Author's Note: Here's chapter three. Many thanks to SpadesJade for the Mary Sue definition. I definitely don't see Claire as a Mary Sue. I think that Vincent would get annoyed with someone like that really quickly, so have no fear.

Chapter Three

Claire was dragged into the apartment she shared with Antonio, her boss…oh yeah, and boyfriend. He had seen her little exchange with Vincent and was none too happy about it. He was convinced that if this guy had just handed her a one hundred dollar bill without even so much as a request for a lap dance, then she must have given him something worth that amount of money. They had barely stepped through the doorway when Antonio had grabbed her by the back of the neck and slammed her into the wall.

"Who the hell was that?" he screamed.

"Who?" Claire replied.

Wrong answer.

Antonio slapped her across the face, knocking her into a nearby bookshelf.

"Who?" Antonio repeated, "The guy who gave you a wad, that's who! Who is he? Are you fucking him?"

"What?" Claire exclaimed.

"Shut the fuck up! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" He raged, grabbing her by the hair and slinging her across the room.

Claire fell to the floor, praying that he was satisfied and that he would just leave her be. No such luck. He walked over to her and jerked her to her feet.

"So, are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was all about?" Antonio howled.

"Tony," Claire tried to be rational with him, "you're with me practically all the time. What the hell makes you think that I have time to run around on you?"

"Don't lie to me, bitch!" he said with a quick backhand across her cheek.

"I'm not lying!" Claire exclaimed, stumbling back into the sofa, her hand to her face. "I didn't do anything!"

They had been together for three months the first time he had hit her. It'd been about a year no and he had gotten pretty good about avoiding her face unless he was really pissed. The fact that he didn't seem to be holding back at all terrified her. He followed the backhand with a openhanded slap right on her cheekbone and temple, throwing off her equilibrium and causing her to actually fall over the couch. When she hit the floor, she began to crawl desperately away from him and toward the far corner of the room. Hadn't he had enough? Couldn't he just leave her alone, now?

"No guy just gives that much money away unless he's expecting something in return." Antonio said, taking a step toward her.

Vincent walked into the east village apartment building and made his way to the elevator. It was late. No one was in the lobby so there was no one for him to worry about. He took the elevator to the fourth floor.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator, he heard the shouting. A man and a woman. And it was coming from his target's apartment.

Great, he thought. He was about to walk into a messy situation and make it even messier. When he reached the door, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and turned the doorknob with it. The idiot had left his door unlocked.

However, what met Vincent's gaze when he opened that door was something that he was grossly unprepared for.

The sight was not an uncommon one. Turn on any episode of Cops and the odds of seeing the exact same image was highly likely. A man, in this case Antonio Bardez, standing over a young woman on the floor nursing a bleeding nose or lip from the blow she had just received. In this case, the young woman was none other than Claire and she was nursing both a busted lip and nose. Her right eye was also red and puffy and it didn't take a genius to know that she would have a hell of a shiner in the morning.

Antonio stared at Vincent for a moment, recognized him from the club and turned back to Claire with a scowl and said, "You gave the bastard our address?"

Claire sat there looking terrified and confused. "No." she rasped, and it was the truth. She hadn't given Vincent their address and she couldn't figure out for the life of her what he was doing there.

Vincent gave a low whistle as he took in the apartment. "Nice place, you got here, Antonio." His eyes wandered over the debris of the battle that had just occurred and he commented, "Needs a little straightening up, but other than that…"

"Then what the fuck is he doing here?" Antonio screamed at Claire, "And how does he know my name? What have you been saying about me?" The question was followed by another hard slap across the face.

Vincent's jaw tightened as he watched this creep hit Claire.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you never to hit a lady?" he asked.

Antonio didn't get a chance to respond. Vincent had drawn his weapon and taken care of the matter. The first shot was fired and Claire began to scream. On reflex, the gun was next pointed at her head.

