THE DEEPENING WELL
Donovan hadn't intended on falling asleep. The last thing he wanted to do was sleep in the same bed as Pax. However, he couldn't move. We must put a stop to this. We cannot keep this up. He hissed in pain as he sat up. Shit. What the hell had she done to him? He felt as if he had gotten into a battle with some hellish wild cat. There were dozens of scratches all over him, the most prevalent on his neck. Had she tried to choke him? Did he remember? Damn it. It was the vodka, the fucking vodka. Yeah, right. Stop blaming everything and everyone but yourself. He stretched [or tried to, anyway], but he couldn't. He was injured, physically and mentally. His eyes caught sight of something in the small wastebasket by the bed. He shook his head again. Dear God. It was a used condom, it was disgusting of course, but damn it was not something he wanted to see the first thing in the morning. It was yet one more reminder of his continuing stupidity. Thinking through the clogs in his brain, he recalled that Pax insisted he use a condom. I'm fixed, but you're still gonna wear this, she had said. You ain't coming inside me again, bub. That was gross and messy. He had gazed at her incredulously. She was completely and totally cracked; he had no doubts whatsoever. Again, she wanted to push his buttons, and by God, he allowed her to do it. He tore open the package with his teeth and sheathed himself inside. A moment later, he rammed into her, his lips nearly against her ear. You have what you want. Satisfied now, he had asked pointedly. Not quite yet, Spankie. Gimme a minute.
He ran his hands over his face as he brought his body shakily to his feet. The next thing that disturbed him was the fact that he couldn't see his damn clothes anywhere in the room. What the hell? Where had he put them? He could have sworn he had left them scattered about in the room. He knew they had survived after being taken off, unlike the other shirt. Yet, they were nowhere to be found in the room. Naked, he wandered into the living room. Still nothing…not even his fucking shoes. What had she done to his clothes? He darted back into the bedroom, noticing for the first time that Pax was not in bed. Had he been that oblivious? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where were his fucking clothes? As he entered the bathroom, he yelled out an indignant goddamn her fucking soul. She had draped his clothing over the shower curtain rod and soaked them. Oh yes. He would kill her now. He would choke her until her eyes and tongue lolled out. He began limbering up his fingers at the thought. She was still playing her godawful fucking games. What purpose did she have? That bitch. That stinking sneaky bitch.
* * *
Pax walked away from her meeting with Weizmulder a little upset. She was to do the job tonight. She would only have one chance to end the game. If she didn't, her life would end, no questions asked. Tonight the former wife of Frank Donovan was slated to die. Before meeting her lead op, she had gone down to check out Ellis. She followed the same routine as she had the day before. Perfect. There were no vacant apartments across from Ellis' place, but Pax had noticed an abandoned building. Perhaps it would do. She had no problem climbing or finding the nearest fire escape. She would do anything to finish the job and get going. She wanted a major head start. Once Frankie heard his ex-wife was dead, he would immediately come looking for her, because she would conveniently be gone, just like before. She checked her wristwatch and realized that Frankie should be out of bed by now. Despite the ugly job about to unfold before her, she did find a moment to giggle. She wondered what ol' Frankie would do when he found his clothes. Knowing him, he'd put them on anyway and come after her. She had had to do something to distract Frankie long enough for her to meet Weizmulder. However, it wasn't the only reason she had played such a juvenile trick on Spankie. It was just in her to be a bitch. She couldn't help it. It was bred into her, and couldn't be forced out no matter how hard she tried. Pax drove her body forward. She had a lot to do before nightfall.
She slid her card key into the slot and opened the door. Oh my God. Frankie was seated on the fancy, overstuffed sofa with his arm draped casually over the back of it. He drummed his fingers impatiently. He sat with his legs crossed, looking every bit the professional that he was, but he had not one stitch of clothing on his body. Oh dear God. She didn't know whether to salivate, laugh, or cry. He was so pissed off at her, and she was surprised when he didn't come flying toward her. He sat back casually as if he were waiting for a meeting to begin. She didn't know whether to stay put or run. Cautiously, not quite taking her eyes off him, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. She stood against the door with her arms crossed before her chest. Oh dear Lord. She had to bite down hard on her lip to prevent the guffaws from bursting forth.
