How much?

The first payment

A/N

OMG 400 reads!! to celebrate here's a new chapter!! As it said in the description how much is he willing to lose? Guess we will have to start finding out!! Hope you love it!!!

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Harding sat at his desk at home, he hasn't slept properly since all of this started. All he could do now was sit and stare at the hard wood of the table. It sucked knowing how it felt to be one of the victims, one of the people who couldn't do anything to help. He had lost his wife and now his best friend.

He had dealt with these kinds of cases before, drugs, kidnappings, confusion. But with a clouded mind he couldn't think about where to take the first step, let alone the direction he should take.

He had been cold turkey for days now, however where he had been running on adrenaline and nicotine. The effect of not having any drugs for days was beginning to set in, the effect from not having his fix. The morphine had long run out and his shaky hands kept reaching for the bottle of pain killers he had been given from the hospital.

A cold sweat was breaking out along his forehead and down his back as he pulled the blanket tighter around him, his head ache still hadn't let up and was turning into a migraine. The cramps in his stomach had him doubled over in his chair, his head resting on the cold wood of the table, the darkness of the room surrounding him, giving him at least a fraction of comfort. He couldn't take this for much longer.

Letting out a groan of pain and exhaustion he pealed his head of the desk, flopping backwards in the desk chair like a rag doll being pushed around by the five year old child with no mercy. His hand fell off the arm rest and flew the the space to his desk draw. Using more effort that a body builder in the gym, he managed to slide the draw open and pulled the tub of pills out with a shaky, sweaty hand. his body fell forwards again as he pulled his other hand up to the lid of the tub. After several second of trying to pull the lid of he pulled a little too hard, sending the white tablets scattering across the table and floor.

He brought two to his mouth and swallowed them dry, not have the energy to lift the glass to his lips.

The sound of the key turning in the lock brought him to his senses, lifting his head and turning it to the side, letting his cheek rest on the now warm desk as he stared at the slither of light breaking through the crack in the bottom of the door, throwing rays across the laminated floor that barely reached the bottom of the desk.

Shoes clicked down the other end of the hall, coming closer to his door by the second. His gun was sitting on the floor by his foot, he just didn't have it in him to pick it up any more. Who ever it was would be doing him a favour by putting an end ton his suffering, his many hours spent looking over plans and ideas, his misery at hearing his wife wanting a divorce and leaving him for someone else. After years of marriage and now she decided that she doesn't want him, doesn't need him. After everything he had done trying to get her back, and this was how she repaid him.

The door handle turned and was pushed open, the person not bothering to take another step into the room. Lifting his eyes he saw the man standing there, dressed in his expensive suits. Except he looked different, he looked drained and worn out. His suit was crumpled and clung to his skin where he was sweating. 'You look pathetic' he spat out to Harding, supporting his weight on the door frame and sliding down to the cool hard floor.

'You don't look much better yourself' Harding's voice was harsh and rough, scraping at the back of his throat as they made their way into the room.

'Here' the man reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a packet of white powder, throwing it up onto the desk, it landed next to Harding's head.