Prologue
……… John Creasy breathed ruggedly as his hand gripped the cold metal of the necklace Pita had given him. He allowed himself a small smile. She had done wonders on him with out even being aware that she did anything. For once in a long time he felt free. The searing pain of all three bullet wounds on his torso bleed steadily, he could feel himself growing cold. He winced from the setting sun that came through the window, before he glanced around, the kidnappers stared at him, un-healthy gleams in there eyes. He closed his eyes, his heartbeat slowing, and his breathing diminishing. He could feel his joints loosen, his fingers growing limp around the necklace. He was dieing, he knew this, and for once in a long time he was dieing because he had no choice, he wasn't trying to commit suicide anymore, if he had a choice he would live and still be Pita's best friend and body guard. Screw everything else he had said in the very beginning, from the moment he became the little girl's bodyguard to the moment he got her back. She found a place in his heart; her place warmed him, made his soul grave to live. She gave him a second chance, and she thanked him. It was true, he may not have said it, but every action could tell that he loved her too. She was his friend, the first of many he was proud to have. His mind was fogging. He could see her smile, the tears of happiness in her eyes when she had hugged him after the exchange. She had lightened his day; she brought light to even this tragic end. There was a sharp sting in his cheek, he barely felt it. He cracked his eyes open, the world around him fading in and out, meshing together like oil paints.
"Tsk, tsk. Stay awake Creasy, can't have you dieing on me now" said the man in front of him. He squinted. He could feel the rage beneath the surface of his skin; it was caged like a wild animal. The Voice. Daniel Sanchez. Creasy had no idea what he was going on about; didn't he say a life for a life, why are they having him live now?
"Wha…." he whispered his head lolling to the side resting against the window. A low dry chuckle came from Sanchez, his brother Aurelio Sanchez huddled against the other door holding a cloth to his bleeding fingers. Creasy didn't feel any remorse for what he had done to the man. He disserved it.
"You do business, really well Creasy" he said placing a cigarette against his thin chapped lips. He breathed in deep, held it for a moment, before slowly exhaling. He looked at it, flicked it, and then rested it between his lips. He smirked at Creasy, a dieing man, who in his opinion was very good at what he does. "Here is a proposal, we let you live, you go on with life, and when we need you, we will call you, no questions asked, you do or you die" he said his hand flipping the cap of a lighter, it clanked with each flick of his finger and thumb. Creasy grunted, he wheezed, pain laced the length of his chest.
"No…" he whispered his head shaking from side to side. Daniel Sanchez laughed; he reached over and gently patted the black man's cheek. His eyes hardened and his voice becoming laced with venom.
"You're not being given a choice" he said he lifted his hand up and snapped his fingers. The car stopped abruptly, Creasy pitched forward. He gasped. His eyes squeezing closed. Pain, there was so much pain. But all of it welcome, because of this pain he had gotten Pita back. At least he tried, and succeeded far better then the Mexican police.
"Marco, lo lleva al hospital, se cerciora de que le toman cuidado de." The nodded his eyes looking at Sanchez through the rear view mirror. Daniel Sanchez stepped out of the car, his friends following behind him. He turned back towards the professional.
"Remember Creasy, when we call, you do" he said slamming the car door. Creasy frowned. What? Call? Do? He couldn't think. His vision blurred and black spots danced across his eyes., the last thing he saw was the looming sign of the hospital before his world grew dark and quite……
Chapter 1
8 years later
John Creasy didn't much remember how he survived, he should have died right? Three gun shot wounds to the abdomen and both at his lungs, he should be six feet under. He took a sip from the corona sitting beside him. He watched as his neighbours mowed the lawn, chatting with each other like there was no evil in the world. At one point they had tried to engage him in such silly conversations of anything ranging from religion to carpentry. His hand gripped the necklace Pita had given him, not once in eight years did he take it off. It reminded him of the little girl who had freed his soul. He wondered how she was doing; now being eighteen and everything. He wondered if she stuck to swimming and dropped piano. He wondered how many poor boys hearts have been broken by her beauty. Ahh, he may not have seen her in eight years, but back then he knew she would grow into a beautiful young woman. Sighing he heaved himself from the chair, his beer hanging lazily in one hand.
"John!" came the shrill voice of a woman in her late thirties, Creasy sighed. Marietta Roselyn. A tall woman, white skin, blonde hair, almond blue eyes. She was pretty, he would giver her that, but she was just not his thing. She was interested in a relationship, and frankly Creasy didn't want to tie himself to anyone. He didn't even do casual sex. That's right John Creasy has been celibate for eight years. He looked, but not once did he touch. For some unforeseen reason, it didn't appeal to him. He turned a face half smile at the woman standing on her roof waving like a raving mad woman.
"Marietta" he said waving his hand lazily. She half glared.
