1Lisa ran to the edge of the driveway, and, setting down Athena and Jacob, hailed a taxi. She settled the kids into the seat and rattled off an address. "Blossom Palms Lane."

Lisa sat back in the seat and soon they arrived in front of her old house. She helped the three-year-olds out and knocked on the door after paying the cabbie.

"Miss," he said before he pulled away. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Lisa bit off the words as the door opened.

"Dad," she said. Her father looked at her bags and the kids, and let her in.

Lisa settled the kids in the living room with some Play-Doh and her father guided her to sit at the table.

"Leese," he said softly. "What happened?"

"I..." she began, too ashamed of herself even to speak. Her father took her hand. "I'm an idiot, Dad...I let myself believe that he'd changed, that he cared about us...that he was better...but I was wrong. He left the hotel and is working with those assassins again, that bastard," she said quietly.

"Why?" her father asked.

"He likes it better there...I should have known...he has the blood of a killer," she cried. "I told him...if he went back, I would leave."

"So I see," Joe said, his temper flaring up with anger at Lisa's husband.

"He's going to come back, though...I can't stay here, you can't stay here, he has eyes everywhere and he'll be angry," she said, standing up and pacing the floor. "He's changed back to the brutal Jackson, he won't stop...go to Marielle's or something, I need to get out of Miami, out of Florida...oh, shit! Mom, he'll get her, and Cynthia! Oh, I need to call the school..."

"Lisa, they're not going to target your school," her father consoled her, as the phone rang. Lisa stared at it as if it were about to attack, and then grabbed it.

"H-hello?"

"Yes, this is Tucker Matthews from TimeShares International. Would you be interested in buying one of our beautiful properties?" Lisa breathed and gave her dad the thumbs-up signal. She thought, TimeShares...a place for me and the kids to live...yeah...

"Sure," she said as her father stood to make coffee.

"Good to see you've moved on, Leese," the too-familiar voice snarled over the telephone. Lisa screamed. "No one is safe, unless you come home now...your dad isn't safe even with Marielle, you can't run, Leese," the voice was singsong now. "Oh, by the way, you may want to check on the kids before Jacob swallows the Play-Doh."

Lisa slammed down the phone and ran to her son, who had something blue dangling from his mouth.

"Don't eat that thing," she scolded him, then ran back to her father.

"We need to get out of here," she told him. He nodded. "Do you have any clothes I can borrow? Oh, can I use the car, too?" He nodded again and left the room.

"Please, Dad, just...hide in the closet or something until I call and say I'm far away...make them think no one's home. We're being tracked. I'll call you once I get to wherever I'm headed. Call Mom and Cynthia on your cell to tell them to look out, and when it's clear go somewhere but DON'T GO to Marielle's." Lisa took the clothes he gave her, changed, and pulled her hair into a Yankees cap. She grabbed the kids and got ready to jump in the car.

"Thanks," she told her father, and sped off to the airport.