Why Stop Now? A Semi-Sequel RE Story

[Pukkina]

Summary....What would have happened if Lisa hadn’t found the gun? What if Joe had been just a little too late? How one move can change a lifetime of events.....possibly LJ but maybe not.

Disclaimer...don’t own...yadayada....these things are so overrated. Do we really think that Mr. Craven and all of the other Red Eye associates spends their spare time reading fanfic? Don’t think so. So anyway, I don’t own Cillian Murphy, Rachel McAdams, or anything correlated to this movie.

Rating....I’m going to give it an R because I really have no idea where my crazy little mind will take this.

Author’s Note....I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now and it is just stuck there like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth. So I figured I’d give it my best shot. I’m not entirely sure where this is all going, but it’ll come to me. Enjoy. xo

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Lisa’s eyes rolled violently into the back of her head as she made a complete flip down the stairs. When she landed she nearly expected the Olympic scorers to make a remark, but no. She just rested in a heap at the bottom, her head for the moment seeming way too heavy to support itself.

A sudden cross feeling of nausea and exhaustion washed over her body. She so strongly yearned to be upstairs, curled up in a fetal ball in her childhood bed, the light pink sating comforter pulled tight around her shoulders as she drifted off into a sleep uncomplemented by men with weapons and piercing blue eyes...her own hazels began to flutter.

No. This wasn’t over. They snapped back open to see Jackson lurching down the stairs, his knife swinging precariously in his hand. It wasn’t demonstrated on his lips but she saw the smirk burrowed down under his cheekbones.

C*cky bastard. You haven’t won.

Lisa busted out of her cocoon and tried to stand but the pain was dizzying. The f*cker probably broke something when he threw me. Instead she frantically crawled, reminding her of the ‘walk like a bear, no, walk like a crab’ games from grade school phys ed class.

The gun should have slid over here....after the assassin....it had to have gone flying when I hit him...

Lisa’s hands began shaking with shoots of panic as they rummaged beneath the hall bureau for the revolver.

F*ck, where is it? Her eyes scanned the room and finally rested on her father in the doorway. His face held a mixed expression of anger, confusion, and fright.

“Da-” she was brutally cut off as a pair of hands, Jackson’s rough, calloused hands, snatched up her hair. Feeling like fire ants were nesting in her scalp, Lisa shrieked as, like in slow motion, Joe ran forward. She saw the glint of a pistol in his hand, the small security he kept in the sidecloset, and tried to conceal a grin. Yes. We win.

Wrong. As Joe raised the pistol to fire, Lisa felt a cold metal pressed against her head, a slight relief to the fire spreading down from her roots to her ears. She sucked in a few breaths of frigid morning air and met her father’s scared eyes with her own.

“Was this what you were looking for, Leese?” Jackson rasped into her ear, pressed the gun indicatively tighter into her skin. She wanted to struggle against him, elbow him, something, but the firearm at her temple and the thought of the blade Jackson had hidden somewhere rendered her motionless. She stifled a moan.

“Shoot, Joe, and she’s dead,” Lisa could hear the icy smirk in his voice. “I may be a lousy shot, but a toddler couldn’t miss at point blank.”

“Let her go...please,” Joe’s warm brown eyes tried to meet Jackson’s icy blues. “She hasn’t done anyth-”

“Now, Joe-excuse me, Mr. Reisert, how would you know that? Were you there on the plane?” Lisa tried to put some distance between herself and Jackson’s chest, but the gun and the arm that was now around her neck stopped her. With her own neck so close to the hole in Jackson’s, she felt so utterly repulsed that she pulled away from him. At her movement he pulled her closer, so close that she could now feel his shallow breaths.

Joe didn’t answer the question. Jackson grinned at the older man and ran his slender fingers through Lisa’s hair. “Joe? I’m waiting for an answer.” The tips of his fingers came to a rest at the bottom, where he tugged on a limp curl. Lisa bit her lip and fought back what seemed like gallons and gallons of bile.

“N-no,” Joe spat out. Jackson c*cked his head mirthfully.

“See, I didn’t think so,” Jackson continued. “You weren’t there when your oh-so adorable daughter told me about that unfortunate little scuffle in the parking lot two years ago, nor when I offered sincere sympathy to her. You weren’t there when your sweet baby girl stabbed me in the neck with a Frankenstein pen. You surely weren’t there when she threw a fire extinguisher at me and stabbed me in the leg with her, might I add, fashionable stiletto. Were you?”

“I wish I’d stabbed you somewhere else, you no- good son of a bi-”

Jackson’s hand moved to her neck and tightened and with a subdued yelp she quieted.

Not wishing to risk Lisa’s physical nor mental health at the possibility of a non-rhetorical question, Joe Reisert forced out an answer between clenched teeth. “No,” but he couldn’t help what came next, “who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Jackson seemed to be on the verge of hysteric laughter as he spoke in what could be considered tender words if it were not for the pure fact that he was a monster. “Now, Leese, sweetheart, what did we learn on the flight?”

Lisa bit back tears, hating to feel so powerless at this sadist’s hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Now, now, of course you do. Before we landed, remember, you’d finally aced the course...”

Her voice shook as she spoke. “D-don’t ask questions...”

“Exactly. Mr. Reisert, your daughter is brilliant and it’d be such a shame for me to blow that smart mind out of her skull right now due to her daddy’s stupidity. I will give you this much, though: I’m just doing my job.”

A siren began to wail in the distance. Please, Lisa tried to telepathically urge her captor. Just idle a little longer, oh, please....

She was dreaded her inevitable fate. Death, or....what? She had no idea what Jackson had planned for her. For any other man, she would have picked the generic result, death. Rippner really had no reason at all for keeping her alive. But then...she hadn’t been able to predict the motive behind his frightening blue eyes right from square one, now was no different.

In a morbid way, she wanted him to kill her. She wanted to be forever rid of the memories of the past night and from two years ago. She was tired. She had no more will to fight, and yet...she didn’t want to stop. She had a small little sect of pride and willpower still left in her that screamed for her to do something. She couldn’t let him win this. For her, for her dad, and for the Keefes. Hell, for that little blonde girl on the plane. The battle was not yet over.

