Chapter 4: Run
Andi stayed still and stiff for so long that JP snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey. Barbara, you ok? C'mon, I can't be worse than the killer who was just in here, and you did fine with him."
She jumped and looked at him. "That was you, then? Shooting at him?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Ok."
They were silent for another few seconds. Andi was still trying to pull herself together, when JP shook his head. "We have to get out of here. Grab what you need and let's go."
Andi nodded and headed to her room, automatically shutting the door behind her. She grabbed the knapsack she kept stashed in the corner, ready to leave, then realized her feet were bare, and went to grab socks. By the time she was tying her shoes—sturdy, good-soled hiking boots, and that was a relief if nothing else—she'd managed to collect herself a little. Gordon. Had to tell Gordon what had happened. She grabbed her cellphone.
JP knocked, then poked his head in while she was dialing his number.
"Good thinking," he said. "We need to get rid of that so we can't be traced. Here, I'll take it."
Andi stared at his outstretched hand and gripped her phone just a little tighter. "I think I'll hold onto it. Thanks."
"Don't be stupid, Barbara."
"I appreciate your help, but I have a—a friend who can get me somewhere safe. I just need to call and I'll be fine. You don't need to stick around."
"Can't risk it."
"That's my decision, not yours."
JP drew his hand back and folded his arms. He was standing much straighter, suddenly, his muscles and height more obvious than ever. "Look, Barbara. We can do this where I force the phone away from you, and you'll be terrified and I'll be frustrated and it'll waste time. Or we can skip that part. Ends the same either way, but this way we avoid it getting messy."
Any hope Andi had had that he was there to help fluttered and died. She passed him the phone.
"The one in your bag too."
"No."
He grinned. "I knew you had another."
Andi grit her teeth.
"C'mon, Barbara, let's not go through the whole song and dance again. Unless you want me grabbing it off your back sorting through your underwear, I suggest you hand it over."
Andi stared at him. How had she ever found him attractive? Thought he was honest and that she'd found someone she could open up to for once?
"I really liked you, you know," she said as she sorted through the bag. "I let my guard down, let myself be vulnerable… I even broke up with you so that you wouldn't get dragged down by my baggage. God, I'm such an idiot."
She didn't know what expression she expected—and evil villain smile, maybe—but when she looked up, JP seemed almost stricken.
"Here," she said, thrusting the phone at him.
"I'm not out to hurt you, Barbara. I promise."
"Right. Because you're so trustworthy."
He sighed and headed back to her living room. "Let's go."
Andi stuffed the file Ivy had sent into her bag and zipped it back up. After a second's hesitation, she grabbed her barely-drunk coffee too. She was beginning to get an idea.
She expected to see JP destroying her cell phones when she stepped into the living room, but instead he'd just set them on the counter and was fiddling with something on the floor. Before she could get a good look he stood up, blocking her view. "Got everything you need? You won't be coming back."
Andi looked around. She'd been here for two months, and the apartment looked like one of those home models you saw with a realtor; pretty and neat as a pin, without pictures or personal knick-knacks or even a movie collection. She headed for the door without a word.
The elevator ride down was tense, silent. Andi stared at JP, not sure what she was expecting him to do—attack, maybe. He kept his gaze mostly on the door, though, and the few times he did look at her, he avoided her eyes.
Darkness was just starting to fall when they made it outside, and the streets were less crowded. Before Andi could think of any crazy escape attempts, he gripped her upper arm—not painfully, but firm enough that she made no progress when she instinctively tried to squirm away.
"Where to?" Andi asked, trying and failing to sound as if this was no more than another date.
"Here." He led her to a bench across the street and, once they'd both sat down, gave her her arm back. Andi looked around, wondering what game he was playing, but JP just sat back a little and watched the apartment rather than her.
"I'm sure you have questions. Don't scream them out at the street and I'll try to answer them for you. Deal?"
Andi nodded, trying to think things through. "Is your name really JP?"
"Yeah. Jean Paul Valley's not an alias. I was born with it. I just… happen to do some clandestine work. When I don't want to be known, I use Azrael as a codename."
"Clandestine work for the Sacred Order of St. Dumas."
"You know who we are, then? We tend to keep out of the public eye."
"Except when you shot a judge last year."
"That guy? He was taking bribes to ignore human trafficking."
"And a federally protected witness."
"A thug who'd worked for the mob and turned in his teammates for a grudge. He'd killed as much as anyone, but suddenly he was supposed to get a free pass? Maybe the courts accept that, but we don't."
