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The Real Deal	By : Gallivant Category: M through R > Red Eye Views: 3201 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Red Eye. I am not making any money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
CHAPTER NINE – The Tin Man
Despite the late hour, there was plenty of traffic slowing the cab's progress as it headed up 7th Avenue, passing Penn Station, on course for Times Square.
'Where are we going?' Lisa asked, a little frightened by the grim scowling expression on Jackson's face. 'Where are you taking me?'
'Anywhere you want,' Jackson murmured.
'You said you would offer me an explanation. Or was that just an excuse?' Lisa asked indignantly.
Jackson leaned towards her. 'An excuse for what?'
Lisa didn't quite know. She snapped her head away from his penetrating gaze, and then realized, to her annoyance, that they were still holding hands. She pulled her hand away, resting it demurely on her knee.
'Anyway,' Jackson said. 'This is hardly the place for us to talk properly.'
'I don't see why not? You held me hostage on a plane once, remember? You weren't so shy then,' Lisa retorted.
Jackson smiled. 'OK Lisa. You win. Let's just drive around this city aimlessly and see where we end up? How's that for a plan?'
It was warm in the cab. Almost stultifying. Lisa closed her eyes, aware that the many glasses of champagne she had consumed at the art show were having an unmistakable effect. She could feel a surge of alcohol-fuelled adrenalin surge through her body, so fast, she almost gasped.
'I think it's best I get back to Charley's,' she moaned. 'I'm feeling a bit groggy.'
'No way,' Jackson said curtly. 'That's out of bounds for now.'
'So where do you suggest then?' Lisa asked snidely. 'Your place?'
Jackson laughed. 'Problematic.'
'I wasn't being serious,' Lisa said pointedly.
'I know.'
They fell into silence.
Lisa had never actually envisaged Jackson living somewhere. The thought struck her as a curious one. No sooner had he dismissed the notion of his place – and she hadn't been serious when she suggested it, that was true – than she was burning to see it.
And why was it problematic? It could only be because there was someone else living there too.
Alex, she thought rather sourly.
But then again, if he lived with Alex, why had she been waiting for him at that café in Hanover Street?
'Why is it problematic?' she blurted.
Jackson regarded her thoughtfully. 'I don't live with her, if that's what you mean.'
Lisa flushed scarlet. 'That's not what I meant at all,' she protested.
Jackson's eyes were shining, reflecting the multiple lights blinking from the giant neon billboards in Times Square.
The cab driver asked for directions.
'OK Lise,' Jackson said. 'What are we going to do?'
Lisa sighed. 'Take Broadway!' she yelled to the driver, then to Jackson, 'I don't care what you think. I want to go to Charley's. I'm worried about her.'
XXXXXXXXX
However, as their cab pulled into Charley's street, it was soon clear that they couldn't stop at Charley's apartment block. The De Bowen's limousine was parked directly outside and the young, clean-cut security detail from the art show was carrying a comatose Charley towards the main entrance.
'Don't stop!' Jackson commanded the cab driver.
He turned to Lisa. 'Get down,' he whispered urgently. They both ducked out of sight.
'This is silly,' Lisa muttered.
'It's entirely sensible, believe me,' Jackson said, through gritted teeth. 'Take the next left!' Jackson bellowed to the driver.
The driver did as Jackson told him. Jackson sat upright again, peering through the windows. Somewhere caught his eye.
He demanded the cab pull over. He paid the fare while Lisa hauled herself out of the cab, still feeling distinctly nervy and suspicious.
Jackson followed soon after.
'I saw a bar,' he said, hooking his arm through Lisa's and steering her a short distance down the street. She instantly withdrew her arm from his, and traipsed after him instead, arms folded defensively across her chest.
'Jackson,' she said in complaining tones. 'Why are you so worried about my being around De Bowen anyway? I know not to say anything incriminating.'
'If you were put in a spot, he'd know you were lying,' Jackson said.
'I'm a good liar,' Lisa said peevishly. She was beginning to feel very tired.
Jackson chuckled. 'No you're not Lise. You're crap.'
Lisa was about to refute this claim, but Jackson had walked away from her, into the bar he had indicated moments earlier.
She followed, a glum expression on her face.
XXXXXXXXXX
'You have a very low opinion of my capacity for discretion,' Lisa said sniffily, as they settled themselves into a dark corner of a low-lit, narrow bar with rustic wooden tables, shabby décor and a strong odour of potent ale. The bar wasn't doing much business, despite it being a Saturday night.
'You forget. I'm the manager of one of America's classiest hotels … a job which requires an abundance of tact, tolerance and resourcefulness,' she added with an acerbic smile.
Jackson ordered a beer for himself, while Lisa had to plump for a vodka and grapefruit juice – this was not the type of bar for cocktails. A waitress brought them a small bowl of over-salted pistachio nuts which Jackson instantly pushed aside.
'Never touch nuts in bars. More piss than nut,' he muttered.
Lisa wondered what the hell he could be going on about, but decided that they had more pressing matters still to discuss.
'So come on Jackson. Please tell me why you refuse to credit me with even a modicum of intelligence,' Lisa asked again.
Jackson took a long drink of his beer, then pushed his hair away from his forehead. Lisa noticed he looked as tired as she felt.
''ve been drinking. And two. Your big problem's Charley,' he said. 'If she decided to further elaborate on her introduction of you to the De Bowens, we'd be screwed.'
'That's hardly likely to happen Jackson. Did you see the state of her? I doubt she remembers her own name, let alone mine,or any other fascinating details for that matter!' Lisa said scathingly.
Jackson laughed.
'It's not funny,' Lisa continued, sipping at her vodka and grapefruit. She screwed up her nose in distaste. It was a little bitter for her liking.
'And I still can't really fathom, Jackson, exactly why George De Bowen would instantly associate me, Lisa Reisert, with the Charles Keefe affair, and then automatically connect me to you too. My role in the business was shut down pretty darned quickly in the media – as you no doubt know. It's past history.'