Joe’s face had turned an ashen shade of pale yellow long ago. “Your...your job,” he repeated flatly. Oh, Dad, how I wish you could still just be sitting, eating your lasagna and watching the comedy marathon...I’ve failed you. I’m so, so sorry.

“Now you’ve got it. Yes, my job. And you wouldn’t stop the postman from doing his job, now would you?”

This time, the question appeared to be ill-fitted for an answer as Jackson barreled on. He now spoke so quickly that, if Lisa hadn’t known him better, she would have called him nervous.

“Now, Mr. Reisert, your daughter and I have some unfinished business to attend to, so we’ll skip out on the dessert and coffee. It was a pleasure meeting you. Ado.” With that, quick as a silverfish, Jackson pulled Lisa from the foyer and outside before Joe could fire a single shot. Lisa’s fighting instinct kicked in and she struggled against him tooth and nail, screaming at the top of her lungs for help. She had to get him down, even just for a moment. The police would be here soon, and if she could just stall until then-

Jackson forcefully dragged her to his dead associate’s BMW parked across the street. “Need I remind you who has the gun, Lisa?”

He managed to get her inside and took advantage of the outer lock as he got in on the driver’s side. Lisa pulled and pounded on the door and window, but her efforts proved uneffective as Jackson started the car and sped off.

Lisa wanted to scream, wanted to cry, to yell, to sleep, hurt herself, hurt Jackson, throw up, anything but what she was doing right now-sitting and shaking uncontrollably despite the rising Miami heat. She convulsed in desperate dry sobs, the aquifers behind her eyes drained from the previous night. It was over. He’d won. She was going to die, and Keefe was going to die. And there was nothing at all that she could do about it.

[Shorty]

This seems interesting, So far so good. ;D Want to see more

[Pukkina]

Thanks so much! I freaked out when I saw that somebody had read this. So thanks. I'll hopefully be posting more within the week...or maybe tonight, I'm not sure.

[thedaysarenumbered]

more more more...pleease!

[Pukkina]

Next chapters are...up!


Lisa watched precious minutes ticking by on the illuminated green digital clock as they neared the city limits.

I need to get away. This is valuable escape time that I’m wasting here.

She frantically pondered through solution. Jumping from the moving vehicle was an option. Wait, no, it wasn’t. Damn. She’d forgotten the outer lock and swore mentally, biting her lip.

Jackson coughed. “I’ve never seen you so talkative, Lisa. God, shut up already.”

She scowled but did not answer. Yes. She feared that, at the moment, her words would be too rage-filled and thus she opted for a vow of silence. I’ll kill you with silence, bastard. You thought question-maniac Leese was bad? Well, get ready for the real thing, f*cker.

“Your dad seemed nice, by the way.”

Lisa couldn’t stop herself. Maybe the old adage that redheads had bad tempers was right. “Do not talk about my father, Jack.”

He smirked and only cringed slightly at the shortened name. “So, she does speak.”

Lisa turned redder than her hair and crossed her arms. “Why am I here? Why didn’t you just kill me?” And then, ladies and gentleman, faster than a speeding bullet, she can switch back to her old self.

He sighed and clicked his tongue, then said quietly, “I could, if you really want me to.”

Lisa thought it over, though she was pretty sure that last jab was sarcasm. Nevertheless, she replied bitterly, “Depends on what the alternative is.”

“Do you want the whole, 100 percent bonafide truth of why you’re here?”

“No,” she spat sardonically. “I want the lie.”

He cut his eyes at her. “Watch it, Leese. Do you, or do you not?”

She grunted angrily, “I do.” Why does that remind me so much of a wedding vow?

He took a deep breath. It rattled in his throat, and Lisa bristled at the thought of the hole in his throat. “You’re here for a multitude of reasons, the first being that the Keefe job isn’t finished yet.” He still had to press a hand against his throat when he spoke. Lisa idly wondered when the hell he planned on getting treated for the gaping hole in his windpipe.

She swallowed. “And?”

He grinned. “The next is that, when an outsider is used for a job, they cannot simply be released. They either are killed or taken on by the company.”

Lisa felt sick. “Kill me, then, because there’s no way that I’m going to work for your company.”

“You’re lucky though, Lisa. There are exceptions.”

She frowned. “Such as?”

“Such as personal vendettas. Vendettas in the form of a promise I made to you back on the plane.”

Wracking her brain to its farthest, dustiest corners, Lisa still came up dry. “Which was...?”

“Lisa, I intend to steal you.”

Her reaction was one quite similar to a fish out of water. Mouth drier than the desert, jaw falling open, shudders running down her body, and a thick, chilling sweat coursing her skin, Lisa nearly fainted.

“You...are not going to steal me!”

“Oooh, good comeback.” Jackson flipped on the air conditioner as Lisa reddened.

“Why? I don’t get it. What do you mean you’re stealing me?” She bit back the whine in her voice, hating herself and hating Jackson. Hell, she hated that random guy walking on the street.

Jackson sighed irritably. “‘What I mean’, sweetheart, is that I never had any intention of letting you go. When I watched you, I’ll admit, I found you interesting, different, compelling. Don’t ask why. I’m not sure myself. You’re not extraordinary by any means.”

She stiffened, shocked that she could take personal offense even by the person who she hated most at the moment. “Thanks.”

“So, I had a cast-iron plan. I’d brought a little gift that I would slip into your latte. Remember, Leese? Starbucks? Wouldn’t that’ve been nice?”

The thought repulsed her. “I wouldn’t have drank it. I hate coffee.”

Jackson gripped her wrist, eyes flashing. “Why are you lying over something so trivial?”

His rough nails bit into her skin and she struggled. He didn’t release her until his fingers had made two small holes in her arm, blood dripping slightly.

She winced and rubbed it once he jerkily released her.

“Bastard,” she whispered.

