find the rather large and expensive birthday gift left for him by the other members of The Firm. The tiny thirteen inch had been relegated to the attic ever since.  “Need

some help, Vin?” he called when his friend hadn’t returned with the beer. “Vin,” he called again as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He reached for his

gun and held it in front of his body. Without a sound he opened the door to a silent, empty kitchen.

 

He slowly made his way towards the walk in dining room, opening the door slowly. The sight that caught his eyes made his heart skip a beat. Two men, both wearing

hooded masks held guns to Vin Tanner’s head. The younger man didn’t move but his eyes sent a warning to his friend. ‘Get out!’

 

‘Can’t do that, Cowboy!’  he shot back.

 

“Drop your gun, Larabee,” a soft deadly voice ordered from his right. He turned to see another hooded man pointing a gun in his direction. “Put it down or my

associates will put a bullet through Tanner’s head.”

 

‘Don’t do it, Chris,’ Tanner’s eyes shot across the room.

 

“Sorry, Pard,” Chris answered aloud as his gun clattered to the floor.

 

“Very good, Larabee. Now if you’ll kindly kneel down and place your hands behind your back we’ll get down to business,” the man on his right said.

 

Chris did as he was told, worried about Vin’s unmoving body. He knew he was alive because the expressive blue eyes watched every move he made. ‘Drugged,’

he thought worriedly.

 

Chris felt his arms viciously yanked upwards and bit back a cry as he felt handcuffs secured to his wrists. He was pulled to his feet and pushed into a chair across

from Tanner. “Who the hell are you?” he asked as he felt the man behind him place a hand on his right shoulder.

 

“It doesn’t matter who we are, Chris. May I call you Chris?”

 

“Only my close friends call me Chris,” the blond said as he continued to watch Tanner’s eyes.

 

“Oh we will be mighty close over the next six days so I guess that means I can call you Chris,” the man beside him said.

 

“What have you done to him?” Larabee asked.

 

“Mr. Tanner is suffering from the use of a drug made on the black market.  He will remain paralysed for approximately two more hours,” the man said. “You see my

client wants a little revenge on Mr. Tanner.”

 

“What are you going to do to him?” Larabee asked as he angrily struggled against the man’s hold on his shoulder.

 

“We’re not going to do anything to Mr. Tanner at the moment. You see my Client wants his revenge to be slightly different.”

 

“Different? How?” Larabee asked.

 

“He wants Mr. Tanner to watch his closest friend suffer,” the man answered.

 

Chris watched Vin’s eyes fill with rage, “Who is this man?”

 

“It’s too early to tell you that. Actually you’ll be meeting him soon. Right now I need to show Mr. Tanner that we mean business,” the man said. “I am going to

release your hands for a minute. If you try anything my man will put a bullet in your friend. He won’t kill him but he will suffer and I’m sure you don’t want that,” he

laughed as he released Larabee’s hands from the cuffs.

 

Chris pulled his hands around to the front and rubbed the circulation back into them. His eyes never left those of his friend and he could tell Vin wanted him to do

what he had to do to get away. Chris shook his head imperceptibly.

 

“Very nice,” the man smiled as he watched the silent exchange. “Now please place your left hand on the table, Chris,” he ordered. When the blond didn’t do so

immediately he signaled his men and Chris heard the distinctive sound of a gun cocking. Larabee’s left hand found its way to the table. “That’s better but if I have to

ask a second time again there will be no warning. Now give me your right hand!”

 

Chris Larabee was not a man easily scared but something about the man standing beside him sent chills down his spine. He lifted his right hand, his eyes never leaving

the blue eyes of his friend. His scream rent the air as his wrist was snapped in one smooth move.

 

‘No! Oh, God, Chris, I’m sorry,” Tanner thought. Anger and fear making his eyes turn to ice.

 

“That’s your first warning Mr. Tanner. You’ll be receiving tapes at your office. I think it will be imperative for you to watch them as you receive them as they’ll reveal

exactly what your friend is going through. Chris’s whereabouts will also be revealed during one such taping,” the man said as he dropped the blond’s wrist.

