BEATING THE BITCH
Grant watched from her vantage point as Martel and his girlfriend left the hospital. As soon as she brought her body to her feet, he assisted her to a snazzy looking car [probably a rental, because that fucking shit surely messed up his nice little Lexus] and helped her get inside. Surrounding the couple was members of his team. They stood watch, more than likely looking for her. Oh well, they wouldn't find her until she was ready to be found. When Martel and Larkin completely disappeared in the car, his team members moved away and walked off in another direction. It was time for her to move and follow the fuckers to wherever they were headed. She didn't think Martel would take his girl to his apartment. It was too easy. She wasn't yet sure he knew who she was, but she was certain that, by now, he had found out about the benzos. A man like Martel would immediately have a drug test done. It didn't matter. She'd follow him and the putrid girlfriend to wherever they intended to stay. After that, she'd take care of what she needed to. Who am I after again? Is it Larkin or Martel? Goddamn it. She wanted them both, but Martel especially. What the hell was happening to her damn mind? Grant pulled out behind Martel and followed at a distance so as not to arouse suspicion. However, as wrapped up as he was in his woman, he probably wouldn't see or know anything. Before he began to slow, he drove for several blocks, probably twenty or twenty-five. There was an expanse of hotels for blocks on this street and Martel was sure to pick one of those. She watched as his car swung around and into a parking garage. She took note of the hotel and then made a U-turn a few blocks ahead. Tonight would be a good time to play. Once and for all, Martel would pay for everything he had done.
Donovan entered the hotel room, noting that for the moment, it was secure. He glanced at Alex who had donned a blonde wig and foam neck brace right before they left the hospital. "You stay in constant contact. I'm sure that as soon as she finds us, she'll come right to us." He wasn't aware that he wouldn't have a chance to leave Alex alone.
In the meantime, Cody, Monica, and Jake took Larkin [donning a brown wig] to another hotel where her parents and brother waited impatiently. When Larkin entered the room, she immediately stripped out of the wig and crossed her arms across her chest. She was slightly pissed off with Donovan. She didn't think this diversion was necessary. Along with her pissiness was worry. She wanted nothing to happen to him and knew it was an incredible possibility. He's not a helpless infant, Jane. He's a goddamn federal agent who can take care of himself. Jesus, how long has he been in this business anyway? However, she loved him so much that the thought of losing him was unfathomable. God. You are so sick, Jane. After thanking Cody, Monica, and Jake profusely for their help, Larkin felt like doing nothing more than brooding and watching the clock. The other agents would leave as soon as they heard from Donovan. Tonight, someone was going down, either Grant or Donovan. Of course, Larkin was betting on and hoping for Donovan to come out as the victor. Her parents and brother, ever protective, created a shield around her; she found it annoying and completely unnecessary. Of course, the first thing they did was put her to bed as if she were a five-year-old child.
At another hotel across town, after getting settled in, Alex took off the blonde wig and neck brace she had worn. She immediately noticed how tense and upset Donovan was. He kept checking and rechecking the perimeters. He had stuffed his hand deeply into his pocket as if feeling for his cell phone. He ached to call Larkin to ensure her safety, but the moment he dialed the number, Grant had the potential to pick it up and listen in. If anything else happened to his Selena, he'd lose his mind. The room Donovan had secured was a relatively large suite and had a separate area for a living room and a closed off bedroom. He glanced at Alex, excused himself, and then entered the room. He needed some serious alone time. Actually, he needed serious 'calming down' time. If he laid eyes on Kira Grant/Bailey Devere or whoever the hell else she was that day [he had no way of knowing that Grant had had the same thoughts racing through her head regarding his identity many, many times], nothing or no one would hold him back. Actually, he had always tried to isolate himself at least ten minutes before taking on some huge task. It was a trick he had learned years ago in training. It kept a man sane, focused, and grounded. He also did not want to react as he did when he saw Taryn down on the floor bleeding out, already dead. Frank Donovan wasn't a religious man, he didn't pray much [if at all], but right at that moment, he literally begged that Larkin's life would be spared even if his weren't. He begged for the strength not to do anything rash once the horrid bitch showed her face [and she was sure to show it at any time]. What he had with Larkin now was the best thing he had ever had in his life, and he certainly didn't want to screw it up again. Please, Selena, take care of yourself; don't get involved. Stay where you're safe and out of her reach.