“You could have had it so easy,” he rambled on. Lisa raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “We get off the plane, you obliviously drink your latte, take a little nap, and when you wake up-voila. We’re at my apartment and I’m not as secretly pissed at you as I am now, as I was back at your house. I’m not murderous. You’re not bruised and bleeding, and your family and friends are completely safe. By the way, are you aware that you’re not wearing any shoes?”

Lisa ignored the last comment. “What do you mean? My family and friends aren’t safe?”

“At the moment, they are,” Jackson put his blinker on and coasted to the left into a driveway.

“At the moment?” Lisa cried. “What have you done to them?”

The car stopped in front of an expansive building in the woods. “Like I said, nothing...at the moment. But for every action there is a consequence.”

Lisa rubbed her glistening eyes. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“Its simple, Leese, simple. You harm me physically in any way–goodbye, Daddy. You try to escape–see you, Mommy. Resist me in any way and that brother of yours is history.”

Lisa’s head snapped up. “I don’t have a brother.”

Jackson snorted. “Lies, lies, lies. I followed you for eight weeks, Leese. At the moment, I’m om-f*cking-niscient. Twenty-two years old, student at Colorado University, tall, blonde, good-looking, an athletic dapper young man named Alex? Do you call him ‘Al’, Leese? Is he the turkey-cutter at Thanksgiving dinner? Did he used to beat up your old boyfriends? I’m sure they didn’t mind though. Hell, if I were gay, I’d f*ck him.”

Lisa was shaking with white-hot anger. In an uncontrollable bout of violence, she slapped him. “Don’t you dare talk about my brother!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the window. Her neck collided with the plastic underneath and she felt a blackness slide briefly over her brain. Jackson forced her back into reality.

“So, I can’t talk about your father or brother, Leese? Lets talk about you, then. You never answered why you were such a loner, other than the whole rape thing. You have to be over that by now. And tell me, why haven’t you fought me so far yet? I know you’re able, so why not? Am I finally working my way into your soft spot?”

Lisa tensed her jaw and spat at him. “f*ck you.”

He calmly wiped his face and then dragged his hand over her face. She sputtered as he spoke. “All good things with time, Leese. All with time.” Then he let her go and left her writhing against the window, scrubbing at her face.

He cut the engine and stuffed the keys into his pocket. “I’ll expect answers to those questions, by the way. But not now. I’m too sick of playing Socrates at the moment.” He opened the door and stepped out, then jogged around to Lisa’s side to let her out.

Jackson grabbed her tightly by the upper arm and clutched her against him.

“By the way,” he whispered into her ear. She cringed. “I shouldn’t have to remind you not to run away. This place is surrounded by security cameras. Had you fooled, didn’t I? These aren’t ordinary trees. The cameras feed inside, where they are constantly monitored. If, rather, when, an employee of the Association sees you, you’ll be shot and all three of your family members will die slow, painful deaths. Mostly painful. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds just peachy, Jack,” she hissed back in his face. He slapped her and her head lolled backwards.

“Watch it, Leese,” he snapped. “You’re treading on thin ice here.”

Lisa desperately wanted to yell or scream at him, but did not. Instead she let him lead her inside. I’ll be docile, Jack, for now. Just for now. You’ll trust me and then, when you least expect it...I’ll kill you.

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Jackson ushered Lisa into the stark white building and tried not to let her curiosity dominate her escape instinct.

Several neat but empty desks were scattered in the corners of the wide foyer room, with several doors lining each wall. Everything was either gray, white, or black. In the middle of the room lay a vast black Oriental rug. Even the floor was a tiled white. Looking closer, Lisa noticed that there was no evidence lying in sight whatsoever to indicate that this was a building designed for assassins. And the desks. Lisa was accustomed to seeing memorabilia and momentos on the desks of her coworkers and herself at the Lux, but this was a whole other thing entirely. No picture frames boasting happy, healthy families. No emblazoned jackets slung haphazardly over the rickety swivel chairs. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Lisa shook her head as Jackson pulled her through a plainly painted door. “Where is everyone? Where are we?” she blurted before she could help herself. He can’t get mad at me for asking a simple question. I think. I hope.

“Probably assignment.” Lisa nearly jumped at the distracted sound to his voice, expecting a more angry, annoyed tone of voice. Hell, he’s practically human. “Don’t ask questions. You’ll get a more comprehensive tour later.”

Lisa couldn’t pinpoint if the feeling in his voice was pure sarcasm or honesty. If it was the latter, she wondered, how long did he plan to keep her here? She had to finish the job, she knew, but still hadn’t quite figured out the ‘stealing you’ part of the deal. Was this an office building of sorts for assassins? Or did Jackson live here?

Jackson led her down the hall (again, flawless white, with Lisa beginning to wonder why the hell the painters had been so pristine) and into an elevator. He pressed the up button and soon the doors buzzed open.

Lisa stared at the wide cart hesitantly for a moment until Jackson irritably kicked her ankles. She stumbled inside. “Don’t tell me you’re a f*cking claustrophobe, too.”

“Gee, I half expected you to tell me that it wouldn’t bite,” Lisa snapped, then softened her voice to a near whisper. “I just don’t feel comfortable stepping into a moving box with a man who tried to kill me two hours ago.” Jackson snorted and she scuttled to the opposite side of the elevator car, leaning on the wall. Or mirror, rather.

She’d always hated elevators, or even escalators. That uncontrollable feeling of being raised up scared the wits out of her. And this was even worse, the walls were covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. Not even the circus kind, the acute kind that pointed out your every detail. Lisa cringed as she took in her complexion. She’d never cared much about external images, but this was plain scary. Her hair rose in tangled knots behind her ears and her face was covered with bruises, scratches, and grime. Her clothes were wrinkled, torn, and dirty, and like Jackson had pointed out, she was barefoot. Her feet were covered in long, narrow cuts from the glass back at her dad’s house. She sighed. She felt no pain whatsoever, just a bubbling dread and anticipation in her throat and an overall aching. Not like a “wow, I just got kidnapped by an assassin and am hurt all over my f*ckING BODY!” but a feeling similar to running a marathon.