 

Chris held his broken right wrist in his left hand. He bit his lip as he tried to fight off the incredible waves of nausea that threatened to empty his stomach. His arms

were once again pulled behind him and fastened with handcuffs. He was pulled roughly to his feet but his eyes never left the young man sitting stiffly across the table.

A blindfold was placed over his eyes and all contact with Tanner was cut off as he was pulled from the home of his friend.

 

Chapter 9

 

 

Chris tried to keep track of the twists and turns the car made but the pain of his injured wrist pressing up against the back seat of the car made it hard to concentrate.

He had no idea how long they’d been driving but his instincts told him more than an hour had passed. They hadn’t made many stops so he figured they had to be

driving in the country not in Billings itself.

 

“How’s the wrist feel Chris? Has the pain numbed for you yet?” the soft voice of his tormentor grated on the blond’s nerves.

 

“Go to hell,” Larabee hissed.

 

“You’ll soon find out the true definition of hell, Chris. My client is paying me very well to see that Mr. Tanner suffers along with you, although his will be more on the

mental side,” the man laughed, as he continued on in his conversational tone. “Have you ever watched a close friend being tortured, Chris? It’s not something I’d

recommend. I’m talking from experience here. Not that I’ve watched a friend being tortured but I have tortured a friend. I was paid very well for that and the client

always comes first.”

 

“You’re sick,” the blond said softly.

 

“Don’t ever say that again, Chris,” the man warned, his tone remained soft but with an added steel behind it and a look in his eyes that hinted at insanity. He shoved

Larabee back into the seat, reawakening the dulled pain in his wrist. “There are a lot of bones in your body that can be broken without killing you, Chris,” he stated

leaving the threat hanging in the air.

 

Larabee leaned forward trying to keep his injured hand from any contact with the seat. He felt the motion of the car stop and knew they’d reached their destination.

 

“We’re here, Chris, It’s time for you to meet my client,” the man said.

 

Chapter 10

 

 

As suddenly as his mobility had left him it returned and Vin gasped as pins and needles swept through his body. He grabbed for the phone sitting across from him and

pressed the number for Buck Wilmington. He tried to stand but his legs were still shaky and his head throbbed unmercifully. Over and over he heard the sound of

Chris’s wrist being snapped and the scream of pain that escaped his lips. ‘My fault, my fault,’ he thought as he waited for Wilmington to answer the phone.

 

“This better be good,” the familiar voice answered tiredly.

 

“Buck, get the others and get out to my ranch.”

 

“Vin, what’s wrong?” Wilmington asked immediately awake and alert to the fear in the younger man’s voice.

 

“Chris is in trouble, Buck, and it’s all my fault.”

 

“Vin, what are you talking about? Where’s Chris?”

 

“They took him. He broke his fucking wrist and they took him outta here. I heard him scream, Buck. I heard him scream,” Tanner snarled.

 

“Vin, stay where you are. I’ll get the guys and we’ll be there in an hour.”

 

“Buck, tell JD to bring his finger print kit,” Tanner said, his instincts kicking backing in.

 

“Will do, Vin. Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine, Buck, it’s Chris we have to worry about right now. Hurry, Buck.”

 

“On the way, Vin, just don’t do nothing foolish till we get there,” Wilmington said as he heard the phone disengage.

 

Chapter 11

 

 

Woodbury watched as the blond haired man was led into the large room. A chair sat in the center, a length of chain attached to the legs, a collar hung loosely from

the back, reminding him of the chair used when a man was given the death sentence in the old movies. A large, bright overhead spotlight illuminated the chair and its

immediate surroundings. He smiled as he realized he was about to get his revenge against the man he’d once considered his best friend but that had all changed over

the months he’d been held prisoner in Beirut. His hatred towards Vin Tanner had grown to the point where it had eaten up the man he’d once been. He wanted

Tanner to pay and pay he would with the torture and eventual death of his friend. He watched as one of Whelan’s men set up a video camera to capture the torture

on tape.

