"Oh, good," Izzy said. "That'll give me the opportunity to let Lew know what I think of commanders who care so much about their own career advancement that they'd turn their back on a missing woman."

"Jesus, Izzy..."

But Izzy was already moving, like a heat-seeking missile, on a path of mutually assured destruction, although in this case the mutual parties were Izzy and Jenk.

"Zanella, don't. I've already spoken to the senior-" Jenk caught the bigger man's arm, but the idiot shook him off.

It took a full body slam, sideways into the wall, to stop him, and even then, it was only a temporary delay.

It also ratcheted up the goatfuck potential by catching both Koehl's and the senior chief's attention.

"Get off me, Jenkins!" Izzy may have grabbed the front of Jenk's jacket to keep from being knocked off his feet, but he quickly shifted from defense to offense as he roughly yanked Jenk away from him.

Or rather, tried to.

Because Jenk had an equally good grasp on Izzy, and he didn't let go. Which resulted in Izzy losing his balance.

Jenk wrapped his legs around the bigger man as they both hit the floor, which was unfortunate but necessary. Necessary because he didn't want to hurt Izzy, and their differences in size and weight didn't leave him with many options. Unfortunate, because to the rest of the world, it no doubt looked as if they were having a very public private moment.

Apparently, Izzy wasn't feeling the need to not hurt Jenk as he tried to shake him off by crushing him between his own body and the wall.

"Senior's trying to clear the way for us both to head back to help Tommy," Jenk grunted into Izzy's ear. "I told him my shoulder was hurting, and you desperately needed to go to the dentist."

"What the fuck are you idiots doing?"

Jenk turned to find the senior's boots planted inches from his face.

"Ow," Izzy said, too little, too late. "My tooth. My God, what happened? Mark, is that you? How did I get here? I must be having tooth-decay-induced madness."

Way, way up there, the senior chief was shaking his head in disgust. "Sure looks to me like the shoulder's okay, Jenkins."

Great. "It's definitely not, senior chief." As Jenk untangled himself from Izzy, his wince was not an act. "Izzy was helping me test my ability to extend my-"

"Save your breath, you're good to go," he said, holding up a hand to stop Izzy. "Not you. There're dentists at Ramstein."

Those were not the words Izzy wanted to hear. "Jesus Christ," he said. "Senior, come on. When do I ever ask for anything?"

"Other than all the time?" The senior crossed his arms.

"God! You know damn well that if this son of a bitch were half the CO that Tommy was, we'd already be back there by now, helping look for Tracy!"

The senior chief glanced at Jenk, since it was pretty obvious that this was the reason he'd wrestled Izzy to the ground. He turned to give Izzy his dead-eye glare. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Why don't you go and try to be very invisible and very silent for a very long time."

"Sorry," Jenk told Izzy, as the senior chief walked away.

"Dude, you tried." Izzy forced a tight smile. "Find her, okay? And no, nothing happened the other night. Tracy's a nice girl. A stupid girl, but a nice one. I just don't want to see anything bad happen to her."

The more Izzy protested, the less Jenk believed him. Still, he let it go. "I'll call you."

"Do that. And throw Lindsey another bang while you're at it."

Jenk shook his head as he headed for the rental car counter. He felt his shoulders tightening as he walked away, certain that Izzy wasn't quite ready to be silent or invisible yet.

He was halfway there when Izzy shouted, "Jenkins! I wish I could quit yew!"

Of course. The obligatory Brokeback Mountain reference. Jenk flipped Zanella a double bird without bothering to look back.

Cold slapped Tracy's face and cut off her air, making her gag and cough. She woke up spitting, with her hair dripping down her face and into her eyes. She lifted her head, and the movement made it feel as if it were splitting in half. Oh God, she was hungover again.

But she wasn't in her own bed. She wasn't on her bathroom floor either.

This floor was carpeted in a patterned shade of green. Squinting against the light, she realized she was both wet and fully clothed.

Water hit her again, directly in the face, and she sputtered and choked, and turned to see...

"Help her." Whoever had doused her with those buckets of water was tall and male and...

It all came rushing back. The man she'd thought was stoned because his eyes were so flat and lifeless. The clerk in the puddle of blood. Get into the car.

Tracy started to cry. "Please don't hurt me."

