4. On the run

Sandrine took ice out of the freezer into a towel to cool her cheek. She had to get out of here before her father would return. How could she get rid of agent Palmer? She walked up and down in the suite. As the ice melted she put everything into the bathroom. She looked into the mirror. Her cheek did not look that bad on first sight no one could see a sign of the slap she got.

Suddenly the girl got an idea. She went to her suit-case and started to pack her favourite clothes into a sea bag and hung it on the hook next to the door. Later she hung her leather jacket over the hook, it was maybe a little to hot, but a good disguise and she did not want to leave her most beloved clothing behind. After she was finished she opened the door.

Agent Palmer leaned against the wall and suddenly jumped off.

"Sorry - Miss Mosley - I'm not allowed to let you out."

"I wasn't on my way out. I just wanted to ask you if you like to come in. I'm about to order something to eat and thought you might be hungry or at least thirsty."

"That's nice, but I was ordered to watch you."

She got him and with her most innocent smile she said: "Well you can watch me much better inside."

She opened the door wider and stepped aside.

"Yes, that's true", said Agent Palmer and went inside. Sandrine closed the door and went to the phone.

"What do you like to eat?" she asked him.

"Well a Pepsi and Burger would be nice."

Sandrine ordered something to eat for both of them.

"What do you thing my father is up to?"

"Oh - I don't know, he wasn't in a good mood - I didn't ask him and he didn't tell."

"I see."

In the following conversation she discovered that she was not the only one, who did not like her father's way of handling others. Agent Palmer was actually a very nice guy and she did not felt comfortable about what she had to do. When the room service knocked, he watched the door and she took the tablet to the table. While he gave the guy a tip, she put plenty of the laxative in his drink. There was no other way for her.

They eat and talked as suddenly Palmer jumped up and ran into the bathroom. Sandrine asked, if there was something she could do for him and while doing so she grabbed her things and went out. She ran down the floor to the hall, where she took a bus map from the reception and then she went out - into the streets.

She did not want to take the direct bus line to her cousin. She was afraid her father would find her this way and so she decided for a different route. Her next ride would go not sooner than in an hour and she had a lot of time to walk to her bus station. She was busy with her own thoughts or else she would have recognised the two guys passing her at the other street side. Both had taken part in the earlier hunt on her and unfortunately Frick recognised her. He hit his companion with his elbow.

"Hey, you see that bitch over there?"

"I do!" Frack replied bored.

"Can't you see! That is this bitch we hunted this morning."

Frack turned around and looked after Sandrine.

"No way - This is a really hot babe and therefore she is everything that girl wasn't."

"Take a closer look, it is her - maybe this is her night stalker outfit - who cares it is her and when we bring her down we get for sure a reward."

"Yeah - you are right - Damn, so she escaped again."

They followed her. First slow, but Sandrine felt that something was wrong and moved on faster. At the end they ran after her, but Sandrine was faster on the hard ground than in the bayou with her sandals. She got out of sight twice as she ran around a corner. They aimed their guns and hurried after her, but without bikes she was faster.

Suddenly one of the guys started to shoot suddenly. Sandrine dropped behind the next car.

Frick was not a good shooter and that he was running made him miss his target. The bullets hit the wall far from her, but still she had the feeling they had hit her.

She shivered and looked in panic around her. It was not far towards the next car on the other side of the street. From there she could reach the next corner easily. Before she realised what she was doing she run for the next car. This time the bullets came very close. The guy hurried after her as she started for the next corner.

She made it, but it was a mistake, Sandrine noticed on first sight that here were no hiding places. She ran on, but as her pursuers came closer she dodged in a door entrance. She had not really a cover there, but from his point not visible. He stopped shooting, but it was only to come closer in order to get a good shot.

Sandrine just thought about how unfair it was that in the moment she managed to get rid of her father she got killed by a lousy third class criminal. There was a door behind her, but she knew no one would help her. She could not move in this moment - she just felt ice cold. Sandrine faced him and then she heard a shoot. It sounded quiet, like it had been fired far away. The girl expected to feel an impact, but nothing came.

Instead the guy dropped to the floor. In his back was a hole through which blood was running over his jacket Sandrine looked up and saw Pick. He hold still the gun in his hand. His eyes were fixed on her and she must admit that she was almost relieved to see him. Suddenly he turned and shot the other guy. Then he holstered his weapon and walked towards her.

Van Cleaf was on his way to Sandrine's Hotel as he crossed a side street in which he saw two of their employees shooting at a girl. She was hiding behind a car, but then she ran across the street and dropped behind another car. He stopped the car, was he wrong or had it been Sandrine? The girl looked different, but something familiar was about her. He left the car in order to get a glimpse of her profile. It was her.

They chased her in the direction he had come from. He could see her backing into a doorway. One of the dogs went after her and without a doubt in order to kill her. Pick did not waste time with calling. He aimed his gun and shot him. As he dropped to the ground he could see Sandrine. She was looking at him. Again she had not said or done anything. Not even now she tried to run.

Then the other guy disturbed his thoughts, but only for a brief moment then she had his full attention again.

"Not exactly the neighbourhood a girl should walk around at night." He said as he had come closer.

She tried to think of a sharp reply, but she felt still a bit chilly. So she just looked back at him and concentrate on breathing. This had been the third time she had been almost killed and she wondered how long her luck would hold on to her. She still had no idea what was going on and why Pick shoot his own men to save her.

Van Cleaf stood right in front of her, she saw that he was judging her or more likely her outfit. She felt an unease under his looks that was even more disturbing than on the clearing. He could not believe that she was that beautiful. The dress had made her look like fourteen. He knew now that she was seventeen, but she looked more grown up as she faced him now. This time he saw her in a different way. He was sure that Fouchon would not like this at all. Sandrine would not appreciate it either. On the other hand he had been always good in controlling himself and Fouchon knew this.