 

“Now, Chris, I’m going to remove the cuffs from your wrists. You’re not going to try anything foolish are you?” Whelan asked as he smiled in Woodbury’s direction.

 

Chris waited for the handcuffs to be removed and made his move. He turned on the man standing next to him and lashed out with his left hand, only to have it

grabbed in a vice like grip. The skin of the man’s hands was soft, like that of a baby, but the strength was like steel. A gun cocking next to Chris’s right ear made him

stop fighting.

 

“That was not a very smart thing to do, Chris,” Whelan said as he bent the left hand back as far as he could without breaking it. “Now I’m going to let your hand go

and then I want you to take your clothes off. Oh don’t worry I’m not into that kind of torture but some of the things I will be doing require bare skin, just keep your

undies on, everything else must go. Now you can remove the clothes yourself and at least keep a modicum of dignity or I can have a couple of my men help you out,”

he said as he released Larabee’s hand. “Which will it be?”

 

The gun at his head never wavered as he removed the boots, socks, shirt, and black jeans he wore. Whelan smiled as he pushed his victim into the chair, attaching

the length of chain to his ankles.

 

Chris felt hands in his hair as his head was pulled back and something cold was wrapped around his neck. He heard the snap of a lock as the cold steel tightened

around his neck, effectively limiting his movement. He felt his tormentor move away from him and wondered briefly why his hands were allowed to remain loose. He

hid a smile as he thought of the things he could do if he was permitted this tiny freedom.

 

“Now, Chris, you don’t really think I’m going to leave your hands free, do you? I’ve read the file my client had on you and I know all about your black belt and your

training as a Navy Seal,” Whelan explained as he signaled two of his men to come forward.

 

Chris Larabee felt both his hands grasped tightly and forced palm down on the armrest on both sides of the chair. His right wrist protested this new mistreatment and

he clenched his teeth in pain.

 

Woodbury grinned as he saw what Whelan had in his hands. He recognized the high powered, battery operated nail gun used by contractors.

 

“This may hurt but it’s necessary to keep you from attacking any of my men,” Whelan said as he loaded the nail gun. Her reached out and began prodding his

victim’s right hand until he found the place he wanted between the thumb and finger. Without warning he brought the gun down and deployed a nail into the tender

flesh of the blond’s hand.

 

Chris’s body arched as far as it could in the limited confines of the chair. The cry that escaped his lips was quickly cut off as he felt the gun placed on his other hand.

“You fucking animal,” he screamed as he struggled to get away from the mounting pain in his right hand.

 

“Swearing does not become you, Chris,” Whelan said as he deployed the second nail, once again causing the man’s body to arch against the pain.

 

Chris’s world had suddenly become a world of misery. Something he couldn’t get away from. He couldn’t move his hands and he felt the blood pooling around the

embedded nails. The nausea he’d felt when this man had broken his wrist was nothing compared to the white-hot pain he’d felt as the nail was driven into his hand,

embedding deeply into the arm of the chair. He fought to remain conscious as the pain radiated up his arms. “You Son of a Bitch,” he shouted, his anger helping him

manage the pain.

 

“Don’t try to pull your hand, Chris, it’ll just make me have to repeat the process. Now I’m going to remove the blindfold and let you see who’s company you’ll be

keeping for the next six days,” Whelan explained. “I’d advise you to keep your eyes closed for a few minutes as the light is very bright,” he advised as he lifted the

blindfold from his victim’s eyes.

 

Chris clenched his eyes against the brightness of the light above him. He waited a few minutes for his head to stop spinning and looked down at his hands. The skin

between his thumb and finger was already swollen and red as the blood continued to seep around the nails. He swallowed the bile that came up in his throat as the

pain caused his stomach to churn. He tried to pull his left hand from the painful intrusion but a man’s hand clamped down on it.

 

“I warned you not to do that,” Whelan told him as he pressed against the puncture wound.