Jackson sighed in frustration. 'And how do you think that happened Lise? Do you really think I had the power to shut down the case against me? To … to close down all the media coverage? I'm just a middleman for God's sake. I take orders.'
Lisa couldn't help but note the earnest seriousness in his face.
'So you're just yet another good dog,' she said, with a twisted, sardonic smile, which failed to brighten their mood.
Jackson gazed into his beer. 'On the Keefe project, yes. I was brought on board late in the game.'
Lisa snorted in derision. 'You followed me for eight weeks before, Jackson,' she said. 'That's hardly late.'
'No Lisa. On these major league projects, eight weeks is last minute. The hit on Keefe was planned from the moment he was nominated for office.'
Lisa shuddered.
'I'd been out of the loop, working in Europe and Central Asia. Ostensibly on De Bowens business,' Jackson explained. He paused, then added, as if by way of explanation, 'I'm global vice-president, new business acquisitions.'
'Whew … what a fancy title,' Lisa said drolly.
Jackson smiled wanly. 'It's a pretty fancy job ... and it's the perfect cover.'
'For what you really do.'
'Yes. For what I really do.'
Lisa's head was thumping with tension – the magnitude of what Jackson was telling her. Not to mention the copious glasses of champagne she'd consumed at the art show.
She eyed her vodka and grapefruit juice dubiously. At least it took the edge off this whole ghastly experience … kept her from succumbing to the pent-up hysteria she could feel lurking within her.
Jackson peered at her over his beer glass. His eyes a bright, electric blue.
Lisa struggled to maintain eye contact. She took a deep breath, as she continued to try to piece together the import of what Jackson was telling her.
'So … you work for De Bowens, in a double capacity,' she said tentatively.
'Go on,' he said, keeping his eyes firmly trained on her face.
'Which means George De Bowen is your boss, not just in your role as global business affairs, or whatever it is you do, or pretend to do, but … but the other jobs too.'
'Go on,' he urged.
Lisa felt close to tears. 'This is horrible.' She shook her head in disbelief. 'De Bowens is one of the most respected companies in America.'
'Which is why any dirty work I do on their behalf can never be traced back to the company,' Jackson said with a smile of bitter resignation. 'If George knew who you were, he would have known that we had some … connection, beyond … beyond the job.'
Jackson's voice seemed to dry up a little. He drank a little beer and then continued. 'Which would be very dangerous.'
'Because he would have expected me to freak out when I saw you.'
'That's right.'
'But … you forget Jackson, that you scare the shit out of me,' Lisa remonstrated. 'Wouldn't he just assume that you had threatened me, forced me to shut up?'
'But you would have still seen me representing his company, as the man who is marrying his daughter … a link would be made between me and him. Between Jackson Rippner, or John Doyle as I came to be known, the guy who managed to evade the law in the Keefe plot, and De Bowens, the stalwart of Wall Street. That would have been a little too close for comfort. Too risky.'
There was a long silence as Lisa pondered what this meant. 'But you came to Miami, representing De Bowens,' she said finally. 'Surely he'd have known where you were headed. What hotel.'
'George was out of the country. I came down, kind of semi-officially I guess, with a guy from Beauchamps. We were working together on a new target,' Jackson said simply.
'Ira Gershon,' Lisa breathed.
Jackson frowned. 'I don't want to talk about this.' He quickly drained his beer. 'You already know far too much for your own safety. They'll kill you if they suspect you know any of this.'
'So you work for Beauchamps too?'
'I used to ... Lisa, please, you've got to let this drop.'
Lisa felt her head was about to burst. 'But none of this makes any sense. Why would a bank want to kill the Deputy Head of Homeland Security?'
Jackson looked increasingly twitchy. 'Right. Stop this now,' he pleaded. 'I've told you what you wanted. So let it go.' Wearily he buried his head in his hands, then raised his head, staring at Lisa with an oddly wistful expression in his eyes, his hands still clenching his hair. 'I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance,' he said regretfully.
'But instead, if what you're saying is true, then you maybe saved my life,' Lisa said, the full impact of his revelations dawning on her.
Jackson took a deep breath. 'Both our lives Lisa.'
It all felt too much. She couldn't hold back the sudden sob which erupted from her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
Jackson looked around the bar, a little embarrassed. Then he patted her hand in what Lisa saw as a vague gesture of comfort.
She flinched.
'Don't patronise me,' she hissed. 'This is all your fault.'
'Hey Lise, I didn't ask you to come chasing after me to New York,' he argued. 'That was your own stupid fucked up little Miss Power Ranger mission, nothing to do with me. I didn't make you do it.'
'Yes you damn well did,' Lisa snarled. 'And you wanted to make a fool of me, because I'd made a fool out of you. But you didn't think of the consequences.'
He sighed deeply. 'OK, maybe I didn't.' And then, almost as an aside. 'And I'm paying a heavy price too, believe me.'
A muscle was twitching in his cheek involuntarily.
'But look Lisa. You walked straight into the lion's den tonight. There was nothing I could do about that. So it's become a question of damage control. We need a plan.'
'Damage control? What the hell does that mean?' Lisa said, her face screwed up in disgust. 'You really are ice-cold Jackson, aren't you? No amount of euphemistic corporate lingo can alter the fact that your intrusion into my life might be deadly. You just don't care.'
'That's not fair.'
'It's perfectly fair. You don't care who you hurt, who you kill, who you involve in your pernicious little life. It's just business to you.'
'Yes. It is just business,' Jackson said, goading her further. 'The business of survival.'
'Such a shame you don't give your victims the same consideration,' Lisa said archly.
'Oh shut it Lisa. You're so fucking sentimental it hurts.'
'Sentimental? Because I don't share your casual attitude to death? Or is that just the death of other people?' she said nastily.
