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The Real Deal	By : Gallivant Category: M through R > Red Eye Views: 3200 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Red Eye. I am not making any money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Colm Buchanan
One look at the tight, grim expression on Jackson's face warned Lisa that too many questions, at this moment in time, would get her nowhere.
He was concentrating hard as he weaved their chocolate brown Chrysler sedan in and out of the heavy traffic congestion on the Bronx Expressway, as best he could.
Lisa was swamped with exhaustion, and an overweening hunger. Jackson's offering of a pack of M&Ms over an hour ago, had done little to stave off her pangs, and their frenetic flight from Lexington Avenue, had further dissipated her energy.
Glimpsing again at Jackson, she couldn't help but note how pale and washed out he looked. He needed rest and sustenance too, but this was an unlikely prospect for some time it seemed.
First they had to clear the city, Jackson had said.
Lisa scrunched her eyes shut, trying to stay calm, even though it was difficult in the circumstances.
Surely Colm had been involved in transferring the Miami tape recording of herself and Jackson from Charley to De Bowen?
It seemed all too logical.
And once Colm had known that Jackson wanted to meet him, he had then tried to trap them.
Why had he done that? What had they ever done to him?
He had to be working covertly for De Bowen, of course.
'Is he an assassin?' she asked Jackson, unable to contain herself any longer.
Jackson flicked his eyes briefly in her direction, then back to the road ahead of him.
'Colm?' he said. 'Sure he is. One of the best. He got me into the business in the first place.'
It all seemed crystal clear now Lisa thought about it. Colm had once described himself as a 'fixer'. Which now seemed like a euphemism if there ever was one.
Plus, he had a smooth, easy charm, not unlike Jackson's. Although there was something a little more raw, even needy, about Jackson, which had only intensified the more she knew him. Even so. She'd caught a passing resemblance in their manner, their style.
'So … we can guess Colm was working for De Bowen then?' she asked tentatively.
Jackson grimaced. 'Colm always works for Colm. Which usually means he works for the highest bidder.'
'So why do you figure he's working for Keefe?'
Of course she already knew the answer. She almost felt stupid for asking the question. But she wanted her suspicions confirmed.
Jackson smiled weakly. 'I guess if they planned another pop at Keefe, then I was going to be the last person to find out.'
'They, meaning De Bowen,' Lisa clarified.
Jackson grunted in seeming agreement, whilst pulling an audacious overtaking manoeuvre on a sluggish freightliner truck which was impeding more rapid progress.
He continued to scythe his way through the traffic which was clogging all six lanes of the expressway, with impressive speed and control.
Before long they were on the New England Thruway, otherwise known as Interstate 95, winging their way towards Connecticut.
Jackson seemed to relax a little once they were on the Connecticut Turnpike, beyond New York's sprawling suburbia.
The early morning had been typified by thick, gray clouds and spitting rain. But at last a sliver of clean white light had shot through the cloud cover, and the freeway was fast losing its dark wet gleam as the temperatures gradually headed upwards.
'We need to eat,' Jackson muttered, indicating to turn right into a drive-thru McDonalds.
We also need to talk, Lisa thought glumly, her mind teeming with worries. What the hell were they going to do?
They ordered breakfast McMuffins and coffee and pulled into a half-empty parking lot.
Jackson was clearly hungrier than Lisa had thought, devouring his food in the time it took for Lisa to peel open her tiny cream carton and slop it into her coffee.
She smiled inwardly, thinking how only two short days ago, at the Met Museum's café, Jackson had scornfully proved to her, that he actually ate at all, by stealing a forkful of her salad.
So much had happened.
'Where are we going?' Lisa finally asked.
Jackson closed his eyes, seeming to savour the hot black coffee as he swilled it around his mouth before swallowing.
'I have a place in Maine,' he said. He looked at her intently, his usually clear blue eyes dulled with weariness. His pinched pale features slightly frightened her.
Lisa wondered if Jackson should aim further. Try to leave the USA altogether, as it was only a matter of time – a very short time she imagined – before the police would be harrying him over the death of De Bowen.
After all, George De Bowen was very much a somebody – not just in the world of finance and banking, but also as a recognized public figure. A bastion of American honor and values.
Maybe Jackson did indeed plan to do just that. To head overseas. Away from it all.
Was she then a liability?
Jackson seemed to read her thoughts. 'I think it's best you come with me,' he said. 'At least for now.'
'I guess your fears that there might be someone out there who knew who I was, and hoped to harm me, were true after all,' she said a little drolly.