 

“Don’t,” the blond hissed as the pressure on the tiny wound caused more pain to radiate outwards.

 

“You’re not in a position to give orders, Chris,” Whelan said as he fastened metal clamps over the blond’s wrists. “That’s just to make sure you don’t pull your hand

away from the nails. I don’t really want to have to do that again. Turn off the video Camera and make the delivery,” he ordered and the man closest to the camera

did as he was told. “Now, Chris, since I know your name I think it only fair that I introduce myself and my client” he said as he removed his own mask. “My name is

Marcus Whelan and I’ve been doing this kind of work for more than twenty years. You might say it’s been a torturous road but I’ve certainly refined my trade. Now

my client is paying me handsomely to make sure I give you a complete and very painful demonstration of my work,” Whelan explained as he knelt before Larabee.

 

“You’re a sadistic bastard,” Larabee snarled through gritted teeth.

 

Whelan laughed as he placed a hand on the blond’s knee. “Now, Chris, have you ever looked up that definition in Webster’s dictionary. It says a Bastard is an

illegitimate child and since I grew up with two very loving parents that definition doesn’t fit. Sadistic, yes, Bastard, no. Now shall we continue with the introductions.

Mr. Woodbury, would you please come over here,” he said.

 

Chris watched a man in a wheel chair coming towards him. The first thing he noticed was the scars that covered the man’s face and neck area. It looked as if he’d

been burned severely. The second thing that drew his attention was the missing right leg, the left leg was also missing just below the knee.

 

“Would you like to introduce yourself Mr. Woodbury?” Whelan asked, acting as if he was at a polite society formal instead of playing sick games at the whim of

another madman.

 

“My name is Gary Woodbury. I’ve been planning this for a long time, Larabee, and I’m sorry that you had to be involved. You’re the one catalyst that will give me

what I want.”

 

Chris listened to the raspy whisper, wondering what happened to the man to make him so bitter. “What do you want?” the blond asked, ignoring the pain in his hands

as he tried to find out more about the man in the chair.

 

“I want Vin Tanner dead but before he dies I want to see the look on his face while he watches his best friend,” the last two words were said vehemently, “die

because he broke his promise to another friend.”

 

“Who are you?” Larabee asked.

 

“Has Vin ever talked about his days in Beirut?”

 

Chris’s head snapped up as he thought of the conversation he and Vin shared two nights before. Something told him he was about to find out exactly what happened

to Vin’s friend.

 

“I see he has,” Woodbury said. “Did he ever mention the name Gary Wilcox?”

 

“He mentioned the name Gary,” the blond said.

 

“Did he tell you what happened to him?”

 

“He died in Beirut,” Chris answered simply.

 

Woodbury lashed out and struck the blond openhandedly across the face. “Is that what that animal told you?”

 

Chris felt the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Vin’s not the animal,” he hissed.

 

Woodbury lashed out again but his hand was stopped and held by Whelan. “Don’t let him get to you,” he said.

 

Woodbury’s hand dropped in his lap as Whelan released his hold. His cold eyes drilled into Chris’s as he began speaking again, “Gary Wilcox didn’t die in Beirut.

Oh, he wanted to. He even prayed that he would but it was not to be. Those animals took both my legs and ruined my throat.”

 

Chris immediately picked up on the change in the man. He heard the voice go from talking as if he was speaking of someone else to suddenly putting the emphasis on

himself. He knew, without a doubt that the man in the chair was Vin’s missing friend.

 

“I spent six long months in what they called a prison hospital. Some hospital, it was more like a torture chamber. I escaped when fire broke out in the prison but not

before I got burned. Some people found me and got me the help I needed. It was another year before I could return to my home. Those six months in the prison

were hell and I’m going to make sure that the next six days will be hell for Vin Tanner. You see you’re life is the price of a broken promise”

 

“Vin didn’t break his promise to you. He was hurt too,” the blond said softly.

