Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for the long wait! A big hug to playswithstars for the much needed advice on child behavior for this chapter, and thank you so much, reviewers! It means a lot!

xx

Hang ideas! They are tramps, vagabonds, knocking at the back-door of your mind, each taking a little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief in a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently and would like to die easy!
--Joseph Conrad

Lisa made sure that she was the first person out of the car as the boxy contraption curbed to a stop outside of the twenty-four hour Shell Station. Her hand scrambled to its post on the door handle, which Jackson noticed with a heavily weighted sigh.

"What?"

"It's locked."

She scowled as he laggardly, tauntingly strolled around the front to her door. He smirked at her before unlocking it with the press of a button and pulling it open. Lisa instantly stuck her leg out, fully intent on breaking his toe, but he clutched her upper arm and crushed it tightly in his fingers, jolting her back to this reality.

She couldn't hurt him, or he would hurt her. Grimacing, she snapped, "What's your problem now?"

Jackson quickly scanned the parking lot before leaning back inside the car and whispering fiercely into her ear, "If you try anything, Leese, anything at all, inside that gas station, I will personally kill Melanie, and your cousin, and then I will kill you."

"With a request like that, how could I refuse?" Lisa replied sweetly, the sugar in her voice greatly contrasting the growling undertone in Jackson's. He leveled his eyes on her, in what she supposed was a method designed to scare her. It didn't. What once had been absolutely terrifying and haunting now did little more than to make her laugh. All pretense was gone—she saw Jackson for what he really was. A fluke. Even now as she peered at her reflection in his beryl eyes, her own face betrayed her, twisted up in a painful wince that spoke of her desire to laugh. Knowing how tight her boundaries were, however, Lisa contained herself.

Jackson released her arm with a sharp twist as he threw open Mel's door with great vim and vigor. "I'm getting sick of your snide little remarks, Lisa."

"And I'm getting sick of you." Drumroll, please.

Jackson ignored her comment as he studied the sleeping three-year-old tucked into the backseat. Lisa rose on cramped legs and also surveyed the tiny girl. Her mouth was hanging slightly ajar, a thumb inserted delicately between her lips. A small bead of drool hung in a fragile balance between her lips and her chin. Lisa felt her heart break all over again for the poor little kid.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lisa snapped finally, crossing her arms. "Are you going to move so I can help her out?"

"No." Jackson slammed the door shut again and pushed his hand into his back pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't bring her in that store," Jackson muttered detachedly. "It would draw too much attention."
"Because bringing me in the store wouldn't draw any at all," Lisa spat sarcastically. "Really, Jackson, you're not the brightest of all reptiles."

Simpering sardonically at her, he pushed a crumpled ten dollar bill into her palms. She looked curiously up at him. "That's why I'm not bringing you in there. Did you really think I wouldn't have thought of this before? Melanie Keefe is probably the most recognized child in the United States, after her siblings and the presidents' children. If she's spotted with a man nobody knows and a woman reported missing--"

"It's four in the morning, Jack," Lisa rolled her eyes. "Nobody who likes me is up yet. Because they're sane."

He ignored her. "Doing that would be suicidal for me, and in consequence, for you."

"So you're finally thinking about somebody other than yourself. I'm touched."

Jackson clutched her chin, his fingernails cutting harshly into her skin. Lisa attempted to stumble away, but his grip was unrelenting. "Let me--"

"I'm staying here with Melanie, Lisa. I will be watching you. If you do anything-"

"You'll kill Melanie, Tanya, and me," Lisa offered callously. "Have you ever thought of investing in a thesaurus?"

Jackson pushed her away, and Lisa quickly scraped the money back up from the ground where it had fallen in the latest scuffle. She waggled her fingers churlishly at him before hurrying into the store.

Jackson scrubbed the fuzz that was beginning to sprout up on his chin as he absently twiddled with the dials on the radio. This was becoming way too commonplace an activity for him, and he detested the recurring de ja vu. Sighing, he settled on NPR. Not necessarily the smooth jazz he favored, but it was a hell of a lot better than the pointless wailing of the metal station. These small towns and their bad reception was absolutely killing him.

The creature in the backseat suddenly made a noise, scaring Jackson out of his wits. Petulant hotel managers, angry mobsters, ruthless dictators he could deal with, but three-year-old Barbie fans? Not so much. He was positive that if Lisa wore Pull-Ups and sported pigtails he'd be quaking in her presence, as well.

It didn't help that she kind of smelled, as well. He'd spirited her away from her family only about six hours ago, and granted he hadn't taken her to a restroom during that time, but what was up with the recent stench? Shouldn't she be trained enough to know when she needed to go? Weren't three-year-olds typically out of diapers by that age?

Jackson peered back at her, and jumped out of his skin when he saw her staring right back at him. Her thumb was still crammed hungrily inside of her mouth, and she was slurping nervously, her eyes wide in fear. She reminded him of a squirrel. What a repulsive creature. "Lisa is getting you food."

He was hoping his primal answer would be enough to quell her curiosity, but it only proved to pique it as her eyes continued to dilate. Oh, shit. "Where's my daddy?"

Jackson bit his lip as her face began to crumple. "With your mommy." Brilliant answer, Jack. Do you really think she'll be satisfied with your sarcasm? She's three. She apparently doesn't even know how to use a toilet yet.

Melanie's mouth fell open and she began to wail, in a way that Jackson could only think of to describe as like a banshee. Without hesitation, he reached out to console her. With a heightened scream, she drew back further into the seat. He wondered if she was breathing at all as her face turned beet red and tears coursed down her face. "Stop crying!"

Melanie rocked back and forth as she screeched in anguish for her parents. "Stop crying…please!"

He racked his brain for ideas of what to do, his fingers getting shakier by the minute. It wasn't just that he was nervous that somebody could detect them—the parking lot was totally deserted—it was merely that she was scaring the living daylights out of him.

Should he threaten her? Jackson reached for his knife, before realizing that, as a three-year-old, it was highly unlikely that Melanie would grasp the seriousness of the situation. He began to panic as he stretched out his hand and reached for her hair, a gesture that was meant to be comforting. She snapped at him and Jackson drew away, staring at his hand. She fucking bit me?

He ignored the small droplets of blood—yes, the brat had drawn blood—and with another look at the spawn of Satan, realized what he had to do. Without further hesitation, he threw open his door and, making sure to securely lock the doors behind him, sprinted inside to the service station.