Chapter 2
Tony spent three days in DC with Gibbs. On Wednesday, Gibbs got a call that there was drugs being circulated at the base in Quantico. Gibbs put his team on the case, and took Tony back to Baltimore. Tony promised to keep in touch and let him know when their undercover op was cleared this weekend. Tony knew Gibbs didn’t sleep whenever he knew Tony was undercover. That was why Tony typically waited until after an op was completed before he told Gibbs about it.
In the station in Baltimore, things seemed a bit off between Tony and his partner. His partner seemed irritated with him over something, but whenever Tony asked him about it, he’d brush it off and say it was nothing. Tony didn’t like the feeling he had in his gut. He couldn’t pinpoint what was causing it"whether it was the upcoming bust, the unspoken…whatever it was…with his partner, or knowing that Gibbs was working his own drug case at the same time. As far as Sam was concerned, Tony figured he was just pissed that Tony had taken time off this week. He had other things to worry about. Like the upcoming drug bust.
Drug busts were tricky. Often they involved running into a person or group of people who were under the influence of something. This caused people to behave differently than they may otherwise; it raised the stakes"do you attack innocent people who are unfortunate victims of circumstance? Do you open fire on drug dealers and drug users? Can you tell the difference between people who choose to use and people who may be forced? Stoned is stoned, and no matter the cause it can make you crazy as hell.
Friday morning, Tony’s gut was alive and kicking. Something wasn’t right. Tony felt like he was missing something. Something big. Something important. He went back over the evidence again, sitting at his desk. He looked over the reports again over his coffee. He went back through the last few weeks piece by piece, day by day, moment by moment, looking for it. Whatever “it” was. Boyes noticed and rolled his eyes.
“Whatsa matter, DiNozzo? Gettin’ cold feet? You’re jumpier than I ever saw you before.”
Tony ran a hand over his chin. “Dunno Sam. Got a bad feeling ‘bout all this. Something’s missing. I’m not getting something.”
Sam stared at him intently. “What is it you think you’re missing?”
Tony flipped through some papers, ignoring his partner’s stare. “We’re missing a key player. We’re missing the supplier. I think we’re barking up the wrong tree here.”
Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “That so?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah.”
Julie Robbins from Vice popped her head into the squad room. “Time to roll Tony.”
Tony stood up and casually saluted Sam. “Guess we’ll find out. See you on the other side.”
Sam nodded.
**
On Saturday night, Gibbs hit the gas harder, urging his car to go faster. He had to make it to Baltimore in time to catch the supplier dealing to their petty officer. They’d tracked down the name of the petty officer who was circulating the drugs. He was getting his supply from a guy in Baltimore. As he drove, Gibbs dialed Tony’s cell phone.
~Hi you’ve reached Detective Anthony DiNozzo. I’m unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a name and number and I’ll get back with you. BEEP!~
Gibbs didn’t bother leaving a voicemail message. He knew that Tony was working undercover this weekend, so if he wasn’t answering it probably meant he was already in play. Oh well, no matter. He’d catch up with his son later. Gibbs saw the sign for the exit and swerved off to the right, leaving the freeway and cutting off three different cars in the process. Gibbs rolled his eyes as horns blared. People needed to learn to drive.
**
DiNozzo smiled at the slimy bastard he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He gestured at his vehicle"a beautiful 1970 Chevelle, complete with a racing stripe, fake tags, and a huge trunk to store all of his goods in. It would be a hot car if it wasn’t being used in undercover work on a Saturday night.
“You see I am ready to go,” DiNozzo said with a carefully constructed Mediterranean accent. His Italian background and olive skin made him look like a Greek god. He could pass as a foreigner when he accented his voice.
“I see,” Monty replied. He was waiting for the signal from the boss. He didn’t know what was taking him so long, but he was sure that his boss had told him the deal had to go down tonight.
At that moment, the warehouse doors burst open and Sam Boyes entered the warehouse, backed up by Julie Robbins from Vice.
“Freeze! Put your hands in the air!”
Playing along, as was the role he’d been assigned, Tony raised his hands into the air, along with Monty. The two officers approached them carefully, handling the situation thoroughly and professionally, checking each side and making sure the room was clear before entering it too far. Finally satisfied that the four of them were alone, Sam and Julie lowered their weapons a bit.