"How many times have I told you to call me Marie?" she said. Creasy sighed, oh he knew all right. More then a hundred times, and she was gonna have to continue to remind him because he wasn't calling her anything but Marietta or Roselyn.
"Sorry" he said, she shrugged it off like it was nothing before grinning at him. He could see the familiar glint in her eyes as she eyed him up and down.
"No prob. Hey since it's Easter Monday, what do you say you come over for some dinner, and possibly desert?" He knew what she meant by desert, she had put an emphasis on it after all. He looked as apologetically as he could muster.
"Sorry, Marietta, but I'm busy tonight, how about some other time?" he asked flashing a smile.
"You always say that, what do you do that keeps you so busy?" she asked her hands on her hips. He could see the frustration vibrate through her body, heating her blood. A light blush raced across her skin. He lifted the beer to his lips taking a swig.
"Professional things" he said. She rolled his eyes; he always gave the same damn answer.
"Fine, another time then" she said huffing before turning around and walking back in through her bedroom window. Creasy looked away a smirk tugging at his lips. There would never be another time, not if he had anything to say about it. He limbed in through his study window, he lived in the suburb of New Mexico. The weather was nothing compared to the actual humidity of Mexico, but it came pretty close. Placing the beer bottle on the corner of the desk he walked from the room. His feet drug along the carpet, his eyes darting around the empty walls there were no pictures. There was no on in his life, except there was one lone picture sitting next to his bed on the night table. It was a small wallet sized picture of Pita. He walked into the kitchen, a fan buzzed from its place atop the far counter, a light wind brushed across his face like a lover caress. He pulled the fridge door open, looking for a beer. He grinned wryly at the amber liquid. He had started drinking again after he had gotten out of the hospital, sometimes the Bible just didn't help. As his hand closed around the neck of the bottle, his phone rang. He looked over the fridge door at it, his eyebrow raised. Who the hell knew his number? Truthfully even he had forgotten his number, he hadn't gotten a call in ages. He popped the cap of the bottle taking a drink as he picked up the phone.
"Hello, John Creasy" he said looking around his kitchen. It was bare only holding the essentials.
"Hola Jaun" came the thick Mexican accent. "It's been a long time, eight years I believe" he said. Creasy narrowed his eyes, he knew that voice anywhere.
"Daniel Sanchez" there was a chuckle on the other end.
"Si, le veo recordarme" Creasy snorted.
"You're not a forgettable person, Sanchez" Creasy laughed hollowly. His eyes skimming out the window before landing on the beer in his hand.
"Oh good, then you know why I'm calling" he said. Creasy's brow creased.
"No, why would a bunch of low life kidnappers be calling me?" he said.
"I see you've forgotten our deal John" Sanchez said into the phone. Creasy's eyes narrowed.
"What deal Sanchez" he hissed into the mouth piece.
"The one that saved your life" he said. Creasy looked blankly at his mustard yellow refrigerator. What deal that save his life……
"Here is a proposal, we let you live, you go on with life, and when we need you, we will call you, no questions asked, you do or you die" he said his hand flipping the cap of a lighter, it clanked with each flick of his finger and thumb. Creasy grunted, he wheezed, pain laced the length of his chest.
" I didn't agree to the deal!" he hissed, there was a deep chuckle on the other end.
"You didn't have a choice" Daniel Sanchez said as he looked into the deep blue eyes of someone who was very dear to John Creasy, he grinned there were a few teeth missing from his smile.
"You either come play, or someone real close to you will be hurt" he said. Creasy snorted.
"There is no one close to me, Sanchez" he said. There was a pause on the other end.
"Last I checked there was a little girl?" Daniel said he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as If recalling something. Slowly a smile cover his face. "wasn't her name Pita? Yes, she certainly has grown into a beautiful young woman" he said his finger running gently down her cheek, Pita frowned she moved away from Sanchez hand. Creasy, her heart fluttered, wasn't he dead? Creasy paused his eyes wide before they narrowed, the bear bottle in his hand cracked as he fisted his hand.
"Say hi Pita" said Sanchez, Creasy stood silently as he heard shuffling then light breathing. His blood chilled at the weak, scared, yet hopeful voice on the other end.
"Creasy?……." Creasy could feel his eyes mist.
"Pita" he whispered.
"Now John, about our deal" said Sanchez. "You don't comply, and Ms Rosas with be harmed" he whispered. Creasy fisted his hand, he bit his lip in worry. He sighed, knowing what he had to do, no matter how much his mind disagreed, his heart wouldn't let him. Sanchez on his end of the line smiled. "I see we agree then" ……………………
TBC………………………..
A/N: I just had to write this okay! I couldn't help it, so Pita is eighteen now, and creasy is I'm gonna say thirty-nine. Blah, I screwed with his age! So sue me! Hope it was okay!! I will continue soon see yha!
Pampers Baby Dry
