LOVE AND HATE COLLIDE
As Donovan shoved Pax's body along to his car, he wished a thousand times that he had brought handcuffs with him. He didn't trust this woman, would never trust her again. He couldn't believe the way she had told him about the hit. It seemed as if she expected him to simply take the news, feel happy about it, and thank her for telling him. Fuck that. He would never feel that way. Regardless of the divorce, despite the fact he had been fucking around with another woman, he still loved Remy; his heart lived with her always. He held onto Pax's arm tightly, knowing that if he didn't, she would run. Yet, she hadn't attempted to break away at all. She was completely resigned. Donovan had never seen her like this before. She actually kept her mouth closed during the ride over and while he handled her roughly to get her inside. Like some horrid cliché scene in an old gangster movie, he was tempted to take her for a little ride. He took her lead. He said nothing to her, he couldn't. Before, she had just annoyed the piss out of him, but now, he thoroughly and truly hated her.
As the two of them entered the nest, there was an additional person waiting along with the team. Remy. He stopped dead in his tracks and momentarily lost interest in Pax. She stood back with her arms crossed. Her eyes were fixed curiously on him and the woman he had dragged into the room. Although no one had said anything to that fact, she was certain this woman was the one he had been sleeping with. She didn't know how she knew this, but something about the way he was looking at her gave her that idea. The woman he was holding onto had also fixed her eyes on her. Remy saw something in them. Recognition? How could that be? How would she know her? Remy had never seen the woman in her life.
Donovan felt his face turning white from shock. He didn't understand why she was here, but he definitely needed to talk to her. He noticed that Remy was watching he and Pax carefully, cautiously, as if she knew that they had slept together [slept my ass]. He had no time for this confrontation, had no desire to have Pax anywhere near Remy, especially considering that Remy was slated to be cleaned. Without a word to either the team or his ex-wife, he shoved Pax along, directing her toward a vacant room in the back. He thought there was a set of handcuffs in that room, and he needed to subdue Pax before he could glance at Remy. Never releasing his hold on Pax's arm, he forced her along inside the room. There was an old desk inside that no one used. He thought there might be handcuffs in one of the drawers. Pulling her with him, he slid open each drawer and began the task of hunting for the cuffs. After a moment, he found them and snapped one of them on her left wrist. Taking hold of the other cuff, he dragged her back into the room. Five sets of eyes watched with great interest as Donovan pulled Pax with him. Without a lot of TLC, he shoved her down into a chair and snapped the other cuff to its arm. They were all awaiting an explanation, but he couldn't give it to them just yet. He needed a moment to get his shit together before he could proceed without actually committing cold-blooded murder.
After he finally turned away from Pax, he approached Remy and took her arm. Before he discussed the new mission with the team, he needed to talk to Remy about this crazy shit. He turned toward them and noted their expectant looks. Without casting a glance at Pax, he said, "Watch her like a hawk. If she tries to escape, shoot her. When I return in a few moments, I'll fill you in on why she's in cuffs." He then afforded Pax a glance. She was looking up at him with a mixture of sorrow, hatred, and anger. The emotions were painted clearly in her eyes. "Jonella, they have orders to shoot you, and none of them will have any trouble carrying it out. Don't fuck with my team." He didn't give her a chance to speak, and even if she did, he wouldn't have heard her anyway. He had blocked out everything around him. Quietly, he led Remy upstairs. Once inside his office with the door safely shut behind them, Donovan leaned against the edge of his desk. "We have to talk," he began.
Remy gazed at him and nodded. "Yes, we do. There's something I must tell you," she said, her voice urgent.
He shook his head. "Whatever it is has to wait, Remy. The woman out there, the one cuffed to the chair is a CIA assassin. She is what the agency calls a cleaner or a Death Angel. Her job is to find the targets her superiors send her after and take them out." He sighed and focused his eyes on the floor for a moment. This next bit of information would be the hardest to tell her. Wengrod was in her past and she had buried him years ago. He focused his eyes on her face again and saw that she was listening intently, as if she knew what he would say. "She cleaned Ed Lomax because of his rogue status and for what he did to the senator. According to what she said, you were the last element that had yet to be cleaned. You're her target. She almost ended your life last night, but couldn't go through with it."