Andi stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? And what about the two marshals protecting him? Did they deserve to die too?"
He grimaced. "The Order's fighting some really terrible people. There are costs. We have to be willing to get our hands dirty."
Words from another lifetime echoed in her head. "If he thinks killing innocent people to get what he wants is right, he's even more dangerous, sir. That makes him a fanatic."
"Your hands might be dirty. But it sounds like the brainwash they did on you was extra strong."
"You don't get to make that call!" JP snapped. "I'm not a monster." When Andi didn't answer, he took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "For what it's worth, I keep all my kills clean. Just the target, no one else."
"Excuse me while I go call the Nobel prize committee." For a second, Andi was afraid that she'd pushed too far, that JP would turn on her. But even though his eyes tightened a little bit, he turned back to staring across the street and didn't say anything. Andi decided to change the topic.
"You aren't really out to protect me, are you? You're after that—that man that was in my apartment."
"His name's Floyd Lawton," JP said. "Better known as Deadshot in the intelligence community. One of the deadliest assassins in the world."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I am after him. But since you're his target…"
"I'm bait."
"He's not killing anyone else. Including you." There was an edge to JP's tone, worse than when Andi had pushed his buttons. It was the aggression of an angry animal. He paused, finally looked straight at her, and didn't let his voice soften this time. "Who hired him? Who wants you dead?"
"You don't know?" Andi asked.
"I know you aren't really Barbara. I've traced you back a year and almost half a dozen other aliases, but before that, no. I don't know who you are or what you're running from."
Andi snorted a bitter, brief laugh. "You may as well call me Andi," she said, watching him closely. The way he blinked in surprise made her think he really hadn't known her name. Good. A first name didn't give much away, and it let her know that he was telling the truth. Probably. Maybe. "All the crazies do."
"Fine."
They were quiet again, not so much because Andi didn't have questions—there were a thousand left, all pounding on the inside of her skull like prisoners trying to escape—but because she had a feeling she'd pushed him far enough for now. She took a long, slow, drink of coffee and tried to figure out her next move.
"Not that this hasn't been nice," she finally said. "But I thought after all the cloak-and-dagger with the phones that we were going on the run or something. What are we waiting around here for? Is someone supposed to pick us up?"
"I work alone," JP said. "And I'm waiting for your apartment to explode."
"You're what?"
"I'm not stupid, Bar—Andi. I know you've got friends who've helped you go underground before, so I wired your apartment with explosives while you were packing. I need them to think you're dead so they'll stay out of my way."
"And won't come for me." Gordon. She had to find a way to tell Gordon she was still alive, who had taken her. Had to… She looked down at her mug and set her shoulders.
"I evacuated your neighbors, by the way. Told them about the gas leak. Unfortunately, it looks like Barbara Walker didn't get the warning. Tragic."
Andi stood and, like she'd hoped, JP did too. She stared at the apartment like it was all that she could think about, but most of her mind was on her left hand. More specifically, on twisting off the top of her coffee cup with it.
"How long until it goes off?" she asked.
"Right about… now."
Nothing happened for ten long seconds. Just when Andi was about to turn and give JP a wry look, there was a roar like a dragon, a blaze of orange ten stories above them. Before the shattered glass reached the ground, Andi spun around and splashed the scalding coffee straight at JP's face.
He ducked, of course and batted the mug away, but Andi took advantage of the distraction and gathering crowd and sprinted away.
JP caught up after less than twenty seconds and trapped her—knapsack and all—in a bear hug so tight that her feet came off the ground.
"I told you I'm not out to hurt you." His mouth was so close to her ear she could feel his breath. "That doesn't mean I won't if you force my hand. Try a stunt like that again, and I'll make sure you can't run, understand?"
Cold defiance straightened her spine—Andi didn't respond, refused to—but JP dropped her anyway. When she turned around, one of his hands was resting over where she now knew he kept his gun.
"Come on," he said, his voice almost apologetic.
"Where?"
"On the run."
"When you said 'on the run,' I pictured something a little more… clandestine," Andi said as she stepped onto their floor. "A five star hotel?"
"The Luxe caters to a unique clientele—they're used to keeping their mouths shut. We'll have to move in a few days, but for now it should be safe. I figured you'd appreciate this more than the safehouse in the Narrows to start with."
Andi shrugged. She'd grown up in the Narrows, and couldn't help but think that she might be able to make a run for it there. Here, where she needed a key just to work the elevator, chances of escape were slim.
