AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, it is not my intention to offend anyone with the use of foul language in my fiction. I clearly rate them "R" and give a warning of 'strong language.' Secondly, the character "Jonella Paxton" is rude, crude, and foul-mouthed. What you read is what she is. It is in character for her and a part of her personality. She has an annoying affect on the other characters I have created as well as those I have not. Therefore, they act and react accordingly. THANKS!
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PAX ATTAX
Donovan took hold of Pax's skinny arm and pulled her up with him. She had surprised him with her punch, and he had to admit that she had gotten him pretty good. However, he wouldn't give the psychotic bitch the satisfaction of knowing that. Hastily, he flipped on the light switch. His next reaction was more in line. He quickly subdued her by grabbing her arms and placing both of her wrists in one large hand. He clamped the other down onto her shoulder and pushed her forward. She cursed and spat at him the entire time, reminding him of an enraged Tasmanian devil. It didn't escape him that she had yet to try and break free. It didn't matter. He had laid his ass on the line for her with a dozen or more people and she had basically shit on him. He forced her onward toward the couch. He was more than tempted to shove her against the wall, but he didn't want to kill her until he knew her reasoning behind running from the safe house. Donovan released her and her body fell backward on the couch. She landed with a solid thud and barely had time to catch her breath before he drew his gun out of its holster. Furious, her lips drawn into a snarl, she lifted her chin defiantly and stuck her pinkie finger into the barrel. His trigger finger literally itched to proceed. The slightest little breath would make the gun explode in his hand. Oh, the temptation.
"Unless you intend to use this big, hard, loaded gun," she began, "I suggest you holster the fucker, Spankie."
He exhaled a deep breath that sounded more like a frustrated growl before he drew it back. He didn't immediately holster it. Donovan had a feeling that before the night was through, he'd need it. "Jonella, you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. What the fuck are you doing here?" She tried to open her mouth and speak, but he went for her instead. He planted his knee between her thighs and leaned over her menacingly. His hand came up to the side of her throat and he grabbed hold of her, not exactly squeezing, but his fingers were tensing from the overwhelming desire to strangle her. "No, I don't care why you're here. You're back to the fucking games, aren't you? What I've put on the line to help you hasn't done a damn bit of good. I don't like it when people repay favors with betrayal."
She met and matched his loathsome gaze. "You stupid fuck, if you'll get off me, I'll tell you why I'm here. I'm not playing any kind of stupid ass games. Think about it if you can. How fucking long was I here? How fucking long did I lay up in that shitty ass hospital bed? How many goddamn opportunities did I have to take off? I had more than you can even fathom. Get off me, you witless fuck, and let me speak to you human to human." As he slowly moved away from her, she straightened her body and crossed her legs nonchalantly. "Much better. At least I can breathe. Goddamn it. Would you please get better fucking cologne? Whatever the hell you put on smells like shit."
Although still intent on shooting her, he put his gun back into its holster. Breathing heavily, he crossed his arms before his chest and stared down at her. He had only moved a few steps back. He wanted to be close to her in case she decided to split. "Cut the shit, Jonella. Your crudeness will not knock me off track. I'm angrier with myself right now than I am with you. I put my trust in you, I believed you would do the right thing…no…the noble thing. Instead, you continue with your ceaseless head games, and you fucking played me. You played me, Pax, and I let you do it. I can't explain why I keep letting you do this to me, to yourself." He laughed bitterly. "Why did you come back? Did you want to finish the job? Did you expect to find my ex-wife here instead of just me?" He went for her again, looming above her, seemingly nine feet tall. "Tell me, goddamn it. Tell me why I let you do this time and time again?" She didn't say a word as she stared up at him. She had never seen so many mixed emotions flitting across a man's face, flashing in his eyes. When she didn't immediately respond, he leaned down and took hold of her forearm. He pulled her up to her feet and glared through her at eye level. She was in her fucking stupid spike heeled boots. "Answer me," he demanded.