Tony turned around and faced Monty. His gut was still screaming that he was missing something, but it had all gone down like clockwork. Maybe he was just getting paranoid.
“Sorry Monty, but I’m afraid I have all that on tape. Baltimore PD. You are under arrest"”
Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence as he was suddenly struck on the back of the head from behind. Dazed, he fell to his knees then collapsed to the cold concrete floor, trying to understand what had happened. Feet moved around him, voices spoke but sounded muffled. He must have a mild concussion. What the hell hit him?
Blinking several times and gathering his wits about him, Tony moved to push himself up when he found himself suddenly pinned to the floor. A hand was on the back of his head, forcing his face down onto the cold concrete, while another arm twisted his gun arm painfully up behind him.
“You move and I’ll blow your head off,” a voice hissed into his ear. Boyes. Tony fought down the groan at his own stupidity. How had he missed that? Obviously Julie was in on it too. Tony struggled some more, but Boyes wasn’t wasting any time with Tony. He grabbed him roughly by the hair, lifted his head high then slammed it down hard onto the floor. Tony stayed still, thoroughly dazed and nearly unconscious at this point. Blood was running from the gash in his forehead, dripping into his eye and making it nearly impossible to see out of his right eye. Boyes roughly let go of his partner’s head, and Tony’s face once again bounced off the floor. He groaned loudly.
“Gimme that,” Boyes barked. A moment later Tony heard a ripping sound. Then Boyes had him by the hair again and lifted his face off the floor. Pulling his head even farther back this time, he slapped the strip of silver duct tape over Tony’s mouth effectively silencing him. He let go of Tony’s head and reached into Tony’s back pocket. He produced Tony’s handcuffs and opened them. Tony began to struggle, quickly realizing what was going to happen next. Boyes locked a handcuff around the wrist he already had pinned. Tony’s other arm was tucked uselessly up under him, immobile under all the weight. Boyes twisted Tony’s arm painfully in the cuff, his elbows and palms both facing out, making it nearly impossible to move his arm. It didn’t take him long to secure Tony’s other arm which he twisted in the opposite direction. Duct tape wrapped around his ankles left him sufficiently unable to move.
Tony was writhing on the floor trying to get away from his captors. He understood now. Boyes must be the supplier. Would explain the instances of missing evidence that had disappeared regarding drug cases in the last few years. Tony silently berated himself. How could he have missed this? How could he be so stupid?
Hopefully there would be time to worry about all that later. Right now he needed to figure out how the hell to get out of this mess. Then he’d leave Baltimore and go…somewhere. Then he’d figure out what the hell had happened once he was safe again. Tony groaned into his gag and was rewarded by a sharp kick to the side of the head. He blinked hard and groaned again in protest, only to be given a sharp slap.
“What we gonna do wit’ him boss,” Monty asked Boyes.
“We’re gonna get ridda him once and for all. Prick’s been gettin’ on my last damn nerve for years. Time to be ridda him. Smartass do-gooder white boy wants to catch all the bad guys. He overlooked the one ‘watching his six’ for all these years. Hear that white boy? I’m the baddest guy you ever saw. I’ll kill you right here and not even blink about it. That what you want? Huh, white boy? You wanna die tonight? Nice night for it.”
He pulled Tony’s SIG from his ankle holster. He clicked the safety latch off right beside Tony’s ear and Tony tried not to flinch at the sound. It was a cop’s worst nightmare. Made undercover by a dirty cop; handcuffed with your own cuffs and held at gunpoint with your own duty weapon. Tony thought he just might throw up.
“One shot white boy. ‘S all it would take. Want that? You want to die tonight boy?”
Tony didn’t respond. He just laid there on the floor. He was in no position to argue here and he knew that. He was completely at the mercy of his captors. He closed his eyes and waited for the shot that would end it all. Christ, Gibbs was going to kill him.
“B-boss?”
“What!”
“What…what if we don’t shoot him yet? What if we just give him a good trip with that new stuff you got? Everyone on the street says a big enough hit of it will kill ya anyway. Might be fun to watch? If it don’t kill him we could always shoot him.”