 

“Hurt! You want to talk about hurt. Try having your legs removed while you’re awake and aware of what’s going on. No, Larabee, Vin Tanner doesn’t know the

meaning of the word hurt but you will and through you he will. He’ll see everything Mr. Whelan does to you and know it’s all his fault. Oh this is going to be sweet

revenge.”

 

“And you said Vin was an animal. The only animals I know are the four legged kind and the two of you,” Chris told them.

 

Woodbury’s eyes grew angry and he wanted nothing more than to strike out at the man before him.

 

Whelan laughed as he heard the blond’s soft voice. “Don’t pay any attention to Chris, Mr. Woodbury, he’s a little angry with us right now.”

 

Chris closed his eyes as fatigue and pain shook his body. He had no idea how long he’d been here but he suddenly felt as if he hadn’t slept in days. He was tired and

he relaxed as his mind drifted towards slumber.

 

“Oh, no you don’t, Chris,” Whelan said as he held an ammonia vial under the his victim’s nose.

 

Chris inhaled the strong odor and was pulled from the depths of darkness. He glared at the man kneeling before him. “Leave me alone,” he said angrily.

 

“That’s not going to happen, Chris. You won’t be left alone at all over the next six days. I hope you had lots of sleep over the last few days because it’s going to be

the last sleep you’ll be getting for awhile. I’ve got a little something special mixed up just for you. I’m afraid one of the side effects is that it keeps you aware of

what’s happening around you and also keeps you from sleeping. I only have six days to use my expertise on you and I want to utilize every minute of it. You wouldn’t

be willing to swallow a pill for me would you?” Whelan asked.

 

“Go to hell!”

 

“I didn’t think so,” Whelan sighed as he stepped away from his victim. “Guess we’ll just have to do this the hard way.”

 

Chris heard the man doing something behind him but with his neck in the collar it was impossible to turn his head to see what he was up to. He closed his eyes and

tried to slip away but was stopped by Whelan’s voice in front of him. He opened his eyes and watched as the man placed an IV pole beside him. “What’s that for?”

he asked, not realising he’d spoken aloud.

 

“Now, Chris, I know you’ve had IVs before. That’s exactly what this is. A plain and simple IV solution that’s given to patients in hospitals everywhere.”

 

“I don’t need it.”

 

“Maybe not yet but eventually you will. I’ve promised Mr Woodbury that I’ll keep you alive for six days. I’m afraid you won’t be getting anything to eat or drink and

therefore you’ll need something to keep you from becoming dehydrated. It’ll also help if you start going into shock,” Whelan explained as he wrapped a piece of

rubber tubing above Chris’s right elbow. He slowly tapped at the veins on the man’s forearm till he found one he liked. He swabbed the area and expertly inserted

the tiny needle. Taping the IV line in place he stood up and checked the flow. “Now that should help keep you with us over the coming days and to keep you awake

I’ve got a little something a friend of mine developed for the prostitute trade in the orient,” he said as he slipped the cap off a syringe and placed it at the first IV

juncture. “I’ve been using this little drug for a few years now and some of the side effects are rather unpleasant but it does the job of keeping the victim awake.

Would you like to know the side effects of this little drug? No matter, I’ll tell you anyway. Fevers, chills, restlessness, aggressiveness, that’s another reason I’ve

clamped your wrists to the chair, don’t want you pulling free of those nails and causing more damage than I’ve already done. Back to the side effects, then again, why

don’t we leave some of them as a surprise,” he laughed.

 

‘Vin, please don’t look for me. There’s no point in both of us dying,’ he thought as he felt the drug enter his system.

 

Chapter 12

 

 

“Anything, JD?” Tanner asked.

 

“The only prints belong to us,” Dunne answered as he studied the printouts in front of him.

 

“You sure, JD,” Wilmington asked.

 

“I know what I’m doing, Buck,” the younger man snapped.

 

“Easy, JD, we know you know your job,” Sanchez assured him.

 

Dunne looked at the moustached man, “Sorry, Buck.”

 

“Me too, JD.”