'Life is cheaper than you think Lise,' Jackson remarked cynically. 'And that includes ours too.'
'It's so easy for you,' Lisa cried, the tears flowing thick and fast now. 'You don't love anyone. I doubt you've ever loved anyone, or ever will. You don't have to be scared what might happen to others, because of what you know, who might know you.'
'Well, as always Lisa, you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about,' Jackson said in acid tones.
He grabbed her vodka, an irascible look on his face. 'Have a drink Lise,' he jeered.
But she waved it away.
He eyed the vodka doubtfully, sniffed it, then downed it. He slammed the empty glass onto the table.
'You see Lise. You've got me all wrong. My philosophy's very simple. We live, we die, and we're lucky to be remembered by our grandchildren – if we even have any. So why bother with high-faluting moral codes? No-one's ever going to remember what you or I ever did in our lives anyway. The things we said. The things we thought about, loved or hated. So just get on with looking after number one and the few people we happen to care about.'
Lisa listened, horrified.
Jackson continued. 'It's only the lives of the famous and the notorious anyone ever remembers … And, a few of those who die in exceptional circumstances. Which, I guess, is where someone like me can come in.'
'What do you mean?' Lisa asked, appalled.
'Masterminding to the finest degree the means and manner of someone's death … it's quite a tribute really, to that person. Does wonders for their legacy.' Jackson smiled, a brief, savage smile which chilled Lisa to the core. 'I can't imagine my own death being so meticulously planned and arranged by somebody else. My death will be short, sharp and nasty. Yours will probably be long, lingering and miserable. Anything else would be an honour.'
Jackson looked smug, but Lisa felt sure there was something else, something fearful which flickered in his cold, blue eyes – a passing shadow.
She realised she was trembling.
'I need another drink,' she said in low tones.
'You say that now?' he asked, exasperated. 'Well no. You've had enough. We both have. And we should instead be working out where you're going to spend your little holiday in New York Lisa, or how you're going to get home to Miami, rather than waste time yakking about juvenile moral pieties.'
'Get me another drink Jackson,' Lisa insisted, her eyes hard and blazing.
Rather than summon the waitress, Jackson went to the bar.
She had drunk enough already, Lisa knew that. But she wanted to dampen the growing sense of panic which was welling up inside her.
How could she have ever kissed this man? This monster?
Jackson soon returned with fresh drinks. He eyed her warily as he sat down. Almost as though he expected her to explode into a white-hot ball of wrath.
'Don't you ever think about what death actually is though, Jackson. There's no return, no second chance. You deprive people of that choice. Who cares if their demise is a grandly orchestrated, highly resourced assignment? One second they're alive, the next there's nothing,' she argued. 'I can't believe you can take it so lightly.'
'Oh, I've had my moments Lise,' Jackson grimaced. 'You don't live my life without a few close shaves.'
'And what have you learned? Nothing.'
'Wrong Lise. I've learned it's a really bad idea to get yourself killed … which is why we need to focus on your little problem,' Jackson said, increasingly impatient.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'I've been trying to tell you Lise. You can't stay at Charley's.'
But Lisa wasn't in the mood for focusing on Jackson's agenda. She was still seething. How could he be so callous? So heartless?
'You infuriate me, you know that Jackson?' she railed, realising that they had caught the attention of a couple of surly looking guys who were loitering by the bar.
But she was too enraged to pipe down for their benefit.
Jackson rolled his eyes. 'Do I look like I care Lise? I'm trying to save your precious little skin here, and all you can do is whinge. Look sweetheart,' he said disdainfully, 'if you'd seen even an iota of the fucked-up shit I've had to, you'd soon dump your naive, sappy, suburban little homilies on life, and values, and all that fucking crap. Shit you've picked up from cheap pop psychology books from Wal-Mart and daytime TV.'
'What the hell are you talking about? You're deranged.'
'People like you make me sick,' he said in mocking tones. His eyes were a chill icy-blue, staring relentlessly at his prey.
'People like me?'
'Yeah … you. Daddy's little golden girl, with the charmed life. I know your sort.'
'And what sort is that then Jackson?' Lisa asked grudgingly.
'Oh … the cutesy graduation photo. The dinky cheerleader pom-pons. You're a trophy girl, a social sycophant. One of life's little appeasers.'
Lisa blinked back the tears as Jackson warmed to his rant.
'And you'll live your nicely turgid life … the high achieving corporate yes-girl, the marriage to some bland cock-ass with prospects, the kids, the house. Never hot or cold. Just tepid … You've never really suffered, and you never really will. Unless it's to die from boredom.'
Lisa couldn't take this onslaught any longer. She sprang to her feet, pushing the table into his lap, and threw her drink into his face.
He blanched, staring at her in shock, vodka and grapefruit juice trickling down his face. He roughly wiped the drink away with his sleeve.
Lisa saw he was shaking with anger.
She grabbed her purse and ran out of the bar, as fast as her legs could carry her, stumbling clumsily against the doorway.
Once outside she slowed to a walking pace. She knew he'd follow anyway.
Sure enough, moments later, Jackson was at her side. He grasped her arm and forced her to face him and was about to speak, but Lisa got there first.
'Never suffered? You seriously think I've never suffered,' she screeched, not caring where she was or who heard them. 'You have a very selective memory Jackson Rippner.'
Jackson cringed a little.
She rapidly walked on, past the bar and the neighbouring shops and an apartment block, forcing him to follow. And then she stopped. Abruptly.
She turned to face him.
'Did you really mean all that?' she continued. 'Because it really hurt.'
Jackson sighed wearily, head bowed.
'And you know the worst thing Jackson? I don't actually hate you, even though I've tried real hard. Even though you're such a fucking asshole. But the thing is, you could be really great, do you know that?' Suddenly, her eyes were glistening with tears.
Jackson watched her with steady, blue eyes, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.
