He drank as deeply as he could and made a big production of peering down her neckline and leering at her exposed and rather healthy breasts. She smiled slightly and pulled the bottle away. "That's quite enough. You'll make yourself ill." He nodded and licked his lips, still glancing at her very feminine chest. "You're in no position to be thinking that way."

"I'm not dead...yet." He managed a genuine smile. "I don't suppose..." He glanced up at the ropes binding his wrists.

She shook her head. "I'm not ready to die yet either."

Lane performed a passable semblance of a shrug. "Can't blame a fellow for trying though." He was unable to restrain a shaky intake of breath that accompanied the pain that wracked his shoulders with that move.

She noticed and asked softly, "Has Papa been dosing you?" Lane just closed his eyes slowly and lifting his head to a hopefully proud position, looked resignedly into her eyes. She bit her lower lip and dug around in a skirt pocket. "Here. You should take this." She shoved a large white pill into his mouth. "It won't stop it, but it'll help for a little while." She proffered the water bottle again and allowed him to drink, a little more slowly this time. "I'd give you another pill for later, but you don't seem to have any pockets to put it in." She looked thoroughly up and down his torso, pausing momentarily at hip-level, and raising her brows in apparent approval.

Lane wiggled his shoulders a little trying to ease the pain and stiffness. "Sore?" He sighed deeply, and was astonished when she stepped around behind him and started squeezing and massaging his shoulders. "I've seen this condition before. You're not the first government agent that has been kept down here." She rubbed his shoulders some more. She added what to Lane sounded like an afterthought, "Papa has a real distaste for government men." She stopped rubbing and after a moment, he shivered deliciously. "Better?"

"God, yes!" He tried to look over his shoulder. "Why are you doing this?"

Stepping back around in front of him, she murmured "I've seen too many men in here like this. Even a dying man deserves a little hope." Her lips pinched into a straight line. "I..I didn't mean it like that."

"I have no delusions. Without a miracle, (...He was still counting on a miracle named Airen...although the miracle seemed to be fading farther and farther into the murky depths of despair...) I don't expect to ever leave this basement." There was a catch in his voice, as it broke on a shaky sigh. He dropped his eyes as a momentary sadness overwhelmed him. "I'm sorry. Not your fault..."

Isabel blinked a couple times and her eyes moistened. "I'm sorry, Lane. I only wish I could do more for you." She leaned down and kissed him sweetly. "Don't give up yet." Standing up, she gave him a quirky smile.

He swallowed hard and was about to speak, "Thank y..." when she put her fingers on his lips, glancing at the door.

"Shh..." Throwing the water bottle behind him, she grabbed his hair and pulled hard. He didn't have to fake an expression of pain.

A hard masculine voice reprimanded her. "What are you doing, Issy?" It was Varda himself.

"Oh, hi, Papa. I just wanted to see what a real Towers looked like." She was still holding him by his hair, turning his head to display his face to her father. "He's a pretty one, Papa." The old bastard chuckled. Issy dropped Lane's hair, and he dropped his chin to his chest. He looked up at the "Colonel" through a curtain of his mistreated hair. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "...And he is blessed like 'El Toro'..."

"Issy! You are a lady..."

"Yes, I am. I am a lady, a woman...with a woman's desires and a woman's needs. I am no longer a child, Papa. I can appreciate a good-looking man." She jerked her head at Lane and placed her hands on her hips. "Soon I will have to marry, and I'd much rather have a chance to choose a man like this one than any of those...those...banditos...that work for you."

Varda shook his head slowly. "I am trying to do right by you, daughter."

"Papa?" Varda glanced at his daughter's sad face. "Do we really have to kill this one?" Lane was alert enough to stop his brows from their automatic rise, but his mind whirled. Varda stepped to her side and put his arms around her shoulders.

"What are you asking, little girl?"

"You couldn't let him live?...Just for me?"

"Sorry, baby. Even if I wanted to, he's DEA. I have no choice." That's interesting. Everybody reports to somebody...but in the DEA?  "It would go hard on us if we let this one get away with his snooping."

She tried one more time. "But no one has to know. Tell your men that he died and you disposed of his body." She smiled naughtily. "I'd be glad to do something with his body...for you, I mean." She pouted prettily, while Varda pursed his lips in exasperation. Lane's brows did rise a little this time...He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Please, stop it, Issy."

"I bet he'd never tell, if you just turned him loose and sent him home."

"I am truly sorry, Issy, but it's out of my hands. There are others who want this one out of the way."

She glanced at Lane, and her eyes moistened again. As Varda led his daughter out of Lane's prison, she looked back one time, blinked a couple times, smiled sadly, and called over her shoulder, "'Bye, El Toro Towers."

..."Bye, Issy. Thanks for trying"...

There were a few hours of respite from the worst of the pain. Whatever Isabel had given to him earlier had masked the pain for a brief "vacation." The effects had since worn off, and he was waiting for the next "bad one" to hit again. In addition to its increasing pain properties, the damned drug seemed to be a depressive, too. The longer he was dosed, the more hopeless he felt. He decided he didn't need to be ashamed, but he was very disappointed in his own inability to save himself.

His only hope now was Ayla and Airen. Whenever he was alone, he practiced his campaign of continuous talking, hoping that his "chip" would clue the Towers in to his whereabouts. He knew now that Ayla having had him "chipped," even against his objections, was possibly going to be his life saver. Airen's chips were very sophisticated and had a GPS and a broadcast component.

As Varda was leaving, he added to the guards watching over Lane, "Just in case, freeze him a little, too...Wouldn't want him to get too comfortable." Chuckling, he left, planning to return in a couple days. ...If Crawford managed to stay alive that long...Not many men had made it even this far. Have to give him his props. He's a much stronger bastard than I thought he'd be...Too bad...

Just turning the temperature down wasn't enough to keep Lane's designated guards entertained. They took it upon themselves to use him for a punching bag and occasionally taser gun target practice. Knives were no fun, since they left bloody wounds that made wet messes for them to have to clean up and account for.

They took turns seeing who could hit the same spot the most times, so it looked like only one bruise. Just like when they had the Towers girl, they weren't allowed to hit him in the face, in case, like her, they had to let him go. They also learned that he passed out too often when they played "taser tag," (...Like running by and trying to hit him on one try...) They decided to cut back on the tasering before they made a big mistake.

They knew better than to allow their play to kill him. Varda might take it upon himself to provide them with the same ending. When Lane looked like he was going to give out altogether, they gave him water and some portion of their own food. Generally, they left him alone, especially when he was on a screaming jag. When he wasn't too incapacitated to know what he was doing, Lane used those few moments of freedom to "talk" to the Towers.

Ayla and Airen had begun a systematic program to locate and rescue Lane. They scanned any and all frequencies twenty-four hours every day. They set up tracking devices and started training the Guard for urban forays. Unbeknownst to Ayla, Airen was also tapping a few "significant" phone lines, so far to no avail. Finally Airen finished creating the serum that they hoped would help Lane if they used the same kind of drugs on him that they had used on Ayla.

The Towers investigation team had made some progress, but hadn't pinpointed Lane's exact location. The whole exercise was to come to fruition on a morning twelve days from when Lane disappeared. The searching had not gone well that morning, and frustration was setting in. Ayla, for the first time in her life, had snapped at Airen. She apologized, but had not forgiven herself.