The brief airing of sunshine had swiftly faded. Already, dark swirling clouds were circling above them, and a faint patina of fine drizzle was coating their windshield.
'Though I don't see why,' she added, frowning into her coffee cup.
'Yeah. I don't really get it either,' Jackson said. 'Which indicates that Colm was completely in thrall to De Bowen on this one.'
He knitted his brows in puzzlement. 'It's not like Colm … he likes to be the bossman.'
'You said you've known him since school?' Lisa asked curiously. 'Yet he's British.'
'I was educated in England,' Jackson said.
'Really?'
'After my folks died.'
'Why England?'
Jackson smirked. 'Courtesy of an uncle. Yet another De Bowenesque Master of the Universe. Henry Beauchamp.'
'As in Beauchamps?' Lisa asked.
Jackson nodded. 'Yup.' He grabbed Lisa's half-eaten McMuffin, biting off a mouthful, before thrusting it back into her hands.
She stared at him in shocked annoyance.
'You're a pack of M&Ms ahead of me,' he explained, a small, cheeky smile momentarily lighting up his face.
'If you're that hungry,' Lisa huffed. 'Why don't you just buy yourself another?'
But Jackson was already slipping the gear out of PARK and revving up the engine. 'No time,' he muttered. 'I want to hit Maine by nightfall.'
He threw her a chilling glance. 'You'll see why when we get there.'
XXXXXXXXXX
Their journey continued at a steady, uneventful pace, as the Interstate 95 progressed towards Rhode Island, then through to Massachusetts.
Lisa fitfully dozed, even though she wanted to quiz Jackson further about his relationship with Colm. But she was simply too tired to stay awake.
She became more alert, however, once she spotted a roadblock ahead of them, manned by state troopers.
'It's just an accident,' Jackson mumbled, although she could see his face was strained with anxiety as they approached.
They both held their breath as they drove past, glad to be waved on.
Jackson's mood then seemed to brighten a little. He even grinned, surprising Lisa into a flurry of gentle excitement.
Her mind flashed back to how close they had been last night, how incredibly pleasurable their time together had been.
Her heart beat a little faster, and a rosy glow stole across her cheeks.
'This is so fucked up,' Jackson grimaced, a little apologetically Lisa thought, echoing his words as they stood close together in his apartment hallway, moments before leaving to meet Colm.
'It can't be helped,' Lisa said. 'Mind you, we could have saved ourselves a great deal of trouble this morning if you'd bothered to tell me exactly who your friend was, before we went to meet him,' she added, a wry smirk on her face.
'You never asked,' he said.
The weighty sadness which had clung to him since leaving New York instantly returned.
Lisa felt a little guilty for her insensitivity.
Not only was Jackson, in all likelihood, on the verge of becoming a fugitive from the law, but he had also discovered that his close friend had betrayed him, allying himself with De Bowen's murderous designs.
'Were you very close to Colm?' she asked softly.
'Pretty much so.' He hesitated, seemingly uncertain about continuing. Unwilling to reveal too much, she thought, about himself. His past.
'When I was sent to school in England, Colm was virtually my only friend. He was a few years older. Kind of looked out for me. And after school, and Oxford, he worked for my Uncle Harry.'
'I thought he was in the … assassination business?' Lisa asked tentatively.
'He was. Covertly. And it was Colm who fixed me up with the best training course available to someone in my profession.'
'What was that?'
'Kosovo,' Jackson said in a hollow voice. He cast a sidelong glance at Lisa and sighed. 'There's nowhere like the theatre of war to learn your trade – especially a fucked up civil war where one-time neighbors and friends have become happy to tear each other limb from limb.'
'Who … who did you work for?' Lisa asked tremulously, hazily thinking that Jackson could have been little more than a kid during the Kosovan conflict. It was a war she knew nothing about.
Jackson seemed a little reluctant to answer her. He chewed his lip nervously.
'I was seconded to a Serbian militia … nothing more than a gang of thugs but with bucketloads of money, lots of popular support, and a thin veneer of style.' He winced a little as if disturbed by a sudden memory. 'Barbarous butchers, the lot of them,' he added in husky tones.
Lisa hardly dared look at him, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead, on the red brake lights of a silver PT Cruiser in front of them.
The rain was starting to fall again. Light at first, but gradually gaining strength. The windshield wipers swished relentlessly to and fro, as traffic slowed on the freeway.
Jackson frowned in concentration.
'We need gas,' he muttered.
Lisa wanted to learn more, even though she realized the past, and undoubtedly Colm too, were painful subjects for Jackson right now.
