“Fantastic,” Greg grumbled, “he’s getting into a car.”

“This is where the good guys hop into a cab and shout ‘Follow that car!’ and the driver looks around confused but then goes speeding down the street anyway,” Brad said, frantically waving down a taxi. “You know how to say that in French?”

“I can get the jist,” Greg yelped, hopping into the taxi as it rolled to a stop. “English?”

“Yes,” the driver grinned.

“Thank Christ,” Greg sighed. “That car, the evil-looking sinister one. Could you follow it?”

“What do you think you are, some sort of action hero?” the driver sneered in a thick accent.

“Yes, actually, we do,” Greg huffed.

“Just go, go, go,” Brad gasped, wriggling anxiously in his seat as he watched Don’s car dip into the street. “We’ll double your fare.”

“Hey!” Greg protested, but the cabbie nodded enthusiastically and headed out into traffic. “This coming from the guy with no money!”

“Well I’m gonna be the guy with the dead girlfriend if we don’t, so stop your whining, I’ll pay you back if it’s really that big a fucking deal.”

“Where are we going?” the driver asked, the fact that the word “dead” had worked its way into the conversation obviously making him a bit uncomfortable, but not so much so that he felt the need to abandon a double fare.

“If we knew that we wouldn’t need your help, would we?” Greg spat.

The driver pulled a mocking face and decided it was best to just drive.

Gina sat bouncing her foot anxiously while she sat on the bed, listening as Paul finished placing his room service order, thankful that the hotel was touristy enough to cope with his English. She leaned her chin against his shoulder, waiting for him to finish with the phone. It was the first she’d seen of him in days, she was overwhelmed at the prospect that he was all right, he was sitting there on the bed with her, seemingly in one piece, not covering her in kisses as she’d hoped, but rather on the phone calling up room service. As he hung up the phone, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, partially to assure herself that he was alive and safe, but mostly because she missed the sensation.

“Feel better now that Fen’s being fed?” Gina asked.

“Much,” he smiled, turning around to face her. “How’d you guys find us, are you sure you’re alright?”

“We’re fine,” she assured him as they linked hands. “We’d be better off if we knew what we were up against though. You have any clue?”

“Drug dealers,” Paul announced. “They’re down here to do a deal, we were transported with enough dope to keep Montmartre busy for a month. And Fen wouldn’t let me have any,” he pouted playfully.

“Good for her,” Gina grinned, dropping a hand on his knee as he pulled his feet under him on the bed. “The boys are tailing Don, are they gonna be in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “As long as they’re smart enough not to do anything stupid, I should hope not. Although I did get dunked off the side of the boat by one of Don’s henchmen and that bastard tried to rape Fen.”

“What?” Gina gasped.

“I came to the rescue from inside the bathroom. It’s amazing what a well-timed verse or two of ‘The Penis Song’ will do to a pervert,” he laughed.

“You are a sick, strange, wonderful man,” Gina smiled. “So I guess he doesn’t know about the bags yet?”

“No, he hasn’t had the sense to check the thing. We found Brad’s bag, Fen got his wallet and that photo they’re so keen about. You still have the other bag?”

“Yeah,” Gina sighed. “Don’t know what we’re gonna do with it, though.”

“Damn thing’s more trouble than it’s worth,” he sighed.

“You mean you haven’t been enjoying your trip across Europe?” she teased.

“Oh yeah, knocked unconscious, bleeding in the back of vans, being bullied by heavies…at least I’ve had Fenny around to torment,” he smirked.

“I’m not gonna ask,” she sighed, shaking her head.

“Good, I’d rather you hear it from her,” Paul laughed.

“Should we go find her?” Gina asked.

“Not until the food arrives,” he said. “There could be a guard or something, we don’t want to risk it.”

“How long’s that gonna take, the food?”

“Bout half an hour they said.”

“So we have to amuse ourselves for half an hour?” Gina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Think we can manage?” Paul asked, mirroring her expression.

“God I hope so,” she laughed, and leaned in for a kiss.

“Here you go,” the cab driver announced, pulling up in front of a fancy restaurant. “Twice the fare for me having to act out your bad fantasy following a short ugly villain in a boring car.”

Brad rolled his eyes and opened the car door. “Deal with him, Proops, I’m gonna see what Don’s up to.” He slipped out of the car, heedless of Greg’s whining. Brad stepped into the restaurant, scanning the tables as a hostess appeared, and he wished he could speak at least a little French. Don appeared at a table with a marginally unpleasant looking woman; not unattractive, just, for lack of a better word, mean looking, like the type of person who had missed their calling as a substitute teacher. Luckily they were seated near the bar. Certainly Greg would know how to announce to the waitresses that they wanted to go to the bar, probably the first thing Proops would have learned after “How much for the cigarettes?”

