The room became so quiet. You could hear the gentle breeze blowing through the open slats of the walls. It carried the faint scent of wildflowers. At another time, it might even be soothing. "Please. Do you think we could just talk to each other for once without the threats or the anger?"
"That's better," he said. Without preamble, he stood, pulling Lisa up by the cuff which he still held in his hand.
"Ow, wait, not so fast." She came to her feet unsteadily. "Would you mind letting go?" she huffed.
He just smirked back at her. "We need to have that chat first. Set some ground rules, now that you're off the leash... so to speak."
"You are a serious control freak, aren't you? I know what you're going to say already. Try to escape, you die. Try to alert anyone, you die. Try to bash you in the head, you... I get all that. What I don't get is the real reason that I'm still alive. I know you weren't kidding back there when you talked about it being easier for you to just..." she swallowed hard, "Cut me loose. But you didn't."
Jackson studied her face, "I told you why I..."
"You lied! Oh, sorry, you evaded the truth. I get that you're beyond angry with me but hauling me around so you can torture me to death later really doesn't make much sense now does it. You're risking your own life by keeping me alive. Of course, you could just be flat out bug shit crazy but I don't really get that vibe from you."
There was that little smile again. Like she'd said something that amused him, it was becoming disconcerting. She felt like she was missing something obvious. "What? Seriously, what!"
Jackson pulled her forward by the cuff until there were scant few inches between them. It was just another tactic to make her uncomfortable and keep her off balance. Well, screw him. She wasn't about to back down now. Lisa stood her ground, looking directly into his haunting eyes. "Well?"
His eyes searched her face but what he was looking for she couldn't say. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and offered, "You'd think the fact that you're still alive would be enough but not for you. You are one ballsy young woman."
Lisa frowned, "Uh, thanks? But you still haven't answered my question. Why am I still alive?"
Jackson broke eye contact. That was interesting. He looked down at their hands, his, now wrapped tight around her wrist. The open cuff dangled between them. She watched him carefully, trying to read the nearly blank expression on his face. Damn, his super ninja assassin training! She needed to know where she really stood. Was there a chance, even a slim one, that she could make it out of this alive?
His gaze still elsewhere, he started to say... something, but the sound of wheels on gravel broke whatever odd moment of honesty they seemed to be headed towards. Lisa was almost annoyed by the interruption but then reality set-in and she tensed for action.
Jackson grabbed her and spun her around, his hand coming across her mouth. "Don't," he hissed, "Just don't." "I know what you're thinking, but think again. You don't know who that is out there. You think it's your salvation? It could, as easily, be your death. Think it through."
He was right. She didn't like it but he was right. She could fight and scream, risking his angry reaction, only to find herself running into a bullet. She nodded once.
"Be sure about this, Leese. This is about to get serious. Don't make me have to do something I don't want to do." He pulled the revolver from his waistband.
She stared at him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he giving her an out or offering it to the potential innocent that was headed their way? Her eyes went to the gun in his hand. Someone could well be dead in a few minutes. "I understand."
"Come with me." He took her by the hand and pulled over to the open slatted section of the wall. He pressed her back against the roughhewed boards. "Stay quiet and follow my lead." He scowled at her, "Don't make me regret this."
If she hadn't known any better she might think that he was offering his trust but she did know better. Someone like Jackson wasn't capable of such a thing. Unbidden, she wondered what would happen if she accepted, just let him lead them out of this mess. Yeah, right. Trust the assassin that blew up a building and tried to kill her... and her father. She pressed her lips into a thin line. She'd think it through, all right.
An old blue pick-up truck was bouncing down the road towards them. She couldn't see well enough to tell who was in the cab but she found herself praying that it was a bad guy. She couldn't, she wouldn't, be able to just stand by if someone was about to get shot. No matter what she had just told Jackson. She owed him less than nothing and she certainly wasn't above lying.
The vehicle rolled to a stop just outside the old shed. Jackson was in complete professional mode. Lisa could practically feel the coiled danger pouring off him. She risked a glance around him and saw an older man pulling something from behind the seat of the truck. He didn't look particularly threatening but then again she, apparently, wasn't the best judge of character.
Jackson raised the revolver and pulled back the hammer. Lisa gasped softly. What should she do? She didn't even know if that was a good guy or bad guy. If she interfered and was wrong it could get them both killed.
"Relax, Leese," he glanced back at her. "Assess your options carefully. If you let your emotions take over, you lose control of the situation. I was reminded of that lesson recently. The hard way." He gave her a wan smile.
She wanted to retort but the sound of a truck door stalled her quip.
The older man had pulled a tool box from the truck and was headed towards the same door they had stumbled through the day before. "Jackson, please. He's not part of this, you can see that. Don't kill him."
"We don't know anything. Look closely. How do you know what's in that box," he whispered.
Her eyes locked on the toolbox. It was easily big enough for a weapon. But he would have to get it open first. How would he do that if Jackson was in the shed? Seemed awfully risky. The man walked slowly towards the door, his face tilted up towards the sky as if soaking up the sun. He didn't seem on alert. He wasn't looking around at his environment. His walk was relaxed and unconcerned.
She shook her head. "It would be stupid to put your weapon in a latched box and then walk into a building where you might need it. Besides, he doesn't walk like a killer."
Jackson stifled a chuckle, "Is that your professional opinion?" He grabbed her by the arm before she could respond and pulled her towards the door. Positioning himself to her side, he pressed the revolver lightly at her back. "You're right, by the way. Not for the reasons you think, but still, a fair assessment. Just remember what I said."
She nodded, her throat had gone dry. Her nerves were getting the better of her and she knew why. Jackson would shoot the man as he came through the doorway. She knew it. "Please, don't," she whispered. "I know what you're going to do and I'm asking you not to. Find another way."
He cocked his head, looking at her oddly. Something shifted in his eyes and he pulled her to the side, behind stack of baled hay. He held his finger to his lips and she nodded her understanding. He turned slightly, keeping both the man and her in sight. The revolver was cocked and held steady in his hand. She was a fool. Why would he show any compassion? What was there to gain?
The man strolled into the shed without hesitation. If he was an assassin, he was a careless one and he was now nearly a dead one. He sat the toolbox on the nearest bale of hay and pulled a pair of heavy leather gloves from his back pocket. Once slipped from his grasp and landed on his boot. He leaned over to reclaim it...