'So Colm's lobbying business is a front?' she asked.
Jackson sneered. 'What do you think Lisa? Kind of obvious that one.'
'So Keefe's doomed,' Lisa sighed.
Jackson shrugged. 'Looks like it. Colm always gets his man. I've never known him to mess up – and if he ever did, he'd take it real hard. You can bet on that. He's very driven.'
Lisa agreed wholeheartedly. There had been a cold, flinty look in his eyes which had always deterred her from trusting him.
She was glad of her instincts. Glad that she had never allowed herself to warm to him, despite his good looks, designer suits and easy manner.
Unlike Charley of course, who had fallen for him on sight.
Charley!
The word rushed through her mind with a terrifying chill. She had asked Charley to fetch her bag from the Sheraton Manhattan.
Would Colm leave Charley alone?
After all, he was hardly a guy to trust.
However, now that Colm had secured the tape De Bowen wanted from Charley, what further need did he have of her?
OK, Charley had listened to the tape, which Colm might well know if he was privy at all to the contents of the listening device stowed away in Lisa's baggage.
Plus, he might assume that Charley had some knowledge of her relationship with Jackson.
But Charley couldn't possibly conceive of a link between Jackson and Colm – she wouldn't have an inkling of Colm's true identity. His profession, or, as seemed increasingly likely, his plans to kill Keefe.
Therefore, she was hardly a major threat to Colm himself, in any real shape or form.
Even so, Lisa thought it best to check up on her.
She'd call her as soon as she got the chance. Perhaps alert her to Colm's true nature, without giving away too much information which could jeopardize Charley's life.
The last thing she wanted was for Charley to get involved with someone who was looking to assassinate the man who could be the next president of the United States!
XXXXXXXXXX
Jackson stopped at a gas station attached to a small convenience store, close to Boston.
'I'm going to fill up and grab us something to eat,' he said.
Lisa was left alone, sharply aware that her cellphone, currently switched off, was still in her purse, which Jackson had extricated from De Bowen's apartment. The purse was contained in a brown suede bag, dumped onto the back seat, buried under the voluminous fur coat she had been forced to drape herself in earlier.
Lisa struggled with herself. Obviously it was dangerous to make a call because of the fact that the police were able to trace a signal.
But as far as Lisa could tell, there should be no linking her with Jackson – at least in connection to De Bowen's death.
Surely then she was safe to make a call?
She could see that Jackson was still waiting in line at the payment counter, an impatient look on his face. She had a minute at best.
Lisa reached under the fur coat and grabbed her purse, quickly liberating her cellphone. She felt a slight twinge of guilt as she switched it on. Her start-up screen was a photo, depicting her Dad with his arm around her. The shot had been taken on a fishing trip last year. They looked contented. Secure.
She furiously dialed Charley's home number. There was no-one at home. Nerves jangling, she dialed Charley's cellphone. The line was ringing but she didn't have time to hold on for a response, because Jackson, armed with a large brown paper bag in his arms, was striding purposefully towards the car.
Lisa instantly flipped her phone shut, pressing the OFF button, and slid it into a side-pocket of Alex's charcoal gray suit, which she was wearing.
Her heart was pounding. Even though she was sure that her calling Charley shouldn't compromise Jackson's getaway, she was pretty damned sure he would not like what she had done.
XXXXXXXXXX
Lunch was on the move; a sandwich and some potato chips, washed down with ice-cold bottles of Coke. They didn't speak much, quickly pushing past Boston.
Lisa wondered if she should voice her concerns about Charley.
'You know what Lise, I can hear the cogs turning in your brain from here … it's almost deafening,' Jackson said, startling her out of her reverie. 'What's bothering you?'
'Apart from everything, you mean?' she laughed.
He grinned. 'Yeah … apart from everything.'
'I'm worried for Charley,' she admitted. 'And … people I know and love. Dad, for one.' She fixed a plaintive gaze on Jackson's face. 'It doesn't help that I know how you guys operate you see.'
'Let's get safe first and then think about what we should do,' Jackson said briskly. 'But … if it's any consolation … I can't really see why Colm would need to threaten your friends and family. His sole aim is to save his own skin, complete his mission. That's the way he works. He's all business. Doesn't like unnecessary mess.'
Lisa thought, with some bitterness, that Jackson had demonstrated similar confidence in Brody, claiming that as one of his kind, Brody was a professional, not an unthinking killer.
But look what had happened to poor Talbot Haynes?
'Well I sure hope you're right there Jackson,' Lisa said.