On cue, Greg sauntered up behind Brad, still muttering about the fee. “We need to get a seat at the bar,” Brad announced. “Tell the woman.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna buy you a drink,” Greg huffed before nodding politely to the hostess and rambling off a few nonsense syllables that Brad all but ignored as he watched Don from afar, trying to be stealthy but only ending up tottering the potted tree he was trying in vain to hide behind. As he was trying to steady it, Greg grabbed his arm, and the whole thing tipped over, hit the wall, and began to slide down. A passing patron caught it and righted it as Brad quickly caught up with Greg, trying not to look as foolish as he felt as they headed for the end of the bar to try to eavesdrop or at least keep an eye on Don.

“Here we are, trying to save Paul’s and Fenny’s asses, and you’re mucking around with foliage, asshole,” Greg hissed.

“Sshhhh!” Brad shushed him.

“Oh shut up.”

Greg ordered a drink for himself as Brad tried inconspicuously to listen to what Don was saying, but it was mumbled phrases in French. “Shit,” he breathed.

Greg took a drink from his glass as he thanked the bartender. “So,” he began, turning to face Brad who was paying more attention to Don and his woman than to Greg. “What do you think it is about the five of us that whenever we’re in the same city for more than 10 minutes, everyone ends up fucked?”

“Oh, karma, fate, bad alignment of magnetic fields, sheer asinine stupidity,” Brad shrugged.

“Think we’ll all get our happy ending this time around?” Greg asked.

“We can’t all get our happy endings,” Brad mused, “someone’s gonna have to be miserable.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, you and Paul can’t both have Gina, can you?”

“Can too,” Greg retorted. “I’m looking in to some property in Utah, all we have to do is convert to the Mormon faith and we’ve got it made.”

“I thought the polygamy thing only worked with lots of wives,” Brad frowned.

“And since when did we follow the rules?” Greg jeered. “Well, maybe we’ll form a commune or a cult or something. Hey, you and Fen can come along, we’ll be a free love society!”

“You mean you want me to share Fen.”

“Hey, we’ll share Gina.”

“How very generous of you,” Brad nodded, beginning to wish he had a drink. “I’ll discuss the idea with Fenny after we rescue her from the madmen, and I’ll get back to you, huh?”

“Oh, she’ll go with it, gives her the chance to finally hop in the sack with McDermott.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not.”

“What would your wife say?”

“Hey now,” Greg scorned. “No need to bring the wife in over a little joke, man.”

“So, worried about your wife and lusting after Gina, huh?” Brad countered. “I thought you were over her.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Greg sighed miserably. “You’ve never been in love with the right person and the wrong person at the same time?”

Brad turned a cork coaster over in his hands. “You’ve got to work through it, pal.”

“…marijuana.”

“Huh?” Greg perked suddenly, turning to where Don and the woman had reverted to English.

“It’s back at the hotel, my men are watching it.”

“So there’s no problems getting it tonight to—”

The harsh sound of a cell phone ringer filled the room, ironically to the tune of “Ode to Joy,” and Don reached into his pocket to answer it.

“Great, guess this means we’re involved with drug dealers now?” Brad sighed.

“Hey, there’s worse people out there,” Greg said with a smirk.

“Why in god’s name did you let that happen?” Don hissed. “Fuck. I’ll be right there. You find him. No, I want him to stay and wait to see if the prick comes back, keep an eye on the girl.” With an angered growl he snapped the phone closed and stood from the table.

“Something wrong?” the woman asked.

“Just some problems back at the hotel that I have to deal with.”

The woman squinted at him menacingly.

“I’ll get it under control, don’t worry,” he grumbled and headed for the exit.

Brad and Greg, trying to be inconspicuous, looked at each other. “We have to get back to the hotel,” Brad whispered.

“Let’s go,” Greg nodded, and together they made it out the front door to hail a cab. “Did it sound to you like Paul got away?” Greg asked once they were settled in the back seat of a taxi and he’d given directions to their hotel.

“That’s what it sounded like,” Brad breathed. “I hope they’re ok.”

“Sure they are.”

“Yeah, Paul’s fine, but what do you think’s gonna happen to Fenny?”

“Dude, don’t even bring that up,” Greg demanded. “For fuck’s sake!” The taxi slowed to a crawl as the traffic all but stopped. Flashing lights far ahead of them in the distance indicated an accident of some sort.

“Damn it,” Brad sighed.

“Isn’t there some shortcut?” Greg asked the driver.

“Quoi?” he asked in return.

“We’re so fucked,” Brad sighed.

Fenny glanced down at her watch. Paul had been gone for twenty-eight minutes, and not only was she hungry, but she was beginning to get worried. What if Don had found him wandering the halls, would he have hurt Paul? No, she reasoned, if Paul was out of the picture, she would probably have Don trying to get into her panties again. Unless they were doing something particularly nasty to Paul. She decided not to think about it and took to scribbling out another drawing of the view outside the hotel room.