Just after Donovan and Alex arrived at the hotel, he contacted the other members of the team and had them station themselves near. At that point, he had discussed with Monica what else he could expect from Grant, outside what he already knew. What she had told him chilled him to the bone, but it was nothing new. Well, you knew she was unstable before and it's obvious her mindset is worsening. You've beaten her at her games time and time again. Right now, she's desperate enough to do anything to take you out, including murdering those who are innocent. Whatever happened to her during that bus accident shattered anything resembling sanity. The least little slight from anyone has the capacity to set her off. In other words, Boss, she's a walking time bomb. Donovan reached into his pocket again and dragged out his cell phone. He stared down at it, aching to call Larkin. The temptation was too great, too enormous. He nearly took the phone to give to Alex for safekeeping. After taking a deep breath, he collected himself and went back out to join Alex. He noticed that she was checking in with the other team members.
When Alex stopped speaking, she glanced at Donovan who was more than distracted. He had always been tight-lipped about his private life, and it was no exception where Larkin was concerned, even though they all knew what was going on. Taking an incredible chance and cringing a little while she did, she said, "She's going to be all right, Donovan. She's safe." She knew he wanted to call Larkin, to speak to her, but he couldn't. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."
He didn't expect to hear her speak and was more surprised by her words. He focused his eyes on her face. His first impulse was to say nothing and move on. However, his team had surprised him more than once since this ordeal had begun. "Thank you, Alex, I appreciate it."
Larkin didn't appreciate how her parents shuttled her off into a room and demanded that she get into bed. They had taken a tone with her that they hadn't taken since she was a small child. At an early age, she had shown them she could take care of herself. Hell, even Kraig could attest to that. How many times in his childhood years had she beaten the crap out of him or any of her other brothers? They underestimated her so much. Of course, her brothers were built like trees and all of them were over six foot something. She was 'delicate' and weakened from her car accident. Yet, they also had no idea what was truly going on. Larkin had eluded that it had something to do with a case she worked on shortly after she met Donovan. She told them nothing else. She said very little about the wreck and hadn't once hinted about the miscarriage. However, her parents weren't idiots. They knew something more was going on than what Larkin had admitted. Why else would they decoy her with someone else? Larkin groaned a little, immediately sick of the aggravating neck thing. She didn't care how much her fucking neck hurt, it was coming off. She sat up and impatiently yanked the foamy thing off. Of course, her neck was still stiff, but she didn't care. It relieved her greatly to be able to feel her damn neck again. She scrounged up as many pillows as she could find and propped herself up on the bed. Donovan had failed to disclose where he and Alex would station themselves. Of course he did, you idiot. Do you think he'd tell you? If you knew, where would you be right now? Goddamn. How could she find out where the hell they were without arising suspicion? She didn't want Donovan facing this whore alone. She knew he was capable of doing his job and he did it well. She simply wanted to be there to see Grant go down again, to go down for good. She didn't go down for good the last time, now did she?
There was a phone in the room. Larkin stared at it for a very long time. Her hand ached to reach out and grab the damn receiver. She knew Donovan's cell number and wanted to hear his voice. Yet, if she dialed out, there was a huge chance that Grant would find her. At that moment, she didn't give a shit. Let Grant find her. She would send her parents and brother away, then she would do whatever the hell she wanted, face whatever hell decided to visit her. Larkin simply wanted it over, wanted it all to go away. Her hand reached out, actually touched the receiver, when the door came open. Quickly, she jerked her hand back as if she had been caught doing something naughty. Inwardly, she groaned. It was her mother. She had no idea why her mother wanted to speak to her now. Aren't I supposed to be resting? How can I rest with people coming into the room? I don't care what you say or do, Mother, I am not giving you a lowdown on my relationship with Frank. She watched as Jeanette Larkin approached her bedside and sat down. It was from her mother that Larkin had inherited her build. Everything else came from Dad.
Jeanette's first question: "Why did you take off the neck brace? I'm sure you're in a massive amount of pain."
The only pain I'm truly in is wondering if I'll ever see Frank alive again. "My neck is fine, Mother. That thing bothers me more than the pain. As long as I don't move, I'll be fine." Of course, she was lying to her mother, but she didn't care. She had no desire to listen. She wasn't focused on herself, her only worry, her only concern was Donovan. She longed to be at the same hotel, to be near him. Damn it. She hated this shit. Hated waiting.
Jeanette reached out and caressed Larkin's hair. It was something her daughter didn't like at all, but she couldn't help it. "Come on, Selena Jane. I know you're in pain, but you're a stubborn, stubborn girl. This man, this Frank Donovan, something else is going on besides some simple little mission, isn't it?" Larkin said nothing, but Jeanette immediately noticed how her facial expression changed. "Selena? Do you want to talk about it?"