Boyes chuckled. “I like the way you think Monty. Get it.”
Tony began to struggle again, but couldn’t really move, thanks to his bonds and his injuries. He heard more feet moving around and tried to see what was going on, but now his eye was swelling shut and his head wound was still trickling blood into his other eye.
The cap of a needle landed in front of him. God help him, they were going to dose him with something. They were going to give him a trip. He hoped he’d live to tell about it, but it wasn’t sounding like he would. Tony closed his eyes tight as he felt the needle begin to piece his skin. He was SO going to need a blood test or twenty when this was all done. Before Boyes could shoot any of the drugs into his body though, the warehouse doors burst open again.
“FREEZE, NCIS! PETTY OFFICER FRANK MONTY YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! THE REST OF YOU DO NOT MOVE OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE!”
Tony thought he’d died and gone to heaven. That was his dad’s voice; he’d know it anywhere. He groaned again into the gag, and struggled against his bonds. He heard a gunshot. Close, firing away. Then another shot. Farther away firing closer. Bullets pinged off the walls and the cars in the warehouse. Crates of cocaine burst wide open and showered the room with their contents. Curses were yelled and shots continued to be fired.
“STOP!”
Petty Officer Monty. Tony heard the safety of the gun click off again. If Tony had been able to see the room, he would have seen Boyes ducked behind a car, the man’s chocolate colored skin concealing him in the darkened warehouse, keeping him thus far unnoticed by the NCIS agents. He would have seen Julie Robbins with her gun trained on Vivian Blackadder. He would have seen PO Monty’s gun pointed at Stan Burley who was covering Gibbs. He would have seen Boyes holding Tony’s own gun pointed right at him.
But he couldn’t see anything really, so he did what he thought was most effective to make himself known. He groaned again into the gag, and wrestled weakly with his handcuffs.
This, unfortunately, distracted the NCIS agents enough for Monty to get a lucky shot off and fire at Burley. Blackadder fired at Monty, killing him even as Burley fell, struck by a shot to the shoulder. Robbins aimed to fire at Blackadder, but Gibbs took her out with a single shot to the forehead.
By this point, Sam Boyes was done. He’d had enough. He grabbed Tony by the collar and used him as a human shield when he stood up. He had the needle just barely touching the side of his neck.
“Stop. Right. There,” he said quietly, voice laced with a malicious confidence that filled Tony with dread.
Tony heard the near silent gasp and tried to look up. There was his dad, staring right at him. Tony lowered his gaze, unable to hold the man’s stare"the man he respected more than any person in the world"the man he’d give his own life to save"the man he believed in with faith like a child; he believed that if anyone in this world could save him, it was Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Dizziness swept over him in waves as he was dragged to his full height. Tony leaned his weight back against Boyes and his eyes fluttered shut, groaning softly as the world moved around him, nearly unconscious.
“Now,” Boyes said, “Detective DiNozzo and I are leaving, and you all are going to let us. You wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to our innocent police detective now would you?”
“Let him go.”
Tony managed a blink. Gibbs was going to beg for him? Surely not, but that’s how it sounded, at least to Tony.
“How important is he to you, Agent Gibbs? Oh yes, I know who you are. I saw the look on your face when we stood up. You didn’t know your son was here tonight, did you? You just thought you were busting a Petty Officer, didn’t you?”
“Let. Him. Go. I won’t ask again.”
“No.” Boyes smiled and stuck the needle into Tony’s shoulder, squeezing the plunger. Heat soared up Tony’s arm and he groaned and shook his head weakly in protest. A single shot fired and then Tony was falling.
He didn’t know what was in that syringe. Blackness and heat were already engulfing him. Oh God he hoped he didn’t die in front of his dad. He struggled weakly against his bonds, feeling the needle still sticking out of his arm.
The last thing he heard before darkness closed in completely was his father’s voice speaking to him softly.
“Hang on Tony. I got your six. Help’s coming.”
TBC…
Chapter End Notes:
Warning: NONCONSENSUAL DRUG USE. Bondage, but it’s not kinky. Some language, but the big warning is the drugs.