The Story of Max Cale
by pari106
pari106@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/pari106/damain.html
Disclaimer and rating in chapter 1.
Chapter 8
The van swerved, just a little, as it came to a halt, veering off the road and onto the shoulder, stirring up
dust and rocks as it did.
Then it stopped. Everything stopped.
All Zack could hear was his own breathing, and the deeper breathing of the woman now lying at his feet.
He just stared at her.
"Uh…"
For the first time that he could remember, Zack was floored.
That…
That hadn't been Syl's voice.
Zack just sat there, staring.
Then suddenly he was in action.
He jumped out of his seat, and knealt by the woman's side, checking to see if she'd been injured when he'd
stopped.
"Fuck!"
Fuck…what had he done? He'd grabbed someone else.
*He'd grabbed someone else.* NOT Syl.
And he'd goddamned nearly killed them by brilliantly bringing the van to a screeching halt.
Zack checked the woman's pulse, felt around her neck. Everything seemed okay.
He stared at her masked face, a moment more, having gently eased her onto her back.
A spot on the mask was quickly dampening. Blood, he realized. She'd been cut when she'd hit her head
on the dash.
Zack hesitated…then slowly peeled the mask away.
Nope, that was definitely not Syl.
He saw tanned skin that should have been pale. Dark curls where there should have been striaght, blond
hair
A beautiful stranger where there should have been his sister.
"Fu…"
Zack fell back into a sitting position.
The woman had a gash just over her right temple.
Zack looked around, out the car window. He saw a road sign indicating a town coming up in a few miles.
Towns had motels.
He looked back at his captive.
And sighed.
Well, at least he'd been wrong about Syl losing her skills. She hadn't heard him approach her on the roof
because she hadn't been there.
Perhaps it was Zack who needed to do some shaping up.
"I knew she didn't use lilac shampoo," he muttered.
**** ****
When Max awoke…for the second time…she wasn't lying on the floor in a van.
She was lying on a bed.
Max blinked.
She turned her head and saw a lamp. A menu and a t.v. remote nailed down to the bedside table.
She was in a motel.
Then she turned her head again and found herself looking up into a pair of blue eyes looking down at her.
Max's eyes widened.
But Zack anticipated her reaction before it began.
"Shh," he told her, putting his hands in the air. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to lie still. You
hit your head, remember?"
Max paused, mid-panic, but she didn't relax.
"Who are you?"
She began to sit up.
Zack sighed, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Just lie still, okay? I had to tie you up after you woke the last time."
Max blinked. Then she looked up and flexed her wrists.
She was tied up. Her wrists were tied together and to the bed post with a piece of rope. And tied rather
secure.
Her heartbeat accelerated further and she resisted the urge to shrink away, but her eyes flew to the door. It
was closed and locked.
Zack sensed her thoughts and scooted away from her just a bit.
"I told you, I won't hurt you. I just didn't want you hurting yourself."
The way the woman had fought, in her sleep… Damn, but she was strong.
If Zack didn't know any better…
Max was more awake now, and she looked around a bit more. Sure enough, the lamp on the other bedside
table lay in shambles, and the table itself was tilted against the wall. She looked back at her captor and
noticed that one side of his face looked a little redder than the other.
Max didn't know from where, but somehow she found the courage to raise a brow. Her next comment
escaped her lips before she could consider the wisdom of such a statement.
"Don't you mean you didn't want me hurting *yourself*?" she quipped.
That was decidedly not wise. Max cringed.
But, to her surprise, her captor looked amused.
He even smiled.
And Max swallowed, horrified as she realized the surge of adrenaline that had just coursed through her,
anew, had less to do with fear than it did with something else.
"I think I'm safe now," he told her, motioning to her bound wrists.
He supposed he should be more hospitable…since he was the one who'd kidnapped her, after all.
But with some thought, he realized that kidnapping her might not have been such a mistake after all.
What had she been doing on the rooftop Syl was always sneaking over to? And what was with the clothes?