'You can be sweet and charming. And witty. Even sensitive! The type of man you could really, really like, even … even fall for … but it's just empty bullshit. You are empty bullshit. You're just an actor. A charming, evil actor.'
Jackson looked a little shaken.
But then he seemed to make a deliberate effort to collect his thoughts. A cold gleam returned to his eye.
'An actor you say … well ain't that an interesting thought Lisa?' He smirked. 'And you might well be right … I was once in a school play you know. The Wizard of Oz. Got rave reviews.'
'Let me guess. The cowardly lion?' Lisa snapped.
Jackson grinned. 'Oh no Lise. The tin man. Who else?'
'Oh. How very apt,' Lisa sneered. 'The man with no heart. God, I bet you love that, don't you?'
Jackson smiled smugly, but was then knocked off-balance as Lisa lurched forwards, smashing him against the wall of the apartment building they were standing outside.
Jackson fell heavily, clearly stunned by Lisa's surprise assault.
Lisa crushed against him, her eyes feverish.
'Except its crap, Jackson. You have a heart. Here,' she rasped. She slid her hand under his jacket, then ripped into his shirt, tearing a button off in the process, to place her hand on his chest, just above where his heart was beating. His chest was warm and hard beneath her touch.
His mouth gaped open in astonishment.
She pushed him away from her, with all the strength she could muster, not caring that his head bounced painfully against the bricks behind him, and eyed him coldly, panting heavily.
Jackson rubbed his head, grinning like an over-excited school-boy. 'Fuck me Lisa. That was something else.'
'You wish,' she murmured.
She stomped away purposefully from Jackson, towards Charley's street, privately cheering her own audacity. She knew he was following of course, but this time she decided not to turn back.
Better all round if she just walked away.
XXXXXXXXXXX
She came to a stop outside Charley's apartment block.
She frantically searched for the house key in her purse. But where was the darned thing? She continued to rummage, aware that Jackson was fast approaching. Where could it have got to? Had she left it in Charley's apartment when she left for the show earlier?
She looked up at the top floor apartment. The lights were off, so presumably Charley was fast asleep. And no doubt sleeping the sleep of a dead man.
Suddenly a hand – Jackson's hand – grabbed her from behind, pulling her into the shadow of a neighboring doorway.
'Jackson!' she shrieked, but the sound was muffled by his palm. She managed to snake her arm under his, pushing his hand away from her face so she could breathe.
'What the …?'
'Shut it Lise,' Jackson insisted. He pinioned her to the door with an outstretched arm.
He was peering cautiously out of the doorway, watching a young man in a dark suit trip down the steps leading from Charley's apartment block.
Lisa instantly recognised him as the clean-cut young man who had been with the De Bowens – the guy she figured was their personal security guard.
Her heart beat a little faster.
The young man paused for a moment, fishing a carton of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He lit a cigarette, inhaling a long, nonchalant drag before finally moving off, towards Broadway.
'Did he see us?' Lisa whispered urgently to Jackson beside her.
'No chance. Brody's a bit of a tool,' he said in deprecating tones. 'But what has he been doing to take him so damned long?'
'You mean … you think … he's killed Charley?' Lisa asked, wide-eyed in terror.
'Don't be ridiculous,' Jackson scoffed. 'We're not mindless thugs you know. There's no point killing someone for the sake of it.'
'But you said I was in danger, therefore … .'
'Stop worrying about Charley and start focusing on yourself. Let's get your stuff and get out of there,' Jackson said.
'I can't,' Lisa said mutely.
'What do you mean you can't?'
'I can't get in. I've mislaid the key,' she said in a very small voice.
'Oh for fuck's sake,' Jackson said. 'Well you can do without then.'
He started to pull her up the street.
Lisa slunk out of his grip and marched purposefully towards the main entrance to Charley's apartment block.
'What about Charley?' Lisa cried, incensed that Jackson had the effrontery to consider leaving her friend in harm's way.
'Let her sleep the drink off, and we can contact her in the morning,' he said dispassionately. 'By then I'll know if we've got a more serious problem on our hands.'
'I'm not leaving her here on her own Jackson,' Lisa said in firm, decided tones. 'She's my friend. Now I realise that friendship is an alien concept to someone like you … .'
Jackson cut in to what he feared was yet another lecture on personal ethics. 'Alright Lise. Have it your own way. We'll find a way to get in,' he said. 'You can try and buzz the apartment, but I bet she won't answer … she looked out for the count.'
Lisa set to pressing the intercom connecting to Charley's apartment, in the hope that she could wake her. But after five full minutes, there was still no response, and Jackson was looking increasingly impatient.
'Can you break in?' Lisa asked.
Jackson fiddled with the lock. 'Nope. Not this type. Let's just buzz the other apartments until someone answers.'
'No … I've got a better idea,' Lisa said. She had spotted a young couple sauntering arm in arm towards them. The young girl stopped to retrieve what Lisa suspected might be a key from her purse.
Lisa leant against the front door and pulled Jackson close.
'Kiss me,' she said in hushed tones.
Jackson was startled, but didn't have a chance to speak, as Lisa wrapped her arms tightly around him and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. He instantly responded, kissing her passionately in return. So hard neither could breathe.
Lisa felt light-headed, lost in his embrace, savouring the warm glow of excitement which flooded her body.
'Excuse me,' came a polite but firm voice beside them. It was the young girl – part of the young couple – who was brandishing a key and clearly wanting to get in.
Lisa quickly pulled apart from Jackson, feigning surprise.
'Oh! I'm so sorry,' she said, seemingly embarrassed.
The young couple unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
'Are you coming in?' Lisa asked Jackson. She smiled appealingly at the couple.
Jackson grinned and followed.
'I'm staying with Charley Robinson,' Lisa said to the couple, as the four of them crossed the foyer to the elevator. They all stepped inside.