Claire stared down the barrel of the silenced semi-automatic pistol that Vincent held in his hand. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat choking her scream into silence.

He should kill her. He knew he should kill her. She had just seen him shoot her boyfriend. She had seen him at the club. She seemed like a smart girl, once she heard about the murder at the club it wouldn't take her long to put two and two together. All he needed to do was put a bullet in her pretty little head and rid himself of the problem. But he couldn't.

"Okay," Vincent said, holstering his handgun. "let's go."

"W-w-what?" Claire questioned. He stepped towards her and she recoiled violently into the wall. "Don't kill me!" she pleaded.

"I'm not gonna kill you, Claire." Vincent said as he took her by the upper arms and pulled her to her feet. She didn't struggle. Shock, Vincent thought, it'll wear off. "I'm not going to kill you," he repeated, "but I can't leave you here."

He supported her with one arm and with the other he gathered his briefcase, her coat and bag as they walked through the door. The elevator was taking to long so he led down the stairwell.

Everything began to sink into Claire's head. Vincent, the handsome man from the street and club had just walked into her apartment and shot Antonio three times. Now he was dragging her down some back alleyway toward the street. She was surprised she hadn't…no, wait….here it came. She doubled over and vomited.

Vincent never even broke stride. Throwing up was a natural human reaction to what Claire had just witnessed. He simply gave more support to her weight and kept moving, practically carrying her along.

He hailed a cab once they reached the street and quickly shoved the young woman in, and crawled in after her. He told to driver to take them to a hotel and then turned to Claire, who had pressed herself completely against the other side of the car. She was trembling. He knew it was more from fear than from the cold, but her draped her coat over her shoulders anyway.

"Here." He said, offering her his handkerchief. She just stared at it. "You can use it to wipe your mouth off." He said.

Claire hesitantly took the handkerchief from him and cleaned her face off. It was an action. Something she could focus on. Something to stop her mind from reeling. What was he going to do with her?

It took Vincent all of five seconds to check into the hotel. It wasn't a rat hole but it sure as hell wasn't the Waldorf. He gave the clerk a fake i.d. and credit card with the matching name and thanked him when he handed him the card key to the room. He followed the thanks with a look of warning when he saw the way the young man was eyeing Claire, who was standing tight lipped at his side. The boy snapped his gaze down to the counter top as Vincent led Claire away.

After taking the elevator up to the seventh floor of the hotel, Vincent opened the room for them. As soon as they were in, Vincent went to work. He closed the curtains over the windows, checked the bathroom for anything that could be used against him, and removed the phone cords and tucked them into his pocket. When all this was done, he turned to Claire, who was staring at her shoes.

"All right, listen up," he said, "I still have some work to do. YOU will stay here, you will not leave this room. You will not let anyone else into this room. You will not draw any attention of any kind to yourself. Is that understood?"

Claire just stared at him. What was she supposed to say? Yes, sir? "What do you want with me?" she breathed.

Vincent went on as though he didn't hear the question. "I won't be gone for very long and when I get back, you will be here." She didn't appear to be paying attention, so he took her by the upper arms and forced her to look him in the eyes, "Listen to me, Claire. This is very important. If you are not here when I get back, I will find you. I don't care where you go or who you think can protect you. If you leave this room, I will know and I will find you. Do you believe me?"

Claire nodded. She believed every word he said and she knew that for now, it was definitely in her best interest not to piss him off.

With that, he left. Once he was gone, Claire just sat there for a while. She was dumbfounded. Perhaps, in a state of shock. But it soon wore off and she broke down into harsh choking sobs that she was powerless to stop.

Vincent stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of the hotel. What am I doing? Why did I bring her here? Have I lost it? The thoughts just kept coming, one after another, bombarding him until he couldn't see straight. He needed to get away. He needed to go and do his job and clear his head. He cast the young clerk another look of warning just in case he had something stupid in mind while he was gone, and then made his way outside.