Jackson's rough fingertips smoothing over her skin brought her out of the distant nightmare and back into the current one. He carefully traced the white scar, his brow creased as though making a medical evaluation. No, Lisa realized with a chill brought on by more than the caress of his touch, a professional observation…
"Someone do that to you?" Something about her scar disturbed him; his voice was low, frighteningly intense. His dangerous eyes examined Lisa's face once more, and her hands, now pressed flat against the bathroom wall, started shaking. The hateful fire in the murderer's eyes was nothing compared to the bitter spite she saw in Jackson's.
The knife at her throat, the hand creeping down her stomach, the blood slowly pooling under a distant, dying figure…
"No," she whispered to herself, her unfocused eyes spilling heavy tears. Make these memories stop. How could fate put me in circumstances where my actions got someone killed, and then dump me right back into a situation where my lack of action could mean the death of an entire family?
"When?" His voice was still quiet, cold, intimidating. Her gaze snapped back to the assassin's face. She barely shook her head from side to side, silently begging him to leave her alone, to let the memories bury themselves back where they belonged at the far edges of her mind.
A muscle flexed irritatedly in his jaw. He glanced at the scar once more before he released her shirt and abruptly turned towards the mirror. He snatched a handful of towels and soaked them with water, vigorously wiping the glass clean. "The phones are working again, Lisa, and you will be making that call. Do you think you can handle it this time?" The customary scorn in his tone had returned. Whatever foreign emotion he had revealed upon seeing her scar was completely gone. She doubted she would ever see him caught off guard like that again.
Lisa realized Jackson was studying her in the mirror, waiting for her answer. She swallowed past the knot in her throat and simply nodded. She was out of options at the moment. The assassin threw the soggy towels in the sink with a flick of his wrist, and turned around to casually lean against the basin to observe her from across the tiny room. Planning his next move, Lisa thought miserably, deciding which way would be most fun to torment her further.
"I hope you realize how selfish these attempts are. Communicating with others on the flight not only puts your life in danger, but theirs as well."
Lisa went still. He had hit a nerve again. "Ironic, calling me selfish," she replied in a venomous whisper. His eyes narrowed and his head tilted to the side. She ignored the warning as her voice became more heated. "You kill people and make money off of it. Any civilized, humane person would need therapy for doing that." Lisa knew – she had seen a therapist simply for contributing to an innocent person's death. "What does that say about you, Jack?"
She immediately tensed as he shot across the room and slammed his hands on the wall to either side of her shoulders. His mouth hovered close to her ear. "I've never lied to you, Leese," he said softly, seriously. "Which means that when I say flashy assassinations are the usual, then to me, that's all they are. When I say you are putting others lives' at stake, take that into consideration before you do anything stupid."
She inhaled sharply as soft lips brushed unexpectedly down her neck. "You are just part of the job to me," he murmured. She closed her eyes as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This wasn't happening; it was too unreal. But the caress of his mouth became more forceful – the press of his teeth against her skin, countered by his warm breath – delicately working his way up her neck, sweeping along her jaw line – his lips barely grazed hers and she trembled as a chill passed down her spine…
"Your voice might possibly be the only thing keeping you alive right now," he whispered smoothly. She could feel his face still looming close to hers. "Therefore, let me outline your options at this point. Cooperate - make that call - and your involvement with this little game is over just like that." Lisa had the distinct impression that to Jackson, their current vicious intimacy in the bathroom and the plot to kill the Keefes' were two completely separate games. "Your alternative is to get rid of me, which I can guarantee would be much more trouble than it's worth."
Lisa opened her eyes and gave him a look of pure loathing, even though her lips still tingled from his presence and her heart was not going to calm down for a very long time. "What makes you think so?" She tried to sound haughty but her treacherously unstable breathing almost rendered the attempt laughable.
A faint, superior smirk touched his lips. He ran a finger down the side of her cheek, dropped it several inches to pass briefly over her scar. "Because the last time I was completely unarmed and a man attacked me with a knife, it didn't end up in my chest. It ended up in his."
Her eyes widened in shock. He grinned in satisfaction as he slid open the bathroom door, and she listlessly allowed him to tug her back to their seats.
"You're an assassin. You're horrible."
He chuckled quietly and reached for the phone. "Just remember your options, Leese. How this ends is completely up to you. Although," he continued in a conspirative undertone, "one way or another, I doubt I'll ever be completely removed from your life."
Lisa broke her gaze away from his commanding azure eyes and focused on the darkness outside her window. She tried to convince herself that Jackson's dangerous insinuation hadn't been a promise, but anxiety was creeping into the pit of her stomach. They both knew that he never lied.