Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer- I own Claire, Patrick, Robinson (however useful he may be, since he's dead.) and Drew Deachat. I sadly don't own Ben, Riley, Abbie or Agent Dawes. They belong to Disney or one of those large corporate movie companies who live to squash my hopes and dreams. But I love them anyway. Does anyone really care about disclaimers?

Classicreviewer - Yay! I love new reviewers! They make my day! I'm glad you like it! Plus I love your name-thing

Kes-The whole Dropping-the-fork-ruse was in the second chapter when Riley dropped his fork in order to get a look at Claire rather obviously. Sorry, I forgot that not everyone has this story completely memorized :). However, I love your version of the dropping-the-fork-ruse, because it totally sound like something I would do. :)Yes, I looked back and realized that Claire was getting a little goofy-I blame that on my inability at writing 23-year olds, never having been one.I promise I'll get better. Hah, I'm still saving up the Riley whumpage until the big finale-but I'll include some in this chapter just for you. Enjoy!

Whisperwings-Hah, I know what you mean about cliff hangers- I despise them, but they're my personal way of making sure that people don't walk away from my story yawning and throwing virtual tomatoes at me. Unfortunately, I think there's going to be a lot more cliffhangers on the way. Sorry! Yell at my beta, not me! (Hides behind Jo)

lizzie-harrison- Hah, don't worry about the whole name thing, I got a kick out of it. I would do the exactly same thing if I was lazy, which is 99.9 percent of the time. Thanks for reviewing, and I love writing this! It's relaxing, in a strange sort of way.

Elvenrarehunter-(sqeals) I know you! (NO, wait, not in a I've-been-stalking-you-kind-of way) but I've read you story Silence is Golden and I LOVE it! I've never actually seen any Don't Say a Word, but it was still really well written and supergood! Plus Shaw was alive in it and I heart Shaw because he's such a cool evil sidekick. It's so awesome to get a review from you! Thanks!

A/N- I realize that I've been updating really slowly (for me) and I apologize. It's due to the fact that my wonderful beta wants me to actually stop and map out my plot like a normal writer, since I was kind of making everything up as I went along before. So I might be updating a little slower, but I promise I'll get better as I go along. And hopefully the plot will make sense! Oh, also there's some extra swearing in the last bit-I apologize, it just for the character's perspective/personality.

Chapter Twelve

Ever since he was nineteen, Ian had led two separate existences. In one, he was involved in every kind of illegal activity imaginable, and news raged about the young criminal mastermind Ian. He was always just Ian, because his last name only existed in his second life, where he was Ian Howe, young businessman with a boatload of money from his dead father. Ian Howe the law abiding man. Ian Howe the brother. His second life revolved around one thing: his nine-year-old sister, who adamantly believed that her brother was right and justice personified.

Claire was the reason that his two lives were kept so separate. Ian Howe was far from being an idiot, and knew someday that Claire would find out about his activities of "questionable legality". She was a smart girl, she would realize that he never let her meet any of his "work friends" or have "business meetings" at home, and she would start to look for answers.

But he vowed that Claire would never get involved with anything remotely connected to his criminal experiences. Never.

Fourteen years later, staring at the screen of a battered laptop, Ian realized that that particular promise was shot to hell. Claire was so deeply involved in this Blackbeard business that all his criminal connections in the world couldn't get out of this mess. He couldn't stop the murderer of Eric Robinson, who, at the moment, might be on a plane, soaring over their heads to the tiny island where his sister was running around looking for buried treasure, ignorantly happy.

He buried his head in his hands and realized that the only way the situation could be worse was if the killer had come upon Claire through Ian's own less-than-model-citizen past.

Which could, actually, be true.

"Did he buy a ticket?" he asked, his voice muffled through his hands.

"I'm running a search on all the airport data bases in the area." Dawes informed him as she typed furiously on her own computer. "If he purchased a ticket under his own name, it should show up here."

She waited as the computer whirred and beeped and generally did other busy computer things until a single page printed out. Dawes reached for it, but was beaten by Ian who snatched it up and scanned the paper quickly.

"He bought a ticket for a flight two days ago." he spat angrily, bringing his fist down on Dawe's desk and causing a few agent to stare.

"I'll call the local police there and tell them that there's a killer on the loose. You call your sister and tell her to get herself and the others to a safe place and stay there." Dawes instructed.

"Wait." Ian objected. "What are the local police going to be able to do? They don't know what Deachat looks like, and he can use a fake name easily. How can they track him? We need to go there ourselves."

"We don't have jurisdiction in Nassau." Dawes informed him wearily. "And we don't know what he looks like either, we're not going to be of any help."

Ian sighed. "So all we can do is wait."

"Hardly. We can work the case from here. We can search for information on Deachat- address, physical description, family, education. We need to find out who this guy is."

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"…….Three!" Claire finished, and with a quick glance at each other they bolted down the side street.

"Is he following us?" Riley panted. Claire spared a quick glance behind her and ran faster, nodding. The floral man had abandoned all pretenses of subtlety and was sprinting about fifty feet behind them.

They could both see an intersection in about two hundred feet, where the sun shone unblocked by the tall buildings that rose on the sides of their alley, and large groups of tourists strolled down the sidewalks.

"We need to get down there." Claire said, pointing. "He won't take us in public-I hope."

Peeking behind them again, Riley could see that the man was tall and strong-looking, and was catching up to them slowly. This was probably accredited to the fact that neither Riley nor Claire had ever come remotely close to winning any track medals in high school..

There was a soft splatting sound, and Claire turned to see the man with something shiny in his hand.

"He has a gun." Claire informed him as she turned back around. "There a silencer on it though, which means that he doesn't want to alert the people down there. We just need to get to that intersection."