She watched as Jackson pressed a button for the fifteen floor. It was the highest floor, which surprised her because the building hadn’t seemed that high on the outside.

Once they started moving, Jackson pulled out his phone and punched in the number two on speeddial.

After a pause, he said, “Its me.”

Lisa found herself paying very rapt attention to his phone call, though she wasn’t sure why. In case it has to do with me, her brain told her matter-of-factly, although her heart told her that the true reason was a festering from a childlike need to eavesdrop.

Ding. They were on the tenth floor.

Her mind began whirring and she subconsciously tuned Jackson out. If I can get out of here before he does, and grab his keys, I have a chance. There must be stairs somewhere in here; I’ll take them and steal his car. It could work. Catch him off guard. It has to work. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck on top of this huge building until God knows when.

Fourteenth floor. Lisa braced herself.

“...either dispose of the bodies, or b, get the biatch home and get back here.” Lisa cringed, not wanting to even think of who or what he might be talking about.

Ding. The doors slid open and in a flash Lisa moved. Flash...ahah...he’ll save everyone of us! Lisa’s mind flashed at an inopportune time with the lyrics and she grabbed Jackson’s phone which slid easily from his jacket pocket.

Like in a dream, she saw rather than heard Jackson grunt and run after her, pulling something from his pocket and aiming it at her.

A gun. This is it. He’s grown sick of this game, and this is it. My end. I’m dead.

Instead she felt a charge zap through her body and she fell, convulsing and shuddering as if electrocuted. Is this what a bullet feels like? A bolt of lightning?

She screamed in agony and waited for blood as she heard Jackson speak distantly into the phone. “...call you back...”

I’m dead.

“You’re not dead, Leese,” Jackson sighed, stooping and lifting her from the floor. Lisa realized that she must have verbalized that last thought and felt stupid as she focused back into reality. Let me go! Put me down! But she was too weak to fight him.

“What did you do?” she moaned, trying to move. Her whole body felt like stinging lead.

“Taser,” he said simply. “Feeling like an idiot yet?”

She groaned in response and began to fade back into sweet unconsciousness as he effortlessly carried her down the hall. The last thing she remembered was a warm bed, the dimming of a halogen lamp and then the soft words, “Sweet dreams, Leese,” as she relented to the inky blackness.

A/N-So there’s that chapter. Pay attention to some of the dialogue up there, my lovely readers, because it will come back coughtohauntyoucough in the next chapter. I made the grueling decision to incorporate two more character plots into the story, because they really help out the Lisa/Jackson storylines. So anyway. Please review and you’ll get a really big lollipop with Mickey Mouse on it.

[Pukkina]

A/N-So here are those two new characters I promised you! Enjoy, and please pm me with any suggestions. There’s always room for improvement.

Rachel Redford was emo. She was snobby. She thought she was too good for everybody else. She was shy. A brain.

All of the above were accusations the nearly sixteen-year old high school sophomore faced daily. She’d heard them spoken verbally in whispers as she passed, but aside from that she also read them easily on her classmates’ unmoving faces. Rachel was good at interpreting people, understanding how their minds worked. And manipulating. Her teachers said on report cards that she was very persuasive and well-spoken when she rarely opened her mouth. The operative word in that sentence being ‘rarely’. Rachel wasn’t necessarily shy. She just didn’t trust people or feel safe talking to them.

Paranoid. Her parents had made the snappish label to fit her bill several years ago, and the criticism had stuck in her brain like old chewing gum ever since. Maybe she was paranoid. It had been the only thing on her mind lately, this word, because she truly believed that she was finally going mad with her nervousness.

The sixth sense of knowing when you’re being watched or followed was with her constantly now, it seemed. She couldn’t count the number of times that she thought she’d heard soft footfalls or felt a warmth in the room and turned around to see...nobody.

Ghosts, maybe. She’d never really been scared of haunts and tried to use the supernatural theory to mask her fear. But in all truth, she did not really believe in them and still...why could she feel this almost everywhere, not just at home?

Surely this wasn’t natural. Rachel summoned all of her logic- and, truth be told, she had plenty, along with a secure standing as official ‘smart kid’ of her class-to make sense of it, poring over library books preaching about the effects of anxiety and hypertension. Neither condition seemed to fit her. She didn’t experience any other jittery symptoms and so she tried to ignore this blistering feeling inside of her.

She certainly didn’t let it interfere with her life, not that she’d had much of one to begin with. She didn’t alter her routine of school, bus, homework, walk, reading, writing, music, practice, shower, bed. She was content with her pathetic, nearly solitary life. After all, the only person she needed or trusted was herself, so why bother making friends? She’d just run out of things to say and agonize later that they were plotting to hurt her and/or said bad things about her behind her back.

So it was that fateful Friday afternoon. She was relieved that it was the start of the holiday break, because now she wouldn’t have to deal with the always annoying people. She could never understand why ninety-nine percent of them were so damn stupid. Rachel planned to spend the entire vacation at home.

Rachel walked in off the bus with her little brother Chris and fixed him a snack. He was eleven, by far old enough to do it himself, but Rachel enjoyed doing the small things for him. He was probably one of the few people spare her parents that she loved and honestly trusted.

When she was done, she walked to her room and pulled on a thick woolen peacoat over her soft green turtleneck sweater and jeans. Then she grabbed a hat and scarf and, locking the door behind her, stepped back outside into the frigid cold.

It was beginning to snow, but Rachel didn’t care. She wouldn’t miss her daily walk in the woods behind her house for a tsunami. The forest was the only place in which she felt at peace, calm, truly alone. It was quiet there, not only physically but also in her mind. Her brain seemed to clear itself of the thoughts that she constantly had bouncing around. Her uncle Frederick always said that the human brain was like a gigantic washing machine set on spin cycle 24/7, thoughts bleeding into one another like the dye from fabrics. Rachel admired him. He always was smart, which was probably why citizens had voted him state governor. Another contributing factor was probably his devout, sincere compassion for all humans.