It defied the odds that two completely different women would want to hang out, in the middle of the night,
on the same rooftop, wearing the same sort of clothes, at different times. What? Did that rich guy have
some sort of late night fan club going on?
Whatever the answers, Zack had to ask this girl some questions. He still had to find Syl. And she might be
able to help him. And if she could, then Zack didn't want to take any chances of letting her refuse his
request for assistance.
Meanwhile, Max just stared at him.
"What do you want?" she asked him, finally.
"I want to know what you were doing on that roof."
Max blinked. Again, she didn't know what she'd been expecting. Assassins don't just come out and
announce their intentions, do they? 'I want to kill you and your brother.' 'I want to rape you and leave you
for dead.' It just isn't appropriate. But she'd been expecting something in that area. Or at least for him to
try and sidestep the question altogether.
But there he was, asking what she was doing on the roof.
What did he think she was doing on the roof? Enjoying the view?
Well, she was…but that was besides the point.
He had to be messing with her.
"You know what I was doing on the roof," she told him defiantly.
Now it was Zack who was faced with the unexpected.
He frowned.
"How should I know what you were doing on the roof?" he asked.
Max just looked at him. Now what?
Zack waited.
And waited.
Then he straightened, crossing his arms.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
He'd seen that look on her face one time too many on his sisters' faces to miss the meaning behind it.
Come hell or high water, she wasn't going to talk.
Yet.
He'd learned, over the years, that when faced with the cheery prospect of his indefinite company, his sisters
became a lot more cooperative. Why shouldn't that strategy work with another woman?
Meanwhile, Max blinked.
He didn't really need to hear her tell him she was waiting for him, did he?
"I don't have anything to tell," she said.
Zack sighed, standing up.
"Fine," he told her. "Don't talk."
He reached into his pocket…
"Really. I don't have…"
…and pulled out a switchblade, snapping it open.
Max's words died in her throat.
'Oh, God…' He *was* going to killer her.
Max froze in terror, but as her kidnapper approached, she realized he didn't seem to be reaching for her.
He was reaching past her…to the wall?
The bedpost. Was he going to cut her free?
Surely, he wasn't just letting her go. He was going to kill her.
Hope and fear warred within Max.
But when all was said and done, neither were confirmed.
Zack reached past her, to the wall, and fished behind the bedpost for a moment until he'd found the phone
cord jack. He pulled it out, and sliced the wire, then stuffed the exposed circuitry in the drawer of the
bedside table where the phone was kept.
It happened fast, and Max had no idea what he was doing.
She looked from him…to the drawer…and back.
"Wha…"
"Just in case," he told her. "I don't want you to do anything stupid. I'm going to go get us something to
eat."
Max stared at him. Something to eat?
"You're not going to kill me?"
'Oh, that was lame.'
The words were out of Max's mouth before she could stop them and she cringed again. But, yet again,
Zack smiled.
"I told you I wasn't going to hurt you."
"Yeah, killing me would probably hurt," Max mumbled. She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until she
saw the man shrug.
"Not necessarily."
He said it very matter of fact. Max stilled. Shit, he really was an assassin.
"But, no, I'm not going to kill you," he said. "Or at least, I won't try," he amended. "The only source of
nourishment I found is the diner across the street. And it looks pretty lethal."
Max blinked. Was he making a joke?
Zack suddenly frowned, shaking himself. Did he just make a joke? What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Stay," he told her, heading for the door.
"Wait!"
Max couldn't help the exclamation; it came of its own accord. Zack paused.
"When are you going to let me go?"
"When you feel more talkative," he told her.
Max would have sighed if she didn't feel so breathless with anxiety already.
"You know I don't have anything to tell you," she said, feeling a sudden, irritating sting at the back of her
eyes.
"Oh, do I?" Zack continued for the door. "We'll see. You'd be amazed how much a person has to say
when he or she spends the night tied to the bed. And can't get to the bathroom."
Max blinked. She looked across the room at the bathroom's door, then back at him. He couldn't be
serious.
Zack just shrugged. It had worked with Jondy when she hadn't wanted to tell him where Zane had taken
off to, without authorization, last summer.
