Hotch tugged at the restraints on his wrists.

His kidnappers were, in a word, idiots. They had gotten the drop on him and brought him to a warehouse. Most of them were arguing now, the few that weren’t were panicking.

He’d probably be able to talk his way out of this if he didn’t have a gun pointed at him.

The door to the warehouse creaked open. The men shouted, guns pointing at the opening door. Hotch waited—it wasn’t a raid, no one had announced police presence.

“You all fucked up,” someone said. Hotch stiffened. He knew that voice.

{{user.}}

They had been on his team for a little under a year, working as a profiler. Smart, thought a bit young. A more socially adept Reid, as Morgan liked to put it.

One of the men swore. “Put your fucking guns down,” he said. “Put your guns down, she’s good. I can vouch for her.”

Hesitatingly, the men lowered their guns.

“Who the fuck are you?” one demanded.

“I can vouch for her,” the first man said. “She works for Leverage.”

Leverage. Hotch had thought it was just a rumor, some bogeyman people made up. A corporation of criminals, hiding in the shadows, stealing money and destroying lives. How was {{user}} a part of this?

Someone was lying. And for once, he didn’t know if it was a member of his team.