Rachel inhaled deeply the cool, crisp air and smiled as she glanced back at the quaint box-shaped house in the distance. Chris was always fine on his own while she walked and he was so used to her habits by now that he didn’t even question where she was going.

Her feet were silent on the frozen ground, leaving a light trail from her boots that was easily and rapidly covered by a fresh dusting of crystallized flakes.

She hummed a little song as she strolled into the thicker woods. The hum turned into light singing of lyrics after the first verse, completely in tune.

In tune. In tune with life. In tune with everything. That’s me. And nobody will ever hurt me.

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Alec Rocher was a cold, hardened profesional. When he needed to be. At the young age of twenty-one, he was already one of the best in the business. He was Rippner’s pride and joy, and Jackson had even admitted that if anyone were to take over his managarial position, he hoped it to be Alec.

He had morals, sure. But morals and business were two different things entirely and never to be mixed. It wasn’t that Alec enjoyed killing, it was simply a means to an end. And as Machiavelli had said, the end always justified the means.

He did honestly enjoy the probing, the manipulation, the mind games, the part of jobs where he got to delve into people’s undisturbed minds and pick around, meddling with their emotions and hopefully breaking them down into even less than little balls of shriveling weakness. He liked not being at risk for that weakness factor. No, he was too strong.

This job was no different. He usually never had to lie, never did lie, as Jackson hated it wholeheartedly and banned it in most practices. But this time it was permitted. It wouldn’t work otherwise.

He shivered in his flimsy sports jacket and huddled against a tree. Alec was thoroughly unaccustomed to surroundings like these, a native of Orlando, Florida. It was so damn cold, and now it had to f*cking snow. Fantastic.

His universal cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it without hesitation, realizing that in an area with no cell service for miles, the unusual noise would be picked up quickly.

“Rocher.”

“Its me.”

Alec nodded at Rippner’s familiar voice. He liked to consider Jackson a very good acquaintance, if not a downright friend. He still wasn’t sure if the relationship he and Rippner shared could be called coworking or merely coexisting. “What’s going on?”

“I did my job, you do yours?”

“Not yet. Should be soon, though. Let me get this straight, though: we’re supposed to stay in state until this is over?”

“Correct. Unless she gives you too much trouble and you need a threatening point. So after, you can either dispose of the bodies and hightail your ass out of there, or get the biatch home and get back here.”

“Got it,” Alec groaned. “Its so f*cking cold up here, you wouldn’t believe it. Jack Frost thought, ‘hey, f*ck nipping, let’s go for full on chomping.’”

“Well, you need to go to Albany anyway, to carry out the job. It’s a little farther south, at least.”

“Yeah.” Alec paused as he heard a female scream in the background. Laughing, he asked, “Who was that?”

There was a long, angry pause and then finally Rippner’s voice and some muffled thuds. “We’ll have to call you back, I’m afraid.”

“Okay, see you la-” Click. Alec smiled, wondering exactly who the ‘we’ was. Before it had just been ‘I.’

Alec repocketed his phone and peered out onto the trail, concealing himself behind the bushes. It was almost time. He could hear her walking.

She was singing. In the ten weeks of watching her, of course, he’d heard it before, but every time she did, it pulled on something in him. He wasn’t sure what, but he did know that he treasured the brief moments when she would let the angelic voice pour out of her cherry lips.

Alec couldn’t help but watch her face move as she smiled. She hardly ever did, but when she did, her whole face lit up, her olive skin to her chocolate eyes.

He felt like a bit of a cradle-robber as he thought this. She was fifteen, well, nearly sixteen, and he was twenty-one. Illegal, for sure. But she was a mature fifteen.

He hoped he’d get his moment with her before this was over, mostly to satisfy his masculine curiosity. He knew his feelings for the girl extended little beyond lust and also knew he’d feel no remorse if he had to kill her. Just another job.

As she rounded the bend, he stood and grinned. It was time to go. And she’d be coming with him this time.

[Pukkina]

Rachel’s voice faded as a loud twig snap behind her alerted her to a presence. She spun around, ears perking up and heart racing to see...a bird. A pheasant, to be exact. Her father used to hunt them. I hated when he did that. Sighing and nearly laughing at her paranoia, she turned back around to keep on walking. And promptly screamed.

“Be quiet and you won’t get hurt,” a thick, husky voice ordered. Rachel tried to run as a wide pair of hands encircled her waist, pulling her against this stranger’s body. Now she wasn’t facing him, but she’d got a decent glimpse when she’d turned around and bumped into his chest.

He was tall and thin, with a thick shock of blonde hair that flopped into his face, partially covering one of his two piercing green eyes that were set back in an angled, pale face. The part that terrified her the most was nearly tied with his creepy eyes, but beat them by a hair. He had a long, angry red scar that trailed from his forehead to his left eye, then skittered off down the side of his chin. It went down to his neck but was partially hidden by a thick black turtleneck.

She’d been ordered not to scream, but even if she could she wouldn’t have been able to, the fear was so constricted in her throat. Her mind flooded with nightly news images of raped and abducted, then murdered teenage girls, and she thought back briefly to what she had ever done to deserve this.

What the hell is going on here?

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Alec’s hands were wrapped tightly enough around her body that he could feel her diaphragm rise and fall with inevitably constricted sobs. He had a few choice weapons stashed in his coat pockets and on his beltloop, but he hoped not to have to use them. Don’t think I’ll need to.

“Who are you?” she whispered, drawing in a huge, rickety breath. Don’t exert yourself, sweetheart. “What do you want?”

“Now, princess, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” he muttered in her ear. He felt her cringe and then stiffen as his breath blew off her small hoop earrings.

“Don’t call me ‘princess,’” she snapped. Her tone shocked him. Maybe you have more fight in you than I’d thought.

“I don’t believe you’re in the position to be making demands...kitten,” he sneered. Two can play this game. “Let’s get down to business, sh all we? I want something from you and if I don’t get it, I’m sorry to say that Christopher dies.”