"So how did you do it," he asked coldly. "Did you carry them into the shower with you?"
That did it. She couldn't keep the laughter at bay. She doubled over with the force of her giggles. Oh shit. Oh damn. He looked so…odd sitting there. She laughed so hard that she thought she might fall over and die. Donovan did nothing at first. He sat back and continued to glare at her, to drum his fingers. Without warning, he sprung suddenly to life. She didn't know he was coming toward her until he had grabbed her. Her laughs turned into indignant curses as he lifted her body over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom. She fought back at him crazily, but it didn't break his grip. When she saw what he was about to do, she began begging him [laughing the entire time] to let her go. No way. He had no intention of doing that at all. He tossed her fully clothed body into a tub of ice-cold water, soaking them both in the process.
* * *
The team sat around the conference table impatiently awaiting the boss. He had never been this late before. They also noticed that the dreadful CIA op had yet to show her face, either. Hmmmm. Did that mean anything? Was there a connection? Surely not. He acted as if he hated her. In almost perfect unison, they watched as Donovan entered the room. All of them wanted to know what he had been up to, but none of them were brave enough to ask. It appeared as if he wasn't in a good mood.
Donovan ignored the questioning looks from the team and moved toward the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup and sipped at it tentatively. Before leaving the hotel, he told Pax not to come to the nest for at least two hours after he arrived. He had no intention of piquing their curiosity. He didn't want them to know anything that had been going on between him and Pax. However, for the life of him, he couldn't understand why. It wasn't as if he were cheating, now was it? No. He wasn't cheating. Yet, why did he feel such tremendous, eating guilt? Why did he literally kick himself each time he looked in the mirror? It had to stop. It had to stop right now. He couldn't continue to do this to either of them. Goddamn. By the end of the week, he was shipping Pax's ass right the fuck out of here.
As he expected, Pax didn't listen to his instructions. She sauntered into the nest exactly ten minutes after he arrived. Despite the circumstances, she had changed and put herself back together quickly. Today, she had reverted to her 'matronly' style of dress and she appeared halfway respectable. Donovan moved away from the coffee maker as she approached. He had no intention of standing next to her. He was afraid he'd bonk her on top of the head with his mug. Pax smiled a little, knowing that her presence unnerved him greatly, and took a sip. She grimaced a little. Goddamn. It was obvious that he hadn't made the coffee this morning. It tasted like recycled donkey piss. Shit. She drank it anyway. She needed the caffeine, the alertness it brought. Tonight hell on earth would arrive, and sleeping on the job wouldn't do at all. Nope, nope, nope. She turned toward the conference table and noticed that everyone was waiting impatiently for her to join them. Frankie was the only one who wasn't looking at her. His guilt was obvious. The first time he had fucked her could easily be explained away, but not the second. The second time said it all. There were no excuses. Of course, she knew nothing would come from their trysts, but he was still eaten alive by overwhelming guilt. God. She wanted so desperately to tweak his nose. If she hadn't had an audience, she would have done it or died.
With a flourish, she approached the conference table and took a seat between Cody and Jake. Cody seemingly shrank away from her as if he were afraid she'd bite. Well, I have been known to bite. Take a look at Spankie's shoulder, and you might see some evidence. Anyway…she crossed her legs and sipped at her coffee as if she were attending some lavish tea party. "Tomorrow night, we make our move. The rogues will be in position at the federal building downtown. The targets are meeting there for some type of political powwow. I'm a bit murky on the details. Anyway, there are two guys, and four hitters. They do that to distract law enforcement, no one knows whose bullet killed whom. Very popular move among those who take out politicians." Of course, her words were bullshit. She had no intention of being there by tomorrow. Once she had cleaned Ellis, she was bound for D.C., and then parts unknown. "I can't be seen with your team."
It was the only phrase that brought Donovan around. He set his coffee cup down with a hollow bang. "What do you mean, Pax? You can't be seen with us? Why not? Doesn't your lead op know you're here, working with us?" He leaned toward her, suddenly not giving a tin shit if there were witnesses sitting around. "Is this part of your game? Are you conveniently putting yourself somewhere else?" He was staring at her intensely, boring his eyes into her. "You will be there, Pax, even if I have to pick you up and carry you there."
