In the past two months, Lisa Reisert had done her best to return to normalcy. In the past two months, she'd returned to work, despite the fact they'd offered her a paid vacation. She didn't want a vacation. She'd had enough of planes for a long time.

She wanted to get her mind off that day. She wanted to forget it completely. A vacation wasn't going to be enough. So she buried herself in work, and when that failed, she and Cynthia went out for drinks, movies... As long as she kept herself busy, her thoughts didn't trail to that day. She didn't think about him.

Cynthia had become a close friend in the past two months. They'd been friends before, but that day's events seemed to draw them even closer. She was grateful. It felt good to have a close friend again.

Her father had suggested she see a psychiatrist. Just like she had after the rape. She'd declined. It hadn't really helped back then, and Cynthia was better than a shrink, and didn't charge for her time.

Try though she might, however, two months was not enough time to heal completely. But she had healed some. Lisa never felt sorry for herself. She didn't break down into tears at work. She didn't even break down into tears at home. She never let herself jump at an unfamiliar noise in the night. She was cautious, but that caution never crossed the line into paranoia.

Lisa told herself she really was fine. All she needed was a bit more time. For some reason, this situation had proved less traumatic than the rape two years ago.

Maybe it was easier because everyone had survived. Maybe it was because she'd fought back and won. But a small part of her wondered if the reason it had been easier was because of him.

It was absurd, the rational part of her mused. True, he was attractive, and when she'd first spoken with him, he'd been so charming… But of course, then he'd threatened to kill her father. He'd set up the attempted assassination on a whole family. He'd made her a pawn in his sick game. And after the flight, he'd tried to kill her. (Granted, had someone stabbed her in the neck with a pen like she'd done to him, she'd have wanted to slit a few throats too…) But he hadn't violated her. Physically, anyway. Mentally, he'd given her a mindfuck that was a lot harder to forget. What the hell was she thinking? It was one of the reasons she worked so hard to forget him. These conflicting thoughts drove her mad.

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A little over a week ago, her father had tried to help her by bringing her a puppy. Having a dog deterred intruders and other criminals, he'd said. She'd almost gone along with it, too. A dog might have been fun. She'd actually been interested, until he'd brought in the Siberian husky puppy.

Joe Reisert was beaming, looking down at the 6 month-old dog with something akin to pride as he scratched its ears.

"Aren't his eyes just the most unusual color you've ever – Lisa?"

Lisa's face had gone an unholy white, and she turned away. "Dad, I can't take him."

"Lisa, what's wrong?" Her father stepped toward her, the dog forgotten.

Lisa shook her head, giving her father a tight smile. "Nothing. No, it's nothing, Dad." She glanced briefly at the dog; it was watching her with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Well, almost. God… His eyes… Lisa shook her head, trying desperately to clear his face from her mind.

"Is it the dog?" Her father looked over his shoulder, following her line of sight. "What's wrong with the dog? We can get you another dog – "

"No… It's nothing, Dad, really." She thought fast. She had told her father she was over this. It wasn't a problem any more. How could she tell him that if she kept the dog, every time looked at it, all she'd be able to see would be him? "It's just… I mean, my job keeps me so busy… And my apartment isn't really that big. He'll be a big dog. I won't have room. I won't have the time… I – "

Her father nodded, skeptically. There was definitely something she wasn't sharing, but he wouldn't push the matter. Instead, he smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "All right. All right. It's no trouble. I'll just take the dog. I've been a bit lonely lately, anyway…" She looked at him, her brows knit slightly. "And besides, it means I can name him 'Spot' and not get any flak from you." Lisa laughed at that, though it sounded a bit strained. He smiled reassuringly down at her and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, don't be. It was just…" She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders.

"Lisa…" He waited until she looked up at him before he continued. "If something is still bothering you, you know you can talk to me."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I know Dad. But I'm okay. Really."

He hadn't pressed any more.

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The day after the incident, the police had informed her that Rippner was still at large. She had gone cold, her brain working a mile a minute. She didn't bother to ask them how an assassin who'd been shot twice, stabbed in the thigh with a shoe, and given a tracheotomy with a goddamned pen had escaped. He was most likely long-gone.

"We'll talk again…"

The words sprang up, unbidden, in her mind. His voice… raspy from the injury she'd caused, threatening her even as the sirens bore down on them.

Would he come back?

The authorities seemed to think so. They had offered to relocate both her and her father, but they'd declined. What would be the point in that? He'd found her once; if he really wanted to find her again, he would. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd scared her enough to give up her home, her job… No. She would not give him that kind of control. She wasn't afraid of him any more.

Lisa shook her head, auburn curls bouncing against her face. Too much. She'd spent too much time thinking about him today, and she had to get to work. It was almost nine already, and she was supposed to be interviewing applicants for a recent vacancy at the front desk.

She grabbed the applications she'd received over the past few days, slipped on her sling-backs, picked up her keys and her purse on the front table, locked the door securely behind her, and headed for her car.

Since she had become more cautious since the incident, it would have been stupid for Lisa not to notice the black Lexus parked in the lot. It didn't matter that her apartment complex was gaited – she wouldn't let herself be lured into a false sense of security. She always noticed what cars were parked around her building. However, since there was no one in that black Lexus at the time, she didn't give it a second thought.

What she didn't notice was that the driver was still nearby, waiting for her to leave before he picked her lock and entered her apartment.

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Author's Notes:
Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys. I'm so self-conscious about my writing, but knowing somebody out there likes it sure does help. Plus, it really does fuel the fire under my bum. :)

SilentSister: Good lord, you're right. His name is Joe. How embarrassing. Freudian slip, I'm sure. Guess I need to see the movie again. What a shame. ;) Thanks! Should be fixed now. And thanks for both reviews! I really do love your story. If only I was so dedicated….

Chanel86: Thanks! OOC is my biggest fear, so don't hesitate to let me know if it happens. :)

Claire: Whew, I'm glad you don't think so. I figured better safe to disclaim first, just in case. Nah, she's not Mafia (though they are so fun). And she's based on either Regan or Goneril from "King Lear" – one of my favorite plays – take your pick; they're both sides of the same coin.

Winged Seraph and Faith-Catherine: Thanks! I sure hope I can stay up to par…