"If you don't get off your ugly ass and help her, I'll kill you right now."

Ugly ass? Her ass wasn't ugly.

It was an amazingly stupid thing to be focusing on when he'd just threatened to kill her, but her burst of disbelieving indignation was far better than the mind-numbing fear. She could either lie there sobbing and be killed now, or push herself off her ugly ass and maybe live through this.

Tracy wiped her eyes. There'd be plenty of time to cry when she was dead.

"Help who?" As she sat up, she saw that the carpeting wasn't patterned. It was just blotchy with dirt and ancient stains. She also saw a bed. A woman lay upon it, cuffed by at least one wrist to the cast-iron frame.

The smell was horrific, the woman lying on her side because she'd tried-unsuccessfully-not to puke all over herself. She had a nasty-looking gash on her arm, like someone had taken a steak knife to it.

It was all Tracy could do not to add to the mess on the floor and bedcovers. With her head pounding and stomach churning, she was at a serious disadvantage, made worse by the fact that when she touched her hair, her fingers came away streaked with blood. Still, she'd had experience dealing with the pain and nausea of hangovers. She'd coped with cleaning up messes like this one with a throbbing head plenty of times before. Although it was probably easier when the vomit was her own.

"Which of these will help her?" her own personal Ted Bundy asked, dumping two big bags of drugs on the floor. Some were in pharmacy-sized containers, others were in little bags, with information about the prescription and dosage stapled to them.

How should I know, I'm not a doctor was on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself from speaking just in time.

Are you a nurse?

Tracy had told him yes. She was here, living this nightmare because she'd told him yes, she was a nurse. Of course if she'd said no, he probably would've killed her right then and there.

As long as he thought she was a nurse, and that she could save his...girlfriend or whoever the freak-show was that he'd chained to his bed, she would stay alive.

"Which of these will help her?" he repeated much more loudly.

"I'll need to examine her first," Tracy said, trying to sound as nurse-ish as possible. Stern. Disapproving. Just like the nurse in the ER had been that time she'd gotten drunk out on the beach and cut her foot on a broken bottle. They'd given her something after stitching her up, something to prevent infection. An antibiotic. But what had it been called? Zithro-something. No, that's what she'd had for that sinus infection last year.

"I'll need clean sheets, clean towels, clean clothes for her to wear," she told him, taking off her sodden jackets, and rolling up her sleeves. "Clean, warm water. Lots of it."

Was that blood encrusted on the buttons on the ill woman's shirt? She was gaunt, clearly starving, the bones on her face standing out in sharp relief. Tracy forced herself to touch her. A nurse would not be squeamish.

Her skin was hot-she was burning up. "Something for her to drink, too," Tracy added, since he hadn't killed her yet for being overly strident. "She's clearly dehydrated. Ginger ale." She turned toward him, as impatiently as she could manage, considering he had a gun and wasn't afraid to use it. "What are you waiting for? If you want me to help her, you've got to help me."

For a moment, he just stood there, looking at her, and she was instantly terrified that she'd pushed too hard, that he was going to decide she was too demanding and shoot her right where she stood.

But then he turned and left the room.

He didn't go far-just down the hall to a bathroom. He left the door open, so sneaking past in search of the front door was not an option. Tracy did make it around the bed, though, and over to that window. Please dear God, let her peek out from behind that grimy shade to find other houses nearby-somewhere to run to for help.

But all she could see was darkness.

Over on the bed, the woman groaned, waking up, and Tracy went toward her. There were so many questions to ask, she wasn't sure where to start. "Where are we-"

The woman's uncuffed hand grabbed the front of Tracy's shirt, pulling her close with surprising strength for someone so thin and so ill.

"Finish me," the woman whispered through lips that were cracked and dry. "Kill me. Please. Don't let him take me upstairs while I'm still alive!"

Dear God...

"Promise me," the woman begged. Her eyes were an almost golden shade of brown. Once upon a time, she'd been truly beautiful.

"Who are you?" Tracy asked. "Why are you handcuffed? And who is this guy who-"

But her eyes closed, her head lolled back, and her grip on Tracy's shirt went limp.

"Her name is Five."

Tracy turned to see that her kidnapper had come back into the room, carrying a pile of dingy-looking towels.

