"Stay where you are, chubby." A cold voice spoke from behind him, "Make one move and they'll be scraping your brain off the ceiling, understand?"
"Who are you?" Andy asked as he tried to keep his voice level and his shaking hands still.
"We've come to collect on an old debt, where's Red?"
He knew he had to stall for time, he hoped that John had heard the voices and decided to make a run for it. "He's not here."
Andy felt the cold metal dig deeper into the back of his neck, "Don't lie to me, old man!" He felt himself being shoved towards the kitchen as a large hand gripped his shoulder tightly. "Move!" the voice commanded.
Stumbling as he turned around he took a good look at his assailant who still had a gun pointed at his head. He didn't recognise the man's face but there was something remarkably familiar about him, he'd seen those cold grey eyes before. Realisation dawned on him, "You're a Malucci kid, aren't you?"
Andy's question was rewarded with another shove, this time to his chest. "Shut your mouth and show me where he is."
His eyes followed the young man's movements, tall and lithe he had the grace of an athlete, so light on his feet that Andy had failed to hear him creeping up behind him. The man was youthful; the sneer that marred his face belied his handsome features. He watched as the man's eyes fell upon a framed photo on the counter, the assailant grabbed it and ripped the picture out roughly before shoving it into his trouser pocket. Andy saw the evil smirk that crossed the younger man's face and knew no good would come of the situation he'd found himself in.
He inwardly cursed himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings; maybe if he'd spent a little less time reminiscing and making John feel bad he would have heard the man currently holding him hostage creeping up on him. "In here, boss!" he heard another voice call.
Grabbed painfully by the shoulder once more he was pushed into the lounge where his eyes met with John's, "It's going to be ok, we'll get out of this," he tried to reassure the younger man. He knew it was unlikely; the two of them were surrounded by a room full of men who were all brandishing weapons, it occurred to him then that neither of them would likely get out of this alive.
Andy watched as John was pulled roughly to his feet by his t-shirt, "Get up, Red. You're coming with us."
He watched in horror as the younger man did as he was told. "John, don't do this!"
The achingly blue eyes of his former partner regarded him sadly; he hung his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt Andy. Please."
He saw one of the men throw a length of thick rope at John, "Tie him up, nice and tight."
"John, you don't have to do this. Please!" he begged as John walked towards him. He looked into his former partner's face as he felt his hands being tied in front of him tightly. Even though they were standing so close he strained to hear what the other man was saying.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," John whispered over and over as he tightened the knots on Andy's wrists, "Please forgive me."
"Now gag him, nice and tight now, Red."
Andy shook his head and tried to push him away, "John, please," he pleaded as he saw the white rag coming closer to his face. As he felt the fabric tighten around his jaw he looked up into the crystal blue eyes of the man he had grown to love as a son. When he spoke nothing came out except a muffled growl but he knew he had to try to make him see reason.
He watched in horror as one of the men secured a cable tie around John's wrists and pulled viciously, making his former partner wince and stumble slightly before having a black hood thrown over his head. He screamed and pulled on his bindings as hard as he could but to no avail, he watched with tears streaming from his eyes as he saw John being pushed roughly out of the room before his vision too suddenly went black.
Calleigh stormed down the corridors of the crime lab as she attempted to blow off a little steam, her meeting with Captain Hernandez had not gone well. Her superior was an arrogant jackass at the best of times and she wondered how Horatio had tolerated the infuriating man for so long. The captain had been cold and uncaring of Horatio's current plight and had demanded that his case be put on the backburner, he had told her that too much time and too many resources had already been wasted on trying to track down the elusive Malucci's. She had received short shrift when she argued that the explosion outside the department was linked to the crime syndicate that were targeting the lieutenant. "Find some evidence to prove it," the Captain had growled.
"Calleigh, have you got a minute?" Ryan's voice called from down the hall as he poked his head out into the corridor.
"What is it, Ryan?"
Her colleague winced at her tone and visibly shrank a little back into the lab he was inhabiting, "I can call Eric if this is a bad time?" he offered uncertainly.
Readjusting the folders in her arms she used her free hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "No it's ok, what have you got?" She asked as she walked towards the room he was in.
"I ran those prints that the bomb tech gave us, I found a match to a Juan Fuentes. I hear Frank's tracking him down and bringing him in, I thought you'd want to know it's a match before he gets brought in for questioning."
She saw the worried look Ryan was giving her and took a deep breath before answering him, "Thanks, Ryan. Good job."
He gave her a small smile as he returned his attention to his work. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she decided to ring Andy to update him on the news. She frowned as the call rolled over to voicemail, she hung up and tried again and was greeted with the same response. Worry began to claw at her insides; instinctively she rang her house phone but got no answer there either. Worry soon gave way to fear as she realised something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Bound and gagged Andy lay prostrate on the floor of Calleigh's lounge, a small rivulet of blood running from the cut on his head dripped slowly onto the hardwood flooring and pooled beneath his chin. The vibrating sensation in his trouser pocket and the shrill ringing of the landline phone that sat in the corner of the room failed to rouse a response from him as he lay on the floor, unmoving.
He felt himself being pushed forwards, stumbling at unseen objects beneath his feet. He grimaced as he felt the heat from the midday sun beat down upon him as he was guided from the house. Walking only a few paces before his legs hit the back of a van, he fell onto his side as he was shoved roughly into the vehicle, the odours of gasoline and rusted metal assaulted his senses. He felt the floor dip as he heard the footsteps of his captors climb in with him, wincing as they hauled him roughly further into the vehicle and slammed the doors shut. The vehicle sped off at such a speed that the unexpected motion took him by surprise; he felt the side of his head hit the metal flooring and audibly groaned at the pain that shot through it.
He was rewarded for his movements by a swift kick in the stomach, "Shut it, Red," snarled a voice above him. Biting his lip he tried to suppress the groan as pain radiated across his abdomen, he gasped quietly as he tried to regain his breath. As he lay panting on the floor he knew his past had come back to haunt him, but talk some comfort from the fact that at least they had targeted him and not the people he cared about. He would take what they gave him willingly if it meant that they would survive.