Larkin shook her head. "No, Mother, I really don't and I really don't think I should, anyway. I'm just scared shitless. But then, that's what happens in this field, I'm used to it. I do it…sort of. It's just that we've been together almost a year and I can't…" She stopped talking. "Never mind, Mother. I'll be fine. I just need to rest a little. Is that okay?"
She smiled. "In other words, get lost Mom." She kissed Larkin's forehead. "Rest."
* * *
Grant pulled her car up into the dark garage of the Il Hotel di Esca and found a vacant slot. Since Martel's Lexus had been totaled, she had no idea what he was driving now. She couldn't remember what kind of car she had seen him in earlier. Her memory was horrid. However, she didn't think it would be difficult to find the hotel room. If the desk clerk didn't tell her, she'd kill him or her. It was as simple as that. As late as it was, there wouldn't be very many people lingering about. Checking her weapon and ammo, she left the car and strolled casually over to the outside door that would lead her either to the stairs or the elevator. She had no desire to climb stairs tonight; her night would be much too active for that. Sighing, she buttoned her coat around her gun so that no one would see it. She didn't intend to get arrested tonight.
"Boss," Cody said, "I think the eagle has landed. She's in the building."
"Thank you, Cody. Have the front desk to start paging Selena Larkin. If Grant is smart, she'll jump right on that," Donovan said.
"Donovan, do you think she's going to fall for that," Cody asked.
"At this stage in her psychosis, she probably will," Donovan said.
Kira Grant entered the plush hotel lobby and glanced around. Martel certainly knows where to take his lovers, doesn't he? How the hell much money does he make, anyway? Grant heard the PA system kick in and at first, didn't pay attention to it. However, when she heard the name 'Selena Larkin,' she stopped. Someone was paging Larkin? Now, who could it be? Martel? An idea suddenly ballooned in her mind as nicely as an angioplasty in the heart of an old fart. Putting on her innocent, open face, she approached the front desk.
"Good evening," she said, "I was the one paging Selena Larkin. The girl is running so late." She giggled. "Just tell me her room number and I'll rouse her."
The clerk, who had been informed of what would unfold earlier, happily gave the woman the room number [This is a woman you do not want to cross hairs with, Frank Donovan barked. When she asks the room number, give it to her. I know your policy, but we must have this woman in our custody by tonight. How could he argue with that?].
"Okay, Boss," Cody said through the teeny speaker stuck at Donovan's ear, "She's heading your way."
In another hotel room across town, Larkin was pacing back and forth. She had had to give in and put on the neck brace. It had been hours since she last heard from Donovan and she was beginning to get worried. There was nowhere for her to go. Her bulldog bodyguards refused to let her out of their sight. She didn't know where Donovan was, she could actually call him, but she couldn't move. It was almost over and Larkin longed for a happy ending. Would she get one?
Both Donovan and Alex were tensed and waiting. They had no idea how Grant would make her entrance. Would she be so bold as to knock on the door? Why the hell not? After all, she didn't know they were aware of her identity, did she? It's too easy. It's all too easy. In the back of his mind, he was thinking about Larkin, hoping that her parents kept a close eye on her. He wouldn't doubt that she'd come right to him. The two federal agents were so wound up that what happened in the next few seconds would shake them up and haunt them for the rest of their lives. When it happened, it happened fast. Bullets from a high-powered handgun blew through the door, heading in a straight trajectory. Alex and Donovan had just enough time to dive behind the furniture scattered about. Dozens of people began streaming out into the hallways, wondering what had caused the ruckus.
"Get the police out here immediately," Donovan demanded. "Evacuate the damn hotel. She's firing at random."
When the door was sufficiently damaged, Grant was able to make easy access to the room. She saw no one at first. She heard nothing. Behind the couch, Donovan nodded toward Alex, indicating where she needed to move to get a clear shot at Grant. However, before she move one step, another rain of bullets peppered out and around, making small 'poof' noises as they embedded into the overstuffed couch. As soon as the gunfire relented, Alex rose up and squeezed off her own round of shots. Grant dodged them and made her own dive behind a piece of furniture. Snarling, she realized that Martel had tricked her. Goddamn tricky ass bastard. I hate his fucking ass. I hate him. Firing at will, Grant crawled along the floor, taking a bullet in her hip. She barely felt it at all. She continued to crawl until she had made it out in the hallway. Blindly, she raced through the crowds, firing when she jolly well felt like it. The bullet in her hip didn't faze her.
