Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to everyone for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. You guys be sure to let me know if you think I'm slipping up anywhere, kay! In fact, just let me know what you think! Toodles!

Chapter Five: Underestimation

"Claustine?" Lisa breathed. Jackson's attention zoomed in on her for one terrifying second, then shifted to the picture at her feet. "You're gonna kill Doug Claustine?"

Jackson's eyes went from the picture, back up to Lisa's eyes, then he turned to look at Neela with undisguised annoyance. She bit down on her bottom lip and avoided his unwavering gaze. Lisa knew what it felt like to be on the other end of that penetrating stare and she did not envy Neela at the moment.

"What did you think you were doing bringing that in here?" Jackson seethed at her.

"I was just gonna run over the schedule with you again." Neela said, shrinking back against the doorframe.

"We've been over the schedule a half a dozen times, Neela, you should be breathing it by now!"

Lisa had been eyeing the rest of the scattered papers that were littering the floor. The ones that had landed face up anyway. From what she could tell, so far, there appeared to be a couple of blueprints to the hotel, some itineraries, and looked like a list of written instructions. She wanted a closer look at that one, but she was next to certain that this was the last time these papers would ever be in the same room with her, let alone within her sight. Jackson would see to that. She squinted her eyes, trying to focus them more sharply on the words on that page just as Jackson swiftly gathered the loose papers up and crammed them back into the folder. He then, in terse angry movements, shoved the folder into Neela's arms. Lisa watched him jostle Neela out of the room and slam the door behind her mumbling something to her about going downstairs and checking out the lobby. Once the door was shot, he propped his hands on his hips, dropped his head, took a deep breath and blew it out. From the look on his face, Lisa would have been willing to be that, in his head, he was counting to ten. Or a hundred. Probably a thousand.

"It's so hard to find good help these days." She quipped, feeling the irrepressible desire to irk him.

He looked at her, flashing half a smirk. "No kidding."

"So, you really didn't come here looking for me?"

"No, I didn't." Jackson answered her, taking the front of her chair by the arms and spinning it so that she was facing the bed, which he then sat on. Lisa was fighting an inner battle to not show the disappointment that caught her by surprise when he had said the word 'no'.

"So, what was I?" she asked, "Like a bonus?"

"More like a pleasant surprise."

"Well, at least it's pleasant."

"Oh, very."

He shifted so that he was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. Lisa again tried to squeeze her legs together, her mind still trying to work out a means of escape. She ignored the way he was looking at her. She ignored the way it was making her feel. She tried to convince herself that it didn't mean anything that she had fallen in talking to him so easily. God bless the blind eye! He looked so at ease and comfortable in his own skin, just the way he always seemed. Her gaze trailed the length of his body from his Italian leather loafer clad feet crossed at the ankles to the elbow he was bracing himself on with his fingers interlaced to his neck. She paused there for a moment, squinted, tried to see any indication that she had scarred him. Then her eyes traveled to his face. His so very handsome face. How could someone be so handsome and so frightening all at once? Her high school Shakespeare came flooding back to her. O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! She examined the chiseled features of that flowering face, the delicacy of his lips, the masculinity of his chin, the perfection of his nose, his cheeks…then she met his eyes and had to avert her gaze. She squirmed a little more in her chair.

"You know, you've got me tied in a pretty uncomfortable position, here." She said, trying once again unsuccessfully to force her legs together.

"Really?" he said, his eyes drifting down her legs, more because he knew that it made her uncomfortable than he was actually looking. Make no mistake, he thought that Lisa was probably the best looking female on the planet, but he wasn't much into voyeurism. He would much rather have her in the bed, willingly participating in the fun and games along with him.

"Will you untie my legs, please?" Lisa asked, yet again shifting her positions in her chair. She could feel the heat of his stare on her skin like an impatient caress. It was unnerving and thrilling all at the same time. She treated like she did all the others. She pushed it aside. "Or at least tie them together?"

