CHAPTER SIX

Riley managed a weak smile at Rachel as they were herded into the ramshackle old house. He held one hand under his jacket, pressed lightly against his throbbing stomach. With the other hand, he reached up and felt the right side of his jaw. It felt slightly swollen, but not as bad as he had thought it would be.

Maybe this luck will hold up, Riley. Maybe you'll get out of this mess in one piece. His eyes once again wondered to Rachel, who was watching Dylan warily. It was her he worried about--not himself. He wanted her to make it out of this all right.

"Up those stairs." The educated thug waved his pistol toward a curving, unsteady-looking staircase.

Rachel paused at the foot of the stairs, her face illuminated by a beam of moonlight that gleamed down through an upper story window. Her eyes were wide and frightened in the light, though she held her head high, shoulders straight. She looked to her captor. "Really?"

"Go." Dylan's voice was hard and heavy. It left no room for questions.

Still, Rachel looked to Riley.

Riley nodded slowly to her, steadily, hoping to mask the fear and pain broiling beneath his skin.

Rachel blessed him with a teary smile, then started up the stairs, the wood creaking beneath her feet.

"You next, ya little punk," Dylan snapped in Riley's direction.

"Chill, pal." Riley raised a shaky hand, still struggling to keep his calm, and started toward the steps. He began to follow Rachel upward into the darkness, noting inconsequentially the way her hips swung rhythmically as she walked up the stairs.

"I'm up," Rachel called, her voice sounding unnaturally alive in such a dead place as this house. "What--what do you want me to do now?"

"There's a bedroom straight across from the landing," Dylan barked, stalking up the steps right behind Riley. "Go inside and await further instructions."

"Okay," came Rachel's trembling reply.

Oh, God, please protect her… Give her strength… Preserve her life… Riley closed his eyes briefly, his heart clenching with fear for Rachel, his stomach muscles clenching in bruising pain.

"Hurry up, punk." Dylan shoved Riley forward.

Riley stumbled and nearly fell, but quickly grabbed onto the sagging railing and pulled himself up, his breath coming in frightened, wounded gasps. He steeled himself, made himself keep going. He had to get to Rachel, had to stay near her and protect her. Finally, he reached the top of the dark staircase. A light flashed in front of him, making him jump.

Dylan chuckled behind him, and Riley realized that the big thug had turned on a flashlight.

"Scared of the light?" Dylan mocked, clearing the stairs.

"Yeah." Riley pushed his glasses up his nose. "Vampirism runs in the family."

Dylan's smirk morphed into a snarl. "You think you're so funny." He gripped Riley's arm tightly and dragged him across the landing. "Well you won't be laughing for long." He yanked the younger man into a doorway across the hall, where Riley could hear Rachel's quick, nervous breathing.

"Riley?" Rachel reached out in the darkness, fingertips brushing Riley's arm.

Dylan swung his light suddenly, illuminating the red-haired girl's pale face and wide green eyes. "Both of you--sit on the bed." He motioned with his pistol toward an iron bed topped by an old box spring mattress.

Riley reached out and grasped Rachel's cold, trembling fingers. He squeezed them tightly, then held them protectively close to his body as he led her across the musty, dusty room to the bed. "Are you all right?" he whispered as they sat on the squeaky mattress.

Rachel looked at him with incredulity in her large, anxious eyes, running her thumb along the side of his hand. "You're the one he hit," she breathed.

You're the one who matters, Riley almost replied. But he didn't. He just smiled goofily at her. He reflected that if they hadn't just been kidnapped and if they weren't being watched by an overgrown bully, he might kiss her…

Ben's cell phone rang suddenly, making him jump. He quickly snatched it out of his pocket, flipped it open, and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he answered a bit breathlessly.

"Benjamin Gates?" came a vague whisper.

"Speaking," said Ben, answering Abi's questioning look with a frown and a shrug.

"Seems you're missing some friends," the husky voice whispered.

Ben's blood suddenly went cold in his veins. "As a matter of fact, I am," he replied, his voice emerging cold, as well.

"I think I've found them."

"Where are they?" Ben bit out, fingers tightening on the phone.