Then he left.
by pari106
pari106@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/pari106/damain.html
Disclaimer and rating in chapter 1.
Chapter 8
The van swerved, just a little, as it came to a halt, veering off the road and onto the shoulder, stirring up
dust and rocks as it did.
Then it stopped. Everything stopped.
All Zack could hear was his own breathing, and the deeper breathing of the woman now lying at his feet.
He just stared at her.
"Uh…"
For the first time that he could remember, Zack was floored.
That…
That hadn't been Syl's voice.
Zack just sat there, staring.
Then suddenly he was in action.
He jumped out of his seat, and knealt by the woman's side, checking to see if she'd been injured when he'd
stopped.
"Fuck!"
Fuck…what had he done? He'd grabbed someone else.
*He'd grabbed someone else.* NOT Syl.
And he'd goddamned nearly killed them by brilliantly bringing the van to a screeching halt.
Zack checked the woman's pulse, felt around her neck. Everything seemed okay.
He stared at her masked face, a moment more, having gently eased her onto her back.
A spot on the mask was quickly dampening. Blood, he realized. She'd been cut when she'd hit her head
on the dash.
Zack hesitated…then slowly peeled the mask away.
Nope, that was definitely not Syl.
He saw tanned skin that should have been pale. Dark curls where there should have been striaght, blond
hair
A beautiful stranger where there should have been his sister.
"Fu…"
Zack fell back into a sitting position.
The woman had a gash just over her right temple.
Zack looked around, out the car window. He saw a road sign indicating a town coming up in a few miles.
Towns had motels.
He looked back at his captive.
And sighed.
Well, at least he'd been wrong about Syl losing her skills. She hadn't heard him approach her on the roof
because she hadn't been there.
Perhaps it was Zack who needed to do some shaping up.
"I knew she didn't use lilac shampoo," he muttered.
**** ****
When Max awoke…for the second time…she wasn't lying on the floor in a van.
She was lying on a bed.
Max blinked.
She turned her head and saw a lamp. A menu and a t.v. remote nailed down to the bedside table.
She was in a motel.
Then she turned her head again and found herself looking up into a pair of blue eyes looking down at her.
Max's eyes widened.
But Zack anticipated her reaction before it began.
"Shh," he told her, putting his hands in the air. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to lie still. You
hit your head, remember?"
Max paused, mid-panic, but she didn't relax.
"Who are you?"
She began to sit up.
Zack sighed, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Just lie still, okay? I had to tie you up after you woke the last time."
Max blinked. Then she looked up and flexed her wrists.
She was tied up. Her wrists were tied together and to the bed post with a piece of rope. And tied rather
secure.
Her heartbeat accelerated further and she resisted the urge to shrink away, but her eyes flew to the door. It
was closed and locked.
Zack sensed her thoughts and scooted away from her just a bit.
"I told you, I won't hurt you. I just didn't want you hurting yourself."
The way the woman had fought, in her sleep… Damn, but she was strong.
If Zack didn't know any better…
Max was more awake now, and she looked around a bit more. Sure enough, the lamp on the other bedside
table lay in shambles, and the table itself was tilted against the wall. She looked back at her captor and
noticed that one side of his face looked a little redder than the other.
Max didn't know from where, but somehow she found the courage to raise a brow. Her next comment
escaped her lips before she could consider the wisdom of such a statement.
"Don't you mean you didn't want me hurting *yourself*?" she quipped.
That was decidedly not wise. Max cringed.
But, to her surprise, her captor looked amused.
He even smiled.
And Max swallowed, horrified as she realized the surge of adrenaline that had just coursed through her,
anew, had less to do with fear than it did with something else.
"I think I'm safe now," he told her, motioning to her bound wrists.
He supposed he should be more hospitable…since he was the one who'd kidnapped her, after all.
But with some thought, he realized that kidnapping her might not have been such a mistake after all.
What had she been doing on the rooftop Syl was always sneaking over to? And what was with the clothes?
It defied the odds that two completely different women would want to hang out, in the middle of the night,
on the same rooftop, wearing the same sort of clothes, at different times. What? Did that rich guy have
some sort of late night fan club going on?
