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Michael Westen was not supposed to find himself in this position. He was a spy for chrissakes. And a bloody good one at that too it must be mentioned.

And yet here he was cuffed spread-eagled to the floor, movement limited by the iron shackles pressing into his wrists and ankles.

If it had only been him, he wouldn't be that worried (muchly) but there was another form tied to the ground close by him: Fiona. And did he mention that it was a hugely pregnant due-any-day-now Fiona?

It wasn't supposed to be like this – but the initial plan was even worse...

He had served with Travis Macneill in the military some years ago – both of them working together on ops that would never be mentioned again – until Travis had died under unfortunate circumstances, through no fault of his own. But it would appear that Travis' younger brother Eoghan was not so understanding of the situation and had placed the blame of his brother's death fairly and squarely on him.

He'd known when the woman had approached him a few days ago with a request for assistance that something was off. That face – that figure – was familiar to him, and it's only now that he's tied down that he's kicking himself. Andrea Della Bosca – Travis' fiancée. How could he have forgotten that?

So now he was at the mercy of two psychotics who were hell-bent on revenge. He'd been advised that if they couldn't have the man they loved, then why should he be able to have the woman he did?

When they'd arrived at the house to take Fiona, she hadn't gone willingly – kicking and screaming and punching just like the good girl that she was – but unfortunately a slap across her cheek and a punch to her abdomen had subdued her. He wasn't part of the original plan: it was only his coincidental arrival home and the threat of Fiona and their unborn child being shot that meant he had gone willingly with Eoghan's two henchmen.

Arriving at their new 'home', he managed to twist his head so that he could see under his blindfold as they were both lead down countless corridors and up several floors. He deduced that they must be in an old hospital or an institution. As they got closer to their destination, he could see an assortment of equipment lining the walls.

When they'd first been pushed into this room and their blindfolds ripped off, he'd placed himself firmly in front of Fiona and made a quick assessment of the room. It was clear that they'd only planned on one prisoner, and thinking of the various implements he'd passed on the way, he had a feeling that the set up wasn't for a very pleasant experience. He could feel the shudder of Fi against his back, even as she kept a defiant look on her face.

And then the big man himself had made his arrival. He could see the family resemblance, and inwardly smirked at Eoghan's shocked look to find him there. Apparently his henchmen had gotten it wrong. Well, sucks to be them. But the thrill had quickly dissolved at Eoghan's next words. 'All the better: he can watch it live instead.'

He'd been pushed to the ground without ceremony and strapped into the cuffs, whilst Fiona had been strapped into some makeshift leather ones nearby.

'Let Plan A begin.' That was the last thing they heard before the door slammed shut.

Thankful at the very least they were just within grasp of each other – no doubt a plan in the sadistic mind of Eoghan to leave them close to each other as they neared an end at his hand – Michael looked over to his woman. He sure as hell didn't want her here, but as she was, he was sure as hell glad that he was too.

She was dressed in a pair of white shorts and a long flowing top that consisted of blue, green and white swirls that did very little to hide the fact that she was pregnant. Or the fact that she now had considerable boobs – a side effect he had thoroughly enjoyed (amongst other things) these past few months. He was decked out in pants and a loose shirt. It was Miami after all.

His mind was working at a mile an hour as he notes Fiona shifting uncomfortably. He couldn't let emotion cloud his mind, but as he looked at her, he couldn't help feeling scared. There was so much more at risk here.

Praying that if Fiona didn't go into labour, they might just stand a chance of getting out in one piece, Michael let his eyes drift off her form and look around the dark room they were in. A shaft of weak light came from a small window covered in bars several metres up the wall. There might be potential there.

Michael swore when seconds later Fiona uttered the words that he really didn't need to hear.

'My waters broke.'