 

The shrill ringing of the security intercom sounded and six men jumped to answer it. Jackson got there first and held the receiver to his ear, “Yeah, he’s here, hold on.

Vin, Tom wants to speak to you,” he said.

 

Tanner took the receiver and listened to the man on the end of the line. “I’ll be right down,” he said as he hung up the phone.

 

“What is it, Vin?” Sanchez asked.

 

“There’s a man downstairs with a package for me. He’s not a regular delivery man and he insists he can only give it to me,” Tanner told him as he hurried to the

elevator, five men following closely at his heels.

 

“Where is he, Tom?” Tanner asked, running up to the security room door.

 

“Right here, Mr. Tanner,” the security guard pointed to a nervous looking man.

 

Vin looked at the young man standing before him. He wore faded blue jeans, a well worn T shirt with the words LIFE SUCKS boldly emblazoned across the front,

faded runners with broken laces, and a faded baseball cap. He guessed the man to be around his age as he stepped up to him.

 

“I...I got a package for V...Vin Tanner,” the man mumbled in a trembling voice.

 

“Where’d you get it?” Tanner asked as he took the plain brown paper wrapped package. He knew immediately what he was holding and his legs threatened to give

out on him. “I said where’d you get it?” he snapped when the answer wasn’t forthcoming.

 

“A man came up to me in the park and offered me fifty bucks to deliver this to Vin Tanner,” the young man explained.

 

“Did you see what he looked like?” Standish asked.

 

“No, he told me not to turn around. Hey, man, fifty bucks is a lot of money for me. I really needed it or I would’ve told him to do it himself.”

 

“Tom, can you have the police check this guy’s story out for us?” Sanchez asked.

 

“Sure thing, Mr. Sanchez. Sit down,” he ordered and the young man angrily slumped into the chair.

 

“You can’t do this. I know my rights,” the young man’s voice carried to them until the elevator door closed and they were on their way back to their offices.

 

“Do you know what’s on that, Vin?” Wilmington asked as he watched the younger man remove the wrapping to reveal a tape.

 

“Yeah, Buck, I do,” Tanner muttered as he dropped wearily into a chair, closing his eyes against the beginning of a headache.

 

“Vin,” Jackson said.

 

“The man who took Chris told me I’d be receiving videos and that on one of them he’d reveal where he’s holding Chris.”

 

“Well that’s great, Vin, put it on and maybe one of us will figure it out,” Wilmington suggested.

 

“You don’t understand, Buck, there’s more.”

 

“Then please explain it to us, Mr. Tanner,” Standish said.

 

“The man who broke Chris’s wrist said we’d see what was being done to Chris on this tape. I...I don’t know if...”

 

“Vin, we don’t have a choice. We have to see what’s on there,” Jackson said.

 

“I know, Nathan. I just keep hearing Chris’s screams,” Tanner hissed as he stood up and moved to the TV and VCR.

 

The silence was complete except for the tiny hum as the tape began to play in the VCR. The TV screen came to life and the first thing they saw was a blindfolded

Chris Larabee being led into a large room by a man wearing a mask. They watched as the man removed the cuffs from the blond’s wrists, cheering as their friend

struck out, only to have his hand trapped and a gun placed to his head. They heard the man threaten their friend as he bent his wrist. They watched in horror as Chris

was ordered to strip and the gun at his head never wavered as he shed his clothes.

 

The tape continued to play out and they watched as the blond was forced to sit in a chair similar to the ones used in gas chambers. They watched in silence as chains

were attached to his ankles and a collar was placed around his neck.

 

The six men watched with growing horror as Chris Larabee’s hands were placed on the arm rests of the chair. With mounting terror they watched as the unknown

man silently signaled his men and they forced Larabee’s hands palm down on the chair.

 

“Oh my God,” Jackson gasped as he watched the man lift a familiar object from a tiny table.

 

“He wouldn’t! He can’t!” Wilmington snarled only to find out the man would and could as a nail was driven into the helpless victim.