The door flung open and Fenny leapt up to greet Paul and attack him for food, but stumbled back into the window as Don stormed into the room. The door slammed shut as Don headed around the bed, indicating there was probably a guard outside, so all hope of escape was dashed. Frantic, Fenny leapt up on the bed, trying to just keep away from Don.

“Thought you’d split up, huh, send your friend out to call the police, was that it? Well the fucker’s gone, and if he tries to come back for you, he’s gonna end up dead. Which means it’s just you and me again, sweetheart.”

Fenny’s eyes went wide and she froze for a moment, before Don lunged at her, causing her to sprint away. Paul hadn’t been found, she hoped he had the sense not to come back if there were heavies outside waiting. But now she had to fend off another attack. Alone.

Don took a leap at Fenny, caught her round the waist, and they both fell to the floor, Fenny struggling beneath him, trying in vain to get away. “Get off me you asshole,” she shrieked as he pinned her to the floor, his hands holding her wrists to the ground, his hips pressing harshly against hers.

“Fighting’s only going to make it worse,” Don sneered. “It won’t do you any good either, your dickhead friend isn’t around to save you, he’ll be killed before he gets the chance.” He dropped his body on top of hers and whispered harshly in her ear, “And I could do the same to you.”

“Trust me to get kidnapped by a necrophiliac,” Fenny murmured under her breath as she realized fighting him off was futile. She opened her mouth to scream, certainly someone in a nearby room would hear and send someone to investigate. But her cry for help was smothered by Don’s fetid lips as his tongue again filled her mouth.

“What is it about kidnapping,” Gina gasped as she dropped a trail of kisses down Paul’s bare chest to his waistband, “that makes people so desperate for sex?”

“Well, when my life flashed before my eyes, all the good bits had you naked in them,” Paul grinned down at her.

“Mmm, you’d feature prominently in my life-flashing-before-my-eyes drama too,” she said, crawling up the bed to kiss him.

“Only prominently?” he asked, feigning pain and refusing to kiss her.

“Well, there was that one footballer,” she teased.

“Then I guess it’s okay if I bring up my cheerleader fetish,” Paul mused.

“Shut up,” Gina giggled, and leaned down, letting her lips meet his as he pulled her closer against his body.

The echo of a frantic scream rang off the walls in the room, and they tensed. “Fen?” Gina gasped.

“Shit,” Paul hissed, and they rolled off the bed together.

“You stupid bitch,” Don slurred as he jumped back from Fenny, who had taken to screaming again, as he wiped the blood from his lip onto the back of his hand. She paused to get a lungful of air and to spit his blood and saliva onto the carpet next to her.

He lifted her from the floor by the arm and let fly a harsh smack against her cheek to silence her before dragging her to the bed and slamming her down on it again. She tried to scamper off it, but Don grabbed her, hitting the back of her skull hard against the headboard. Fenny managed a faint “ow” before her vision went blurry.

By the time she’d managed to focus her eyes on the bite mark on the side of his lower lip now freely trickling blood, she realized he’d gotten her shirt half unbuttoned, and let out another terrified scream.

Gina and Paul leapt into the hallway, only to see the door guarded by a hulk of a man. A stupid-looking hulk of a man. “There, officer,” Paul gasped, pointing down the hall as he hid behind the door for fear of being recognized, “that’s where the screams are coming from.”

“Uh, right!” Gina agreed. “Excuse me, sir!” she called, marching down the hall, praying that their experiences with Ritza’s brainless heavies was an indication that all heavies were morons.

It was. The guard went wide-eyed with fear and dashed from his post, whizzing past Gina and into the stairwell, leaving the coast clear.

“You’re a goddess,” Paul chimed as they ran towards the door.

“I know,” Gina answered, fumbling in her pockets for some sort of weapon and coming up nearly completely empty. They made it to the door, where the screaming had ominously stopped, looked at each other, and Paul flung it open.

Don had his lips crushed down on Fenny’s, muffling her cries of protest, his body pinning her to the bed as one hand fumbled with the fly of his slacks, Fenny’s arms trying desperately to push him away.

“Get the fuck off her, you impotent arse hole,” Paul shrieked, lunging at Don and pulling him off the bed. Don recovered from the shocking intrusion and after a short tussle managed to punch Paul in the stomach. As Paul lurched backwards, Gina hopped onto the bed and took her one means of defense, her press pass to the play she was supposed to have reviewed the day before, and wrapped its cord around Don’s neck from behind. He gagged and clawed at the plastic cording, and she kicked him in the back. He fell to the floor, jerking the press pass and Gina down with him.