To her surprise, he stood from his position on the bed and walked over to her. He leaned down, bracing his hands on her seat cushion, one on either side of her hips. He locked eyes with her, their lips mere centimeters apart. For a brief moment, Lisa thought that he was going to kiss her. What if he did? How would she feel? Would she kiss him back? Her breathing had hastened and she involuntarily leaned slightly forward; not enough to notice…but she knew that she had. Jackson's hands slid downward, caressing the outside of her thighs, then on down her calves to her ankles. She was certain that she had stopped breathing the second he had hit bare skin. He kept eye contact with Lisa the entire time. She appreciated that he wasn't sneaking a peek at her panties, but at the same time, there was something dancing deep down in their pretty blue depths that made her heart beat a little bit faster. The world stopped. Time had no meaning. There was nothing and no one outside of that hotel room; outside of that moment between the two of them. His touch was soothing and frightening all at the same time. Her body reacted. There was a darkness to this excitement; offering to open up to her; to let her crawl inside and disappear. She needed him to stop. She needed him to take a step back so that she could remind herself of who he was, what he had done. Her removed her high heels and tossed them to the other side of the room. Then, he reached behind him, underneath his suit jacket and brought his hand back with a large, shining knife in it.

A gasp escaped Lisa's lips and she began struggling against her restraints, which thus far she had managed to refrain from doing in his presence. But the sight of that knife pretty much demolished her need to put up a strong front and she went into a frenzy. Jackson said nothing. He clamped one hand down on her ankle; his grip tighter than a vice grip.

"Don't!" Lisa said and turned her head away, her eyes squeezed shut tight against the scene. The interesting thing, or redundant, however you wanted to look at it, was that what her mind could envision was probably one hundred percent worse than what the reality would be.

And, without so much as a word, Jackson cut the plastic binding from her foot. Then he did the same to the other. He then, using the tips of his fingers, knife still in hand, gently pressed her knees together. Lisa had never been so aware of the feeling of air filling her lungs before in her life. Jackson tucked the knife back away securely in its hiding place and stood at the same time Lisa clamped her legs even tighter together.

If she had been thinking, she would have kicked him in the face while she had the chance, but she had been too relieved that he hadn't used that enormous blade on her. Probably better that she hadn't kicked him considering she was still tied to a damn chair and Jackson wasn't one to sit there and not retaliate. She rolled her ankles and looked down at her bare feet. Why had he taken off her shoes? She thought back to 'the incident', when they had been on her stairs. He had expected her to kick him in the face. The fact that he was scared she would stab him through the cheek with her stiletto made her smile a little.

"Daniel will come looking for me, you know." She said.

"You think so?" Jackson said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it across the bed.

"Yes."

"Daniel is too busy downstairs being the politician. He hasn't even noticed you're gone."

"You're underestimating him."

"Am I?" Jackson mused, a twinkle of laughter dancing behind his eyes.

"You underestimated me."

That one earned her a narrow eyed glare. He jerked another button loose on his shirt, his eyes still fixed on her. Lisa let her gaze wander over the collar of the white undershirt that he had just revealed to her. There! The tiniest hint of a pinkish scar peeked out from just underneath its edge. She felt the corners of her mouth tip upward. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the bathroom to 'freshen up'. As soon as he was out of sight, Lisa began working at the plastic strips that held her wrists; trying to make her hands small enough to slip through them.

In the bathroom, Jackson splashed some cold water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He had just needed to get out of that room. He needed to keep a clear head and with her around, it was like everything was heightened. He could smell her, he could feel her, hell, he could practically taste her!

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked his reflection.

In the other room, he had the woman of his dreams, the only woman who had ever challenged him, mentally, physically, and the hardest of them all, emotionally, and what was he doing? Talking to himself in the mirror. He shoved away from the counter and ran both hands back through his hair. She was there. He had her. Now, what exactly was he planning to do with her?

Neela was right. This was a bad idea all the way around. Lisa was bad for him. She got under his skin and he liked it too much. She confused him; upset his rationality. He couldn't think straight when she was near him. She was the only person on the whole of the planet that could actually make him feel. And in his profession, that was definitely considered a commodity, not an attribute.