 

Chris Larabee’s cry of pain cut through each man’s heart. Six pairs of eyes filled with tears as they watched what they knew was only the start of the torture this man

intended to inflict on their friend. A tiny smile managed to show on the face of each man as he heard Chris call the man a son of a bitch but was quickly squashed

when the man caused more pain by pressing on the puncture wounds in Larabee’s hand.

 

The tape ended and began to rewind as each man fell silent, worry and anguish written across each handsome face.

 

“I’ll kill that sick son of a bitch,” Wilmington grated out angrily.

 

“You’ll have to stand in line, Mr. Wilmington,” Standish said softly, surprising the others with his comment.

 

“I think we need to watch it again,” Sanchez told them and held up his hands at their protests. “We may have missed something.”

 

“Josiah’s right,” Jackson affirmed.

 

The tape stopped and Vin pressed the play button on the remote. No one wanted to watch the tape again but six pairs of eyes were glued to the screen as the tape

began to play. This time, instead of the clear image of their friend’s torture there was nothing but black screen.

 

“Must have had some kind of automatic erase built in,” Dunne explained as the blank tape continued to play.

 

“Shit!” Wilmington swore as he realized the little evidence they had was now useless.

 

“JD, check the tape for prints,” Tanner ordered.

 

“Ok, Vin,” Dunne said as he removed the tape from the VCR, handling it only by the edge as he’d seen Vin do.

 

Vin Tanner walked away from the others and stepped into the office of his best friend. He sat at the older man’s desk and placed his elbows on top. Tears filled his

eyes as they fell on the framed picture Chris had so meticulously cut from the Gazette two days before. ‘Oh, God, Cowboy, I’m so sorry,’ he thought as he picked

up the picture and held it to his chest as he walked to the window.

 

“Vin, you alright?” Sanchez asked as he stepped into the darkened office. He saw the shadowy figure of the young man standing next to the window. Rain rolled

down the outside to pool in the tiny overhanging gutters. To Josiah Sanchez the raindrops  were a symbol of how they all felt. The tears of God, his mother had called

them and now they were being shed for a missing friend.

 

“Josiah, it’s all my fault,” Tanner said softly, the picture still held close to his chest.

 

Sanchez continued into the room, placing a gentle, calloused hand on the younger man’s shoulder and turning him away from the depressing sight of the rain. “Vin, it’s

not your fault.”

 

“How can you say that, Josiah? Whoever is doing this to Chris is doing it because of me. We can’t even give the police a good description of that son of a bitch

who’s doing this to Chris. He’s smart, Josiah, he and his men stayed in the shadows. All we can do is give the police a description of their height and weight!” Vin

shouted as he picked up the glass he’d been drinking from and threw it across the room.

 

“Sit down, Vin,” Sanchez ordered as he wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulder and led him to the overstuffed recliner opposite Chris’s desk. He felt

the trembling in the muscles of the long haired man and wondered how much more he could handle. It was hard on all of them to see what had been done to their

friend but Vin had a special rapport with Chris Larabee. The two had proven time and again just how strong the connection was between them. He didn’t say a word

as Vin handed him the picture he’d been holding so tightly, the glass covering the picture had broken and Sanchez saw blood around the edges of one corner. “Vin,

did you cut yourself?” he asked worriedly.

 

“It’s just a scratch, Josiah,” Tanner answered as he hid his hand from the older man.

 

“Let me see, Vin,” Sanchez ordered as he reached for the injured hand. “Damn, Vin, that scratch is going to need some stitches. Come on I’ll drive you to the

hospital.”

 

“I’m not going to the hospital, Josiah,” Tanner hissed. “I’ve gotta find Chris.”

 

“We’ve all gotta find Chris, Vin, but right now you need to get that looked after so we can do it right. Come on, Son, you won’t do Brother Chris any good if you

don’t look after yourself.”

 

“Alright, Josiah,” Tanner agreed as he walked out of the darkened office, using one of the gauze pads Josiah handed him to stop the bleeding in his hand.