It was close to the seven hour mark when Dana regained consciousness. Christian had taken it upon himself to check in on her precisely every hour, refilling the glass beside the bed with cold water incase she woke up without him knowing. Apart from her clothing, no dried blood was on her skin. He saw to that. When he entered the room once again, as quiet as a mouse, he paused in the doorway as their eyes met. Dana sat upright against the headboard of the bed, hair wild and the skin under her eyes puffy.
Christian moved to place the pitcher of chilled water on the bedside table before taking up a position at the very end of the bed. This way they were eye level, a way to - hopefully - make her feel more at ease. "Did you have a reaction to something?"
"What?" Her voice was hoarse and she coughed into her hand in an attempt to clear away the sleepiness.
"Your eyes," he pointed out.
Dana touched the skin under her eyes, the movement making Christian pay closer attention, noticing the wetness there. Tears. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine."
His eyes roamed her body, making sure there was nothing else he missed. Something caught his attention, stuck in one of the wild tendrils of her hair, and he shifted forward, his larger body and longer arms making it easy to reach towards her hair. Dana flinched slightly, and although his eyes were focused on the small piece of fluff atop her head, he noticed how uncomfortable she was. He had gotten too close to her on the bed, their bodies a mere half meter apart. But the small white dot in her hair was enough of an annoyance to him that Christian continued to reach for it anyway. He untangled it from her hair, leaning back to show her what he was doing, placing it on the bedside table a moment later.
"Once you're feeling better," - gaze fixated on the condensation creating small droplets on the pitcher - ,"Braxton wants to apologies for scaring you earlier. I'll also order you something to eat."
"Why would he apologies to me? I'm the one that shot him," she exclaimed, her tone cracking towards the end.
Emotion swirled in her voice, only Christian wasn't sure how to address it. So he went with, "You're not trained. He knows this. Braxton doesn't hold a grudge against you."
Her head fell into her hands as she grumbled, "This is insane, Christian."
"What-."
"I'd never even held a gun before!" Now she was staring at him with wide eyes - a deer caught in the headlights - and he was quick to advert his attention back to the pitcher of water, counting the droplets of water. "I can't stay here."
"You can't leave," he said softly in an attempt to keep her calm. Christian knew that that was the last thing she wanted to hear, that she didn't understand the level of danger she was in, but explaining it was futile. Dana was a stubborn person. He realised that now.
To his surprise, Dana lent forward to grip his hand in hers, lifting it from where it had been resting on his thigh. The skin on his hand tingled, and his chest was suddenly painful. It was a strange reaction. Her hands - though considerably smaller - gripped his tightly, the skin of her fingers turning white with the effort. After a few more seconds, he glanced up to meet her eyes. Tears flowed silently from her eyes, shock and confusion ran through him at the sight. However, on the outside, he remained silent and still, unsure of how he was supposed to react.
Braxton burst through the door, taking three steps before the scene laid out in front of him caught his attention. He raised his eyebrows and slowly backed up until he was standing in the doorway. Christian's chest hurt even more when Dana dropped his hand, sitting back against the headboard, wiping at the liquid on her cheeks. He was surprised to feel a sudden burst of anger towards his older brother, not knowing what had brought it on.
Giving the wide open door a little knock, Braxton said, "I didn't meant to intrude on you two. Christian, we have word on the location of someone who may know who is behind all of this."
"Good."
Dana asked, "You've tracked someone down?"
"A friend. Someone who owes Christian a favour," Braxton explained.
Now her attention was on Christian, the frightened, sad girl from moments before all but gone. It seemed her emotions changes too quickly for him to keep up with. "So now we can talk to this person, find out who wants me dead, and then..."
"Kill them," Christian finished for her. There was no hesitation, remorse or guilt in his tone - it needed to be done. It was them or Dana, a decision that was easy to make. "And there is no "we". You're staying here."
"What? No!"
Ignoring her, Christian stood up to face his brother. "Send me the details, Brax. I'll need you to stay here and watch Dana."
"Excuse me?" Her voice was a few decibels sort of a scream. Dana threw the blanket aside and was on her feet in seconds, staring up at Christian with such an intense anger that he shifted his focus, instead looking slightly above her head. "You're basically imprisoning me! This is ridiculous, crazy and immoral. I'm leaving."
"Dana, please, just stay here. Braxton will take care of you if anything happens," he tried to explain.
Not listening to what he was saying, she made to move around Christian's towering body. Sub-consciously, his hand snaked out to grab her wrist, yanking her back to where she had been standing. It was a quick, trained movement, but he had made sure to keep his hold on her wrist light. Dana, however, lost balance at the sudden pull, tripping over her own feet, toppling onto the bed.
"Uh, Christian..." Braxton's murmured.
His brother was pointing towards the bed - to Dana - when Christian turned to where he was standing. It wasn't hard to understand what Braxton was referring too when they both heard a low sob. Dana had rolled over and sat up, though she kept a tight hold of her left arm against her chest. Her shoulders shook slightly as soft sobs rolled through the now quiet room. Uneasy at the sound of her crying, Christian instead drowned out the sound by focusing on the arm she was cradling to her chest, stepping closer to see better.