She leaned toward him, matching his stony glare. "Frankie, you are one paranoid fucker. If a rogue spots me, bang, I'm dead. Do you want me dead, Spankie? Do you want your fuck buddy murdered in cold blood?"
"Fuck buddy," Cody spat, unable to keep silent.
Donovan shot him a loathsome look before his eyes returned to their intended target. He was closer than ever to killing her. He felt the weight of his gun resting against the side of his hip. It was right there, just mere inches away. Three seconds and the game would end for all eternity. "Your behavior is inappropriate, Jonella. For that, you will not be in the field at all. You will stay under the watchful eye of Cody and Monica. Do you understand? You will be there, but you will be watched and watched carefully. Once this job is done, I will personally see to it that you get on the earliest flight possible. You have done nothing more than waste our time." He had given her this speech before, but he wasn't certain that she had been listening. What was her purpose in humiliating him like this? "If you don't comply, it ends here. Today. Make your choice, right here, right now."
Casually, she sat back in her chair and took another sip of the bitter coffee. "I'll do whatever you want, whatever you command, just like I do in bed," she spat.
He clenched and unclenched his fist. She did this on purpose, he realized. She didn't like for anyone but her to have the upper hand in anything. He couldn't let her get to him, because it was exactly what she wanted. She had done this from day one, and this was the last time he'd be played by her hands. "I repeat, your behavior is inappropriate, and I won't tolerate it. This is the last time we meet with you. You return tomorrow night. If you do not, I will hunt your ass down and drag you here if I have to. Is that clear?" She didn't immediately answer. "Is it clear," he spat through clenched teeth.
"Oh yeah," she said, nearly shaking. It was all clear. It didn't matter what he said or did. After tonight, it was over anyway. When he came after her, there would be no one there to snag. "Come find me whenever you need me. You know where I'm staying."
* * *
Later that afternoon, Donovan was holed up in his office again. The team was downstairs working out the details of their assignments for the following night. After Pax left, he had immediately dismissed himself. He needed time to collect himself. He needed something solid and real. He realized that by the beginning of next week, he would have Stasia with him for a while, but he needed to see her now. He picked up the phone and made the call.
* * *
Remy hadn't wanted Donovan to come over. The threats from the phone calls were still fresh in her memory, and she was utterly terrified. However, once she heard his voice, she couldn't deny him. Thankfully enough, Renata had made herself scarce. When Donovan was around, Renata tried playing the nosy busybody. She didn't understand the circumstances, didn't realize what would have happened to Donovan if she had remained married to him. When he arrived, promptly as usual, Remy allowed him inside the apartment. She closed the door behind her quickly as if thinking that someone was watching her. Stasia was playing contentedly in the middle of the room until she saw her father. She squealed excitedly and ran toward him on her sturdy, toddler legs. He leaned down to scoop her up in his arms, and when he straightened his body, Remy saw three long scratches along his neck. They appeared to have been made by fingernails. Okay, she thought, he has someone else. Of course he does, you dolt. Look at him. How long did you think he would be single? Did you expect him to pine over you for the rest of his life? Divorce meant moving on, finding new lives, and new lovers. He had apparently done all three.
Donovan felt Remy's eyes on him, and he met her gaze. It seemed as if she had been staring at his neck. He nearly drew his hand up to try and find what caught her attention, but he resisted. She was staring at the scratches that Pax had made. Oh God, she noticed. She saw them. Of course, she saw them. How could she not see them? They stood out like accusatory fingers. Then again, that was exactly what they were. Although they were no longer married, he still felt as if he had been cheating on her, betraying her. He grew nine shades of red before turning pale. She had known him long enough to decipher his feelings, and she immediately felt the need to say something.
"You don't have to act so guilty, Frank," she said softly. "It's okay. You don't owe me anything, even fidelity."
