Dangerous Business
Chapter XXXVIII
Liz stared at the house ahead of her for a second before putting her car into park. It looked so serene; so unlike everything else that she'd been with for the past few weeks. She stepped out of the car, heading toward the small, wooden, cozy home. "Welcome back," she whispered, walking to the front door, searching her coat pockets for her keys. Walking inside, she tossed the keys onto a circular table in the kitchen. All of the rooms were small, and it was only a one-story house, excluding the basement, but she loved it, if only for the size. Reflexively, she touched the message machine.
"You have 1 new message," the steely-toned voice said. There was a beep, and Liz sat down, dumping her duffel bag to the floor. "Hi, Liz," the voice faltered, and Liz's heart leapt. Rob… "Jeff gave me this number; I hope that's all right... Anyway, I was just calling to see if you were all right. If you want, call me back. If not, I'll see you next week." The second beep echoed through her house. "End of final message," the pre-recorded voice in the machine said.
The brunette stood up, her hand closing around the phone, her fingers itching to dial a number imprinted into her mind. Halfway to the end of the number, she stopped, her fingers hovering over the keys. 'What am I thinking?' she ducked her head, and pressed the "Off" button. 'What if… What if he asks about how I feel?' Somewhere, she didn't think he would address it over the phone, maybe not even in person…but the threat was there, and she didn't want to not have an answer for him.
"I need to call him," her voice echoed throughout the room. 'Later,' she promised herself emptily. Sighing, she picked up her duffel bag, walking into her room. The walls were decorated like an ocean, a beautiful sunset painted behind her bed. Her blankets and bench by the corner were a clean white; her carpet a dark blue. Yawning, she set her bag down onto her bed, sitting down at her computer, her back facing the open door to her bedroom. As she began the laborious process of deleting junk e-mails and rooting through anything she should read, but didn't want to, she lost herself. So lost that she didn't notice the man clothed in black leather standing in her open doorway, a sharp kitchen knife in his left hand as he stared at her.
Liz's fingers stopped abruptly, a small shiver traveling up her spine. She turned around, eyes narrowing. She relaxed, only seeing the white wallpaper of her hallway. 'Jeez, what'd you expect?' she scolded herself, 'Stop being paranoid.'
Rubbing at her jade eyes, she pressed the print button, and rolled over to her printer, scowling when a light flashed over an image over a drop of ink. "Just great," she muttered, "Vince McMahon sends me papers to fill out, and I don't have any ink!" Liz stood up, walking slowly past the bedroom door. 'Maybe there's some in the basement...' She walked to the basement door, and stepped in. Liz didn't particularly like the basement. It was cold, and she'd often fell down the stairs. As soon as you stepped inside, you had to go down about seven or eight stairs to a landing until you reached the light, and while you headed down the steps to the light, it was nearly impossible to see the steps. Through years of routine, she'd adapted to this, hardly falling.
Her heels fell against the gray, wooden stairs as she walked down them, a narrow stream of light from the upstairs shining dimly. As she hit the landing, her arm reached out to feel along the bumpy wall for the light switch. Her hand hit something, but it was far from a light switch. It almost felt like...like a human hand. It closed around her own hand, and she felt her heart thunder against her chest. "Hello," a whisper traveled to her ears, and she thought it sounded familiar, but couldn't place it. Her foot lashed out in self-defense. Whoever-or whatever-was holding onto her moved, and her foot landed halfway over the landing, pointing down to the series of steps. She tried to control her balance, but before she could, she was shoved from behind. Her ankle collided with the step, and she went head over heels down the steps. Her arms flew up to her head, trying to shield herself. Mended body parts crashed against wood, bruising her body. She was still not 100% from the hospital, and the fall was hurting her more than she cared to think about.
Finally, the uncontrollable fall was over. She inhaled sharply, clutching at various body parts. Panic settled in at a degree, and she strained her eyes, desperately trying to see her attacker. "Who are you?!" she demanded, crawling backward, hoping to buy time.
"That's for me to know, and you never to find out," the voice replied, and she couldn't pinpoint its direction. It struck her once more that the voice sounded so familiar. Liz stood up quickly, wildly striking out with her fists, hoping to hit something. She stopped for a brief moment, still trying to find her target, when a burst of hot white pain spread into her shoulder from behind. She cried out, her vision temporarily blinded, her hand clutching at it. Feeling the warmth of blood, she shivered.
Her shoulder crippled her as she tried to remain moving. Whoever it was, they had an acute sense of sight in the dark. She tried to focus, and nearly gasped in relief when her shin hit the stair. Liz started to leap up the stairs, her body paining in protest, her jade eyes focused on the sliver of light. And then it disappeared, and a hollow laugh echoed through the basement. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she ran blindly, her hip slamming into a table, her arms slapping against poles…
She screamed as something collided with the back of her skull. Her face hit the cold concrete, her senses jumbled, the fear climbing. Rough hands pulled her arms back as she tried to clear her vision; tried to crawl away. She felt something being wrapped around her wrists.
"Enjoy the show," the voice whispered again, and she tried to move, only to have her arms jerked back behind her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that her hands must be tied to a pole of some sort. In front of her, a T.V. flickered to life. She was aware of something standing next to her, just out of reach. "This is a direct link to the hospital," he whispered. She looked away, curiosity not overcoming her fear. Hands grabbed her face, turning her eyes to the monitor, fingers holding her eyes open.
On the screen, numbers flashed in the upper corner-the time. But in the middle, there was her sister, her hair spread out around her head, her sleepy expression peaceful. Struggling against the hands holding her face, Liz wondered what was so important that this-thing-wanted her to see.
And then she saw the leather-clad woman standing next to Dominique. Her mind recalled unconsciously the facts that Jeff had told her, and she lurched forward. The arms holding her disappeared for a moment. Another blow hit her, and she flew forward onto her stomach. Hands pulled her hair, pulling her head up, and fingers once again opened her eyes for her. A black object appeared in the woman's hand, pointing toward the unmoving blonde.
Liz squirmed beneath the person, and tried to get free, her legs-the only free part of her body-colliding with the person's back repeatedly. But all of her struggling was to no avail. There was a good 200 pounds on top of her, and she was no going to be able to fight out of it. She furiously tried to close her eyes, but the person held them open. She finally looked, her heart crashing against her ribs as her mind denied the image that she saw next.
What looked like a spark flew from the object, and then Dominique's eyes flashed open. Dark liquid spilt down her forehead. The blonde's mouth froze in mid-breath, her eyes filled with pain. The leather-clad woman smiled, putting away the object-a gun-and walking into the bathroom.
"No," Liz whispered. It had to be fake; it had to! She barely noticed that the weight had left her back. A dim light flickered on over her, and she saw the man ahead of her, who was, too, clad in leather. Her eyes traveled down to his hand, where a kitchen knife was gripped. She didn't recognize her own scream as it tore from her lips, as she tried to get up and run. There was a stinging blow across the side of her skull, and then nothing.
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Author's Note: It's done. Finally, I'm back on track with my ideas! Anyways, I've got a huge book report due on Friday and my books overdue like a week but that's okay! So maybe on the weekend I'll try and do another chapter. ~.^ It's going to involve a lot of Chris Jericho and Jeff Hardy…maybe a little of RVD and Edge. Just to let ya know. Anyway, please review!