'The bottom line is this, Lisa. He won't want you, me, or anybody else to fuck up his plan to off Keefe – if that's indeed what he's up to,' Jackson continued.
Lisa chilled at his words.
'Do you think we should warn Keefe?' finally asking the one question which had been bugging her foremost. At heart she felt obliged to do so. It was only right and fair that Keefe knew he had an infamous assassin on his staff.
Jackson burst into loud pealing laughter. 'Look Lise. I want out of this game. Nothing more to do with it,' he said firmly. 'Nothing adds up here. Nothing fits. There's something … something I can't put my finger on, and it's bugging me bad. My brain's hurting from trying to work it out.'
A dark look flashed across his face.
'You know Lise, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm fucking terrified. Never been more so in my entire life.'
A stab of alarm ripped through Lisa. If Jackson was scared, what hope did they have?
Jackson looked across at her, a regretful look on his face. He momentarily stroked her cheek.
'Don't worry Lise. I'm going to look after you. We're going somewhere very safe, I promise.'
XXXXXXXXXX
It was almost dark when Lisa awoke. The road ahead was long, gray, desolate, bordered by thick clumps of dark woodland. Soft flurries of snow wafted onto their windshield.
'Where the hell are we?' Lisa moaned. She shivered with sudden cold, despite the loud roar of the car heater.
Jackson smiled at her.
'We're in Maine.'
'Is it … is it actually snowing?' Lisa asked, incredulous. Surely, it was too early?
'Sure is,' Jackson said. 'It's freakishly cold out there as well.'
A string of pale white lights shimmered to their left.
'That's where we're headed for now. We need more supplies,' Jackson said.
'Supplies? You make it sound like we're going on a trek,' Lisa said dolefully. She was so cold she fancied wrapping the De Bowens's fur cloak around her … and she could hardly believe she was even thinking this seeing how much she loathed the damnable garment.
'We are. Kind of,' Jackson said. 'I have a place near to here, close to the border. It's pretty much off the beaten track. We can shelter there.'
Lisa gazed mournfully at the thick clumps of tree, clotting the landscape. The snow was intensifying, darting through the evening sky, coating the ground.
She guessed Jackson's hideout was somewhere amongst the trees. Far away from this thin vestige of civilization. This road. And the twinkling lights which were suddenly much closer.
Jackson hung a left, the car scooping through thick gravel before grinding to a halt outside a diner, next to a gas station and grocery store.
'We'll eat first,' Jackson said.
Outside it was as cold as Jackson had warned. Lisa had reluctantly, but out of necessity, donned the fur cloak. It felt weighty and suffocating over her shoulders.
Jackson slipped his arm around her waist and brushed his lips against her cheeks.
Her face tingled – a combination of the sudden biting cold and Jackson's warm breath on her chilled skin.
She was tired. Hungry. But more than anything, she realized, she had been craving his touch. His closeness.
They were almost alone in the diner, aside from a tall, ruddy-cheeked man and his fleshy wife, who ate in stern silence.
The waitress was plump and squeaky. She brought them a menu and disappeared, taking an impolite fifteen minutes to return for their order.
Lisa asked for a cheeseburger, guiltily realizing that this was probably the most unhealthy eating day of her entire adult life.
But hell. She was on the run. When had she done that before?
Jackson ordered a mixed grill, but from the sickened look on his face, he didn't seem too chuffed with his choice once it arrived. His supposedly griddled chops were swimming in a thin brown greasy liquid which was seeping into his fries, staining them brown.
'You know what Jackson,' Lisa said with a weary sigh. 'This is a really crummy date.'
She followed up her complaint with a smile, desperately hoping to puncture the cold gloom which had descended on them since entering the diner.
Jackson chuckled. 'This is fucking vile,' he griped, overturning a blackened piece of steak, and pushing a charred splodge of tomato to one side of his plate with his fork.
'I'd rather have stopped earlier, but you were snoring away, and I didn't want to wake you,' he explained, a gleam in his eye.
Lisa was outraged. 'I don't snore,' she snarled.
Jackson sported an air of false remorse, swiftly breached by a broad grin. 'I'm afraid you do Lise. I've noticed it a couple of times now. Maybe you should get your sinuses checked out?'
Lisa grinned in return. 'You bastard,' she said tenderly.
She then took a hefty bite out of her burger, and almost threw up. 'That's rank,' she moaned.
'I tell you what,' Jackson said, shoving his plate aside. 'Let's just grab the groceries instead. There's a small cooking facility at the cabin. It'll do.'