The look in her beautiful eyes nearly killed him. He was tempted to put his daughter down, go outside, dig a hole, and bury himself in it completely. His heart ached so very furiously, and for a moment, he felt as if he might pass out dead on the floor. He wasn't stupid. He knew it bothered her, despite the fact that she wanted the divorce. He felt low, lower than low, he felt like some tiny scum-sucking amoeba. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her. Fine way you have of showing that love, eh? He nearly started the whole schpeel about her not meaning anything to him, but he couldn't. It sounded false and hypocritical. Remy wasn't the only person hurting in this. He felt immense pain, and even though Pax was a cold bitch sometimes, he was sure she did as well. It was a bad situation that had gotten horribly worse.
"It's…it's not what you think," he stammered. Goddamn. That was worse than the 'she means nothing to me' speech.
She held up her hands. "Really, Frank, it's okay. You don't have to explain. More power to you and her." She wanted to turn away, but he would immediately know that she was devastated. Of course, she was, but she didn't want him to see it. In the back of her mind, she had been certain they would eventually reconcile. Apparently, reconciliation was out of the question. If she could have talked to him, perhaps the whole thing would have turned out differently.
"Remy, I-"
"Frank, please," she insisted. "It's okay. I just don't want to talk to about it." She moved toward the bedroom and looked at him over her shoulder. "Stay with her as long as you want, I have a few things to keep me busy." She disappeared into the bedroom.
Feeling like the heel that he was, he turned away and sat down with his daughter. He glanced back at the door for a moment. I'm sorry I hurt you. I wish I could take it back.
Of course, Remy didn't have anything to do. She simply didn't want to be near Donovan, to see the evidence of another woman in his life. She had no right to feel so jealous and betrayed. After all, she had bellyached until he gave her a divorce, but he didn't understand. He didn't know what she knew. She shook her head and cried silent tears. Dear God. What had she done? What could she do about it now?
* * *
The night sky was pitch black. There was little wind blowing, making it a perfect night for a hit. Earlier that day, Pax had found a fire escape on an abandoned building near Ellis' apartment. She would have to shoot at a weird angle, but she had done that before. It shouldn't create any problems at all. She had donned form fitting jet-black clothing and had tucked all her wild hair beneath a tight cap. She wanted to appear as nondescript as possible. With the black sky and no streetlights, she had found the perfect platform in which to carry out her duty. She stood in the chilly night gazing steadily into the window above her. Across the street, the light suddenly popped on. She put her binoculars up and gasped audibly [bad, bad move] when she saw Frankie entering the room with the woman. What the fuck was he doing there? You idiot, he has a child with her. He's there to see his fucking kid, you moron. Get away, Frankie. Get back. Don't linger, because I won't fucking hesitate to shoot her while you're standing next to her. She waited and watched. She saw Frankie turn before handing the kid to the woman. That's right, you bastard, leave. He lingered a few seconds more before turning away. Holding her breath, she waited. She didn't want to burst forth just yet. Frankie might still be within earshot. He walked with long purposeful strides, and it wouldn't take much time for him to totally exit the building. It wasn't that large.
Pax watched as Ellis began to pace the length of her room with the baby in her arms. Put the baby down, princess. Put the kid down so I can put a bullet in your brain. Her breathing began to steady considerably. Yes. The feeling was taking hold of her now. It wouldn't take long for her to react and take the shot. Do this last job, and it's over for you. Go ahead, train the gun. Train it right on her. She watched as Ellis placed the child into her bed. Perfect. Carefully, slowly, Pax put down her binoculars and brought up her gun. She aimed through the use of the telescopic sight. Her breathing had steadied even more. If she were to have had her blood pressure checked, it would have been very low. It always happened that way. Pax watched as Ellis came right up to the window. This is too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. The sight on her super powered rifle rested right between her eyes. When it came time to squeeze the trigger, the speeding bullet would enter her brain and put out her lights forever. Her only regret was the thought of the kid baring witness. Baby Donovan needed to become accustomed to violence; it was a way of life for her dad. Her finger rested lightly against the trigger as she went into a near catatonic state. She supposed it was how AOP's coped with the job. Pull the trigger. End it. End it once and for all. For the first time in her life as an assassin, Jonella Paxton hesitated. The rifle fell out of her hands and hit the rusted metal below with a loud clanking sound. This wasn't right. She…she couldn't…couldn't do it. Oh shit. Her split second decision meant one thing and one thing only. Jonella Paxton would need a cleaning.