"Quite a change," he told her finally.

"And what now?" she had to find out what else would come.

"Our plans for you haven't changed."

He stepped back and pointed at the other street side. Sandrine knew that she had only two choices. Following him at her own will or letting him drag her. For a moment she considered protesting, but that would have meant he would touch her and that was the last thing she needed to happen right now. So she made a step forward and was surprised how light her legs suddenly felt.

Van Cleaf walked with Sandrine to his car and opened the door for her. He started the car and went straight out of the city. Fouchon would have left their headquarter already. His job was taking Sandrine to their contact in Mexico, where they could take Mr. Lopaki's yacht.

It would take them a few days, in case Agent Mosley was not a complete imbecile. From what Fouchon had told him about the shooting in Oak street he could hardly believe that he got into his high position. Pick looked at his unwillingly passenger. She looked settled and calm as she stared out of the window into the streets. While stopping on a traffic light he took a closer look at her and realised that her hands trembled - only a bit, but it showed him that his earlier judgement of her was right.

Strong and weak at the same time, a trait he had not seen on a person before. Van Cleaf knew he would hate the next couple of days. Having the most amazing girl by his side and no options to do anything with her.

Sandrine stared out of her window. The thoughts in her head rumoured and she tried to deal with that chaos. Now she would for sure not return to her dad, but if that was really the best for her she could not tell. At least she got the chance to find out what connection was between her mother, her father and Fouchon. If only this dangerous guy would not be so close to her.

He drove on and not a word was spoken for some time. Then Sandrine gathered all her courage together and turned around.

"Do you mind telling me what exactly you planning to do with me?"

"I do." He smiled at her and she turned her attention back to the streets beside her.

"I thought so," she whispered towards the window.

"Does this make you nervous?"

"What do you think?"

Sandrine was clawing her fingers into her knees. The excitement was gone and right now she felt tired and lonely, but the uncertainty kept her awake. She hated it when she was in this mood, especially now, because usually it ended with her crying until she finally fell asleep. The girl did not want him to realise how weak she was. Sandrine already new that she was looking helpless, but as long as she could pretend that she did not give a damn about it, she felt safer.

Two hours passed and neither of them started an attempt to start a conversation. Pick liked to find out what she was doing on the street at night. After he saw that she was carrying luggage with her, he thought that she must be running after having a confrontation, perhaps with her dad, which was not the worst thing. Later he would asked her about it. Asking her right after he denied her an answer, was not a good move.

It was almost 2:00 a.m. when he stopped at a motel, where they could stay without being discovered. He parked the car behind the building. Then he turned around to Sandrine.

"You don't talk in there, you don't behave suspiciously. I promise, if you do, a lot of people will die because of you."

'He didn't want to kill me anymore.' She looked at him surprised.

"You got that?"

"Yes." Sandrine nodded.

He took a small bag from the back seat, after that they left the car. Sandrine walked towards Pick. She wanted to show that she was not up to making troubles. Even if that meant being close to him. He seemed to know this place and opened a door at the backside. She followed him close by. Nobody seemed to be awake. The floor he lead her along, was dark, cold and quite like a tomb. Then he opened another door and light hit her eyes.

The reception was in larger room with other floors and stairs leading from it. The guy behind the counter looked bored, but as he saw Pick, he suddenly jumped up.

"I hadn't expected to see you again."

"Well I see your new identity is still working."

"Yes and I'm very grateful, can I do anything for you?"

Sandrine realised even though she was tired that the guy was really afraid. Either his self control was not good or he was even more scared than she was. Sandrine felt how much Pick was enjoying this. He out stared the other one and then he said: "One room, ground level, if possible."

"I have two left, one with separate beds and the other one, right here with a large one."

He looked at Sandrine and as she saw his smile her knees started to tremble. For a while she really had forgotten what happened earlier. As he turned back to the huge guy she wanted to look for a support. Nothing was alright, even if they did not want to kill her - it did not mean they had anything good in their mind.

"We take the separate beds, the night already has been too long," he answered and reached out for her. Sandrine felt his hand on her back and thought for a moment she would collapse, but then she put her hand on his shoulder and found the hold she needed. He gave her a brief look and his smile showed that he was pleased with the situation.

"The room is at the end of the left corridor, here is the key."

He threw it to Pick, who caught it without letting her go. He just turned and walked to their room with her. As he locked the door, she freed herself and walked right into the bathroom. She sat down on the floor.

'I won't make myself such an easy target," she promised herself knowing that she probably did not manage to keep her promise. She hesitated a moment, then she took her white night-gown and changed. She stuffed her clothes in her bag and left the bathroom. She took a quick look around and went straight to the bed away from where Pick was standing. She dropped her bag in front of it and then she crawled under her blanket.

Van Cleaf was looking outside as he heard Sandrine emerging from the bathroom. Her night-gown made her look innocent, but it also showed everything. Now he was sure that this trip was going to be a torture. Even as her adorable figure was hidden under her blanket, he felt the longing to touch her and explore her body. He liked to see how she would react. He really ought to stop thinking about it.

He focused and then he took out the handcuffs. Although he had a light sleep, it was much safer to chain her. She did not like it and that provided at least a little reparation. Now it was his turn to go to the bathroom. He took an ice cold shower. He was about to return as he realised that he should perhaps put something on, if he did not want to anger Fouchon. He gripped a towel and got his black GI-trousers from his bag. Then he went to bed with his gun ready.