She stared at him incredulously. What he told her was absolutely absurd. She had had nothing to do with Wengrod's misdeeds. Suddenly, she felt a little on the faint side. "I…I need to…to sit down," she said before falling into one of his visitor's chairs. "Shit, Frank," she spat, "I think I…I understand the phone calls now. Oh my God." Her speech was broken, jerky. She felt completely disconnected to the outside world. Would the nightmare of Anthony Wengrod ever go away? How long would she have to pay for that particular sin?
Donovan grabbed one of the visitor's chairs and dragged it around to face her. He leaned over and gazed up at her intensely. "Phone calls? What are you talking about? What phone calls?"
She shook her head at her incredible, incredible stupidity. If she had opened her mouth, none of this would have happened. Neither hers nor his life would be in danger. She then thought of her daughter. The woman downstairs had tried to murder her while her daughter was present. Dear God. Oh dear God. "They started not long before that weekend we spent together. It was a man, I don't know who, but he had a very gruff, very scary voice. At first, he didn't issue any threats at all. He simply poked at me, giving gentle reminders of what happened with the senator, and then later with us. The calls progressively worsened. I ignored them, thinking they were some cruel hoax perpetrated by Wengrod's wife. First and foremost Frank, our problems did begin because of my selfishness. I did have a problem with your job. But after being separated from you so long, I decided I could live with it, because I loved you so much. I don't call our daughter Frankie to annoy you; I call her that because it makes me think of you. When we had our weekend together, I fully intended to come back. After you left that Sunday, I received another phone call. This time, the man said if I didn't leave you, you would die. I couldn't stay, couldn't let…let you die. I understand the phone calls now. Whoever this person is, he was trying to clear the way for this woman to come after me."
Donovan was completely and totally flabbergasted. He had never expected to hear such a tale in his life. It was almost too bizarre to believe. "You divorced me instead of talking to me, telling me? You put our daughter and us through this hell when you could have easily come to me instead?"
For a moment, he was almost as angry at her as he was Pax. He never thought he could be that angry with anyone else, but he was. He stood up suddenly, needing to get away from her. He went to his desk to find something to shatter, but there was nothing. He spun around to face her again, and she had moved to the edge of her chair as if she were tempted to approach him. His expression was enough to help her decide to sit back. He was angry and hurt, completely perplexed by her confession. He shook his head as if he didn't understand a word. Actually, he didn't understand her motivation at all. She chose divorce over telling him about something that he could fix. Goddamn. All the bitterness, coldness, and hurt had been an act. She had actually convinced him that their crumbling marriage had been his fault, his career decision. She had acted her fucking role to the hilt. He couldn't scream at her, couldn't even look at or talk to her. Instead, he thought of someone else: Stasia.
"Is the baby with your sister," he asked. She was afraid to say a word. Instead, she nodded. Without hesitating, he went around to his desk and grabbed the phone. Thank God the phones had been equipped with anti-bug devices [Cody was a goddamn genius]. Impatiently, he stabbed out Renata's phone number and waited for her to answer. When her voice chirped brightly over the line, he didn't explain, converse, or chat her up. "It's Frank, Renata. Take Stasia to your parents. It's not safe for either of you there." A pause and then Donovan's weary sigh. "I don't have time to explain, and you don't have time to fuck around talking to your sister. Take my daughter and go. Don't make me tell you again." He slammed down the phone and fixed his eyes on his ex-wife. "You stay here. Don't move a muscle. Every fifteen minutes, I want you to call and check their progress. If they're still at Renata's apartment with an hour, you come for me, and I'll ensure they go, even if I have to take them myself."
Donovan didn't linger much longer with Remy. There was still too damn much to do, too damn much to prepare. Betrayal had hit him on two sides and he was literally reeling. However, he had no time to ponder the hurt or anger. He would shut them out and deal with it later. He left Remy behind and went downstairs to update the team. When he laid his eyes on Pax, he nearly growled at her. The crazy, brazen bitch sat with her legs crossed casually, as if she didn't have a care in the world. He was tempted to give her something to care about. She's playing you again, tweaking you. She's up to the same old shit. Don't fall for it again. His buttons were immune to her. She had provoked him for the last time. Before turning away from her, he fixed her with a cruelly smug grin. It was actually more of a sneer. If he had listened to his instincts earlier, the bitch would have been dead by now. However, that Frank Donovan had been buried years ago. He would not revert back to that man again; he refused to allow her to bring him back to that place. Not now. Not ever. He turned away from her, gathered up his crew, and led them all to the conference table.