'Awesome,' squealed the girl excitedly. 'Charley's really cool. Tell her Minna says Hi.'
'Will do,' Lisa said cheerily.
The young couple disappeared, exiting the elevator at the second floor. Jackson and Lisa were left alone.
'Awesome,' Jackson said softly.
'Don't make fun,' Lisa said primly.
Jackson's eyes were burning bright blue. 'I wasn't Lise. I meant it. That was fucking awesome.'
XXXXXXXXXX
Outside Charley's apartment, they encountered the same problem. Charley wasn't able, it seemed, to answer the door.
Lisa slumped wearily against the wall, her head swirling drunkenly.
'What now?' she sighed.
Jackson was staring at the door, a bemused look on his face.
'This is tricky,' he said. 'You see this door I can open. No problem. But I have to be careful.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well. Its workings are minute. Very, very sophisticated. Your friend's a paranoid little lady,' he said, studying the lock carefully. 'And then, what if the lock's wired to blow?'
'Are you serious?' Lisa asked, aghast at the thought .
Jackson shrugged. 'There has to be some reason Brody was hanging out here for so long. It's unlikely. But you never know.'
Lisa could feel a combination of exhaustion and tension beginning to take its toll on her.
More than anything she felt like lying down in a cool, dark room. Blanking out the world and its worries.
Blanking out this man who entranced her one minute, and repelled her the next. Stirring her into an emotional stew.
She could feel his eyes intently watching her.
'What is it?' she asked, suddenly fearful.
Jackson approached, raising his hand to her ear.
'What are you doing?' she yelped, backing away.
'Your earring,' he murmured.
Lisa was wearing a pair of gold sleepers.
'I need one of your earrings,' he said, his hand encasing one of her ears. 'I can use this to pick the lock. It needs a fine tool.'
He moved closer and delicately removed one of the gold sleepers.
'Did that hurt?' he asked tenderly.
'No …,' she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, mentally feel of his lips on her own.
He smiled, cradling her face with one hand and inclining her closer still. Then, to her surprise, he gently caressed her naked earlobe with his tongue, before enveloping it in his warm mouth.
She gasped in pleasure.
'Just in case I hurt you,' he whispered.
He stared at her, seemingly rooted to the spot. Then he leaned forwards and kissed her softly on the neck, just below her ear. Lisa held her breath, her stomach flip-flopping blissfully.
'We've got to stop doing this,' she whispered, falling against him, so that their foreheads were touching.
'I know,' he said with a rueful smile. 'You'll be the death of me Lise. Do you know that?'
'Just open the door,' Lisa choked, gently pushing him away.
He reluctantly did as she asked and started to pick the lock, using her earring, with fumbling fingers. But it all seemed to get the better of him. He leaned his forehead against the door.
He tried again, frowning in concentration. He seemed to be counting.
'This is darned fiddly,' he said, under his breath.
And then there was a tiny click.
Jackson jumped back, forcing Lisa behind him.
They waited a few moments, and then Jackson advanced forwards, pushing open the door.
'Stay put,' he ordered.
XXXXXXXXXX
Lisa impatiently waited for Jackson to return.
She tried to focus on the crisis in hand … where, for example, she and Charley could hide out for the night. And it probably was the one night. Jackson was just being cautious. And rightly so.
But no sooner did she summon up his image or recall his name, than she found it almost impossible to subdue the rising tide of excitement which bubbled up inside her.
She reprimanded herself for thinking, feeling like a love-struck teenager, but she was finding it impossible to banish thoughts of what had passed between them just minutes ago, and earlier that evening.
She simply couldn't help herself.
Sure, she kind of hated him, an awful lot of the time. He said and did monstrous things. Unforgivable things. But she felt sure, she hoped, there was more to him than the callous vagaries of his profession and his cheap self-justifications.
And of course, she knew she was attracted to him. Inexorably. Overwhelmingly. And it was an attraction she knew to be mutual, visceral, all-encompassing.
And increasingly hard to resist. For both of them.
Just the thought of his lips sliding across her skin, softly devouring her, was enough to transport her into a state of stomach-clenching breathlessness.
But she had to stay cool.
Surely she realized that any further involvement with this man, this creature, was a huge mistake? She shouldn't, she couldn't allow herself to fall in deeper than she already was – which she readily acknowledged, was already deep enough.
She should never forget.
Not only was he a hardened killer, but he happened to be engaged to another woman.
And not any woman. The daughter of George De Bowen.
The thought chilled her.
Why was Jackson taking so long? Had something happened?
Suddenly Lisa was less keen to stand outside in the hallway, facing an elevator which she feared might snap open at any given moment, to reveal Brody or De Bowen himself – come to silence her forever.
The apartment block was eerily quiet and a flickering light in the corridor leading to a neighboring apartment was further kindling her state of deep unease.
She decided to follow Jackson into Charley's apartment.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was pitch black.
Lisa held her breath, aware that a cold rush of nervous apprehension was coursing through her. She quietly closed the door behind her, not certain if this was wise. What if she needed to make a run for it?
She could hear the deep, shushing breaths of Charley asleep on her sofa-bed in the living room.
Removing her shoes, Lisa padded through the apartment, checking each room for intruders … and Jackson, who seemed to have disappeared.
She stood stock-still. The only sound she could hear was her own heart, pumping furiously within her chest.
Lisa finally tried the spare room, anxiously pushing open the door, before stepping inside. Here there was a faint blue light afforded by the street outside, as mediated by a blue curtain hanging at the window, which enabled her to see instantly that there was nobody here.
Just the boxes and Charley's trash bags, and a sombre silence, with the muffled hum of traffic and a burst of police sirens on Broadway, a distant backdrop.
It was then she noticed the house-key she had been hunting for earlier, on the window-sill.
The window was ajar.
Lisa looked out and down. There was a vertiginous drop from the window, straight to the sidewalk below.