Rachel let out a long shudder. “What did you just say? How-how do you-”

“Know your brother’s name? Why, Rachel, its simple. I’ve been watching you for a month now. I know everything there is to know about Rachel Redford.”

She tensed and Alec grinned. “Do what you want, just don’t hurt him.” As if an afterthought, she added a quiet, “Please.” Parents do quite the hackjob in teaching manners today, don’t they?

“What if I told you that what I wanted was...you?” Alec annunciated this suggestively as he slid his hand down her neck, following the hem of her woolen coat down to her waist.

She didn’t cry, but he sensed a break soon. “Just-just leave him alone.”

He laughed. “Its okay, Rach. You’re not my type, but I find it comforting that you’ll so easily put out. Anyway, I still need you, but not in that way.”

He felt a bit of her tension melt away. “What are you saying?”

“For now, all you need to do is come with me. I’ll explain it once we’re out of here.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she hissed, sucking in breath through clenched teeth. “Because if you are, do it now and get it over with.”

Look at our society. Because of CSI, every girl thinks each man who happens to kidnap her is a murderer or rapist. Jesus Christ. I’m no f*cking martyr, but why do I have to be some bad guy? He smirked. This will be easy. She has so little fight left in her now, the suicidal wh*re.

“I don’t want to kill you. I need you. But I’ll explain it later. Don’t worry, when our business is done, you can go home and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Damn, this was getting tiresome.

He sighed. “First of all, I don’t lie. Its immoral. Second of all, you can probably feel it on your back? That hard thing-s’cuse me-hard metallic thing, is a gun. I won’t go into specifics, as I know you’ve never laid a finger on one in your life so you couldn’t care less. Its in my jacket. If you don’t believe me, I’d be happy to demonstrate its uses.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill me,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t have to. There are plenty of ways of excruciatingly injuring a person without actually killing them. Your knees would be first, I think. Ever been shot in the knee? No? Hurts like hell and nine out of ten times you don’t get movement back. Then I’d move on to your ankles, perhaps, your feet, hands, whatever. Makes no difference to me, all I need is you alive. And guess what? No one would even investigate the sound because, as you can see, its pheasant season. So, shall we begin?” he reached for his pistol.

“No,” she interjected quickly. So she is human. “I believe you.”

“We have an accord, then?”

He heard her pause, and then speak quietly, flatly, “Yes. I just have one more question.”

He sighed and began to relinquish his vice grip. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to know if you’d ever had your knees hurt.” With that, she stretched and kicked him swiftly in his left kneecap. He crumpled to the ground and cursed his reflexes. She scrambled away, running about four feet before scooping up a handful of snow, dirt, and ice from the ground. As he rose she unexpectedly hurled it at him.

biatch! The disgusting mess hit his eyes with perfect precision and before he could blink it was inside. He hollered in pain, blinded temporarily.

I’ll kill her. I’ll wring her f*cking neck when I get ahold of her.

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Rachel ran with shocking speed for someone who avoided physical exercise as a rule.

He can’t catch me. God, don’t let him. I’ll die.

She heard him stumble to his feet as his eyes obviously watered themselves clean and urged her legs to move faster. Her feet felt like lead as she stumbled over the wet snow that clung to her boots and only made them heavier.

She made the cliched mistake of glancing briefly behind her and saw him already rising and closing the gap between them.

“Help me, somebody, please!” she screamed desperately. Please, Chris, turn down the tv so you can hear me!

The man was less than two feet away as Rachel’s chest tightened. Her hopes were dashed half a yard from the house as he tackled her to the ground.

Rachel’s first concerns were her ribs as he tumbled atop her. Her next was her wrist, which landed horribly between her body and the stiff ground. She heard it snap as her weight pressed down on the fragile area.

“Get off!” she screamed at him.

His eyes were bright red from the natural mixture she’d hurled at him. They flashed with fury, and watered with pain. He withdrew a long knife from his beltloop while still managing to keep her legs pinned to the ground with his knees. She fought with her arms until he slid the thin, glinting blade against her jugular. Rachel was no doctor, but she knew that if either of them moved wrong in the slightest, she was dead.

Her arms fell limp at her sides as he wheezed, “You have five seconds...to tell me what the hell you were doing back there.”

“I...I was trying to save my life,” she whispered matter-of-factly.

“No,” he snapped, snatching up her collar and pulling her up so that her face was inches from his. The scar seemed to pop out, nearly touching her face and she made a small noise and tried to twist her head away. He gripped her chin. “What you were doing was risking your brother’s life, not to mention your own. I told you, I’ve been watching you and, while I’ll admit that your life is pathetic, I didn’t peg you as suicidal.”

She tried to pull her face away but he just scowled and threw her back to the ground, her head knocking hard against a thick layer of ice.

The man gripped her throat and squeezed tightly. Rachel used her reserved oxygen for a moment until she was completely drained of breath. “I can’t-I can’t...can’t breathe...”

“Does this make things easier for you, Rach?” he asked softly, his eyes playfully dancing with mirth now. “Does this break it down simpler? Can you understand now?”

She pulled tightly at his hands as her head began spinning.

“Answer me.”

She couldn’t, her face muscles resetricting as she tried to pull out of his grasp.

“ANSWER ME.”

She managed to bob her head a little, hoping it would convince him. Just please stop, let me go...I want to go home...

He let her go and Rachel slumped to the ground, pressing her cheek to the ice as she sucked in frantic breath.

“Now lets get one thing straight,” he hissed seriously. “I’m the one with the power to alter you and your brother’s lives. Me. Not you. So stop trying. You don’t come with me, I kill you. Both of you. Easy as that.”

She shut her eyes and didn’t face him.

“Now,” he stood, brushing his hands against his jeans. “We are going to take a little walk to my car. You are going to get in without protestation and we are going to take a drive. When we get to our destination, you’ll receive further instruction. Understood?”

Rachel nodded bitterly and stood weakly on her aching legs. The man took her arm and she whimpered as pain shot up to her elbow. He frowned a bit sarcastically and grabbed the other one. They began a brisk walk back into the woods.