Pax sat and stared at Frankie and his group. They were speaking in hushed tones, completely out of hearing range. Of course, they were doing this on purpose. No one fucking trusted her now, if they ever had. She couldn't blame them, but she didn't want to be fucking treated like a goddamn criminal. She understood Frankie's anger, understood his need to kill her. By God, she had wanted him to kill her. It was her only way out now. Surely by now, she was at the top of Weizmulder's cleaning list. It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered anymore. She had been given a test and she fucking failed it. She had lost her touch. The old Pax would have taken out the girl and then left without a care in the world. Lo and fucking behold, she was new and improved. Fucking yuck. Fucking goddamn yuck. She knew Frankie was afraid she'd try to leave, but she wouldn't. She actually wanted to help the fuck, even after what he did to her, what he said. If he'd take her out of her misery, she'd do anything he asked. Every now and then, Frankie would break away from his team to fix his eyes on her. There was still murder in his dark eyes and she begged him for it. Take me out. End it for me, end this. You can do it. Only you can do it, Frankie, you witless fuck.
After a short powwow, the group broke up and Frankie sent two of his agents away while the computer guy and the profiler remained. Jake and Alex began to gather up their shit to leave. Of course, both of them would have to walk past her. Alex only graced her with a glance and a curt nod. When Jake walked by, he literally eyed her as if he were appraising a particularly nice cut of meat.
Another witless fuck. She looked up at him and snarled, "Get away little man, get away." She watched as Jake looked her up and down, his face puckering with disgust. "Little man, disappear. Poof!"
After the two agents disappeared, she glanced over at Frankie and noticed he had yet to leave the conference table. He was clearly fucked up, but he was trying to hide it. It's no use, Frankie, she thought, trying to transmit her inner voice toward him. You can't hide your shit with me. If he would let her out of these fucking cuffs, she could lead them right to Weizmulder, and then Weiz would take her out. That was her plan; it was the only plan that wouldn't get fucked up. Frankie wouldn't blow her away no matter how much she wanted him to do it. Goddamn. She wished the fucker would let her out of the cuffs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As if reading her mind, Frankie finally pushed back from the table and came toward her. He had seated her in a rolling computer desk chair, and she didn't understand his motivation for doing that until he gripped its arm and began pulling it along behind him. She had to lift her legs to prevent them from dragging on the floor. When he first brought her here, she had been resigned and calm. Now, she had begun to get angry again. However, she didn't protest as he rolled her along to an empty spot beside the conference table. He didn't want to let Pax out of his sight. She was a sneaky bitch and had wrangled herself out of worse traps than this.
He checked his wristwatch impatiently, wondering if Renata had gotten safely out of town with the baby. He was tempted to check in on Remy, but he had no doubt that she would carry out his request. Request? That was a goddamn order. It was, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know what to do about this. A woman he loved, a woman he loved more than anything outside his daughter, had betrayed him. He could feel Pax's eyes on him, but he didn't have the energy to look at her. He didn't want her to speak, didn't want her to breathe, but if she wanted to talk, she fucking well would. He looked up as he heard his office door opening. He watched in horror as Remy began to slowly descend the stairs. What the hell was she doing? He didn't want her to come out here at all. Why is that, his inner demon asked. Do you not want her to face the woman you've been fucking behind her back? Is that it, Spankie? Oh the fun we will have right now. Wahoo!
Remy saw that Donovan's eyes were glued to her. She had done what he asked. She had made sure that Renata and the baby were gone. She had told herself that she wanted to come downstairs to give him the news. However, that was complete and utter bullshit. She wanted to see the woman, see the person who wanted to end her life. Yet, there was something else, some desire that was a bit…deeper. When she first saw the woman, she had had a feeling that she was the one who scratched up Donovan's neck. He hadn't said anything to that affect, hadn't even given it off in his eyes, but she knew. She had that inherent ability that most wives have when facing a husband's lover. He's your ex-husband, you dolt. You made sure of that, didn't you? She made it to the bottom step and progressed no further. Remy watched in amazement as the woman scooted herself around to see her fully. Their eyes locked for a very long moment. Oh yes. This was she. This was the woman who fucked her husband [ex-husband] and scratched him all to shit. He had actually fucked the woman sent to kill her. How could he be so damn self-righteous scolding her the way he did? Hello! You divorced him. Remember?