Surely there was no way Jackson could have left this way?
The street was surprisingly deserted, bar a gusty breeze, scooting a paper bag along the sidewalk, and a damp chill in the air, anticipating a downpour.
Suddenly a hand fell on her shoulder.
Panic quickly faded to annoyance once she realized it was Jackson.
He spun her around to face him.
'What are you trying to do?' she cried. 'Give me a heart attack? I thought you'd gone out the window.'
Jackson sneered in mocking disbelief.
'Unless your friend happens to keep abseiling equipment in here, that would be mighty difficult,' he said derisively. 'I'm a manager, not James fucking Bond.'
Lisa could see his eyes glinting in the shadowy blue light, and hear his breathing, deep and regular.
Jackson smiled. He advanced closer to her, suddenly encircling her waist with his arms, with such speed and alacrity, she didn't have time to wriggle away.
'I hadn't given you the all-clear,' he said. 'I had to assume you were an intruder.'
'I don't have to wait for your command Jackson,' Lisa said in biting tones. 'I can do what I like, when I like.'
Jackson gently pushed her hair away from her forehead.
'Sure you can Lise,' he whispered softly. Then, in stark contrast. 'Right. We've got to get you out of here pronto.'
Suddenly, he was all business.
'Don't do that!' he barked, just as Lisa was about to switch on the light.
Lisa gasped in shock.
'Someone could be watching,' Jackson warned.
'If that's the case Jackson, then they've already seen us enter the building,' Lisa protested.
'Which is why I was looking out of this window to see if there's an alternative exit route,' Jackson stated, pushing aside boxes and bags to dig out Lisa's suitcase, which he then threw onto the bed.
'And is there one?' Lisa asked querulously. 'Jackson?'
Jackson didn't reply.
'For god's sake Lisa, stop blabbing and give me a hand will you?'
'What are you doing?'
'Checking to see if you've left anything amidst this … mess,' Jackson muttered as he groped under the bed in the dark.
'All I have is my bag, and what I've got on,' Lisa said.
Jackson lugged her case off the bed and headed for the door. 'Great. Let's get going then.'
Lisa was furious.
'You're forgetting Charley!' she declared.
Jackson threw her a churlish look. 'Far from it. I've already tried to wake her up but she won't budge … I still think it's better we leave her. For now.'
Lisa flung herself onto the bed and folded her arms tightly across her chest.
'Well I'm not coming then,' she said, a sullen, determined look on her face. 'If it's so darned dangerous for me to stay here, then it's equally dangerous for her.'
Jackson regarded her suspiciously.
'Hold on Lise,' he said finally. 'Is there something you're not telling me about your little friend? Just how much does she actually know about us … about me?'
It was better to come clean, Lisa thought. 'Everything,' she breathed.
Jackson glared angrily. 'You stupid girl,' he said contemptuously.
'How was I to know that you would be at the art show?' Lisa cried.
Jackson didn't wait to listen. He instantly headed for the living room.
'Wakey, wakey Charley!' he shouted, clapping his hands.
Lisa followed Jackson into the living room where she could just about make out, despite the rattan blinds hanging at the windows, that he was pulling Charley into a sitting position.
Charley lolled against him, seemingly unable to awaken.
'Come on Charley! Time to wake up,' Jackson urged. But there was no response from Charley, beyond a loud snore. He let her fall back onto her sofa bed.
'She's out of it,' he said, peevishly. 'And what is it with you girls anyway, that you have to tell each other fucking everything? Are you really so pathetic?'
Lisa chose to ignore him, noticing instead that Charley had fallen into bed fully dressed, and her make-up was smeared darkly, all over her pillow.
'Does she always take sleeping pills?' Jackson asked, looking at a small brown bottle with the assistance of a small torchlight attached to his keyring.
'I don't know,' Lisa said, unable to suppress the anxious tone creeping into her voice.
Jackson tipped the bottle upside down, demonstrating to Lisa that it was empty.
'Now don't get your panties in a twist,' he said soothingly, 'I'm not suggesting anything fishy. But I think it's a good idea Charley loses the contents of her stomach. And fast.'
Jackson hurled Charley over his shoulder and sped towards the bathroom.
'Make some very strong coffee,' he demanded. He paused, looking back at her. 'And remember. Don't put the light on.'
Lisa stumbled in the darkness into the kitchen and using her sense of touch alone, she tracked down the kettle, a jar of instant coffee and a mug. She was struggling to stay calm, but somehow by concentrating on the task in hand, she was managing.
She hoped Jackson was being as gentle as possible with Charley. She could hear Charley vomiting, interspersed with loud sobs. The mere sound made her retch.
Lisa plugged in the kettle, hoping the chugging roar as the water came to the boil, would drown out the sound of Charley's sickly eruptions.
She closed her eyes, feeling, momentarily, like she could be lost forever in this darkness. She didn't notice Jackson enter the kitchen until he was standing directly in front of her, and even then, she felt his presence, more than saw him.
'The coffee. We need the coffee,' he grunted.
'How's Charley?'
'She'll live,' he said with a grimace. 'But she'll have a mighty hangover tomorrow morning.'
'So will I,' Lisa grumbled, as she made a mug of coffee. Already there was an unpleasant pulsing at her temples which augured ill.
Jackson grabbed the mug and was about to head out of the kitchen, when Lisa waylaid him.
'Where are we going to go?' Lisa asked plaintively. 'Can we go to your place?'
'No you can't,' Jackson said tersely. 'Alex has a key.'
'Alex is at her beach house,' Lisa recalled.
'Not yet,' Jackson said. 'She goes in the morning.'
'So she's at your place now?'
Jackson shrugged. 'I said I had business, so who knows?'
'And she believed you! At this time of night?' Lisa exclaimed in disbelief.
She couldn't quite make out Jackson's facial expressions in the thick darkness, but she could somehow tell he was smiling. 'Your friend needs her coffee,' he said, ducking out of sight.