"How can I," she spat hotly. "I can't say anything without you fucking screaming at me. How the fuck can I tell you anything when you're not listening to me? Fucking let me go." Emitting a disgusted sound, he released her and moved away. "For the first time in your pathetic fucking little existence, you're wrong." He looked her up and down, snarling. He reminded her of that little fuck…who was he…Jake was it? "Oh yeah," she spat angrily. "Frank Donovan is fucking wrong. It happens more than your ego will allow you to admit, doesn't it? I left that prison with the help of Dicky." When shocked recognition came into his eyes, she nodded. "Oh yeah, you know Dicky. He fell asleep at the switch and I got out, accidentally on purpose, of fucking course. He can't come to you, but I can. You're in trouble, Frank, deep shit trouble. Guess who the subject of the newest AOP file is? I'm looking at the witless fuck right now." She sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing her eyes on him again. He didn't believe her, she could see that clearly. "I didn't fucking betray you, I'm trying to keep your ass alive."
He moved even further away from her. He had to find something to lean on. This was giving him one fuck of a headache. She hadn't been back in his life five minutes and she was already picking him clean. He nodded. Oh yes. She was a hyena, a putrid carrion eating carnivore. Tiredly, he leaned back against a sturdy table close to the front door. "Why should I believe you?"
She laughed a little. The fucker never changed. "Why should you not? It doesn't make one fucking difference to me whether you believe it or not. I suppose you'll rethink your fucking mistrust the day we're all gathered around your fucking coffin. I don't know how goddamn comfortable you are with that picture, but there are lots of people who don't want to see that."
"Are you one of them," he asked calmly.
She crossed her arms and chewed on her bottom lip for just the briefest of moments. "What do you think?" God. Why couldn't she just fucking say it? Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn. Dear jumping Jesus on a fucking camel, take me now! Uh. She couldn't believe she had allowed her mind to travel into that land. She wiped it out and turned around. Feeling a little awkward and out of sorts, she went to the couch and sat down. "Do you want to stand there fucking glaring at me or do you want to talk about it? I can walk out right now and we can forget this little shouting match ever happened. I'll fucking go back into hiding and you'll fucking go back to whatever you were doing before I came back. If I leave, I won't come back for your burial. Uh uh. I fucking refuse to do that."
When he didn't say anything, when he didn't move a muscle, she cried out in frustration. Whatever. She fucking tried. She did all that she could do. What else was there? Should she get a hammer and hit him on the fucking head? She stood up, straightened her slightly disheveled blouse, and made her way toward the door. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, he grasped her forearm again. Violently, she jerked it out of his hand and shoved him backward. He nearly lost his balance and almost fell on his ass, but he recovered quickly enough. He growled an incoherent curse [you little bitch] and went after her. Oh hell no. You sure as shit ain't touching me. She balled up her fist and threw another punch. He was prepared and blocked it. Not so easily detracted, she tried to do it again. With an exasperated sigh, he grasped both of her forearms in his hands and shoved her body roughly against the door. Oh God no, she thought. He always fucking chooses doors. What the fuck is it about goddamn doors?
"Stop it, Jonella, just stop it," he said. She wasn't about to stop it. She tried to break free, only twisting her arms in his grasp, hurting herself. She was too close against him to plant her knee in his groin. "Stop it," he demanded. "Goddamn you," he spat before he placed a brutal kiss on her lips.
At first, she tried to push him away, but he was very strong and demanding. He wouldn't give an inch. In fact, he pressed forward with almost savage viciousness, as if he were trying to consume her. She noticed that he always tried to control the uncontrollable, tried to tame what was meant to be wild. He was one of the most arrogant fucks she had ever known. Grudgingly, she gave in to his kiss. It was much easier than fighting him off. She responded to him, kissing him back, her tongue entering his mouth, seeking his, touching it. His lips still locked with hers, he stepped back from the door, taking her along for the trip. His hands came up and he ripped open her blouse, sending buttons flying across the room. She gasped against his lips [brutal fucker… just paid eighty bucks for that blouse] as her breasts were suddenly and abruptly exposed to the open air. She wore no bra. One less item to take off. Hmm, well, if he wants to pay rough, I guess I can too, she thought. She, in turn, ripped open his shirt, sending another handful of buttons sailing through the air. He was backing her toward his bedroom and for some dumb ass reason, the thought of being in his bed unsettled her. It was where he had taken his princess, probably where their kid was conceived. The thought of going in there was entirely too much for her.