Sleep...I need to sleep...I’m screwed. What in the world am I going to do?

[Pukkina]

Lisa awoke feeling an odd version of calm. Slightly dizzy, she pulled herself out of tangled
sheets and stumbled zombie-like from the warm bed.

The cool air conditioning hit her skin like ice as memories from the last day (or night? She
couldn’t remember) flooded back into her brain. She clutched her forehead and sobbed a little as the painful thoughts scrubbed at her emotions. Grandma died...airport...cancellation...Tex
Mex...Jack...phone call...4080...pen...shoe...gun...no...electricity...white...

Recalling the sterile white environment of where she’d drifted off, she forced her eyes open, curious to see if this was still white. If she was, at least she’d have the chance of being in heaven. I just wish I had died and gone to sleep forever. Maybe I have. A blur of soft orange and brown hues hit her slightly dilated pupils and slightly blinded her. Damn it. She scrubbed at her itchy eyes, adjusted her clothes (which were still in the same condition as she remembered them, thankfully), and pulled open the first door she saw, unwilling to remain in this unfamiliar dwelling. If I could find I bathroom...gee, that would be swell. Ugh. How is it possible to feel so nauseated even though I haven’t eaten in at least seven hours?

She entered a hallway in a pale shade of lilac, and from there discovered a bright blue, fairly
modernized kitchen. The image of a twelve-inch Ka-Bar popped into her head and she suddenly lost

her nausea and grew enraged. I need to find a weapon. Jackson must be waiting somewhere here to kill me.

Knife. She tugged fiercely at a drawer before realizing with bitter irony that it was locked.

She then turned to the cupboards and pulled. They too were tightly fastened, but seemed looser. She kept pulling on the handle, feeling it budge little by little.

When it flew open, the force she had exerted caused her to fly back to the floor. Feeling a bit
stupid, she slid in her sleek skirt for a few feet before her legs kicked up and she slowly felt gravity press her to the tile.

“You accomplished a hell of a lot there,” a raspy voice said quietly in the doorway, accompanied by a deep chuckle.

Lisa picked herself up and spun around to see Jackson leaning on the island countertop, a
boyish smirk spread over his lips. Lisa scowled indignantly at him. “Shut up.”

“Ooh, good one.” Jackson rolled his eyes and strode broadly to the cupboard, gesturing grandly at its contents. “Come on, Leese, come claim your prize!”

Lisa squinted before realizing that it was holding only a few scented candles and some
maroon cloth napkins. She blushed furiously.

“I suppose there’s no point in asking you what you were looking for,” Jackson hissed sardonically, suddenly angry as he walked briskly towards her. Before she could move, he had her up against the wall.

“That was stupid,” he whispered into her nose. “Too stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” she snapped, feeling childish. Sticks and stones...she could picture her father telling her with a shrug.

“One to talk,” his lip curled into a bitter smirk. “What are you planning to do now, Leese? Beat me with the fruit bowl?”

She slapped him. He slapped her back. “f*ck you,” she hissed. “Let me go!”

“Little chance. I guess that taser had more effect on you than I thought. Remember our good friend Keefe? He’s still alive, Leese. At the moment, so is your father, but if you keep dallying that fact will rapidly change.”

“I’m not killing Keefe!”

“Then sing a song of absolution, Leese, cause it doesn’t work to your advantage. By all means, if you’ve got some hostile feelings worked up towards your dad, make that choice, but if you’d like him to remain with his organs inside of his body, I’d shut that pretty little mouth and listen.”

Lisa fell into a seething silence. “Now,” Jackson proceeded smugly, letting her go. “At the moment, Keefe is in a bit of a security buzz. The FBI and all those pesky little governmental
investigation people are busy figuring out exactly what happened. Don’t worry, I’m sure that your little friend back at the Lux will probably sell you off as the hero of the day, but since you’re missing things will be a bit shadowy. Hell, you might even be lumped in the terrorist category with me and blamed for the whole ordeal.”

“Why would they believe that?” Lisa snapped, cutting her eyes at him. Jackson leaned back on the refrigerator and tapped his chin mirthfully.

“Well, hmm, Leese, I don’t know,” he mused. “Maybe because you were the one who called the hotel to have Keefe’s room switched anyway? How else would you know about the bomb? Police could very well assume that you had some very buried feelings about Keefe deep inside, I don’t know, you know how customers can be, and finally decided to off him. However, at the last minute, you got cold feet and frantically called dear Cynth back to save him. Now, feeling a bit guilty, you’re in hiding. How does that sound for logical?”

“If Keefe thinks I tried to kill him, then, how the hell am I going to finish the job?” Lisa yelled, feeling sick again.

Jackson paused, gazing intently, coldly into her eyes. He sighed and shook his head, then pulled open the refrigerator. “Scotch, Leese? You’ll need it.”

“Never been a scotch fan,” she replied sarcastically. “Get to the point.”

“No, you definitely need a drink,” he decided with a nod after contemplating her for a moment. He pulled the bottle from the fridge and placed it on the counter. With a second thought, he also retrieved a bottle of Pinot Noir and waved it at her. “More to your taste?” Lisa nodded
sardonically.

He handed her a full glass and poured himself some scotch. After a long gulp, he spoke. “The job doesn’t actually require you.”

The drink sloshed in Lisa’s hands. “So then let me go!”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why the f*ck not?”

Jackson took another drink and smirked slightly at her. “You keep forgetting that second
part of our little discussion back in the car. I want to steal you. Talk about your selective hearing.”

Lisa poured about half of her drink into her mouth, wishing to wash away what she was hearing. “No! This doesn’t even make sense!”

“Nope.”

“Are you even going to kill Keefe?”

“Why, do you want me to?” he laughed, but at her glare stopped short. “Yes. But you aren’t involved. You would need to stay here even if I hated you because otherwise, an outside source would be pinpointed as the murderer. What sense does it make if Keefe dies in Georgia when hiskiller is three hundred miles away, sitting comfortably at home watching the Lifetime Channel For Women?”

