said. "Dosed her drink."

Hardison cursed. "Fucker's about to get hauled in for kiddie porn," he muttered, fingers flying. "Lots of kiddie porn. Really ugly kiddie porn."

Eliot grinned, just a little. That made him feel maybe a tiny tiny bit better, but he still wanted to go back to the bar and do the same to that fucker that he'd left on the hillside. Nate apparently was watching him. "No, Eliot," he said. "Let Hardison take care of it."

Eliot nodded and drank again. He'd get Hardison to tell him what prison the bartender ended up in, and get in touch with someone who owed him a favor or two. Inmates didn't like guys who messed with kids.

Nate blew out a breath. "Ok," he said. "Well. We're still watching the feed from the hotel on the rally car, waiting for Tiny Tim to make his move," the mastermind said. "We'll send the cops to catch him in the act, and perhaps give Tiny some more interesting documents for the cops to find?" Nate looked at Hardison, while Sophie nodded.

"Question," Eliot said suddenly. "If Darrien wasn't behind the shooting this morning," he asked, "who was?"

Hardison cleared his throat. "Tiny Tim's call earlier," he said and tapped keys. A man's face popped up on the screen, clearly ex-military. Merc, Eliot would guess. Latin American?

"Meet Enrique Rodriguez," Hardison said.

Eliot blinked for a moment, then dropped his head back on the chair. Columbian. It was a fuckin' Columbian. He grinned. Well. Parker would like that one, he thought.

Ok, fingers need a rest! *massaging digits with a wince*… I think I'm closer on this than I thought to the end… Definitely at least one more smut scene coming… not to mention Parker's revenge.