“Men!” he managed to choke out before Paul kicked him in the side. Fenny, who had regained a certain amount of composure and panic, leapt from the bed to the door with every intention of locking it, but it was pushed open and she was pushed against the wall by one of Don’s heavies while the other went for Paul and both glared at Gina, who was trying to decide the best course of action.

“So,” Don breathed, pausing to clear his throat and zip his pants, “we’ve got an agent of the press.” He jerked the pass away from Gina. “You could come in handy. Better than these two fuckers.”

“Don’t you even think—” Paul began, but was hushed by a crushing forearm to the throat and a look from the heavy that promised so much more.

“Boys, take her,” Don cackled, pushing Gina towards Paul and his thug. “And you two, keep in mind that if you do anything stupid, she dies.”

Fenny was shoved against the wall by her heavy, abandoned in favor of Gina, who had been grabbed by the other.

“Don’t touch me you dickhead,” Gina shrieked, until a heavy hand was clamped over her mouth.

“Police officer my ass,” the heavy growled.

Paul reached for her as he gasped for breath, trying to think of something to do, some way to outsmart if not overpower their captors. Before he could formulate any sort of idea, the other heavy produced a gun, and all motion in the room ceased.

“Out,” Don huffed, and both heavies moved towards the door with Gina struggling between them. “You two stay put or else,” he said, shooting a threatening glare at Fenny and Paul before slamming the door shut.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Fenny sighed, looking over at Paul, who took the opportunity to kick the air conditioner. “I’m sorry,” she frowned. “I didn’t mean for Gina to get dragged off. Better us together than her alone.”

“No, it’s not your fault he went after you again. I’m glad we got here when we did,” Paul nodded, limping over to give Fenny a comforting hug.

“But what about Gina?” she sighed into his shoulder.

“You said yourself she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“Good point. We should probably be doing something, shouldn’t we? Following them or something?”

“We can’t do anything too conspicuous, they’ll be waiting for us to do something, and if they catch us, they could do something drastic. We’ll catch up with them. We always do, don’t we?”

Fenny nodded and held him tighter.

“You ok?” he asked, concerned.

“Thank you Paul,” she whispered.

“God damn traffic,” Greg hissed as he and Brad stepped into an elevator and Brad pounded the button for their floor with his thumb a few dozen times. “For all we know they’re both dead by now.”

“Something to look forward to,” Brad hissed.

“You hear that?” Greg asked, looking up. They both paused and listened. Strange thumping sounds either coming down to meet them or being met by them as their elevator car went up, then a shrill scream.

“Probably a couple getting a thrill in an elevator,” Brad sighed.

“A couple couples by the sound of things,” Greg grinned upon hearing two distinct male voices as the elevators passed each other. “Or a very lucky woman.”

Brad shook his head and waited for the doors to open. They tumbled out into the hallway and dashed to Gina’s room. “Gina, you in there?” Brad demanded, pounding anxiously on the door. “We’ve got problems!” There was no answer.

“Fuck, she’s still exploring,” Greg hissed.

“No she’s not,” a voice said from down the hall. They spun round to find Fenny and Paul, arms around each other, emerging from another room.

Brad rushed forward to grab Fenny. “Fen?” he asked as he leaned to kiss her, but paused. “What happened?”

“Huh?” she asked blearily, the adrenaline slowly leaving her system and making her a bit less cohesive than she wanted to be.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, not me, it’s Don’s,” she said, wiping the blood off her lip.

“Don’s?” Brad gasped, jumping back a bit, noticing the fly of her jeans was still half undone. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Fenny said, wrapping her arms around Brad, “and that I’m very deeply indebted to Paul.”

“What’s happened to Gina?” Greg demanded.

“Don’s got her,” Paul declared.

“What?”

“We ran into each other when I escaped in search of food, we made a daring rescue attempt for Fen, she choked Don with her press pass, he decided he wanted her because she’s a journalist, just took off with her a minute or two ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see them on your way up.”

“Shit, that must have been them in the elevator. We thought they were fucking.”

“Well, hopefully not,” Paul scorned.

“Any idea where they’re going?” Greg asked.

“No, but I don’t think they’ll be leaving town anytime too quick, they’ve got a drug deal to do.”

“I know. Feels somehow so – wrong – to be on the nark side of the drug business, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, what would our old friends say?” Paul laughed nervously.

“Eh, pardonez-moi?” a new voice peeped, pulling Fenny and Brad from their embrace and Greg and Paul from their musings. The young man in the hotel uniform and metal cart continued in broken English, “I have room service for this room?”

“Forget it,” Paul sighed. “They’ve left.”

“No, don’t forget it, I’m starved,” Fenny said, lifting up the lids experimentally as Brad and Greg sniggered at her. “Hey, when’s the last time you were kidnapped and nearly violated by evil little English men? It takes a lot out of you, give me a break.”