As usual, I'm sorry for the long wait for this update. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It took a long time to get it just right.

They'd arrived.

Nicky didn't know where that was or for how long they'd be there, but he'd deduced that their lapse in movement was going to be more of a permanent one. Far be it from a casual traffic stop or store run, the car had been parked with Nicky stowed away in the trunk for three-thousand Mississippi's and not a sound could be heard from outside despite the hollering he was doing on the inside.

"HELP! ANYONE! SOMEONE HELP ME!" is what he would've been yelling. However, thanks to the fat piece of duct tape cutting into the corners of his mouth, his words all came out sounding like muffled gagging. His voice had grown hoarse and the air he swallowed was thick with sweat. His efforts were futile and depriving him of what little oxygen remained in that dark trunk.

He couldn't remember how he ended up there. He couldn't remember leaving his apartment or at what point he went from being locked in his bedroom closet to tied up in the trunk of a car. But he couldn't explain any of it so why should this part make a lick of sense?

He supposed he passed out. He had no way of telling what time of day it was, but he had to assume that at least 24 hours had passed since Shawn came to see him and Julian stood in wait to take Nicky hostage. Or more likely it had been 48 hours. That would make it Sunday. Or maybe even Monday.

A lot had happened to him to impair his sense of time. To make this horror show go on for what felt like an eternity. He'd been stripped, beaten, mutilated, threatened, humiliated, and yet somehow, he felt like there had been more, but the memory alluded him. His aching stomach was evidence enough that Julian was starving him. He was severely dehydrated especially so after all the alcohol he'd poured down his throat prior to his captivity. Still there was something more. A missing piece.

He gave up on the hope of finding a way out of the trunk. Julian wasn't stupid enough to kidnap a detective in a trunk with an emergency release. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to focus. Fear and confusion would be his worst enemies. That was the difference between being a predator and being prey. If he wanted to turn the tables, he'd have to start thinking like a hunter and stop being a pathetic wounded animal.

He was stuck on his stomach, hogtied. His mobility was limited to twisting his head around to confirm what he already knew: yup, more darkness. He'd break his wrists trying to kick the backseats down from behind. In a perfect world, he'd break the zip ties around his wrists first, but he had little chance of doing that with dislocated shoulders. It was now or never.

He tucked his ankles into himself tightly and parted his knees as widely as the space would allow. He centered his weight onto his chest and shifted his hips out toward the seats. Resting himself on his middle, he again stretched apart his knees, reaching to drag himself across as much carpet as possible. He lifted his hips and forgetting about the zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles, his feet lifted suddenly and yanked hard at his disjointed shoulders. He heard a crack from the base of his neck and felt the nylon tethers slicing at his bare wrists. He gasped in pain and lost balance, falling awkwardly onto his shoulder.

"Fuck!" He howled loudly, rolling back onto his chest.

The only silver lining to this exercise in self-torture was that he had managed to get himself closer to his desired location. Deciding it was close enough, he began maneuvering himself onto his shoulder to allow his feet to flatten against the backseats.

He took a deep breath, wound his knees up toward his chest as far as his restraints would allow, and then propelled his legs backward, slamming his heels forcefully against the back of the seat. His wrists throbbed against the ties, but it didn't stop him from doing it again. And again. And the final time, which thankfully sent the seat folding forward.

While Nicky had not planned or thought through any part of this starting with getting abducted by a jealous psycho, he alone bore the blame for not thinking out this particular element. How the hell was he going to get himself over the seat with no arms or legs to maneuver with?

He stared down the narrow opening he'd created. To climb into the backseat of that car would require the ability to crawl, not to mention all of his strength. Maybe he should've saved his energy for popping his shoulders back into their sockets. Or used what time he had figuring out how to break the zip ties. But he'd come this far and there was no telling how much time he had left to break out. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least see through an attempt to escape. So, there he was carrying on with probably the stupidest plan ever designed.

He once read that snakes move by using their muscles to drive their scales across the ground, push off from objects, and undulate along in mysterious courses as they tend to do. Nicky liked snakes and how they evolved from lizards for the sole purpose of survival. Though he lacked scales and much of the muscle capacity required to be nearly as successful in his efforts, he also had just one purpose now: to survive this.