Whatever the answers, Zack had to ask this girl some questions. He still had to find Syl. And she might be
able to help him. And if she could, then Zack didn't want to take any chances of letting her refuse his
request for assistance.
Meanwhile, Max just stared at him.
"What do you want?" she asked him, finally.
"I want to know what you were doing on that roof."
Max blinked. Again, she didn't know what she'd been expecting. Assassins don't just come out and
announce their intentions, do they? 'I want to kill you and your brother.' 'I want to rape you and leave you
for dead.' It just isn't appropriate. But she'd been expecting something in that area. Or at least for him to
try and sidestep the question altogether.
But there he was, asking what she was doing on the roof.
What did he think she was doing on the roof? Enjoying the view?
Well, she was…but that was besides the point.
He had to be messing with her.
"You know what I was doing on the roof," she told him defiantly.
Now it was Zack who was faced with the unexpected.
He frowned.
"How should I know what you were doing on the roof?" he asked.
Max just looked at him. Now what?
Zack waited.
And waited.
Then he straightened, crossing his arms.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
He'd seen that look on her face one time too many on his sisters' faces to miss the meaning behind it.
Come hell or high water, she wasn't going to talk.
Yet.
He'd learned, over the years, that when faced with the cheery prospect of his indefinite company, his sisters
became a lot more cooperative. Why shouldn't that strategy work with another woman?
Meanwhile, Max blinked.
He didn't really need to hear her tell him she was waiting for him, did he?
"I don't have anything to tell," she said.
Zack sighed, standing up.
"Fine," he told her. "Don't talk."
He reached into his pocket…
"Really. I don't have…"
…and pulled out a switchblade, snapping it open.
Max's words died in her throat.
'Oh, God…' He *was* going to killer her.
Max froze in terror, but as her kidnapper approached, she realized he didn't seem to be reaching for her.
He was reaching past her…to the wall?
The bedpost. Was he going to cut her free?
Surely, he wasn't just letting her go. He was going to kill her.
Hope and fear warred within Max.
But when all was said and done, neither were confirmed.
Zack reached past her, to the wall, and fished behind the bedpost for a moment until he'd found the phone
cord jack. He pulled it out, and sliced the wire, then stuffed the exposed circuitry in the drawer of the
bedside table where the phone was kept.
It happened fast, and Max had no idea what he was doing.
She looked from him…to the drawer…and back.
"Wha…"
"Just in case," he told her. "I don't want you to do anything stupid. I'm going to go get us something to
eat."
Max stared at him. Something to eat?
"You're not going to kill me?"
'Oh, that was lame.'
The words were out of Max's mouth before she could stop them and she cringed again. But, yet again,
Zack smiled.
"I told you I wasn't going to hurt you."
"Yeah, killing me would probably hurt," Max mumbled. She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until she
saw the man shrug.
"Not necessarily."
He said it very matter of fact. Max stilled. Shit, he really was an assassin.
"But, no, I'm not going to kill you," he said. "Or at least, I won't try," he amended. "The only source of
nourishment I found is the diner across the street. And it looks pretty lethal."
Max blinked. Was he making a joke?
Zack suddenly frowned, shaking himself. Did he just make a joke? What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Stay," he told her, heading for the door.
"Wait!"
Max couldn't help the exclamation; it came of its own accord. Zack paused.
"When are you going to let me go?"
"When you feel more talkative," he told her.
Max would have sighed if she didn't feel so breathless with anxiety already.
"You know I don't have anything to tell you," she said, feeling a sudden, irritating sting at the back of her
eyes.
"Oh, do I?" Zack continued for the door. "We'll see. You'd be amazed how much a person has to say
when he or she spends the night tied to the bed. And can't get to the bathroom."
Max blinked. She looked across the room at the bathroom's door, then back at him. He couldn't be
serious.
Zack just shrugged. It had worked with Jondy when she hadn't wanted to tell him where Zane had taken
off to, without authorization, last summer.
Then he left.