The cabin? Lisa thought with a shudder.
So they really were heading off into the back of beyond.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jackson disappeared into the grocery store, while Lisa headed for the restroom. She desperately needed to freshen up.
She splashed cold water on her face and hands and then hunted for a towel or a dryer, but there was none to be seen.
'Damn,' she cursed softly, rubbing a sleeve across her face and wiping her damp hands down her skirt. In so doing, her hand smoothed over the solid lump in her skirt pocket – her cellphone.
She decided to quickly call her father. She had no idea if Jackson had any communications fitted up at this remote shack of his – the mere idea of which was giving her the collywobbles. After all, when would she speak to her Dad again?
Annoyingly, the one time she really hoped to speak with him, reassure him that she was OK, there was no reply. She left a message, wishing him well, saying she was fine, that she had decided to take a road trip and would call him soon. She asked if he would notify Cynthia at the Lux Atlantic of her change in plans, promising to call the hotel as soon as she could with more information.
She wondered if she should simply call Cynthia direct. But somehow she didn't fancy having to lie to her. She figured it would have been even more difficult than lying to her Dad. After all, there had been countless times when she had assured him that she was well and happy, only to burst into torrents of tears the moment their call ended.
She checked her watch. She'd only been absent five minutes. So there was plenty of time to call Charley. See how she was.
But again, there was no answer from her apartment or her cellphone which rang interminably, before switching to answer machine mode.
She didn't leave a message, trying to suppress the vague inkling of alarm which prickled through her. She sure hoped Jackson was right.
Again, she told herself. What harm could a girl like Charley pose to someone like Colm? He wasn't a goddamned psychopath. He'd even been Jackson's friend. The guy he seemed to trust most in the world.
Lisa headed out of the diner into the darkened forecourt.
Jackson was already loading up the trunk of the car. His face turned to her, pale and sombre in the gathering gloom.
'What kept you?' he asked, a note of irritation in his voice. But he didn't expect an answer. 'Let's hit the road. We've got at least a good hour and a half's driving ahead of us.'
He sniffed ominously at the skies, thick with snow, which was tumbling ever faster towards them.
XXXXXXXXXX
Sure enough, their journey into the forest was increasingly fraught, as the snow fell heavily, hampering their view of the tight, twisty track their Chrysler was struggling to follow.
Jackson muttered angrily as the Chrysler's tires slipped and strained against the track's icy surface.
'Fuck. I should have thought,' he grumbled. 'They sold snow chains back at the store.'
Lisa stared fearfully at the tall dark trees, seemingly impenetrable, which reared up out of the darkness around them. Her throat felt dry and constricted. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead.
'Is there much further to go?' she asked, her voice shaking.
Jackson peered into the chasing arrows of snow steadily pounding their windshield, his eyes squinting at the glare from their headlights as they illuminated the trees, which seemed to jump behind them and out of sight, as the Chrysler slid at breakneck speed along the track. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel and Lisa could hear his breathing, low and labored.
'Not too far,' he breathed.
For one heart-stopping moment, the car almost spun out of control, slamming into a bank of bark, but Jackson managed to snatch at the wheel, skidding the car noisily into safety.
They paused momentarily. Their hearts beating. The car's engine racing, before settling into a loud rumbling rhythm. The snow swiftly enveloped the windshield, the windows, blocking out the trembling pale light projected by the headlights. The windscreen wipers bravely swooshed at the snow, compressing it, forcing it away, so that the windshield was soon framed by thick dark ice.
Jackson took a deep breath and slammed his foot onto the gas, juddering the car into action.
'I told you we were better off getting here by nightfall, didn't I?' he shouted over the roar of the engine.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jackson pulled the car to a halt after a further hour of jaw-grinding tension.
His headlights shone weakly through the snow onto a low wooden structure, barely visible through a knot of trees. The same trees rendered a closer approach unfeasible.
'It's a short walk from here,' Jackson said.
Lisa wrapped the fur cloak tightly around herself and followed his example by heading out of the car. She grabbed the brown suede bag from the back seat and gathered the groceries from the trunk, while Jackson hauled out the heavy holdall he had packed at his apartment.
They stumbled through the snow, towards the cottage, for what seemed an eternity, the thick snow crunching beneath their feet, as they were pulverized by further heavy downfalls, some falling from the branches of the trees overhead.
As soon as they were safely esconsed inside, Jackson lit an oil lamp by the door. Warm light flooded the room.
The room was large, an epitome of rustic comfort, comprising a small kitchenette, an expansive living area featuring a large brown sofa, a small dining table, and a wide open fireplace.