So, he made like a snake using everything but his limbs to wriggle himself forward, headfirst out of the trunk and into the backseat. His skin was coated with sweat and his wrists and ankles were raw from the strain on the zip ties. When he steered himself close enough to the seat, which was slightly raised and posed the further challenge of having to crawl up an incline, he lowered his forehead to the floor and rolled his hips to hoist himself up and over the folded seat.

The friction of his movements did something else. While his floundering along on his stomach did little in the way of helping him succeed at his endeavour, he heard a tear and suddenly his ankles were free of his wrists. The duct tape had worn away, detaching his zip ties. Though his ankles were still tethered together painfully, he could now use his feet and knees to propel himself forward.

So away he climbed. Up and over the seat, spilling into the car face-first like a beached whale. He managed to pull himself upright, seated against the backrest while he tried to catch his breath.

Out the window, Nicky couldn't see much. It was dark and the tinted windows amplified the effect. If there was any hope of escaping, now was probably the time.

He knew he needed to reinsert his shoulders into their respected sockets before he could dream of getting himself untied and free from the car, but he had little idea of how to do that. In one of his father's old war movies, he could remember watching a nurse guide a soldier's arm back into place. Obviously, if he had the help of a nurse or anyone, he wouldn't be in this mess. But if he could mimic the motions, maybe he'd stand a chance.

With his arms behind his back, he wouldn't. After some maneuvering, he managed to get his hands beneath him and then under his thighs, stretching painfully against the zip ties. He then dug beneath the ties with his toes, pulling one leg through at a time until his arms were finally tethered in front of him rather than behind. Crouching forward on the floor mat, he folded himself over the front passenger seat, letting his arms drape down and his shoulders hang limply. He then lowered himself into the seat again with his arms catching on the headrest. He could feel his right arm stretch as it straightened, which was an improved sensation compared to what he'd been experiencing for at least the past day. The searing pain up his arm and into his neck disappeared as the ball of his arm bone returned to its shoulder socket. While he couldn't quite entice his left arm to follow suit, he'd take it. One arm was better than none.

Nicky unhooked his arms from the seat of the car and pulled the latch, opening the car door. He swung his legs out, lowered them to the ground, and carefully lifted himself up with the ultimate goal of not falling on his face.

He did lose balance. He managed to catch himself on the car but, looking around, it was difficult to not feel disoriented. He was in a parking garage. Or that's what it resembled. It was dark and cold, and there didn't look like anyone had been or was likely going to be around for a long while. Momentarily forgetting that his ankles were still fastened together, he stumbled backward and heard the sound of metal crashing to the cement floor as he fell against something hard and flat. He spun around and gripped it, feeling out what it was and what had fallen.

It was a workbench. Wooden and rough. What had fallen was actually a toolbox. In disbelief, he guided himself down to search through the scattered tools for something that could break the zip ties.

His fingers wrapped around a pair of pliers. Though it would make sense that his luck was bound to improve eventually, he was skeptical. He'd never been a lucky guy. Definitely not this lucky.

After a couple of tries, he was free and limped unsteadily to the far side of what he'd decided now was an abandoned building of some sort, a project that never took off. Had he any pockets, he might've deposited a couple of those tools into them. But in having been stripped down to his skivvies, he made off cradling one dead arm, the pliers, and a heavy hammer that he doubted he could muster up the strength to swing if he tried. But he would try. In fact, it was the first thing he did when he caught sight of Julian's face.

There was a door with no window, and it could lead to anywhere for all Nicky cared. It was a foot off the ground but no stairs beneath it as though the builders had never gotten far enough to putting them in. By this logic, the door really could lead to nowhere.

Approaching it, he raised his good arm and his fingers gripped the knob. It was cold in his hand. He felt it twist. His heart pounded. It wasn't locked. He shouldn't have hesitated. Something made him pause. It was the feeling of wind on his neck like someone had just whipped by him. Goosebumps raised on his arms, his breath hitched, and before he could even think about calling out, he began to gag. The tape cutting into the corners of his mouth was evidently low on his priority list when he was getting himself untied. He'd completely forgotten it was there and it made sense. He didn't need to talk. Just run.