What the hell was she even doing here? She wasn't supposed to be here! No one caught him by surprise, no one. Not since her the last time anyway. In two years, not one single person, or group for that matter, had managed to get the so-called drop on him. He had built up that level of self assurance, of control. Then, Lisa Reisert came riding back into his world on a freaking elevator! She was there with her vote of confidence in that prick of a fiancé and he wanted nothing more than to grab her by the shoulders and prove her wrong about him. He wanted to tell her what he really thought about that self-centered son of a bitch that she was intending to marry. Tell her what kind of guy Daniel really was.

Something struck him belatedly. Why the hell was she so concerned with this Claustine guy? Who was he to her? Other than her more than obvious outstanding moral fiber, the way she had said his name had made him think that she actually cared about the man. Maybe he should ask her.

Lisa had managed to slide one hand out of the straps, though not without the loss of a bit of blood and she had begun to tug and work on the other one. She almost had it over her thumb when she heard the bathroom door opening. Her tugging became frantic at the sound. Jackson appeared.

"What are you doing?" he said, hurrying over to her.

When he reached her, Lisa kicked with both of her legs and chair skidded backwards away from him. He took another step toward her and she kicked again. Only this time, she brought her leg up to his chest and shoved him away from her, causing him to tumble back onto the bed. He hit the mattress with a bounce and she ripped her hand the rest of the way out of the confines of the strap. Jackson leapt to his feet and came at her. Lisa shoved the chair into his legs and watched him topple over it to the floor, then she raced for the bedroom door, jerking it open. But, just as she was about to go through, Jackson had gotten back to his feet. He caught her around the waist and slung her onto the bed. She bounded up onto her knees and moved to roll off the side, but Jackson tackled her and they both tumbled over the edge and landed in the floor with a THUD. Jackson landed on Lisa's back, so she directly threw her elbow back into his ribcage. Jackson grunted and grabbed her by one arm and flipped her over. He climbed onto her so that he was straddling her hips and backhanded her across the face. She wiggled beneath him and the feeling excited Jackson. Be careful what you wish for, he thought. Lisa screamed and threw her arm up, the heel of her hand connecting solidly with his nose. He responded by slapping her again and then, after a battle to catch her flailing arms, he pinned both wrists above her head.

"Damn it, Lisa, calm down." He growled.

She didn't really need to calm down. Jackson was kind of starting to enjoy himself. He had her pinned beneath him, wearing a tiny little dress that left pretty much nothing to the imagination. If he just leaned down a little further, he could kiss her. The idea set something on fire in the bottom of his belly. She looked up at him with those glistening green eyes. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to kiss him back. He wanted to be inside of her. He just wanted her. He had since the first day he had started following her. Okay, technically stalking her. Business and pleasure. They aren't supposed to coincide, but it happens.

Lisa looked up at him and blinked. Her lips parted slightly and then she dug every fingernail that she could into his flesh. Jackson inhaled sharply through is teeth and tossed his head back. Lisa anticipated the head butt though, and dodged him so instead he slammed his own head into the floor. She took advantage of his disorientation and bucked her hips to the side, throwing him off of her. She then scrambled to her feet and ran out the open bedroom door and zigzagged her way through the living room to the main door.

She reached the door to the suite, but when she went to jerk it open it caught at only about six inches. The chain. She slammed it shut and went for the chain lock, but her fingers were refusing to work and Jackson was too close. So, instead she ducked under Jackson when he reached for her and ran for the phone, intent on calling hotel security. She had no more than picked up the receiver when she felt something sharp bite into her neck. She looked over out of the corner of her eye, careful not move. Jackson was standing a little under an arm's length away with his dagger held to her throat and a murderous look in his eyes.

"Lisa," he said; his voice that low calm that was scary as all hell, "I will kill you."

He meant it. He didn't want to kill her. But he would.

