"It wasn't my fault. I had to use the bathroom. I was gone for less than two minutes and when I got back she'd left," Elliot began to explain and by the tone of his voice, Renee expected him to drop to his knees at any minute and kiss Jackson's feet.

"Then where the hell have you been all this time?"

"I went back to our room and hung out. When you didn't show up, I figured you must be here. It wasn't my fault," he repeated.

"It wasn't my fault," Jackson said in a mocking, singsong tone of voice. "Do you understand that every time you screw up you put my life in danger? I'm a Manager, Elliot; that means I have to take responsibility for your actions as well as the actions of everyone else in my charge. Sometimes, shit happens and I can deal with an accident or two, but I won't die for an idiot; even if he is my brother. One more mistake and I'm cutting you lose, are we clear?"

Renee looked at the younger man who had just plunked down on the opposite end of the bed, looking as if he were about to cry. He was a paradox; a youthful, almost innocent looking man who just happened to kill people for a living. And the way he looked at Jackson with such overwhelming awe was laughable.

"I'm sorry, Jackson," he said, crushed by the scorn of his older sibling.

When his eyes met Renee's, she gave him a gentle smile. It was genuine. She'd been in that place, callously rebuked by a loved one; she could identify with that specific sort of anguish.

Elliot seemed to mistrust her kind gesture at first, but after a moment his face brightened and he smiled back. Feeling embarrassed by the silliness of this whole exchange, she blushed and turned away from him. Hearing him clear his throat, she glanced upward and found his eyes still focused on her and then he winked. This time, he didn't even try to mask his broad grin. You're more like your brother than you realize.

During the incident on the highway she had been doing everything in her power to become invisible. She'd barely had time to look at Jackson and hadn't paid much attention to Elliot at all. This was the first time she had really seen his face and damn if he wasn't every bit as handsome as his brother, if not more so.

Closer to six feet tall, he was the younger of the two and appeared far less worldly. His hair was shorter than Jackson's unruly locks and much darker, almost black. The only thing missing was the piercing gaze. Though his eyes were blue, the shade was closer to navy. But even if the color had been the same, his stare could never be as penetrating because he lacked his brother's zeal.

Jackson caught Elliot's subtle flirting but thankfully, seemed oblivious to her participation. Regardless, he sat between the two of them, effectively blocking her from Elliot's view. This callow young man, this juvenile as she'd come to think of him, had everything going for him and probably wasn't as dumb as his brother implied. He had no reason to live in Jackson's shadow but allowed himself to be walked upon anyway, saying nothing as the illustrious Manager stared him down. Renee wondered if Elliot still had a mind of his own or if he were so blinded by hero worship that he could no longer see straight.

"Focus," Jackson ordered.

"I am focused," Elliot insisted.

"Then let's test that, shall we? I'm going to back to our room because I need to call the front desk and tell them that we are more than happy with our arrangements and a change won't be necessary after all. Then I need to get the equipment so you can set things up for our morning endeavor and to be honest with you, if I don't get out of this room, I'm going to kill somebody. Do you think you can keep your eye on a couple of women for ten or fifteen minutes? Is that too much to ask, baby brother?"

"I can handle it."

"You'd better," he warned.

Jackson stood and approached the door, tucking his gun into his jacket and rubbing fervently at his temples after he did so. "Renee," he called, not even bothering to look at her, "when I get back, you and I are going to finalize our deal, one way or another. As you can tell, I have pretty much reached the end of my rope, so please tell me that the two of you will do the smart thing and stop giving me trouble."

"I have questions," Renee said, drawing looks of unabashed shock from everyone in the room.

"You what?" he asked.

"Why are we supposed to trust someone like you?"

"Someone like me," he reiterated. "I don't like your attitude, darling."

"Shut up, Renee," Elizabeth said.

"Don't tell me to shut up, god damn it," Renee said as she rose from the bed in a fury. She was tired of being silenced, tired of being forced to sit on this damn bed and tired of being everyone's captive. "I want to know this isn't some kind of game. Maybe you're going to try and frame the two of us."

