Author's Note: Well, there was only one review for the last chapter, and thanks for that by the way, but here's the next installment anyway. Please review, I really want to know how this story is being perceived. Well, thanks and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four

It was the only time in his life Vincent could remember thinking that a hit had been taken care of too quickly. It was his last one of the night. Some cracked out loan shark with an attention span problem named Bartleby (yes, Bartleby) Sanchez. A rat that the world was better off without. The only problem was that now that the job was done, he had nothing to do but go back to the hotel where he had left Claire. He just wasn't sure he was ready to go back yet. He still wasn't sure why the hell he had put her there in the first place.

He had been standing on the street corner outside of Sanchez's building for about five minutes. That was longer than he had stood anywhere since he was in Special Forces. He hadn't been able to bring himself to hail a taxi yet. After another long moment, he took a deep breath and held his hand out.

Just keep breathing, he told himself as the bright yellow car came to a stop in front of him. Breathing, after all, was very important.

Claire sat in the corner of the hotel room, her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. She had been sitting there since Vincent had left her. She had cried until she felt dehydrated and couldn't cry anymore. She wanted to know why she had been brought to this room. She wanted to know why she wasn't dead. She felt as though there were an out of control train rampaging through her head. She wanted desperately to run away, but she hadn't moved. She had barely fluttered an eyelid for fear of the repercussions if she did.

The doorknob turned and she stopped breathing.

Vincent opened the hotel room door and found Claire huddled in the corner of the room like a beaten dog. He set down the full ice bucket that he had gotten from downstairs on the bedside table near where she sat.

"Here." He said, "For your eye."

Claire looked back and forth between Vincent and the ice bucket and then withdrew from reality once again.

Vincent frowned. "If you don't ice it, the swelling is going to be ten times worse."

This earned him a glare from the pretty red head as she silently reached up and snatched a single ice cube which she then proceeded to forcefully press against her temple. The sudden sting of cold made her wince.

"Can I get you a rag?" Vincent asked.

Claire said nothing. Vincent shed his jacket after removing the phone cords from his pocket and reattaching them to the phone. Claire watched as he dialed a number and booked a first class ticket for the morning to some place that she couldn't pronounce in Brazil. At first, she felt a strong relief that he would be gone the next day, then the idea that he might want to do away with her before he left set in and she the relief turned right back into tension. Every muscle in her body tightened up and she pulled her legs even closer to her chest. She didn't ever notice how hard she had begun pressing the ice cube to her cheek.

Vincent hung up the phone and looked over to where Claire had still not moved. He fetched a washcloth from the bathroom and filled it with ice. He then shoved the rag into Claire's free hand without so much as a word.

Claire wasn't sure of what it was that suddenly made her so bold, but she went with it and spoke. "Why am I here?"

Vincent paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. Claire wasn't certain, but she thought she saw the hint of a smile. "Because I couldn't leave you behind to call the cops." He answered.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Claire asked.

Good question, Vincent thought. "Does it matter? Shouldn't you just say thank you?"

Despite what she had thought earlier about being dehydrated, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I just…I just don't understand what's happening. You…you seemed so nice when I met you and then, and then, and then you just…show up and…and kill Tony."

Vincent looked at her. "Are you really crying because I killed some no good loser that was smacking you around?"

"I'm not crying because of Tony!" Claire exclaimed, "Although the image of his brains flying all over my living room wall is certainly gonna stick with me for a while."

Is she having a breakdown? Vincent thought, What am I supposed to say, now?

"No. I'm crying because…I'm scared." She finished. "I'm scared of you. I'm scared of what you're gonna do to me."

For some reason, Vincent felt the need to put her mind at rest. More than likely he just wanted to shut her the hell up.

"Look," he said, sitting down in a chair on the opposite side of the room, "don't be scared. I couldn't leave you behind because I didn't want you to call the police and tip them off. I didn't want to kill you because you didn't pose an immediate threat."

That was a lie. She was, is, and probably always would be a threat.

"Calm down." Vincent went on, "I promise, nothing is going to hurt you tonight."

Claire stared at him with red puffy eyes, but she had stopped crying. "What about tomorrow?" she rasped.

"Tomorrow," Vincent replied, "I disappear and you never see me again. Now try and get some sleep."

He vanished into the bathroom. Claire stared at the closed door for the longest time, determined not to fall asleep. But, of course, her eyelids kept dropping involuntarily and it wasn't long before her head had dropped back against the wall and her breathing slowed.

Back at Claire's apartment building, Raphael Bardez stumbled down the hallway to his brother's door. He still fuzzy from shooting up earlier, but knew he was about to come down. He needed Antonio to hook him up with some more. Antonio would take care of him. He always did.

Raphael got to the door and pounded on it. "Eh, Tony! It's Raph, open up!"

There was no answer, no shuffling inside, nothing.

"Tony!" Raphael called again, "Tony, open the damn door!"

Still no answer. Raphael knew that he was home; he had already been to the club and the place was crawling with cops. Antonio would never stick around with the cops there. It wasn't a Wednesday, so he wasn't at that fat bastard Preswick's place. That left his apartment. Something wasn't right. Even through his drug induced haze, Raphael could sense that things were off. He knocked twice more, then shouldered his way through the door.

When he got into the apartment, he found the entire place in disarray. Looked like Antonio and that girl of his had had another fight. That was when he saw his brother lying in a heap in the middle of the floor.

"Tony?" he said, then he noticed the pool of blood surrounding him. "Oh, shit! Tony!" Raphael tore through the apartment, "Claire! You bitch! You kill my brother?"

He searched through the apartment until he was satisfied that Claire wasn't hiding in one of the closets somewhere.

"Don't you worry, bitch." He growled, "I'll find you."

It was 6 a.m. when Vincent's beeper went off, waking Claire up. Vincent hadn't been asleep. Fear kept Claire kept perfectly still and quiet as Vincent began dialing a number on the phone.

Vincent grew more impatient with every ring until, finally his last employer answered.

"Yeah?" Vincent said.

"I hear you had some difficulty with the job." The voice on the other end of the phone said.

"You heard wrong."

"Tell me about the girl."

"What girl?"

"The girl that you left Bardez's apartment with."

"I don't like being spied on."

"Consider it investment insurance. After that L.A. fiasco…"

"There were extenuating circumstances in L.A."

"Be that as it may, who is the girl?"

"She's no one."

"Well, I'm worried that no one knows too much."

"My job is done."

"I've already got an extra thirty grand ready to transfer to your account."

"That's not even half my going rate, and you know it."

"I figure something like this should be a discount."

"If anything it should be extra."

"Just do it. We'll discuss terms later."

"No. I won't do it."

"I'll just send someone else to do it."

"What?"

"Do the job or I'll send Beaufort."

"Fine!" Vincent growled and slammed down the phone.

Claire had only been able to hear one side of the conversation, but she was pretty sure that the girl being talked about was her and she didn't think they were complimenting her hair color. She was just about to start panicking, when she heard Vincent pick up the phone again. He booked another ticket to Brazil.

What?, Claire thought to herself, Does he plan on taking me with him?

Before she had the time to really start to process the situation, Vincent had her by the arms and had jerked her to her feet.

"Come on, wake up, it's time to go." He said.

"Go where?" Claire asked, acting as though she had just woken.

"Just get up." Vincent said.