The first thing of which Gray Wolfe became aware was a throbbing in his head. It was at the top of his skull toward the back, and it was a pain alive. It was also totally not unfamiliar. In the days since the Army, it had really only happened once, during a barfight over some poor kid. A scrawny little shit had taken a bottle to Gray's head to stop the fight before his buddy got creamed. The headache had lasted nonstop for three days and was a pretty solid reminder to Gray of why he didn't do barfights to begin with.
The next thing was that he had not been drinking. In fact, come to think on it, Gray couldn't directly recall any of the events following starting out from the library shelter. One minute he had been talking to Tom and the next--black, achy pain.
But that was nothing to the sudden panic of realising that there was a blindfold over his eyes and that none of his limbs were moving. He lifted his head--okay. Free range of motion in the head and neck. Just not anywhere else. Okay Don't panic. He'd been trained for this. Deep breath. Take stock. What could he tell about his surroundings? He twisted his wrists--bound behind him and together using thick rope. He was sitting up, and from the feel of it, his legs were bound to the chair. The rope was on his bare skin, so he had to assume his clothes were gone, but he was pretty sure his boxers remained intact.
As soon as his head lifted, he heard a man's voice. "Donna, il vostro giocattolo è sveglio." These words were accompanied by a hand pressing down hard on the sore spot on his skull.
He let out a hissing breath and the man laughed. "E così felice di essere qui."
There was a shuffle of movement and then the blindfold was removed from his eyes, allowing him to see... a smiling young woman. In a lot of darkness.
Great. No, this was great. He was definitely not about to die.