Eyes darting from corner to corner of the long room, he struggled to make out anything more than just vague shapes in the darkness. He clutched the hammer tighter and began peeling off the duct tape. Wrapped tightly around his head, removing the tape meant parting with several tufts of hair, but seconds spent reacting to the pain were precious and not to be wasted.

Nicky's tally of time that had passed would have to be reconfigured. Suddenly a blinding light had filled the room filtering through a large door rising to the ceiling obnoxiously and loud. Barely able to squint at what came before him, he took off limping toward it. Call it instinct or maybe it was owing to Catholic school having taught him to go towards the light. He picked up speed. His legs would carry him because they had no choice. He was sprinting. This was his giant fucking window and he had to take it.

His eyes burned against the light. There was no time to allow them to adjust. He had seconds before that door closed again.

He was close. He gritted his teeth and pushed. He could feel his bare feet slap against the cement floor. It was the only sound that filled the garage until suddenly, something shot through his ears like a missile.

It sounded like a train was coming right for him. He reasoned now that it was likely a blare of a car horn with its hood open.

Regardless, Nicky lost his footing and fell to his hands and knees groaning. For a brief moment, he felt that the ground had moved beneath him. The tools fell also with a sharp clang.

If only he'd kept going. It only he'd not looked back. If only.

Next, he was startled by the sound of someone clapping their hands together. Julian. Each staccato was accompanied by a heavy footstep, growing louder and quicker. Getting closer.

Nicky couldn't bring himself to look. Not even if he could see against the light. He stared low, his body vibrating with fear and adrenaline.

The sound of footsteps slowed and then finally stopped. Nicky was eye to eye with a dirty pair of black boots. It was over. His pathetic attempt to escape was over.

Something hard was sticking out from beneath his shin and he was struck with one last-ditch effort. Of all his regrets, this would not be one of them. This time, he would not hesitate.

He reached for it. His fingers closed around the hammer and he leaped for the man, wielding the tool wildly. Nicky roared as he felt the hammer connect. He was prepared to unleash something primal on his captor before he realized he hadn't quite gained the upper hand with this attack as he had anticipated. Though he had hit his intended target, Julian had been much quicker and caught the assaulting end in his fist. Nicky's attempts to retrieve it and swing it again were futile.

He heard a deep chuckle from the man, and it was unnerving enough to entice Nicky to finally raise his gaze to the large man before him.

"You shouldn't have done that." With a sudden jerk, Julian yanked the base of the hammer from Nicky's grasp and brutely struck him on the head with it.

He fell to the ground in a heap, piling his good arm over his head to shield it. But no further blows came. Just the antagonizing echo of Julian's laughter.

"Amazing! We should enroll you in the circus. Now let's see if you can do that again."

Having already made himself look at the man, he likewise forced himself to his feet. He took several deep breaths and finally croaked with a fury that could not be mistaken: "FUCK YOU!"

Nicky felt his legs wobbling beneath him, but he willed them to bear his weight.

The man took two quick strides to reach Nicky, seized him by the back of the neck, and sent him plunging face-first into the trunk of the car. His ribs crunched against the bumper painfully and for a moment, he considered pulling up his knees and climbing back into the trunk obediently as Julian wanted. Instead, he lay there, bent over the open trunk and bracing himself for when his brain's command to straighten up finally made its way to the appropriate muscles.

"I could slam your head in the door a few times and see if that changes your mind," Julian said.

When he did eventually achieve standing, the look he found on Julian's face was furious and Nicky was compelled to plead with him. "Please, man. I don't want to play this game." Nicky's voice was small, and it surprised him almost as much as when Julian pulled a pistol from his waistband and pressed the muzzle into Nicky's forehead.

"Say that again." He snarled, digging the gun harder into his forehead.

