Los Angeles's Finest
Chapter 4
Jordan sighed as she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ears, her eyes focused intently on the monitor in the Diva's locker room. The room was empty, which wasn't that odd. Most of the other women had gone out to hang with friends and whatnot, leaving Jordan to the blissful silence of the empty, green-tiled area.
The black-haired woman tensed as the members of Evolution slowly made their way down to the ring. 'What is it about them?' Jordan wondered, her eyes riveted on the image the monitor was giving her. 'Every time I look at them, it's like something is trying to jog my memory, but I don't remember anything… And during the last telecast, when I was in the ring with a couple of them—Triple H, especially—I just… I can't explain it, I just hated him, simple and pure.' Her blue eyes squinted at the monitor. After a moment, Jordan shifted, lying across one of the benches, her eyes still on the images. On the screen, Hunter turned to face the camera.
Jordan couldn't explain why her heart suddenly began to quicken, and fear begin to well in the pit of her stomach. Nor could she explain the déjà vu she was experiencing, looking into his eyes.
She knew him from somewhere. But where…?
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Triple H smiled to himself as he watched Ric Flair grasp a microphone, waiting for the boos sounding from the audience to subside. The Heavyweight Champion leaned against the ropes, his eyes traveling over the ring. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere, and on one particular woman.
Jordan. He paused, realizing that even though she had so quickly become a part of his life, he didn't know her last name. 'Why the WWE?'Hunter wondered as Ric began to speak. 'If she had just stayed away from the WWE, then I wouldn't have to carry out my plans… If she recognizes me, my career is over. I'll spend the rest of my years rotting in a tiny jail cell. Being near me is going to jog her memory, and I can't afford that. She has to be silenced before she speaks,' HHH paused his thoughts for a moment, and grinned slowly. 'They call me the Cerebral Assassin for a reason.'
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"Terry…no," Rob Van Dam's voice was firm.
Terry eyed Rob up and down. "Excuse me? You've got a lot of nerve-"
Rob held up his hand, cutting off Terry's rant before it truly began. "Look, Terry, I really appreciate your willingness to help me, but right now it's something that she doesn't want."
"What are you talking about?" Terry responded swiftly, eyeing the large vase sitting to the side, a beautiful bouquet contained within.
"She's been having the nightmares again," Rob replied. "I don't know what they're of, but quite frankly, they seem to scare the shit out of her and she's been stressed out since last week. I don't want to dump something like this on top of her stress."
Terry rolled his eyes. "So you were right. Right now it's something that she doesn't want. Right now it's something she needs. You yourself just said she's been stressed out? What will cheer her up more than going out on a date with the man she secretly admires?" Terry was proud to see Rob flush slightly with the last sentence. "Just trust me on this one, Rob. If it doesn't work out, you fully have permission to kick my ass. Besides… What's the worst that could happen?" Rob stared at Terry for a long moment. Terry winced. "Okay, okay, just don't think about that. It's unimportant. What's important is that you're finally going to express your feelings for Jordan!" he exclaimed, and pushed the vase toward Rob. "Take it," he told him.
"Thanks," Rob said, picking up the glass vase with one arm. With the other, he tossed Terry an item. Confused, Terry flipped it over, immediately realizing it was a mirror.
"What's this for?"
"It's to look at your ass in. I have a feeling that after tonight I will have beat it beyond recognition."
Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since an update… Anyway, please review, and if you have time, check out my other stories!