Lisa followed him into the bathroom. Charley was sat on the floor, slumped against the bath, holding her head and groaning. There was a small candle alight on the floor, next to the lavatory.
The room reeked of vomit. The smell was so overpowering, Lisa had to step back into the hallway.
Jackson was kneeling beside Charley. He gently pushed her face back, and offered her the coffee.
Lisa felt an unexpected surge of jealousy, even though she knew it was wholly undeserved. Jackson was doing something kind, for once. Helping out her friend.
'She won't remember a thing about tonight,' Jackson said. 'From what I can tell she had taken pills but I'm not sure how many.'
'How do you know? … No. Scrub that Jackson. Don't say,' Lisa said, clutching her head. Her headache was really beginning to kick in. 'So, does that mean she took them, or ... ?'
'We won't know till we can ask her,' Jackson said hastily. 'Look, you'd better get your case. We're leaving as soon as Charley's drunk this … aren't we Charley?' Jackson added, stroking Charley's hair, coaxing her to stay awake.
'But we still don't know where we're going,' Lisa griped. 'I'd feel safer if we were with you.'
She couldn't believe she was thinking this, let alone admitting it.
Jackson stood up abruptly.
'Well, you shouldn't,' he said in brittle tones. 'You're better off in a hotel.'
'So you'd rather package us off, out of sight, out of mind, while you run off home to your biddable little girlfriend,' Lisa said sulkily. She was desperately reining in an unaccountable urge to slap him, which on reflection seemed peculiarly mean, seeing as he had made an effort to help her for most of this evening.
Well … when he wasn't bawling her out for being a spoilt, little Daddy's girl, she thought bitterly.
Jackson smiled. 'Look Lise, I'd rather check out my place alone.'
'There's probably nothing to worry about,' he added in brighter tones. 'But it's better to take precautions. I work for these people. I know how they operate … You do see that, don't you?'
Yet Lisa couldn't quite dismiss the feeling that Jackson was somehow abandoning her and Charley. After all. It was his fault they were in this mess to start with.
But instead of further voicing her opinion, she nodded dumbly in consent.
'It's probably just for tonight,' Jackson said, in increasingly placatory tones. 'I'll touch base with Alex tomorrow, see how the land lies. I'll know straight away if she or her father knows anything about you … about us … that they shouldn't.'
He was now standing beside her. Lisa wished he would embrace her, reassure her. Anything.
'So …why do you really think that guy Brody was in this apartment for so long?' Lisa asked, shivering a little with sudden cold. She rubbed her arms to keep warm.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
'Let's hope it was a routine check,' he said eventually.
'What's that mean?' Lisa asked.
There was a sudden explosion of noise from Charley, who was lying, face down, on the bathroom floor. She was seemingly trying to speak, but seemed to be in some difficulty too, as she tried to scrabble to her feet with the inelegance of a newborn foal.
Jackson instantly sprang into action, hauling Charley into a standing position.
'Good girl, Charley,' Jackson said encouragingly. 'It's time to wake up.'
'I feel like a bag of shit,' Charley groaned, collapsing against Jackson.
'I'll get my case,' Lisa whispered, leaving Jackson to steer Charley to the door.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jackson ventured downstairs first, to check the coast was clear.
He quickly returned, grabbing hold of Charley, and hooking her arm tightly around his shoulder and neck, so she could stagger along beside him.
'I've had an idea,' Lisa said, as they took the elevator.
In the harsh bright light, Jackson's eyes seemed remarkably still and blue. She marvelled how he thrived on crisis.
'Go on,' he said.
'Maybe I could book back into The Sheraton? The Keefe campaign officially rolls into town tomorrow, and I was told I could stay as long as I wanted,' she said.
Jackson eyed her strangely. 'You do realise how odd this is, don't you?'
Lisa smirked. 'It's a good idea. Think about it.'
'Are you seeing Keefe tomorrow?'
'What's it to you?' Lisa asked coolly.
Something told her it would not be the wisest choice in the world to tell the man who had tried and failed to kill Keefe too much about his movements.
Jackson smiled. 'Lisa. When a job's finished, we all move on.'
'Except it's not finished, is it?' she said pointedly.
'It is for me,' he muttered in return, as he stepped out of the elevator, supporting Charley.
XXXXXXXXXX
They caught a cab on Broadway and headed towards Midtown.
Lisa dialled Talbot Haynes's number, hoping it was not too late.
'Hey, Lisa,' he exclaimed, clearly surprised and very sleepy.
Lisa instantly regretted her decision.
'I'm so sorry to call you Talbot,' she said in her most people pleasing manner. 'But I've … we, my friend and I, have had a little disaster.'
She glanced at Jackson who was staring at her, a perplexed scowl on his face.
'Nothing too serious I hope,' Talbot said.
Lisa giggled. 'No … just a gas leak, at my friend's apartment.'
She noticed Jackson shaking his head, but pushed on regardless.
'We're kind of marooned.'
'Lisa, I'd invite you out to my place, but I'm stuck out on Long Island, and I've a house full of in-laws,' Talbot said apologetically.
'Oh … I'm sorry to bother you Talbot, I truly am. But I didn't know who else to turn to,' Lisa said.
Come on, she was silently urging. Tell me to go to The Sheraton.
'But, hey, here's an idea!' Talbot said chirpily. 'Why don't you fix yourself up with a room at The Sheraton? Charles would be only too happy to help you out Lisa, I'm sure.'
'That's a great idea,' Lisa said excitedly.
Talbot gave her the relevant registration details, emphasizing that she booked into one of the suites the Keefe campaign had pre-booked in advance.
The last he'd heard, Keefe was now stuck in Washington until Monday, but then he'd meet her at the hotel. Talbot promised he would call her tomorrow. See how she was doing.