Pax wasn't a woman that was easily intimidated. This time was no exception. Somehow, some way, Frankie's ex knew that he had fucked her. It was all over her. She locked eyes with the ex-Mrs. Donovan and did not break it for one second. No half-assed wife of a witless fuck would dominate her. Fuck her. If it hadn't been for her, she wouldn't be alive right now. You should be kissing my spike-heeled boots, you bitch. Pax waited for the woman to approach her and take advantage of her vulnerable state [or what she would assume was her vulnerable state]. Actually, Pax still had an arm and two legs that would do nicely if she needed them. Don't worry, princess, I'm not trying to make him marry me or anything. He's at your beck and call.
Donovan sat back and watched the scene unfolding before him. He figured Remy would launch herself at Pax at any minute. He had no time for a scene, no time to break them apart. He felt horribly stuck in the middle of some wicked and twisted tug-of-war. He was not a pawn in their game of human chess. He felt guilty enough already, but there was little that could be done about it now. It didn't take a rocket scientist to ascertain that his ex-wife knew he had been screwing around with Pax. It was all over her. Goddamn. Why had this shit happened? If he could erase the last week of his life, he would do it in a second. Two women. Both had betrayed him in different ways. He had betrayed each of them.
"Remy," Donovan began, "would you please go back upstairs? You shouldn't be down here with her. Go back up until we decide what we need to do."
She nodded. "Fine," she said. "I came down to tell you that Renata left."
"Good," he said thoughtfully, distractedly. "Go back upstairs."
Once she had gone and had the office door closed behind her, he fixed his eyes on Pax. "Weizmulder won't move until dark?" She said nothing, only nodded. "Night moves," he said, continuing, "Not much has changed, has it?"
Pax was stunned when Frankie actually spoke to her in a civil tone. "No," she said. "Would you consider letting me help?"
He fixed her with a hard, incredulous gaze. "Do you think I'm naïve? You set out to fucking kill my ex-wife, and you want to help? Do you think I believe that shit? Do you? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, you fucking wind up in concrete boots."
"Goddamn it, Spankie. Fucking look at me. You took me down, had a goddamn gun on me. You dragged me here, I had a nice staring match with your princess, but I didn't run. I never tried. Believe me, if I wanted to get away from you, I fucking could. You have the goddamn scars on your body to prove it. Drop the annoying tired ass clichés and trust me. This time, trust me. Whatever the outcome of this, I'm fucking dead. So what the fuck does it matter? I didn't hit your princess. Isn't that fucking enough for you?"
"I don't trust you enough. The fact that you were targeting Remy killed it right there," he said stiffly.
"Don't you listen, you fucking turd? I didn't know she was connected to you. When I found out, I knew then I couldn't go through with it. I tried, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it because I didn't want to fucking destroy your goddamn life. I didn't want that to fall on my shoulders. I didn't want to have you hunting me down for the rest of my life. I didn't want to hurt your kid. I didn't know. I didn't do it."
"It doesn't matter," he spat. "Don't ask me again. We're dragging you along, you can count on that, but it won't be in any kind of helping capacity. As far as I'm concerned, I'm holding you until I can send your sorry hide back to the very fucks who created you."
"Go ahead, do it. Despite what you do, Frankie, I'm dead. You should have done it in the hotel room when you had a free and clear chance. No one would have ever known. You were always good at sneaking in and out of places without detection. That was your specialty, wasn't it? That's why they wanted you to be an AOP. Why did you let me live?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, Pax. Maybe it's because I would never stoop to your level. Killing you would have been doing that, and I swore I'd never operate in such a fashion."
"Suit yourself, Frankie. How many years has it been since you were a night moves op? If you've lost that killer instinct, you've probably lost your ability to do that. You either let me help or risk the life of your fucking princess."
He fixed yet another murderous gaze on her. "The hired killer of my ex-wife wants to help save her life? You're full of shit, Pax. You know nothing about what I can or cannot do. If you don't fucking shut up, I won't hesitate to duct tape your mouth closed."
"Fuck you too, Spankie."