Jackson hastened over to the fireplace, while Lisa unpacked their groceries into a cupboard. She noticed there was a small refrigerator.
'There's a generator out back,' Jackson said. 'I'll feed it some oil as soon as I've got this fire lit.'
Lisa collapsed heavily onto the sofa. If it wasn't for the circumstances, she wondered if she'd like this place. It seemed homey, even charming.
She closed her eyes, gradually thawing as the pile of logs hunkered into the fireplace licked into life, crackling and spitting energetically.
She must have drifted into sleep, because by the time she awoke, the fire had settled into a warm, steady blaze, and she could hear a kettle fizzing to a boil.
Jackson grinned at her, bringing her a hot cup of coffee and a plate of fried eggs on toast.
Lisa sat up eagerly. She was starving.
He soon rejoined her with his own meal.
'I was shattered,' she said.
'I'm not surprised,' he muttered. 'You need a good long sleep.'
Lisa felt a little embarrassed, asking. 'Is there a bed?'
'You're lying on it,' Jackson said.
Lisa could barely conceal her disappointment. Although she was dog-tired, she hadn't planned on sleeping alone. Not here, in the middle of nowhere.
Jackson beamed, leaning closer towards her. 'Don't worry Lise. It opens out.'
Lisa blushed. 'I wasn't being a wanton,' she complained, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.
'That's a shame,' Jackson pouted. He took hold of their now empty plates and moved back to the kitchenette.
'Come on,' he beckoned. 'Come and see the center of operations.'
He moved behind the dining table and reached down, unlocking, then tugging open a trapdoor.
Stairs led down from here to an expansive pitch-dark basement. Lisa cautiously followed Jackson. He flipped on a light switch, illuminating what Lisa could now see was effectively a secure, concrete bunker. Shelves lined the walls, sporting a vast array of tins, containers, boxes and files. Everything was meticulously labeled. Lisa couldn't help but notice that there was a large number of boxes titled ammunition.
Jackson was immediately drawn to a box of electronic equipment, shunted into the far corner of the basement. He pulled out an array of transistor devices and what looked like a satellite phone.
Lisa's face broke into a smile. But Jackson frowned. 'Don't get too excited. This stuff is pretty much junk.'
He sighed. 'I planned to fix it on my next visit – which I hoped would be a little more leisurely.'
Lisa yawned.
'You'd better go sleep,' Jackson grunted, pulling open boxes and rifling through the contents.
Lisa didn't enjoy being dismissed like this, but she accepted Jackson's armful of bedding. He followed her upstairs and helped to make up the bed.
She fell onto the bedding, exhausted. Jackson helped remove her shoes and then covered her with a thick quilt.
He smiled, kissing her tenderly on the forehead, before disappearing from view.
Lisa tried to summon up the energy to respond, but she was simply too tired, falling into a deep sleep the moment Jackson's face faded from sight.
XXXXXXXXXX
When Lisa awoke she found herself intertwined with Jackson's bare-chested body, her face nestled into the soft, warm flesh of his throat.
She delighted in the sound of his gentle breathing sighs.
Beyond the bed, the fire had died, dwindling to a seething mass of graying embers. As a consequence, the cabin had cooled considerably.
She shivered a little, aware that she was dressed only in her underwear. Jackson must have undressed her last night.
Lisa huddled closer to Jackson, savouring the heat from his body.
She was soon aware that her movements had awoken him. His heart was beating a little quicker, and his arms tightened their hold on her. His warm mouth nuzzled her hair, then trailed slowly down her forehead, her cheeks, resting finally on her lips.
'It's so quiet,' she whispered.
Sure enough, the soft thud of the snow falling beyond a large window behind them, was the only noticeable sound, apart from their breathing.
'We're in the middle of nowhere,' he said, with a smile. 'Literally. Just you and me.'
His lips brushed against hers, a slight, delicate pressure, graduating to a more urgent kiss. His lean body glided against hers, his hands caressing her skin, as he gently probed her mouth with his tongue, deepening their kiss.
She moaned softly, wrapping her body tightly around his.
A wild gleam had alighted in Jackson's eyes. He grinned, slipping off her underwear in a brisk, practiced manner, so that she was naked against him.
'What do you say to working up a bit of an appetite for breakfast?' Jackson asked naughtily.
Lisa kissed him eagerly in response.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Lisa couldn't have imagined a more deliciously blissful way to start the day.