Without a word to Alex or his team, Donovan ripped out his earpiece and took off after Grant. She would not get away from him this time. It wasn't difficult gauging her path. Droplets of blood were scattered on the rug as if they were making a gory trail. As much as Grant before him, he didn't pay any attention to the crowds, the screams, the sirens, or his team. He was focused on one thing and one thing only: finishing Kira Grant once and for all. Donovan could make out the back of Grant's head several feet before him. She couldn't run very fast due to her injury and he was very close to securing her. His mistake was his overwhelming anger, aggression, and loud mouth. He literally roared out for her to stop. Grant stopped, all right, but only to fire a shot. Donovan barely dodged it, feeling it cutting into his shirt, biting at the flesh of his arm. He would have a graze wound for sure. However, he didn't care. Nothing mattered to him, nothing mattered other than putting a stop to the evil bitch and punishing her for everything she had done. He saw nothing but Larkin's face as she was being hauled from the wreckage, the condition of her body when he first saw her, and the pain in her eyes when he told her about the miscarriage. Donovan chased after her until she ran into the parking garage. His rental was parked close, on the next level, and he gave up his pursuit just long enough to get to the car. It took approximately three minutes for Donovan to find Grant's car. It was the first vehicle he noticed weaving erratically around in traffic. It was beyond him to care that he had walked away from the hotel room with only one tie to communication with the team, his cell phone. When it began to ring, he ignored it. He needed no distractions.
Grant began to drive away from the city. She believed that if she got out of town, she'd lose Martel. She had no idea how long she'd been driving, but it seemed like hours. Why could the son-of-a-bitch never pay for his sins? She never understood. He walked away from everything smelling like a rose. Grant saw him pursuing her and she pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car was a piece of shit, but she hoped it would hold together just long enough to outrun him. However, she doubted it. Martel was a lot like her; he didn't give up easily. She had no idea how fast she was driving, but if she had to guess, she was nearing a hundred. The car's engine had begun to whine and work overtime. If she didn't stop soon, the car wouldn't make it much longer. However, fate stepped in and made the decision for her. Grant lost control of the car and the wheel flew out of her hands. Goddamn it, goddamn it, not another fucking wreck.
Donovan watched as Grant's car spun three or four doughnut turns before it tipped over on its side. Just before he arrived at the scene of the accident, it rolled over once and righted itself perfectly. Ironically, it was exactly how Larkin's wreck had happened, with the exception of the amount of damage. Grant's car didn't look like a crumpled piece of paper. He screeched his to a sudden, jarring halt and cautiously exited the vehicle with his weapon raised. He could smell the distinct odor of gasoline. There probably wouldn't be much time to act. Slowly, Donovan approached the wreckage without coming out of his defensive stance. He could see Grant slumped over the wheel. He didn't trust the bitch, regardless of her appearance. When she rose up, Donovan noticed that she had a bleeding injury on her forehead. It had sent small streams of blood down each side of her face. It was gruesome, perhaps grotesque, but it also gave him a feeling of sheer elation. The way I feel is wrong. This is all wrong.
"I'm helpless, you fucking bastard," she snarled, "I can't move."
Not caring if she were telling the truth, he drew nearer. The smell of gasoline grew stronger, sickening him. Almost up against the drivers side now, he took his Glock and shoved it smack up against her bloody forehead. He was a breath away from pulling the trigger, sending a spark, and killing them both. At that moment, he could have died without a thought, even the promise of a life with his Selena didn't shake him.
"Go ahead," she snarled again, "Do it. Kill me now. Let me go. Do it, you prick," she shouted.
He stood back, withdrawing his weapon. By then, the smell of gasoline was stifling. If the car didn't go up soon, he'd be surprised. He glared down into her bloody face. "I'll let you burn," he said coldly and then turned away.
Donovan had gotten about a foot away from the car when he heard a call, "Yeah, Martel. I'll burn," Grant screamed, "I'll burn. You'll be just like me, you know? Whether you like it or not, we're cut from the same cloth, Chase. You're a cold ass killer, just like me." She laughed. "Just like me!"
He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes tightly. "I'll never be like you," he yelled her way. "Never." However, he knew right then that he had intended to leave her to die, but ultimately, he couldn't do it. If he did, he would be her. Turning back toward the wreckage, he slowly approached the car. If she had a weapon and shot at him, so be it. He didn't care. He only hoped that whatever happened wouldn't end up hurting Larkin. None to gently, he reached into the car, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out. He dragged her toward the safety of his rental and shoved her body against the car. Taking extreme, dark joy in roughing her up, he dug in his pocket for his cell phone. One handed, he touched a button. After a moment, he barked, "I have the bitch, send reinforcement immediately."
I am her. She's right.
____________________
To be continued…