Thank you all for your kind reviews . . . I know that I'm not the best with spelling and other things, so I was wondering if anyone out there would like to be my BETA for this story . . . just tell me and I'll get back to you!

Here is the next chapter,

Enjoy . . .

Lisa paced nervously outside of her bathroom; she looked at the closed-door feeling utterly horrified. Shivers crawled over her skin as she sat knowing who was behind that oak door, Jackson Rippner, lying unconscious in the bathtub. He had surprised her when he showed up at her house at two in the morning.

She had been torn with indecision, not knowing what to do with him. Should she have called the police? What could they have done? Jackson had probably done something to someone who wanted payback, and she wouldn't know exactly what until Jackson woke up.

The anger that had emanated through her the last day of the trial, when Jackson had been cleared of all charges had nearly driven her over the edge. Somehow he had done it; Rippner had bought off everyone at the proceedings.

Lisa had wanted to strangle the man, and feel his soul leave his body then flutter strait to hell where he belonged. Jackson had given her a sympathetic look that day, one that had almost made her forget the anger that held her captive.

Tonight was a night that she would not soon forget. Jackson had come to her for help, the question of why had not occurred to her as of yet.

In the end Lisa had finally decided upon cleaning him up as best she could. It took a lot of control not to throw up when she took a closer look at his many wounds. The lacerations were deep, but the bullet wound won the battle for most gory.

Lisa chose not to wrap up Jackson's wounds yet, she would wait for the sleeping man to wake up. Then she would interrogate him until he gave her the answers she needed.

Taking careful precautions, Lisa had handcuffed his left wrist to the soap holder imbedded in the wall. The metal bar should hold out, she had assured herself. The bathtub was full of warm water, it was clear at one point, but now it was a light pink. His wounds would eventually need medical assistance that she could not provide.

Medical assistance. That word had played over and over in her head. They could help Jackson, but she would run the risk of sending Jackson to his death. The people who were most likely after him would find him, and finish him off.

The young woman had been disgusted with herself for caring anything that had to do with the man that had nearly killed her father, not to mention herself and the Keefe's. Something had stopped her from shooting him earlier that night, and she couldn't figure out what.

A loud moan broke Lisa from her thoughts, and she stopped dead in her tracks. She could hear he water swishing around, meaning that Jackson was either awake or soon would be.

She sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door. Those newly glazed icy blue irises were gazed confusedly at her.

"Where am I?" the weak question broke the silence. Jackson looked around, taking in his surroundings. Pink tiles made up the walls; the small room was very feminine. Everything was frilly, and it made him feel like he was in a pepto bismol commercial.

His mind was extremely fuzzy, he was dizzy and on the verge of losing his lunch. A white-hot tingling sensation had totally encompassed his body, making him writhe around in the luke-warm water.

"Stop moving around, I think your shoulder is dislocated," the warning had come softly from the door. Lisa watched as Jackson stopped moving, and began inspecting himself. His gaze had stopped at his handcuffed wrist, where his eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

"Did you see me naked?" Jackson spoke half-jokingly as he noticed that he was only in his boxers.

"Of course not, you were bleeding badly from the stab wound on your thigh," Lisa defended herself. The feeling was back, the one that she had felt on the airplane. The feeling of being watched closely, being judged.

Jackson looked down at his leg. It was hard to find the particular wound she was talking about; there were so many worthy candidates. Finally his eyes rested upon a deep slash wound half way up his thigh.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

Lisa bit her lower lip, and thought about what her next move should be. "I don't know. You're the one who showed up at my door at two in the morning!"

Jackson clenched his eyes shut. Mrs. Reisert's booming voice was giving him a headache, and he wasn't in the mood for her snippy attitude. "Look, if you just un-handcuff me I'll be on my way."

A snort broke free from Lisa. She rolled her eyes and answered, "I don't think so Mr. Rippner, you put me through hell on that Red Eye flight. Then you get off scott-free after you committed treason. And then you show up at my home at two in the morning with battle wounds and you expect me to let you go just like that?"

Lisa couldn't help but smirk at the bewildered look on Jackson's face. She knew she had gotten through to him. His glazed eyes stared at her, almost silently pleading for her to give him a break.

She was not prepared for the all-too-familiar voice that answered her question. "I told you over and over on that damn flight that my job was nothing personal, just business. You stabbed me in the throat with a pen, stabbed me in the thigh with your high-heels, then both you and your father both took pot shots at me! I think that we are even Mrs. Reisert."

Taking a chance, Lisa walked forward and sat down on the toilet seat right next to the bathtub. Of all the questions she wanted to ask him, only one seemed reasonable at the moment. "Who's after you?"

"That is none of your business," Jackson snapped at her. He was not in the mood, nor in the condition to explain his entire history to this woman.

"Look, you were comatose a few minutes ago. I didn't have to bring you here, I could have just left you outside for your friends to come and find you," Lisa retorted.

With a sigh of defeat Jackson explained the whole ordeal to her. "They broke into my house, there were too many of them for me to take on at once, and they bested me. One of my first jobs was with those morons, we were supposed to off a major drug-dealer that was causing a drop in sales for these men in New York. To make things short, the wrong target was killed."

Lisa sat quiet through Jackson's explanation. He didn't seem so dangerous, but right now he couldn't fight off a ten-year-old. She thought that she'd try to compromise. "Look, stay here tonight and you can leave in the morning alright?"

She watched was the injured man slowly nodded his head. "If you'd get me a needle and thread I could take care of these," Jackson pointed at his wounds with his free hand.

Lisa quickly clambered to her feet and started walking towards the door. "Okay, then I'll go get you some clothes."

She was halfway out of the door when she heard a loud crash come from downstairs.

TBC . . .