She felt as though all the worries and strains of the last twenty-four hours had dissolved, as they clung to each other, happily spent, their bodies sheathed in a thin layer of perspiration. The only backdrop to their faint panting breathes, the gently popping pit-pat of falling snow.
It really did feel like they were alone in the world. And, strangely, she didn't even mind. In fact she reveled in it.
Something that would have been unthinkable, abhorrent to her, just a short time ago.
Even though she couldn't read his mind, his emotions, his motivations – and she wondered if she ever would – she had a sense of him, a bonding between them, which was almost tangible, visceral. A feeling deep within the pits of her stomach which was new and exciting and wholly addictive.
Jackson leant over her, supporting his upper body with one arm, and gazed at her, a small smile on his face.
'Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ravenous,' he remarked.
'Famished,' she murmured in reply, craning her head upwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. He gently pushed her back down again, tenderly kissing her full on the mouth, before sliding his lips across her cheek, down to her throat.
'Will we have to stay out here for long?' she asked dreamily.
Jackson shrugged. 'No more than a day or two.' He sighed. 'I need to devise a watertight plan. The NYPD will definitely be wondering where I've got to by now … not to mention Alex.'
Lisa bridled a little at the mention of her name. It was a nonsensical jealous reflex, she knew that, but she couldn't help herself.
The thought had occurred to her, that in spite of Jackson's having killed her father, Alex might be able to wield some sort of influence, which might well save her fiancée, if she believed in him – much in the way that her father had clearly affected the investigative proceedings surrounding the plot to kill Keefe in Miami.
This, of course, might well be a good thing.
'Have … have you considered calling Alex?' she asked hesitantly. She hated to ask. She didn't really want Jackson further involved with her. She couldn't help herself.
'What for?' Jackson scoffed.
'She might be able to provide you with an alibi?'
'Hardly,' Jackson grunted. He pulled away from Lisa, lying flat on his back next to her.
'What about Colm?' Lisa asked tentatively, aware at how perverse this may sound. Yet the truth was, she couldn't imagine Colm actually wanted Jackson to be turned over to the police. He knew far too much.
'I had thought about that,' Jackson murmured. 'I could make life very awkward for him.'
Jackson sat up, as if about to haul himself out of bed. He looked back at Lisa.
'Colm's very close to Alex, you know. Oddly, he didn't like her father at all. Avoided working with him if he could. But Alex and Colm have been friends for years.'
'But not romantically?'
'I thought so once. But Alex latched onto me as soon as I moved back to the US from Europe. Colm introduced us.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'It seemed very convenient at the time.'
Jackson looked pensive. 'The thing is Lise, even if Colm wasn't keen on my being taken in by the police, don't forget, Colm works to his own agenda. And fuck knows what that is. We know he's happy to see us dead, that's for sure. Anyway. We can't contact anyone while we're out here.'
Lisa was suddenly glad she'd at least left a message for her Dad. But she still had the problem of Charley.
'That's a shame,' she said in low tones. 'I was hoping to speak to Charley.'
'Well, you can't,' Jackson said flatly.
'I … I'm a little worried about her.' Lisa took a deep breath. Better to come clean. 'I tried to call her yesterday. But there was no reply,' she said quickly.
She couldn't see Jackson's face because he was in the process of levering himself off the bed, his back to her, so she couldn't gauge his reaction.
'I figured it would be fine if I made a call … or two … as the police won't be suspecting me … .'
Jackson swung round, his face puce with fury.
'You did what?' he yelled. He leapt on top of her, straddling her, one hand roughly grasping her throat. He shook her violently. 'I can't believe what you just said. You called her? How? On your cellphone?'
She nodded dumbly, tears welling up in her eyes. She had rarely seen him look so angry.
'After I specifically told you, no cellphones, no communications? How could you do this? Where? Where did you call from?'
'Once … once near Boston. The gas station. And … ,' Lisa could barely hold back the sobs which were choking her as she spoke. 'And, again, at the diner.'
Jackson paled. He pulled himself away from her, so that she could breathe more easily.
'The diner. Last night,' he said, with a heavy sigh.
Lisa nodded.
Jackson pushed a hand through his hair, eyes closed.
There was a tense silence as Lisa awaited his response. Even the softly falling snow seemed to have abated.
'You fucking stupid bitch,' he said between gritted teeth.
He finally looked at her, but the fierce anger had faded from his face, and instead, his look was more pitying. As if resigned to his burden.
He grabbed her arm, and dragged her out of the bedclothes, tightly clutching her to his body. 'You fucking stupid bitch,' he repeated, in unexpectedly gentle tones.