He came up short when Dana flinched away, only it wasn't like before, when he had been reaching for the fluff in her hair. No, even he knew the difference. Years of experience in killing people meant he had seen this reaction time and time again. Dana was scared - of him. Christian realised then that perhaps he hadn't been as gentle as he thought when he had grabbed her arm. The very idea of potentially hurting her brought a wave of panic crashing over him, his brain scattering in every which direction as he tried to figure out what to do next. It was all too much. He needed to find something to focus on - anything.
Turning to his brother, he repeated, "Send me those details."
Braxton moved to the side so Christian could pass. "Okay. Sure."
"Take care of Dana. Order her something to eat." He paused to strap the gun holster over his shoulders before throwing on a jacket. For the past few days she had been ordering from the hotels room delivery menu, and he had taken an interest in remembering what she ordered most or least. "She likes pancakes, not with butter, just syrup."
"Right. Look, bro, I think you should be the one to stay while I-."
"No. I need to clear my head, do something. Besides, I think you'll be able to help her a lot more than I can right now," he admitted.
Christian knew his brother would understand what he was trying to convey. They were both acutely aware of his inability to comprehend complex emotions, especially when it comes to someone as emotional as Dana was right now. She didn't need him, and from the way she reacted just before, it was most likely she resented him. The injury he had caused her was an obvious accident, though he wasn't inept in apologies, so it was easier to distance himself until she had calmed down. Braxton - someone able to read and understand others feelings - would make her feel more comfortable. The knowledge that he was unable to comfort her was an excruciating thing to admit, however Christian knew no other way to act. Being around Dana for a few days had caused more confusion and emotions to swell inside of Christian than ever before.
He left the hotel within the hour, appearing very much like any other city goer out on the town, hanging with friends for drinks, dinner, or entertainment. Only Christian was alone, weaving through the crowds as he followed the directions Braxton had sent to his phone. The address was for an informant who owed Christian a favour from three years prior - and he intended on collecting.
It was well into the night when Christian made it to the house listed on the address; a two story suburban home with no notable features. It was the same as every other house on the street, as if someone hit copy and paste. A figure loomed on the front porch, the silhouette framed by the soft light streaming from one of the windows. With his hand inching towards the gun strapped under his jacket, Christian moved up the pathway, stopping only when the person took a step.
The man bounced down the steps, pausing with a good two meters still between himself and Christian. "It's good to see you again, Adam."
Oh, right. Christian had forgotten that, during the time he was helping this man, he had been known by a different alias. "I trust you are doing well."
"Yes. I am." The man - Mark, he suddenly recalled - ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "Look, I am only helping you out because of what you did for me all those years ago."
Three years ago, at a car dealership in Miami, Christian had been investigating internal laundering between the stock holders, trying to pin point who was the culprit. Mark had small shares within the company and, under further investigation, it was determined that he was being framed. Everything pointed towards him; accounts falsely made in his name, off shore expenditures, even some assets bought in his name before being sold to private buyers. It was all very suspicious, though, since Mark didn't have enough backing within the company to pull off such a feat. He was looking at a life prison sentence.
It was all too easy for Christian to find the true culprit behind the escape goat, a large stake holder from Japan, someone no-one bothered to suspect due to the distance. Once the true launderer was discovered, the company gave Mark more shares as an apology, making him an official stake holder, improving his life tremendously. That's why he was able to afford to live in such a lavish neighbourhood, with their big houses and even bigger yards.
It also meant he owed Christian a favour.
"What do you know?" Christian asked directly.
Mark shook his head. "Not much, but I wanted to help. When someone reached out to me about whether I had heard your name circulating anywhere recently, I wanted to tell you what little information I do know."
"My name?" Adam was obviously the only name he knew him by, so it must be new information if that alias was being brought back to life. "Where did you hear my name, and from who?"
"A few months ago at a summit meeting in Dubai. I was there for a company conference and to mingle, you know, increase my chances at more company shares. A group of men I was with mentioned your name - Adam Sufield - and they didn't sound like friends of yours. But I only heard a little of their conversation. Not enough to know why they were even talking about you."
Christian was listening intently, committing every word to memory. "Where did these men work?"
"Let me think," he said, staring at the pathway intently for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, "Kurai Corporation! Or Kurai Company... I can't remember. It's a large entertainment company in-."
"Japan."
"Yes."
Nodding thoughtfully, not making eye contact, all he said was, "Thank you. Goodnight."
Mark followed as Christian briskly walked down the path and back onto the dark, empty street. "Don't tell anyone I helped you! I can't risk my family, Adam!"
Christian didn't turn back to answer. In no time at all, he had pieced together this new information with what he already knew, coming to the only conclusion: the same man he had incriminated three years ago, who owned the largest stocks in the company Mark worked for, was looking for revenge. The dots aligned perfectly. He was pissed off because of the shares he lost, resulting in billions of dollars worth of investments up in smokes, overall damaging his own company and reputation. Now, three years later, he was back with a plan to take Christian down, and Dana was the key.
Sorry for the late update everyone. Work is kinda hectic and I am hoping - praying - for the end of the world. Or the universe. Either one sounds good to me. Hope you enjoyed reading so far. xoxo