Nicky was trembling and the trunk was sounding pretty good about now. "Please! I don't wanna die!" That was a lie. A part of him wanted him to pull that trigger. He just wasn't sure how big of a part.

Julian seemed to like the sound of his begging. He removed the gun from Nicky's head and clipped him with it across the temple.

Nicky stumbled again toward the car and this time leaned into the fall, rolling himself over the lip of the trunk.

Julian deposited the gun back into his waistband and pulled something lighter from his back pocket.

"Oh fuck. You've gotta be kidding me!" Nicky protested, his eyes burning with frustration.

"Roll over," he smirked and held up a zip tie.

"Come on, really? Please, not again! I said I don't want to play."

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky. When will you learn?"

Just as Nicky had begun to lift himself upright, Julian slammed the lid shut and knocked Nicky hard against the trunk floor.

"You don't get a choice when it's NOT YOUR GAME!" Julian's voice came again accompanied by a deafening pop.

Nicky thought he must have smacked something hollow against the lid of the trunk but that's when he noticed light seeping in on the other end, inches from where his legs were curled. A hole about ten millimeters in diameter now compromised the barrier dividing Nicky's safety from the monster outside the car. The bullet was lodged in the floor somewhere and hadn't hit Nicky. Yet.

When the noise came again, Nicky pulled himself frantically to where he hoped was out of dodge. There were three more gunshots before it stopped, and Julian roared maniacally alongside each one as he fired: "I MAKE THE RULES!" He stopped only after creating a succession of holes across the back of the car.

Nicky's heart was pounding fiercely in his ears and it was all he could hear over the ear-splitting ringing that the gunshots left behind as they penetrated the metal lid.

It mattered little.

Julian wasted no time in reopening the trunk and yanking Nicky up by the neck. "Play."

Carlo couldn't light the Marlboro between his lips. The tremor in his hands made it near impossible. That is until finally on his fourth attempt when he heard the telling sound of paper beginning to burn and took a long drag of the cigarette.

He could hear footsteps approaching, but he didn't turn to see. He remained leaning over the hood of his Impala, eyes sealed shut as his mind ran circles around what was happening.

"Carlo?"

He knew it was Chris. He knew what he had come down to say.

He couldn't help but entertain a trivial thought suddenly. He pictured those moments in movies where people delay the delivery of bad news until they're "ready", until they've prepared themselves mentally to receive it. He supposed it was to build up suspense, but he could conclusively tell you now it was all bullshit. There would be no option for him to hold off this conversation until he was ready because that didn't exist for him. He would never be ready. Not for this.

Still, his back didn't turn to face his brother's partner. He couldn't say why really. It wasn't to prolong receiving the truth. Every moment that he didn't know whether it was Nicky hanging from the ceiling upstairs was only ripping him up inside that much more. His reasoning was simpler than that. When he took the news, he was going to need to be physically able to do more than just turn around and watch as the words spew from Chris' mouth. He was going to need to be able to look his parents in the eye and tell them their son was dead.

In order to do all that, he needed the parking lot to stop spinning around him. He waited a beat, pounded his fist on the hood of his car, and turned while sucking in a breath he was prepared to hold for a while.

Chris' face looked pale and the whites of his eyes were a burning red. Noticing these things didn't make swallowing the information he gave him any easier. "It's not him."

Carlo stared. Chris might've repeated himself, but the words also echoed in Carlo's brain for several seconds before he could digest them.

"It's … It's not him? You sure?" He released his breath and suddenly felt that he couldn't catch it.

"It's not him, man. It's not Nicky," Chris said, shaking his head from side to side.

Carlo's hands found the hood of his car again and he leaned himself against it. "Then who –? Where –?" Full sentences were unnecessary.

Chris was still shaking his head. "I don't know."

"So he … he's alive?"

This time Chris nodded, caught himself and shook his head again. "I don't know. I don't know anything."

Carlo thought for a moment. So many questions swam around his brain, but he needed to catch one to ask it. "Did someone kidnap him?"

"I don't know! I don't fucking know, man!" Chris spun around also, hands raised atop his head, gaping with a stunned expression at the building.