"Now you're the one who's going to get us killed," her sister accused.

"He could be full of shit. They're going to kill someone tomorrow, don't you realize that? What if the cops trace the shot back to this room? Our names are on the registry, Liz!"

As soon as the words, 'full of shit' had left her mouth, Renee had wanted to take them back, but it was too late. She saw Elliot bite his lip; he glanced back and forth between her and Jackson with concern and she never even had a chance to see Elizabeth's expression before Jackson rushed her. He spun her around, pushing her through the bathroom door and it was all she could do to maintain her footing. She collided with the bathroom wall and heard the door shut, then he was on her, pressing her face into that structure and twisting her arm behind her back.

"You're hurting me!"

"Shut up, Renee; shut up."

She gasped, finding it hard to breathe with her body pinned between him and the wall; she couldn't take a deep breath even if she'd wanted to.

But all she could feel was the pain in her arm and his mouth pressed against her ear. In the background she could hear Elizabeth's protests. They stopped as quickly as they had begun, silenced by Elliot.

"Stay in your seat," she heard him order. "Don't fuck with him when he's like this, you'll only make it worse."

Renee closed her eyes, doing her best to follow the overheard advice. Jackson just held her there and his heated exhalations washing over her ear and the side of her face conjured up the image of a raging bull. She wondered if his eyes were red right now and if steam were pouring from his nostrils.

They were alone in this confined space and the only light came from a street lamp outside. It filtered through the small window, casting the two of them in the faintest of lights; not that it mattered really, she wasn't facing him. The only thing she could see was the wallpaper. It was horrible, covered in flowers the size of toasters. It had a 1970's look about it – sickening décor for a sickening experience.

Just like Elliot before her, "I'm sorry," were the only words that came to mind.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he hissed in her ear.

"No."

"Questioning me in front of your sister and my own brother; are you trying to humiliate me?"

"No," she insisted.

"I don't like this new attitude of yours, Renee. It's going to get you killed. I haven't lied to you, darling; there's no reason for this sudden insubordination. Why are you doing this?"

"Because, uh," she began to say, trailing off when he twisted her arm a bit tighter.

"Because?"

"Because you want me to sell my soul without a question asked. It's not fair. I have a right to know…to know that we'll be safe when you're gone."

His furious breathing stopped, the rage quelled. Renee breathed a sigh of relief until he spun her around and this time, it was her back pressed against the wall. He kicked her legs apart, forcing her to balance precariously on his left leg. There wasn't a significant difference in height between the two of them but it was enough to throw her off balance. Her toes just barely touched the ground and she felt as if she might fall to one side or the other but his hand clenched her jaw, pressed the back of her head against the wall and held her steady.

"I gather from your license plate that you're from Virginia and since I'm a kind hearted man, I'll take a little time out of my day to explain to you how the world works. You are a rube. Your sister is a rube. The two of you lack the forethought and the ingenuity to orchestrate an assassination. Even if the police do trace the shot back to this particular room, they'll see you for what you are; a couple of southern hicks and believe me, Elliot and I will not leave a shred of evidence in our wake. So here is what you're going to do; you will sell me your soul as you so dramatically put it and really, I'm happy to have it, then you will spend that money wisely, and by that, I mean discreetly as not to draw attention to your ill gotten gains."

"What about you?" she asked.

"Not sure what you mean by that. Are you trying to say you'll miss me? That's so very sweet of you."

"You know damn well what I mean. How can you be so sure that I won't take your money and call the police the second you drive away?"

"Because if you do that, I'll know and I'll get to you long before the cops pick up my scent. You don't want to meet me under those circumstances, Renee. You've had it easy up until now. You won't believe what I'm capable of when I'm angry, so we're going to be smart about this. A little money will change hands; I don't know you, you don't know me and we all go on our merry fucking way. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Renee answered, all too eager to have him out of her life.

"Peachy," was his arrogant response.