"I hate to rain on your parade Claire, but that's not going to happen. He'll catch up with us before then." Riley said, gasping for breath. He noticed a dilapidated truck on the side of the alley about thirty feet away. They could make it if they sprinted.

"We can break into that truck." he said, pointing. They picked up the pace, the floral man only thirty feet behind them. As they approached the car, Claire dug into her bag. "I have a bobby pin in here- I can pick the lock."

"We don't have time." Riley said, leaning against the truck as the man neared. "Give me your sweatshirt."

Claire shot him a quizzical look, but took off her sweatshirt and handed it to him, comprehension dawning as Riley wrapped his hand in it. She winced as he punched the driver's window, smashing it open.

"Get in." he forced out, unwrapping his hand that was now streaked in blood and unlocking the car.

Claire ran around and opened the door, jumping in the shotgun.

"Riley!" she yelled as a warning, and Riley turned around to see the floral man's fist flying at him. His head snapped back and gave a sickening thud as it hit the side of the truck. He collapsed on the ground, and the man wasted no time in running around the side of the truck pointing the gun at Claire.

She groped in her bag until her hand closed around a small metal capsule. Opening the door, she exited the truck with her hands up.

"What's that?" the man demanded, pointing at the capsule.

"It's hard drive information-my notes." Claire told him, her voice shaking. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

The man nodded slowly, and held his hand out. "Let me see it."

Claire brought her hands down, opening the capsule. "See, it has the information in here…." As the man bent his head down to look she blasted him full-on in the face with the pepper spray. He clawed at his eyes and howled in pain, and Claire ran to the other side of the truck, avoiding his blind swipe at her.

"Riley!" she called, propping him up on the sidewalk. "Riley, you have to get up!"

Riley stirred, his eyes hazy looking. "Claire?"

"Yes, it's me. Can you stand up?"

Riley nodded slowly, wincing as his head throbbed. Claire helped him get on his feet and pushed him into the truck. Climbing in after him. she tried to ignore the screaming man on the side of the other window and sticking her unused bobby pin into the car's key engine, blindly poked and twisted around until the truck started to hum loudly. Pushing down the pedal as hard as she could, the truck pealed out of the alley.

She continued down the now-populated street, glancing at the figure still writhing around in the alley. She contined, brushing the speed limit until they were parked outside of their hotel, a large white Mariott.

Sitting back in her seat wearily, she turned to Riley. He was slouched in his seat, his eyes closed.

"Riley?" she asked warily, hoping he hadn't gone unconscious again. "Are you okay?"

"My head hurts." he muttered quietly. Claire let out a breath of relief.

"We're in front of our hotel. Let's go in and fix you up, then we can call Ben and Abbie."

Exiting the truck and blushing as the doorman gave her a suspicious look at her shattered car window, Claire walked over to the other side and helped Riley out.

"He hit his head." she explained to the doorman as he looked startled at Riley's condition. "Um…..sailing accident. We need to get up to our room."

Assisted by the wary doorman, Claire managed to get a disoriented Riley into his hotel room, which was right next to hers. Once she had given the man a generous tip, he left, looking somewhat mollified.

Riley was laid out on his bed, and Claire ran into the bathroom to get some ice and a towel. Grimancing at the small trail of blood that had leaked onto his pillow, Claire picked up his head as gently as she could and laid the towel under it, placing the ice packet on the growing bloody lump on his head.

"What happened?' Riley groaned, wincing as the ice came in contact with his head.

"He punched you and you hit the truck head first." Claire informed his from the bathroom as she gathered more ice for the bruise beginning to flourish on his cheek. Wrapping it in another towel, she laid it against his face. "You're going to have to hold that there."

"But how did we get away?" Riley asked. Claire look up to answer him and felt the trance-like state begin to sink into her again as she looked into his eyes at a close proximity.

Stop it! her mind snapped. He's bleeding heavily and you're thinking about his eyes! Woah...he has really dark eyelashes…

"Pepper Spray." she blurted out. "I.…ah... sprayed him with it"

I rather awkward silence filled the room as Claire tried her damnest not to look his directly in the eyes and Riley because he was slightly embarrassed at being thoroughly beat up in front of Claire, who had thwarted the guy with some pepper spray. It was definitely putting a dent in his ego, right next to the dent in his head.

"I should call Ben." Claire said, standing up from Riley's bed and heading over to the phone. "They're going to want to come back here. The situation has definitely changed."

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Martin Lander sat on the sidewalk curb, rubbing the last of the burning pepper out of his eyes. That sneaky bitch had obviously bought the best damn stuff available: he had been blind for almost twenty minutes.

Deachat was not going to be happy. Flipping his cell phone open, he speed dialed the man, still squinting.

"Hello?"

"Hey boss, it's Lander." Martin started.

"Did you get what I sent you for?" Deachat questioned.

Martin cleared his throat. "No sir. The woman hit me with pepper spray. I knocked out the guy through."

He could hear Deachat cursing on the other line. "Do they know what you were there for?"

"I think so." Lander muttered, shuffling his feet.

There was a rush of static over the phone. "I ask so little of you Martin, and get nothing in return. We're going to have to start the hunt again tomorrow then. I sincerely hope that you will have accumulated enough brain cells by then to help me."

Normally Lander wouldn't take that kind of shit from anyone, but his recent employer slightly scared him. The fellow was a few French Fries short of a happy meal, if you knew what he meant.

He was just happy he was on Deachat's side. He felt a stab of pity for the pepper spray girl and unconscious guy. The girl might have been a bitch, but no one deserved to be "hunted" by Drew Deachat.

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I ended the chapter without a majorcliffie for once, just to be nice. Thanks for reading and Review! Please! Be nice back!