JP held the door open to the room they were sharing; they had just checked in a couple minutes ago, but there was already a suitcase laid out on the bed and two boxes of what turned out to be fancy computer equipment. He headed straight over to them and started assembling everything—Andi recognized some of it from Bruce's cave, high tech stuff and expensive.
"What's all that for?"
"Tracking Deadshot. Communicating without being traced. Monitoring for Batman."
"Batman?" Andi hoped that her voice was neutral enough.
"Yeah. He tends to get involved in stuff like this. Not sure if he'd be on my side or not, so…"
"He tends not to be on anyone's side."
JP gave her a sharp look, and Andi was worried that she'd said too much, but after a second he grinned. "Knew you were from Gotham originally. Come on in, you're sticking around for awhile."
Andi did, giving the room's one bed a wary glance as she passed it.
"I'll take the floor," JP said. He was looking back at his equipment again, but Andi saw the tops of his ears turn scarlet. "Uh, you can go ahead and sleep if you want; I'll be up working on this for awhile. Here, let me dim the light."
"Don't bother," Andi said. "I need to go shower first. Change clothes." Have a nervous breakdown.
JP just pointed over his shoulder at the bathroom with a screwdriver, so Andi went in, closed and locked the door behind her, and then collapsed against it, sinking slowly down to her feet. Her breathing was ragged in her ears.
One more thing, she told herself. Do one more thing, and then you can rest.
She stood slowly and headed to the shower, turned on the water so JP couldn't hear her. Then she sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled Deadshot's file out of her bag.
It was thick—a five page biography, a much longer list of kills, three psychiatric profiles, a physical assessment, weapons analyses, forensic evidence, information on the agencies and agents assigned to track him down. Andi knew there was no way JP would give her enough time to read and memorize everything she needed to, so she skimmed through it until she came to the last page, handwritten in green ink.
After all the ways she'd changed, it was strange that Pam's flourishing scrawl was still the same.
Andi,
I'm sorry things turned out this way.
I convinced Harley to hire Deadshot. If his reputation is true, he's given you this folder and let you go. If not, I guess you're already dead. But if you're reading this, then you should know a few things.
This man is the best. If he's hired to kill, injure, or save someone, he does it. Perfectly. He's not like you or I; there's no line he won't cross, no sense of self-preservation, no moral code. Except the one that made me choose him.
Whoever holds Deadshot's contract becomes his god.
I met him once. When I asked about his loyalty, he said it was absolute and offered us a trial. Harley thought that was hilarious—she thinks that about most things—and ordered him to stab himself in the stomach.
He almost died.
But that was what convinced me to hire him. Any other assassin would kill you, no hesitation. I'm trying to give you a fighting chance against him, and I trust him to obey—
Andi growled under her breath and flipped the page over, even though she knew there was nothing on the back. Nor was there anything else from Ivy in the folder, and nothing had fallen out into her bag when she checked.
Harley must have walked in, Andi decided. She couldn't finish.
What had she been about to say? Andi couldn't be sure, but she had a guess. Deadshot had given her a file folder on him and what he'd done. He'd been ordered to leave her alone for some amount of time. She bet Ivy had given him other handicaps, enough that Andi could work out an escape if she put her mind to it.
Of course, Andi could be wrong. And even if she wasn't, there was her boyfriend-turned-psychopath who was keeping her prisoner here.
Nothing for it. She had to take what she could from Pam's warning and leave it at that. Andi read the letter through three more times, and then again just to be sure. Then she undressed, stuck the paper under the showerhead, and shredded it into tiny pieces, feeding them down the drain bit by bit. If JP saw this, it wouldn't be hard for him to figure out who Andi was, and she didn't plan on sharing that information any time soon. Only when that was done did she finally allow herself to get into the shower and collapse in a jittery, nervous wreck.
Author's Note: Ha ha, you only thought Andi had gotten lucky and fallen in with a nice guy for once.
Also, I just thought I'd let you know that if you go to my profile, you can find links to my 'cast list' for different characters. There's JP/Azrael and Deadshot/Lawton under Untrusted, while Andi, Harley, and Ivy are under Unmasked. Presumably you can figure out Batman for yourself.
Thanks so much to everyone who's read and responded so far; you guys make my day! If you're a new reader and/or lurker, feel free to send me a PM or drop a review-I promise I'm not nearly as mean in person as I am to my characters. :)