"Your name is Twenty-One," he continued. "And me? I'm your lord and master. If I catch you talking to her again, I'll kill you. Slowly. I'll start by slicing off your eyelids-"

"I get it," Tracy said. Dear God, dear God..."No talking, just saving her life. I still need water to do it. And something for her to drink."

He left the room again, and she started shaking-so hard that she had to sit down.

Jenk had just backed out of the parking spot in the rental lot when someone banged on the roof of the car.

Izzy's face appeared out of the darkness. He tried the passenger-side door, but it was locked. "Open up, Eminem. Let me in."

Jenk popped the lock. "Zanella, what the fuck?"

"Oh, sweet," Izzy said with a heavy layer of indignation as he swung his bag into the back seat and climbed in. "You think I'm going UA. Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro."

"So what are you saying," Jenk said. "That you cleared this with the senior chief, that you have it in writing?"

"Think of this as a variation of don't ask, don't tell. Don't ask, don't know, don't get into trouble," Izzy said. "Do, however, drive."

"Iz. Think about what you're doing."

"You think I fucking haven't?" Zanella finally stopped trying to bullshit him. "I can't just sit here anymore, doing nothing." He met Jenk's gaze with a mix of anger and misery. "And yeah, I've been lying to you about me and Tracy hooking up. Mostly because she made me swear not to tell anyone. But partly because I know you've liked her since forever, and it makes me feel like double the dickhead."

Jenk put the car into gear a tad too forcefully and drove. "This happened...last night?" he asked. Had it really only been last night that Tracy had come back to the motel, drunk? It felt more like last year.

"Yes," Izzy admitted. "Barely twenty-four hours ago. It was stupid, and if I could do it again...Well, shoot me, I'm human, I'd definitely do it again, but...I'd do it differently."

"You are such an asshole."

"I don't mean, like, in a different position, like the Cosmo Girl's Guide to Sex, page twelve. I mean, I'd do it so that she wouldn't end up mad at me afterward." Izzy sighed, leaning back against the headrest. "I'm responsible for her leaving. You know, boogying out of the cabin like that? She didn't want to talk to me."

"Like I said. You are such an asshole."

"She came to me, all like, I'm going to marry Lyle, but I want him to pay. What was I supposed to say, no?"

"I did," Jenk pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm neither Jesus nor in love with Lindsey," Izzy said.

And that was a statement that was meant to distract. Izzy expected Jenk to deny it. I'm not in love with Lindsey.

An argument would ensue. I've seen the way you look at her, bro. Even now, after she dumped you.

Seriously, we're just friends.

Yeah, that's what she wants, right? Dude, she can't make you not feel it if it's there. And I think it's there. I mean, I just told you I've done the deed with Tracy, and you didn't even flinch. I think we both know that if I'd given you the same newsflash about me and Lindsey, my broken and bloody body would already be stashed in the trunk.

Izzy would be right about that. About all of it. Jenk drove in silence for a long time. "Are you...you know. With Tracy? In love?" he finally asked.

Izzy laughed. "Uh, no."

Jenk glanced at him. "Are you lying?"

"No, man, seriously," Izzy told him. "Would I do her again? Oh, yeah. But...I'm not even sure I like her. I mean, I thought I did, and then she went all weird on me. I mean, come on. It was a revenge fuck. She was very clear about that. And yeah, the sex was unbelievable, but then she's suddenly discussing future plans? That's crazy."

Was it? It sounded a little too familiar. "Maybe it's not," Jenk suggested. "Maybe she really fell for you." Izzy started to make protesting noises, but he spoke over him. "It's not completely impossible. Maybe she just didn't know how else to tell you that she wants to get to know you better."

"Me?" Izzy asked. "Or the tragic hero I was pretending to be? See, we were doing this role-playing thing and-"

Jenk stopped him. "I really don't want to know."

"Most of the time Tracy looks at me like I'm from another planet," Izzy said. "She doesn't get my jokes and...Dude, this isn't anything like you and Lindsey. I know you're thinking that it is, but it's not. You guys click out of bed, too. I'm not asking for details, but I've got to assume that when you get it on it's-"

"I'm not having this conversation," Jenk said.

"I'm not either," Izzy said, "but I can imagine-"

"Don't."