Coughing on stale air, Greg blinked around him. He was cuffed, lying on the bed in the exact position he'd left Katie. There was an excruciating burning sensation between his legs, connecting to a terrible, dull ache in his lower stomach.
"Urghh," he groaned, awkwardly shifting onto his side, and a sharp pain ripped across his groin. Glancing down his body, he spotted the blue dart sticking out of one leg.
"My own fucking-!" he rasped in disbelief, angrily kicking the numb leg out. He jerked in surprise when his phone rang, strategically placed in reach of his hands. Clawing at it, he squinted at the screen before dragging his torso forward on the bed to answer, wincing at the effort.
"What?" Greg snapped. Listening to the caller, he grit his teeth. "They did, did they? Well, don't bother. I'm on it." He paused, and a thundering frown gathered on his sweating brow. "Because I'm on site! Why do you think I asked to be notified? Fucking cancel it!" he said savagely, and ended the call. Then he looked at the cuffs on his hands.
"FUCK!" he screamed hoarsely, furiously rattling the cuffs against the rail. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he raised his head and fumbled with the phone. "It's me. I need someone after all. Just one person, with keys. They have to call me for directions." Greg listened for a minute and rolled his eyes. "I'm undercover. Use the details I left yesterday. Yes, him. Not a word to anyone else. This is important, understand?" Dropping the phone to the mattress, Greg curled into a more comfortable position, cringing in pain, and waited. After a couple of minutes, several waves of fire seemed to pass through his balls, and after a bout of heaving breaths, Greg promptly vomited on himself.
"They're gonna wish they killed me, all three of them," he retched, shaking with his agitation and physical pain. He jumped as his phone went off again.
"Oh, shit," Greg whispered, unsure whether to take it. There wasn't any point ignoring it, obviously George knew he'd made contact. "Hello?" he answered calmly, despite his lower body twitching in pain.
"What are you up to, Greg?" asked George.
"I-I'm..." Greg scrambled to think of an answer, wondering how much George knew.
"Why has a death been reported in the very area you are located?" George questioned sweetly.
"How did you- A death?" Greg ejaculated hoarsely. "I didn't know. I was only told-"
"You fucking idiot!" George screamed. "You don't tell reception monkeys to contact your boss without warning! It is not for you to call in favours on my behalf! Do you not have a brain, or has spending so much time with my son drastically lowered your IQ?"
"Urhhh," Greg winced as the pain in his groin refreshed.
"What!?" George shouted.
"I said, I'm handling it," Greg ground out, his mind divided between the searing agony in his crotch and George's verbal abuse.
"Do you know that an ambulance and several officers are on their way to you?"
"It wasn't mentioned," Greg replied weakly.
"Perhaps it wasn't mentioned, because this whole situation stinks of your fucking screwup! How am I supposed to fix this? I'm fucking retired!" George's voice broke as he screamed himself hoarse. "If I have to use your dead body to wipe up this mess-"
"I'm not finished here," Greg insisted on a snarl, as Mark's smiling face loomed to the front of his mind.
"You are finished!" George roared. "You are to disappear, got it? Go underground. I need to use you to clean up this shit, and I'll have to call in favours I worked hard to attain. When I am updated next, I want to hear that you are missing. I want to hear that there is no evidence whatsoever you are breathing. Be gone before anyone arrives."
"But-" Greg raised his head in dismay. "I'm cuffed."
The line went quiet for a moment of seething silence. Greg could hear George breathing, and somehow he physically felt the animosity through the phone. Finally George spoke, and his tone was deadly.
"You abandon your post, leave me in the dark, create one fuck of a crime scene, kill a civilian, and you're stuck? Is that what you're telling me?" George queried, his voice humming with fury.
Greg couldn't bring himself to answer.
"Well," George continued serenely, "I suggest you find a way out, Gregory. I suggest you put that once-brilliant little brain to use. Because shortly, I will be taking a holiday in your direction. And I will make sure you disappear."
The line ended and Greg turned onto his back. His mind whirled as he stared up at the ceiling, aghast. Just because officers were on their way didn't make it any better. He had no undercover story. They'd throw him in jail, and his fellow inmates would have a field-day with an ex-officer, even a fake one. So would George's contacts on the inside. Rolling onto his front, Greg peered around the room. The shack was full of junk. He groaned in agony as he slowly raised onto his knees. Cuffed hands gripping the metal frame, he shut his eyes and bent over. His blond fringe brushed across his eyes as he leaned his chin onto his knuckles.
Not long ago, he was King of the World. Now, he was a disgraced fugitive. Though he'd handled himself just fine before George employed him, Greg liked his job. He could enjoy his special brand of fun with minimal accountability. Shaking his head, Greg deeply regretted his cocky decision to kidnap Cory. He should have just taken Katie back to Dom, then he could have had his way her numerous times en route. But now, he was stuck like a pig in an abattoir, waiting for death.
"ARGHHH!" he growled furiously, curling his torso over the rail, and the bed jumped as he frantically tugged at the railing. Opening his eyes to the floor below him, he scrambled from the bed and gasped as his legs gave out under him. Gathering his strength, he managed to stand, leaning most of his weight on the leg that didn't have a dart in it. Carefully, he supported himself using the bed-frame, and used his cuffs to shift the bed to one side, inch by inch.
There was something on the ground that stood out cleanly against the surrounding muck. Something that had clattered to the floor and been kicked under the bed by Cory in his blind haste to get Katie free and escape. Greg recognised it immediately. Biting his lip from the pain that followed, sweat running down his temples, he worked to free his feet from his boots.
"Hello, old friend," he breathed with a twisted smile. Elation mingled with pain in the depths of his flaring brown eyes as they fixed on the small hacksaw.