Then, to her surprise, he kissed her forcefully on the forehead, although he was still quivering with emotion. She stared at him, her eyes wet with pent-up tears.
'This means we have to leave. Now.' Jackson said. 'He'll be coming for us.'
'He?'
'Yes Lise. Colm.'
Lisa swallowed hard.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jackson hauled a heavy bag up from the basement. He descended again, returning through the trapdoor with a smaller, compact briefcase and headed for the front door of the cabin readying himself to lug these bags through the snow towards the car, which was parked beyond the trees. Before stepping out, he opened a drawer in the kitchenette, pulling out a gun and a knife in a holster, which he then attached to his waist.
'You never know,' he grimaced.
Lisa watched him trudging away from the cabin. His footsteps plodding, labored. The snowfall had been heavy overnight, blanching the landscape. She could hear the crunch of his shoes on the snow.
She was already dressed and wrapped up in her fur cloak. All she had to do was re-pack their food supplies which would take a few minutes at best.
She reclaimed the brown paper sack she had unpacked the food from just last night, and began to reload the bag with foodstuffs. She had decided to grab a few extra tins from the basement too, which was still open.
She could hear Jackson had returned behind her. The door was ajar, and the sound of his feet stomping on the snow, had drawn steadily closer.
He was breathing heavily.
Strangely.
A ripple of alarm trembled through her. She still had her back to the open door, and in that moment, she knew … .
She wheeled round, grabbing the nearest utensil to hand, which happened to be a fork.
The beige man from Lexington Avenue was standing in the doorway, a mocking sneer on his face.
Lisa didn't have time for fear.
Her instant reaction was to strike out. She lunged forwards, but the beige man snatched her wrist, painfully gripping her, pushing her down, towards the floor.
She writhed, desperately attempting to escape his grasp, now noting the knife in his hand.
She was about to scream for Jackson when a sudden rushing clamor hit the beige man sidewards. His grip on Lisa's wrist loosened and he fell heavily, his head crunching at an awkward angle against the wooden doorpost. His mouth gaped open in surprise, blood spurting profusely from his neck.
Lisa stepped backwards, to avoid being drenched, now seeing that a knife was embedded in the flesh below his ear.
Jackson crudely shoved the beige man's body to one side. He was panting.
'Right Lise … get out of here as fast as you can. Run to the car and lock yourself in,' he gabbled.
A dark form scuttling past the cabin window caught Lisa's eye.
'To your left,' she gasped. 'Someone's coming from the other side.'
Jackson instantly sped off in that direction.
Lisa was shaking now with adrenalin. She quickly scooped the bag of supplies into her arms and was about to step outside when a strong arm pushed her back indoors.
She tried to shriek, but her throat was clamped and dry. The bag of groceries slipped from her arms as she stumbled backwards.
Colm Buchanan, broad-chested and handsome, his eyes twinkling with merriment, kicked his associate's corpse aside, as he stepped over the threshold, into the cabin.
'Well, well. Look who we have here,' he said, a sly grin on his face. 'The lovely Lisa Reisert.'
'Get away from me,' she whimpered. She looked around her, frantically seeking a weapon of some sort, but Colm had advanced towards her, slamming the cabin door closed behind him.
'Jackson!' she screeched helplessly.
Colm clapped his hand over her mouth, his eyes glinting dangerously. She could feel his breath, hot and acrid, against her cheek. In her heightened state, his closeness, his breath, felt like it was scorching her skin.
'Your boyfriend is a little too preoccupied to help out, Lisa,' Colm said smoothly. He encircled her with his arms, pulling her tight against him. So tight she could feel that he was aroused by their closeness.
Lisa tried to blink back the hot tears which were flowing fast, bathing her cheeks. She was angry at herself. Angry for this display of weakness.
Colm leered at her, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. He paddled his fingers down her face, gripping her jaw painfully, so that her mouth was pushed close to his own.
'You know what I'm going to do with you, don't you Lisa?' he smirked.
She screwed her eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to block out his face, his eyes which were boring into hers.
'Now … you can either fight me … or let me,' Colm said in cool tones. 'And if you're nice … I might not kill you.'
Lisa snorted. 'I somehow doubt that,' she croaked, her voice rasped and harsh. She dared to return his stare, summoning up as much courage and defiance as she could possibly muster.
Colm shook with anger, throwing her backwards with such force, she crumpled against the table behind her.
'The choice is yours Lisa. Just remember. Darling James won't be coming to your rescue any time soon.'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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The Real Deal