"No," she said against his lips, her hands furiously working the snap and zipper of his slacks. "Not in there, you fucker. NO."
The entire time she was saying 'no,' he continued to back her toward the room. She wasn't exactly fighting him away, but she was definitely not comfortable. Nope. Hell no. Fucking no way. Once the back of her legs hit the foot of the bed, his hands slid beneath her skirt, grasping her panties and yanking them down. Past her hips, they slid easily down to her feet, and she stork stepped out of them without even thinking about it. Her skirt was discarded in much the same fashion. Yet, Spankie didn't bother stripping the shirt off her. He fucking left it there. What the fuck? Like it mattered any damn way. His hands went down to cup her buttocks and she wrapped her long legs around him. They crashed down to the bed, their bodies barely on the damn thing. She worked him out of his slacks and boxers just enough to free him. Within moments, he was inside her, entangling himself in yet another sticky web, with no clear idea how he would escape it.
* * *
Donovan awoke in complete darkness. He noticed that some time in the night, the activity had waned enough for them to strip out of the rest of their clothing. Using his elbows, he pushed his body up to a sitting position as he peered around the room, looking for his illicit lover. He stopped for a moment and buried his face into his hands. Goddamn her. Goddamn her indeed. She had worked him pretty damn good again, hadn't she? In three months of absence, she had yet to lose her touch. What the hell was he thinking? Nononononono, he thought. His life was complicated enough as it was, but now, he had made it worse. He had somehow managed to avoid going to bed with Remy, but hadn't been as skillful with Pax. Shitfuckdamn. God. He had begun to even think like her. When he looked up, he spied the silhouette of her body across the far side of the room, close to the window. While he was sleeping, she had dragged a chair over to the window and had her long frame folded perfectly into it. Her knees were drawn up against her breasts. She was staring out the window, waiting, watching, but for what? He still didn't know if he could trust her story, but she had never sounded so…desperate. You're an idiot, Donovan. She's playing you. The temptation to strangle had yet to fade, but he couldn't prevent a stray through from entering his mind. If she were playing him, if she had only come back to fuck around, why was she still here? Why hadn't she fled? That thought made him think of the time before she left for the safe house. I will not let her get under my skin. I will not let her get under my skin. I will not let her get under my skin. Was it too late? Was it fucking too late? No. He had to get to the bottom of this before he lost his already shaky mind.
"Pax?"
"What the fuck do you want, Spankie? You're interrupting my nightly meditation."
He shook his head incredulously and flipped on the bedside lamp. She fronted almost as much as he. Shit. Why is this so damn hard? "I believe you. I don't think you're here as some type of mission within a mission. I was…"
"Don't fucking start that mushy shit, Frankie. Don't make me kick your fucking ass," she spat suddenly, viciously, interrupting him.
Donovan sighed angrily. "Would you shut your fucking mouth for one second and listen to what I have to say. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to shut me out, I'm going to have my fucking say. Do you understand? I believe you. When I first saw you, it hurt. I wasn't pissed off about all the work I'd done or the strings I pulled. I was pissed because you put yourself in jeopardy again, and I wish you'd fucking stop that. You don't want to see me in a coffin and I'm in no big hurry to see you in one, either."
"Jesus," she spat incredulously. "I put myself in jeopardy for you, you bastard. You've saved my ass more times than I can count and I needed to return the favor. Don't think for one fucking moment that it was anything more than that, because it fucking wasn't. Stop with the mushy shit. That's all I ask. I goddamn well can't take it. I came here to warn you. I came here to help you stop this. Somebody wants you dead, but I don't know who or why. Dicky said Weiz has your file and he'll probably orchestrate the hit himself. He won't give you to anyone else. Other than what happened a few months ago, what would motivate the Angels to seek you out? Why you? What the hell happened when you were an agency prick? It had to be something pretty fucking big."
He shook his head absently. "I don't want to go into it. I can't tell anyone, including you. I'm not surprised I'm next. I expected it; I just didn't know when and where it would happen. It's why I assumed it was I when you were sent to clean Remy."