As soon as the call was over, Lisa grinned triumphantly at Jackson, who looked less than happy.
'I'm now under the protection of the Department of Homeland Security,' she said smugly.
'Like hell you are,' Jackson said scornfully. 'You've bummed a free bed, that's all.'
XXXXXXXXXX
The moment Lisa entered the suite at The Sheraton, she was immediately irritated by an all too familiar, dreaded noise: the aircon unit, which was rattling away at full pelt.
Jackson levered Charley onto a sofa, plumping up cushions for her head, offering her a glass of water.
'Where the fuck are we guys?' Charley moaned. She was only just half-awake and still pretty dazed, but at least she wasn't clinically comatose as they had feared earlier.
Lisa sat beside her, squeezing her hand affectionately.
'We're at a hotel,' she said. 'There was a gas leak in your building.'
'What gas? Don't have gas,' Charley mumbled, genuinely bewildered. She grabbed the glass of water Jackson was offering and with his assistance, drained the lot.
'Never tell lies, unless absolutely necessary,' Jackson murmured, under his breath, although he was smiling with what Lisa decided was a little too much self-righteous glee at her expense.
'Well it's no good telling me that now, Jackson,' Lisa remarked spitefully.
OK, so it was a little embarrassing, but Talbot was hardly likely to check up on her. He didn't even know where Charley lived.
'Oh man. I'm bushed,' Charley said, pushing the glass away. 'Must have been a good night, huh?'
Lisa smiled. 'A really good night,' she said warmly. 'Your show went brilliantly.'
Charley cocked her head to one side, as if unsure what the hell Lisa was talking about.
'I'll tell you all about it in the morning,' Lisa said.
But Charley was already asleep.
Jackson grabbed a spare comforter from the wardrobe.
'What are you doing?' Lisa asked. 'Help me move her to the bed.'
'She's happy where she is,' Jackson said, covering her.
'Well don't think you're sleeping on the bed with me,' Lisa said.
Jackson laughed. 'Don't you trust me?'
'Not in the slightest.'
Jackson nodded to Charley who was snoring loudly.
'Believe me Lisa. Nothing would happen. You can thank your mood-killing chaperone for that one.' Jackson sat on the bed and began removing his shoes.
'You can't just get into bed with me,' Lisa reiterated, a little desperately.
'I'm doing nothing of the sort,' Jackson mused. 'I'm on the bed. You're nowhere near it.'
'This is booked in my name. And you've got a home to go to,' she countered, hands on hip.
Jackson lay on the bed, stretching himself out, arms behind his head.
'Not bad,' he muttered.
He closed his eyes and smiled.
'Just let me rest a minute,' he said. 'I'll leave shortly. I promise.'
'You'd better,' Lisa grumbled.
She headed into the bathroom, where she freshened up, wondering how she could get Jackson out of the room without offending him.
It was tricky. On the one hand she definitely felt a lot safer knowing he was around. But on the other, she didn't fancy explaining who he was to Charley in the morning, when she would have to reveal that this was her rich little friend Alex De Bowen's fiancée - also known as the infamous Jackson Rippner.
She's have to ask Charley some pretty searching questions tomorrow about what she did, who she spoke to at the art show. She fervently hoped Charley hadn't decided to tell Alex all about her weirdo friend Lisa, who had come all the way to New York from Miami, searching for the man who once tried to kill her, her father and the Deputy Head of Homeland Security. Because if she had ... well, it didn't bear thinking about.
But surely Charley had said nothing in-depth? She'd been too busy. Too giddy.
After all, she had tried to introduce Lisa to Alex De Bowen, more or less as a fresh acquaintance it seemed.
Lisa strained to recall the exact words Charley had used – but it all seemed such a long time ago.
One thing was certain. There hadn't been any sense, Lisa felt, that Alex already knew much about who she was, beyond recognising her from the Hanover Street cafe. And even then, she clearly hadn't been certain. Jackson had made sure of that.
Still. Jackson was probably right. It was better to be safe than sorry.
And hopefully everything would get back to normal tomorrow. And she would never have to meet the De Bowens again …or even think about them.
As for Jackson.
Lisa was uncomfortably aware of a strange gnawing ache when she thought about not seeing him again.
But it was the best way forward. Her life had to get back to normal.
She would see Keefe, as promised. Talk with him. Listen to him. And then offer her sincere best wishes for the success of his campaign before heading home to Miami.
She headed back to the bedroom and the raucous cacophony of snores emanating from the sofa, which was in close competition with the loud thrumming of the aircon unit.
Jackson, however, was oblivious to the ruckus surrounding him.
He was fast asleep.
Lisa felt an unexpected pang of protectiveness, sparked by the lost, vulnerable look on his face as he slept.
She edged onto the bed and slowly, carefully, removed his jacket, relishing the feel of his shirt over warm skin as she eased the jacket off.
Jackson stirred, but didn't wake.
She wondered if he might be cold, so she slipped the bed sheets over him.
The problem of course was where she should sleep.
Jackson was now in full occupation of the bed and her only real option was to get into the bed beside him.
It seemed so intimate.
But she really had no choice.
She snuggled into the bed, peeling off her little black dress so that she was wearing just her underwear, and automatically, unthinkingly, pressed herself close to him, savouring the heat which radiated from him.
She slid her arms around him, while she nestled contentedly into the crook of his arm. She could feel his soft, sighing breathes, like a zephyr, curling on her cheek, as she basked in the comforting glow she couldn't help feeling lying next to him.
It was a long time since she had slept with a man.
She smiled, gently gliding her hand down his back, then smoothly drawing it across his chest, to where she had furiously ripped off his shirt button. She allowed her hand to momentarily rest where she could feel his heart pulsing strongly beneath his warm, firm skin.
Her mind drifted back to their argument earlier that evening.
'See Jackson. … It's still here,' she whispered. However much he wanted to deny it.
- 8
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The Real Deal