“So you’re framing me,” Lisa replied with her jaw tensing a bit. “You can’t! My dad! He saw everything!”

“No, Lisa, not everything,” Jackson smirked. “He saw me attacking you, did he know if it was provoked? I doubt it. Even if he did, he’s not in the position to go whining to the police, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a bit of an ironic situation here, Leese,” Jackson chuckled, then his voice grew cold. “See, if your dad doesn’t keep his mouth shut, then you die.”

“I thought you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not. But he doesn’t know that.”

“So you’re basically paying him off with lies so you can frame me.”

“Exactly,” Jackson grinned and snapped his fingers. “Now you’ve got it. Somewhat. It shouldn’t matter, because you’ll be here the rest of your life anyway. You go anywhere, its with me. You’re just starting over. If you do what’s asked and don’t piss me off too much, maybe you’ll even get a new job. With the company, of course.”

“I don’t want that!” she screamed.

“Scream all you want, Leese, I don’t care what you want. You haven’t realized that by
now?” Jackson snorted and finished his scotch. The ice clanged in his empty cup as he shook it. “Drink up, sweets, cause otherwise you’re not going to be able to deal.”

“I’ll get away,” she threatened. “I’ll get away and-”

“And what?” he chuckled. “Go whine to the police about your mysterious kidnapper who also murdered Keefe? What are you going to tell them, Leese? You’re the criminal in this situation. You made the call, shot Keefe at his cushy hotel in Georgia.”

He’s right. If I escape, I’m still doomed to a life in prison. Lisa screamed and slammed her glass to the floor. It shattered, the shards skittering over the liquid and the tiled floor. “I hate you!”she yelled and stomped back to her “bedroom”.

Jackson just laughed after her and as she slammed the voice she heard his chuckled reply in
the kitchen as he stooped to clean up her mess. “I hate you too, Lisa.”


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[Pukkina]

Alec coughed as they approached his beat-up Camarro about half a mile back into the woods from where he’d apprehended Rachel. Checking his watch, he swore quietly. Five-thirty. Damn. She’d put him behind half an hour. He smirked and gestured grandly at the snow-dusted car and Rachel hesitantly glanced at it. He sighed and pulled open the door.

She shook and bit uncertainly down on her lower lip. Alec rolled his eyes irritably and unceremoniously shoved her in. With a quiet cry, she stumbled into the seat, catching herself before her head caught the low ceiling.

She was cold. Alec climbed in on his side and noted her quivering lips and paling face. Perhaps she was scared, or in shock. He coughed again and decided to find out himself.

“You scared, in shock, or just cold?”

She stiffened, which was a positive sign that if she was in shock, it definitely wasn’t as serious as he’d originally thought. “Let’s see,” she snapped. “I just got kidnapped by a knife-wielding maniac who broke my arm, and, on top of that injury, also managed to rip my coat almost completely in half, so I’d say it’s a combination of the three.”

Alec blinked as they drove roughly on the wide trail and then pulled onto the highway. “Wow. Don’t tell me I kidnapped the wrong girl.” When did she become so outspoken?

She cut her eyes at him. “For my sake and yours, I hope you did.”

“Was that a threat?”

She didn’t answer for a moment after his jab, but after a long, labored silence she finally spoke in a low, weighted voice. “Listen. I don’t know what you want with me, but please, whatever it is, just tell me or...get it over with. I don’t know what exactly I did to deserve this.”

Alec sighed and clicked on cruise control. He glanced at her. “I’ll tell you, but unless you feel like dying prematurely in a car crash, you better not hit me.”

Rachel sucked her breath through her teeth and hissed at him, “So, you do plan to kill me.”

“I never said that,” Alec snapped. “Prematurely. That could mean any time before you should. Which is at a ripe old age of ninety-seven. If you do what I say, you have a fine chance of doing so. Now, do you want to hear this or not?”

Rachel nodded and chewed her lip.

“My business with you in actuality has nothing to do with you. It has to do with your uncle.”

“My-”

“Frederick Nolan.”

“The governor?” Rachel replied all too quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve met him, but he’s not my unc-”

Alec abruptly reached out and struck her in the face. “Lesson one, Rach, don’t lie. Ever.”

Her cheek reddened from the hit and she was silent for a moment. “What do you want from me?”

“Its easy, sweetheart,” Alec told her mockingly. “You just be a good little girl and stay with me for a while.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with my uncle.”

“You don’t need to. Too much knowledge is dangerous.”

“I think I have a right to know, don’t you?” she snapped angrily. He sighed. And this is the reason why I’ll never get married. Why do women have to be so goddamn nosy?

“Bait, Rachel. You’re bait.”

“What do you even want from him? Who are you? What do you have against him?”

Alec swerved the car to the side of the road and grabbed Rachel’s collar, pushing her into the back of the car. She screamed and shoved at him, but of course at one hundred and eighty two muscled pounds, he had the upper hand. With one hand on her neck and the other holding her hands together, he spoke close to her face.

“Listen to me, Rachel, because I’m not going to say it again. Quit with the f*cking interviews. You’re bait. My name is Alec Rocher, I work for a company that specializes in assassinations. Your uncle is my target, and you are what will bring him to us. Its nothing personal, just a job. If either of you fail to comply, you will die. If you somehow manage to escape, Chris dies. I’m not saying it again, so this better be penetrating that thick skull of yours.”

She didn’t speak and he squeezed her chin. “You know, Rach, I’m surprised by you. I’ve been watching you for months and although you’re tough, I expected you to be crying or fainting by this point. Every other person I’ve ever kidnapped, males and adults included, was either bawling or catatonic by now, and although it kills me to admit it, you’re a hell of a lot smarter than all of them. What gives?”

She was shaking like crazy but managed to force out an answer. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.”

For some reason, her defiance angered him. I want the satisfaction. His anger turned to a furious passion and he touched her cheek. Smiling, he whispered, “Don’t worry, beautiful Rachel. I’ll have you broken by high noon tomorrow. I can assure you of that.”