"Ben?" Abi's hand fluttered to his shoulder, her eyes wide and quizzical.

"Safe. For now," the whispering voice answered. "But that could change quite easily."

Anger and fear coursed through the iciness in Ben's veins, mingling with an unpleasant sensation. "What do you want?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Abigail's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"I want the treasure, Ben," the voice whispered. "And you have the map."

Dylan had just disappeared from the dark bedroom, without a word of explanation, shutting the door behind him. Rachel waited for a few seconds before realizing that she was holding her breath.

"Riley?" she finally breathed.

"It's gonna be okay, Rachel," he replied, his voice both taut and shaky. "Gonna be okay."

Rachel suddenly noticed the way he kept tensing up, the way his fingers tightened convulsively around hers. "Riley… Are you alright?"

"Mmm." His shrug was barely visible in the darkness, but she could feel it.

Rachel's heartbeat sped up. She moved her hand, fingers brushing his chest. His skin felt hot through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt. "Riley, he hit you pretty hard." She gently pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Gosh, your heart is beating so fast…"

"'M okay." He gently clasped her wrist and drew her hand back from his heart. "Look, just--just don't worry about me. We need to find a way out of here."

"Right." Rachel bit her lip, feeling highly inadequate for the task at hand. She was an expert at playing the piano, discussing works of fiction, and mixing the perfect specialty coffee, but escapes from psycho kidnappers? Those just weren't on her résumé. "Uhm… Is there a window in this room… do you think…?"

"We can check," Riley replied. He stood slowly, and Rachel thought she saw him wince in the dark. His hand still clung to hers. "Come on."

Together, huddled close, both shivering slightly, they made their way across the dusty wooden floor, swinging their free arms against the dark. Riley pulled ahead of Rachel slightly, reaching further into the darkness.

Then… BANG!

Rachel jumped, and Riley jumped, too, nearly trodding on her feet as he stumbled backward.

"What is it!? What is it!?" Rachel whispered frantically, her voice high-pitched with worry and fear.

Riley let out a brief, breathless chuckle. "It's just--it's just a window." His shoulders seemed to sag as he turned toward her, with relief or exhaustion, she was not sure.

"Oh!" Renewed hope sang through Rachel's veins. "Then we can get out!"

"Don't think so." Riley was suddenly standing very close to her, one hand on her shoulder, almost leaning on her for support. "Window's barred." His breath left him in a shaky sigh, and he leaned his head against hers.

"Oh, no." Rachel's insides trembled. "Oh, Riley." She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his shoulder as he buried his face in her hair, his fingers entangling in the golden-red strands.

They held each other silently for a few moments. And for a split second, Rachel was able to forget that she was a captive, that she was in danger… For a split second, there was nothing but Riley. His arms were warm, his fingers gentle in her hair, and he smelled like spice and masculine soap…

"Your hair smells like apples," Riley murmured, his breath warm against her temple.

Rachel giggled a bit, hysterically. "Thank-you. You smell good, too." She could see Riley's teeth glint white against the darkness.

"Old Spice," he told her proudly.

"Break it up, kids!"

Rachel shuddered instinctively, clutching at Riley's arms as Dylan strode into the room, carrying a flashlight and, of course, his hefty pistol. A brief moment of rage inspired Rachel to imagine pistol whipping the crazy kidnapper with his own weapon, but the rage was soon doused by fear when Dylan aimed the pistol at Riley.

Riley straightened, lifting his chin. Rachel thought he was trying to seem brave, but she could feel his heart beating rapidly and hear his breathing catch slightly.

"What do you want, Dylan?" Riley asked shakily.

"I want you to know that this pistol is so powerful, it could break your wrist if you don't hold it properly when you fire it." Dylan lowered the gun and swaggered further into the room, closer to the couple. "And I'm strong enough and skilled enough to use it. That's the kind of man who holds you captive."

As he walked past the couple, Rachel flinched, moving even closer to Riley. Riley's arms tightened around her, and she was suddenly, poignantly proud of him. He was so much stronger than he seemed, this handsome, nerdish fellow holding her in his arms…

CLANG! Dylan rapped the pistol against the bars on the window. "I know what I'm doing, people." He turned to face Riley and Rachel, turning the flashlight on his self, illuminating the maddened gleam in his eyes. "So don't even think about crossing me." He grinned crookedly. "Resistance is futile."