They both watched it like it was on fire. The funny thing was that if it had spontaneously ignited right there before them, it wouldn't have seemed any more unlikely than the clusterfuck with which they were already grappling.

Carlo had forgotten about the cigarette clenched in his fingers. He lifted it to his mouth and took a long gulp of smoke into his lungs.

Talking never did very much for him. It got him in trouble more times than he could count. Talking when he wasn't supposed to, talking back, talking himself into a hole. Still, he never could stop talking and this instance was no exception.

"I just don't get it. I mean, who is that guy? How did he end up dead in Nicky's apartment?"

Chris sent him a sideways glare that needed no caption.

Carlo flicked his cigarette. "I know, I know. You know nothing. It's just none of this makes any sense," he said, taking another drag. "He got pissed at me and Matty and took off. I assumed he was going home. What if he never made it home?"

The detective was watching him now with something resembling pity on his face. His eyebrows crumpled together, and his lips tightened like he had something to say after all.

"What?" Carlo asked cautiously.

But Chris just shook his head again and looked away.

It was quiet out there in the parking lot even for a weekday night. But considering what was happening just upstairs in apartment 5C and what had happened, – and God knows what that was – it was quiet. There were cops upstairs, crime scene investigators, blood spatter analysts, people ripping apart carpets, walls, furniture. Probably going through Nicky's albums, movie collection, his dishes, his fucking cereal boxes. Yet it was quiet down here. Only the faint sound of a siren probably miles off seemed to be the exception. Carlo looked around the parking lot and frowned.

Where is Nicky's parking spot? He thought scanning the cars across the lane. It was dark and the lot was poorly lit but there weren't many cars parked there. And once you ruled out the police cruisers, the EMT, the forensics vehicles, and Carlo's own ride, what was left was telling.

"What kind of car do you drive, Rivera?" Carlo said, something catching his eye.

Chris donned a quizzical look. "A Honda."

"Is it here?"

He answered with a hint of distrust. "No. Took a cruiser. Why?"

"Because then that's Nick's car right there. Look." He said nodding in its direction at the other end of the lot.

Crossing the parking lot, the men halted at the hood of the silver Civic and it became apparent to Carlo that there was no mistake. He immediately recognized the New York Giants license plate frame and the St. Christopher medal hanging from the rear-view mirror. He had both on his own car just a few yards away.

While Carlo stood frozen, gaping at his discovery but having not a clue what it could mean, Chris walked around to the driver's side window and peered in.

"What do you think the chances are that he forgot to lock it?" Chris asked trying the handle.

Carlo pressed his lips together. "Slim."

He was right. Who ever heard of a cop that forgets to lock up anyway?

"You see anything in there?" Carlo said, moving to the passenger side.

"Just the usual shit."

"Rivera!" Despite having watched him approach, the bald man's booming voice still caused Carlo's back to tense. He watched with admiration as Chris straightened but otherwise barely reacted at all.

"Captain?"

The man seemed to have little regard for personal space as he stepped in closely toward the detective. "I thought I told you to get your ass out of here! This is a fucking crime scene. What do you not understand about that? Are you trying to fuck up your career or are you as dumb as you look?"

Chris' jaw tightened. "No, Sir."

The captain jabbed his finger into the air fiercely. "I'm not going to warn you again, Detective. I'll start liking you for this if you don't stay the hell away!" He spat and turned his rage on Carlo. "And that goes double for you, kid! Fuck off if you know what's good for you!"

Rather than storm off, he waited there. He would see them go or make good on his threat, Carlo knew that much.

"Yes, Sir," Chris said, nodding for Carlo to follow him. "Gimme a ride," He muttered, ushering Carlo away with a hand on his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, that's your boss?"

Chris' face betrayed nothing, but he answered in jest: "He's a teddy bear."

The captain still watched them as they pulled past him and out to the road. He was soon joined by officers who had likely come on orders to cordon off the lot with police tape. Still, Carlo had made up his mind.

"Fuck him. I'm not going anywhere until I find my brother."

Updates on Shawn coming soon! Please review! :)