"You do know that you're fucking going to have to tell someone, don't you? Goddamn it, Spankie, for all your bullshit and sulfur, you sure as hell don't practice what you fucking preach. You wanted to know every damn thing about me. You probably had my ass profiled before they stuck me with you, didn't you? Tell me or not, I don't care, but you need to say something. It's going to be Weiz to take you out and his fucking bullets hurt like shit. I'll have fucking scars the rest of my life because of that fucker. Do you want the same? Do you want to leave your wife and daughter behind?"
"Telling you about this shit won't have any affect on this hit. It's going to happen and that's that. You just want to fucking know, don't you?"
She snorted. "What a damn ego you have, Spankie. Do you think I give a fuck? Do you really think I do?"
"Yes, I do, Jonella. I think you care a lot," he said. God. Did I say that aloud? Of course, he said it aloud. Goddamn. Might as well make it worse while he was at it. "Otherwise, why bother? It's the same for me."
"Oh shit," she said. "I cannot believe you went there. Oh goddamn, why did you say that?" She jumped out of the chair and began scrambling around for her clothes. She put on her boots, panties, and skirt. She reached for her blouse and momentarily forgot that it was completely useless. She strode angrily to the closet, opened the door, and yanked down one of Frankie's shirts. She shrugged into it and screwed up her face at the heavy scent of his cologne. Impatiently, she buttoned it, likely slipping the buttons into the wrong holes. "I'll send you a fucking bill for my shirt, you asshole."
"Pax? Where the hell are you going? You have nowhere to go," he said incredulously, watching as she tried to tame her wild mane of hair.
"Fuck off," she spat indignantly. "I'll take my scrawny little ass back to the safe house where I'll continue to languish for three more goddamn months. I'll leave you to your team, your princess, and Weizmulder. It was really grand knowing you, Spankie. Rot in hell."
Donovan chuckled and then flat out laughed. She watched him, ready to kick his ass. What the fuck? "You're scared," he said as the realization hit him. "You're fucking scared and you don't know what to do about it. The self-assured psycho bitch from hell is scared. A little thing such as admitting that you care for someone sends you off in frenzy. Incredible, Pax, I never would have suspected that something like this would actually make you…human."
"Ha," she spat bitterly. "The original machine man is calling someone else inhuman? That is fucking rich, you witless prick."
"What is it that I'm saying," he spat. "It's nothing. It's simple. It's basic. You're as fucked up as I am about this, aren't you? I first thought you didn't give a shit, but you do. Incredible. Jonella Paxton. Scared."
"FUCK OFF," she roared. "l hate you. I loathe you. I wish I had never fucking laid eyes on you."
"You've pushed my buttons many times, many, many times. I've done many things I never thought I'd do in a million years because of you," he said with an evil little smile. "You have buttons of your own, I've found them, and now you're playing on my court for a change."
Oh, he was horrid. He was wicked. She longed to find his gun and put him out of his misery. Weiz would then not have to bother at all. "You're cracked. You have fucking gone over the deep damn end. Where the fuck are you going with this shit? Drop it right now before you fucking say something you'll forever regret and I fucking do something I'll fucking regret."
He shrugged. "I'm done. I've said what I've needed to say since you left three months ago."
"Fine. See you later, asshole." She turned and stalked toward the door.
Donovan struggled out of bed and went after her. He took hold of her arm and swung her around to face him. "Where can you go? Where? You say you hate me, and to be honest, I'm not all that fucking thrilled with you, either. You came to pass along classified information and I'm sure you're also here to help. You're back for more, aren't you? So, do what you came to do. If you leave, one of us won't be alive this time next year. There is no fear in me. I can't say the same for you." He pushed her out into the living room. Before he closed the door behind him, he said, "You can have the couch." Without another word, he slammed the bedroom door and locked it.
"You sorry ass son-of-a-bitch," she cried indignantly. "I'll fucking bring Weiz to you! Gladly! Fucking bastard!"
Donovan turned away from the door and went back to his bed. Just after he slipped under the covers, he called, "Good night, Pax!"
"FUCK OFF, SPANKIE!"
"I love you too, my darling sweetheart," he spat bitterly, sarcastically.