The conversation was over; there was nothing more to say, which was why she found it so surprising when he didn't release her. The stillness in that moment and what it could potentially mean for her were terrifying. She wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. She'd never dealt with such a domineering personality and wasn't sure how he could be placated.

"You've made your point. You can let me go now, Jackson," she finally managed.

"Listen to yourself; still making demands. Maybe I haven't?" he asked, looking into her eyes and appearing none to happy with what he saw there. He spotted it; the changes taking place within her– an awakening of sorts. She wondered how far he would go to put a stop to it.

"I saw Elliot making eyes at you, darling," he continued. "Still attracting the wrong kind of man I see."

And so it begins. The hand that held her jaw fixed in place squeezed hard and the knee she balanced upon began rocking side to side, causing her to do the same as if she were navigating a turbulent sea. He was a lean man. There was not an ounce of fat on him and consequently, she found his knee was rather boney. It made everything seem more vivid. Each time she passed over the crest of that flexed joint, she blushed at the sensations it sent through her; the seam of her shorts only adding to the friction and heat his lascivious motion generated.

When she used her hands to steady herself against the wall, trying to put a stop to this sordid display, he grinned, pinning her hands down with his own and grinding that knee against her gently as if to say 'you can't win.'

"Maybe it's you?" he whispered. "You're the type who searches out the hopeless cases thinking you can redeem them somehow. Wouldn't you prefer a man with a little more experience? It's much less tiring, Renee and a lot more fun."

She groaned softly in response, feeling shame in the knowledge that this intimate contact was not wholly unwelcome. In the short time she'd known him; he'd had a profound effect on her. She had challenged him as well as her sister, winning both arguments and gaining respect and she knew he must respect her since he always tried so hard to throw her off base. Despite his repeated attempts to bring her down, she felt drawn to him on some level.

It was hard to meet those eyes head on, the ones that saw the truth. They were plagued with overconfidence and self assurance because he understood her conflict every bit as well as she did.

Her breath caught in her throat and she had to look away, feeling her body lower and her feet touch the ground as she did so. Her head, which felt like it weighed at least fifty pounds, came to rest on his shoulder. She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her close – a silent acknowledgement that the storm had passed for now.

"Not bad, huh?" he asked softly. "And that's just my knee."

Her hands lingered less than an inch from his body, wanting to touch, wanting to hold him as closely as he held her. Memories of the knock down, drag out fights she'd had with her ex-husband and the making up that had come afterward entered her mind. This relationship she found herself in now was equally as toxic and the fact that she felt an attraction to him at all made her question her sanity. Surely he could sense her impending touch and knew that she was fighting that blasted emotion known as desire. She hated the feeling, but found it almost impossible to resist. Then she thought about his gun. He'd tucked it into his coat pocket and she wondered if her reflexes were true enough to take it from him before he could react.

No, she couldn't lay a hand on him and she knew she was allowing fear and pure animal magnetism to override her better judgment.

"Stop touching me," she said not sure if she was pleading or demanding.

"If you say so," he answered, pulling away and watching as she sunk to the floor. "I'll be back soon. Until then, don't get any bright ideas. Elliot may be an idiot, but I won't be gone long enough for you to put any kind of plan into action."

Then the door opened. Renee saw him walk away, never once looking back as he exited the hotel room. No one dared move even after he'd left, not even her. She sat there on the bathroom floor trying to keep her emotions in check and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob; wondering why every time she tried to stand up for herself, things ended in disaster and how a man who believed sex and violence were inextricably entwined could possibly hold her rapt.

Suddenly a shadow appeared in the doorway; she just assumed it was Elizabeth.

"Are you alright?" she heard Elliot ask, startling her.

"No," she answered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"What just happened here?" she wondered.

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Author's note: A new chapter in less than one week; I do believe that's a record.

There's going to be lots of action in the next chapter so fasten your seatbelts. I'm doing my best to focus on this story, but the next chapter of "Jack Be Nimble" is calling to me and I fear I won't be able to resist. So much writing to do; so little time.

Thanks to emptyvoices for her input and thanks to everyone else for taking the time to read and/or review.