"Haha. The Borg. Very funny," Riley remarked dryly.

"Figured you'd get the reference, Geek Boy," Dylan replied, seeming pleased with himself.

Rachel could feel Riley's breathing speed up.

"Get this reference, Thug Man: If I had a phaser, you'd be in my sights, and it wouldn't be set on stun. Got that, Dylan?"

Rachel winced, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her companion's shirt. "Riley," she cautioned, teeth clenched.

Dylan's face fell visibly in the glow of the flashlight. "Hmf." He glared for a few tense seconds at Riley, then shrugged. "I'm not afraid of you, kid." As he walked back around the couple, he gave Riley a jab in the ribs with the flashlight.

Riley flinched and grunted slightly, but otherwise seemed unfazed.

Dylan snorted, then left the room quietly, the beam of his flashlight swinging wildly as it slowly faded from the room.

Riley sighed audibly then and leaned heavily against Rachel.

"Riley, what were you thinking, baiting him like that?" she chided, clinging to him almost desperately.

"Guy's a jerk," Riley muttered into her hair. "Somebody's gotta teach him a lesson."

"That jerk happens to be our captor--armed, dangerous, and crazy to boot!" Rachel pulled back slightly from Riley and peered up at him, trying to squint through the darkness. "You don't have to prove anything to me," she told him quietly, steadily. "I like you already. And I already know that you're brave and manly and clever."

"Oh." Riley blinked, tilting his head to one side as he looked down at her thoughtfully. "Well. In that case…" He winced, his breath hissing between his teeth, shoulders sagging.

Rachel frowned and reached to touch his face. "Hurts?"

"Yes. Ow!" Riley jerked back from her touch.

"And here, too?" She brushed her fingers against his stomach.

"Yes, yes. There, too." He pushed her hands away.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Rachel bit her lip, feeling dreadful for having worsened his pain. "Well, let's sit down, whaddaya say?"

"Sounds like a plan." Riley managed a weak smile.

Rachel looped her arm through his, and they gingerly made their way back to the creaky old bed.

"Think we'll get out of this alive?" She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I hope so." He sighed and leaned his head against hers. His fingers inched across the mattress until they found hers and linked with them. "I'm hoping Ben will pull through for us. He's smart like that."

"Sadusky, I need a favor."

Ben heard the FBI agent sigh on the other end of the line. "It's been a busy day, Ben. Jewel thieves in New York, arsonists in D.C. The eastern seaboard's a mess right now."

"How about kidnappers in the Old North State?" Ben asked wryly. "That sound like fun to you?"

"Kidnappers?"

"Yeah." Ben felt suddenly nauseated. "And they've got Riley."

Sadusky swore. "Are you serious, Ben?"

"As serious as George Washington at Valley Forge," Ben told the other man sincerely. "We were following the trail of a treasure, and it led us here to North Carolina, and we found the map, but… Almost as soon as we did, someone came after us. They got Riley. And they got Rachel."

"Rachel?"

"Rachel Collins," Ben explained. "She's been helping us out. She and Riley were taking a walk, and they just--they took him." He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Abigail's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, massaging him, and that made things better. A little. "The kidnappers have contacted us. They don't want police, of course; they want the map. But I thought--I thought maybe we could get Riley and Rachel back on our own terms."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the connection, then, "Uh-huh. I get your drift, Ben. What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to triangulate the signal of the kidnapper's phone," Ben told him. "I want you to find out where he is… or where they are. I don't know exactly what we're dealing with here. As soon as you let me know where that is, I'll leave you alone. I promise."

Sadusky sighed. "Ben, are you telling me you want to do this alone?"

Ben sighed, his fingers tightening around the cell phone. "I don't know. I… I don't know. I just… I want to do what's best to save Riley." His voice broke a bit, and he steeled himself, fighting to regain composure. "He's my friend, Sadusky. I have to rescue him."

Silence.

Ben held his breath.

Then finally… "I'll see what I can do, Ben."