Lisa dropped the receiver to the floor and slowly turned to look at him, glaring. They inspected one another, both of their faces set with equal ferocity. He had pressed too hard with the blade and noticed a small trickle of blood running down her pale neck. Her wrists were also bleeding from where she had shredded them during her venture at breaking her straps and he had busted her bottom lip when he had smacked her. But even standing there battered, she was a breathtaking sight. Even now, he could see her working things through her mind; coming up with another plan. He almost smiled. That was his Lisa. Always thinking on her feet.

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Yeah," Jackson sneered, "I'm gonna fall for that one again."

"What? I'm gonna leave a message for maid service? Are you kidding me?"

"Let's look at this logically…" Jackson began, only to be interrupted by Lisa.

"Male driven and fact based?"

Jackson licked his lips and reined in his temper. Nobody had ever pushed his buttons quite like her. "I turned my back on you for two seconds and you tried to run."

"My wrists are bleeding."

"Yes, they are."

"Can I wash them?"

No, Jackson thought, say no. Be the heartless son of a bitch that you were trained to be. But then, he watched a drop of crimson blood trickle down her wrist, over her middle finger, and land with a tiny splat on the carpet. Clenching his jaw tight, he tucked his knife back into the sheath at the back of his belt.

"Fine." He said and grabbed her by the upper arm. He dragged her to the bathroom, shoved her through the door and then followed her inside.

"Clean up." He said, leaning back against the wall and propping his hands on his narrow hips.

Lisa glowered at him, then turned to the sink and ran some cold water, wincing as she held her sore, scraped wrists under the stream. Jackson tilted forward slightly, trying to get a better look at her cuts, but his eyes traveled to other areas of her body. Her hair was mussed and sticking up. Without his bidding, Jackson's mind imagined that that was how her hair would look when she had just crawled out of bed after a long night of lovemaking. There was a bruise forming high on her cheekbone where he had slapped her. There was a split at the hem of her already too short dress, revealing even more of her lean toned thigh. She was wiping mascara from her cheeks with the use of both hands and some cold water. Water dribbled from her lower lip and she sucked it into her mouth, causing him to almost cease breathing all together. He ran a hand back through his hair and refocused his attentions to the wounds at her wrists.

"You're gonna need to clean those." He said.

Lisa flashed him a dirty look via the mirror and stifled the urge to throw a handful of freezing water in his face. She should definitely let it heat up first. Like scalding. Boiling. Worthy of nice third degree burns.

Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed off from the wall, coming to stand next to her as he shoved his shirt sleeves up his forearms. He dug into a tiny black bag that was sitting on the counter and pulled a small first aid kit out of it. The bag drew Lisa's attention and she stared at it, trying to make out its contents. Toothbrush, hair comb, Listerine, eye drops, cologne, toothpaste, and she thought she eyed a shaving kit. Damn it. Jackson held in his hand what had to be the smallest bottle of peroxide Lisa had ever seen. He took her by the hand and held it over the sink. When he poured a little peroxide onto her wrist, she yelped and jerked her hand away from him. He gave her a look and reached for her hand again. He gave her a lot of looks, she thought. Amazing how he had an uncanny ability to convey a million different things without speaking. When she recoiled from him again, he let out a breath and grabbed her by the arm faster than it took her to blink. He held her hand like a vice this time and poured the peroxide over her wound. Lisa let out another squeal and tried to pull her hand away again, but to no avail. Jackson was not letting go again.

"Will you stop fighting me so I can help you?" he said. It was more of a command than a question. Then again, Jackson wasn't really one to ask for things politely like a good little boy.

Her lips stretched into a thin line, showing her unhappiness, but she stopped struggling against him. He dabbed at her cuts with a cotton ball, rather gently to Lisa's surprise. He was close enough that she could smell the subtleness of his cologne. It smelled good. Memories came flooding into her mind. His breath on her neck, his voice in her ear, the feel of his body. She blinked those thoughts back into the dark recesses of her mind where they belonged and tried her damnedest not to look at him. Jackson cleaned both of her wrists and then wrapped soft white gauze around them, then he stepped to the side and signaled for her to walk out of the bathroom in front of him. She went and sat down on the bed, crossing her legs and looking up at him; took him in. His hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes were rumpled, he was staring at her with an unbelievable intensity. She couldn't look him in the eyes, and when she averted her gaze, she noticed the tear in the side of his shirt and felt herself smile. I did that, she thought with pride.

