1
Agony, plain and simple.
That's what having someone wram a pen three inches into your jugular, is.
Jackson drummed two fingers on the scar at the base of his throat, each sharp vibration of pain giving him momentum to the anger inside him. His bright blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his face studiously blank as that anger coiled up inside him like tamed venom, only rleased in small spurts of calculated, ruthless violence.Lisa, Reisert.
Oh she'd been a clever little bitch, he wouldn't take that away from her for a second. He'd underestimated her in over a dozen ways, thinking the job would be easy from all he knew of her dull, regulated, safe little life. Slightly inebriated from the Seabreeze, vulnerable from her fear of flying. Daddy's little girl, the call should have been easy to manipulate out of her. But of course not. Because she had a spine of steel under all the mundane softness.
It'd been tenacious of her to keep talking when the phones went out, with the soap. Stupid, but tenacious. Nonetheless, he had been sure a small amount of violence would bring her back in line. He smirked even now at their 'quickie'. Clever or not, she'd still seemed soft as a kitten, ridiculously vulnerable, at that stage. He knew better now. His body pressed into hers, a surge of dominance had gone through him even as he squeezed that beautiful neck. Then he'd seen the scar. The perversity of his anger at seeing it when he was himself attacking her was not lost on him. He was a professional. Woman or not, he hurt, and killed people, when they needed to be, with a ruthless efficiency.
The gentleman in him still balked at that scar, jealous, possessive, protective anger flying free.
What was the rapists excuse for that marring of her skin?
When she told him, he had been unduly moved by the confession. He knew now that had been the intention, to make him think he'd broken her in entirely. Before that he'd been doing this job with his eyes half-shut, another silly woman, another phonecall, another pay cheque. Far too much fell into place when she told him. Far more than he wanted to. The distraction that work provided for her, making her busy, stopping her having to think. Her devotion to her dad, the only man she now trusted. That further dimension of crippling panic in her lovely eyes as he'd forced her back into the bathroom, crushing against her and cutting off her breath...
A feeling he empathised with when she thrust that fucking pen into his throat. In truth, he'd been lucky. That one shot could have killed him. Instead she'd just made him open his eyes. He was paying attention now, even if roaring pain and anger were clouding his vision. Not many women, even in a situation as dire as hers, would have been able to do something that brutal. Even as he'd been choking back on the acquired taste of blood and mind-blurring fury, he'd been impressed. He'd hit her nerve and she had snapped. But that meant very little at the time, at the time rage had won out. She'd made him fail a mission, a pay cheque gone cause he hadn't paid enough attention. He hadn't messed her around, he'd told her like it was. Now she was just another loose end that needed tidying up when he could have left her to live her safe life.
Shot twice. Stabbed in the lege with a shoe of all things. Arm broken from that hockey stick. Christ if she wasn't a feisty thing. It'd been a while since anyone had managed to hurt him that bad. He'd almost been beginning to enjoy himself with her. Challenges had always gotten him off and she had certainly been that. But she had won. And that, was unacceptable.
'Thank you for meeting me here. I'm rather new to all this'
'That's fine Mr. Reisert. What can we do for you?'
Joe Reisert didn't need to ask who this 'we' was. The man he was addressing, an unassumingly dressed individual with brown hair and glasses, was simple a middleman to a higher place. He sipped his beer nervously, glancing round the quiet bar as the man watched him patiently. Despite his low status he was still a danger, and a part of Joe's brain was debating whether he was seriously going to go through with this. He was a law-abiding man; getting involved in situations such as this had never crossed his mind, but then it had never had to. It astounded him how much could change. His divorce had shown him that, and after that... Love swelled up in him like courage itself around his heart. Maybe it was dangerous. But he wanted security, finality for the daughter he loved more than anything, and who had suffered enough.
'I need protection.' he said finally, downing the bourbon he'd bought along with his beer. The man's opposite's expression soured 'We're not in the habit of finding bodyguards for people Mr. Reisert. I'm sure you could find someone perfectly satisfactory through more... legitimate means'
Joe shook his head and smiled dryly 'I'm not looking for just ordinary protection. I want someone as professional as HIM looking after her, someone who can get him out of her life for definite'
An eyebrow rose quizzically.
'Him?'
Lemme know what you think ppls, I shall write the introduction of the O.C. and you can decide whether you like it. If you don't then I have failed, and you may club me to death. With candycanes. XXXX