"Your shirt's torn." She said.

Jackson looked down and fingered the tear, then looked up at the ceiling and cursed under his breath.

She didn't notice when he had moved, but she noticed when he had her by the throat. He forced her to lie back on the bed, easing himself down with her. In under a minute, she found herself tied up in a most unusual way involving a phone cord. She stared at him through narrowed eyes from her position at the top of the bed, propped up on a bunch of pillows. Sure, you knee your kidnapper in the balls one time and they never trust you again.

Jackson stood in front of the closet, examining the tear in his shirt, which had grown even larger as he had fought to tie her up. With another muttered curse, he began tugging at the buttons. Lisa watched; she shouldn't have. She watched as his fingers slid with deftness over the buttons, undoing each one. Everything in her perception seemed to slow down as she watched him perform this simple action. He pulled the shirt from his shoulders and turned his back to her. Then, he grabbed the white undershirt at the back of the neck and tugged it up over his head. Lisa's breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat. She didn't know it was possible to choke on air. Her eyes traced over the smooth plains of his bare back, following every cut ridge of granite muscle. He moved and his shoulder blades rolled and a rush of blood flooded Lisa's cheeks. His body was lean and sculpted; the body of a runner. He turned to the side, giving Lisa view of his taught stomach and well defined arms. She could see an array of scars covering his body. There was a linear scar going diagonally from just under his left shoulder blade to the middle of his back. There were three small circular scars above his left hip and it looked as though someone had taken a cheese grater to his upper right shoulder. But somehow, the imperfections just seemed to add to the overall splendor of his body. Lisa wondered to herself how many more scars were hidden on him. He turned slightly more toward her, and she caught sight of a circular scar on his lower ribs. She knew that that was from where her father had shot him and she nearly smiled. Then, she felt herself frown against her will as a fresh white undershirt slid down over his toned abdomen. He slipped into a crisp white dress shirt and had it half way buttoned up when Neela came bursting through the bedroom door.

"Davis has sent out a little search party to find his woman." Neela said.

"She's not a property, Neela." Jackson snapped.

Neela blinked. "Did you just hear what I said?"

Jackson shook it off as a momentary lapse in concentration…even though he wasn't supposed to have those. He continued buttoning his shirt, "Three goons; not very bright?"

"To say the least." Neela answered.

Lisa almost groaned. The idea of Jake, Butch, or Blade outsmarting Jackson was definitely improbable. The fact that they seemed to be her only hope of escape; now that was plain old sad.

"Fantastic." Jackson sighed, tucking his shirt into his waistband. He cast a glance at Lisa and she just beamed the brightest smile he had ever seen up at him. His eyes narrowed.

Just because the odds were stacked against her, didn't mean she couldn't gloat a little. Plus, it was an opportunity to irk Jackson, and that seemed to have become her favorite pastime as of the late.

"So much for not being noticed, huh." Neela said, a pointed look at Jackson.

"Not now." Jackson said and put on his suit jacket. "There's another way to look at this you know. Lisa's absence may in fact divert attention away from us."

Neela cocked one perfect eyebrow, "I'd say that were true if we weren't the ones who had her."

"No, no." Jackson continued, "we just need to get her out of the hotel. Put her somewhere safe." And away from Daniel Davis. He kept that thought to himself.

"Such as?" Neela questioned.

"I'm prepared for every eventuality." Jackson said, looking over at Lisa. Okay, so he hadn't been completely one hundred percent prepared for her presence, but now that she was here, he was certain that he could handle it.

Neela and Jackson seemed to both be working it over in their heads for a silent moment before Jackson nodded his head in jerky decisive movements.

He walked over to Lisa, untangled the phone cord from around her, and pulled her to her feet by her arms. "Let's go for a ride, Leese."

Author's Note: Well, that's it for now. Don't forget to tell me what you think!