Chapter Three

The Uninvited

-x-

Something's wrong, shut the light

Heavy thoughts tonight

And they aren't of snow white

Dreams of war, dreams of liars,

Dreams of dragon's fire

And of things that will bite…

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight…

Exit light

Enter night

Take my hand

We're off to never, never land

Metallica, "Enter Sandman"

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It started off as any other day; a Tuesday, to be precise. Nothing out of the ordinary that would betray the events that would soon take place to once again turn Lisa's life upside town.

Lisa was up with the dawn, at about six AM after hitting the snooze button no more than three times before she eventually managed to roll out of bed. It seemed to be getting harder to get out of bed in the morning anymore, in the year following the red eye flight. Before that fated night, it had been easy for her to rise with the sun, looking forward to the day with a refreshed sense of optimism, ready to take on anything her job could throw at her. But as the weeks and months continued to tick by, Lisa found herself becoming less and less content with her once orderly, clockwork lifestyle. She could almost feel her patience getting thinner and more worn by the day, like a rock that was continually battered in the surf. Each day she returned home with a sense of longing for something different, a break in the monotony of routine, but finding herself lacking the courage to do so.

Routine had helped her survive the trauma of rape, helped her get back on schedule after the red eye incident, but it only lasted for so long. Unlike her ordeal with the rape, Lisa's encounter with Jackson Rippner had not left her scarred or traumatized, whether it was physically or mentally. In fact, she was sure she was a stronger person after the red eye flight than any other time in her life. There was no need for routine anymore to help her forget or cope. And now, stuck in the mundane cycle of everyday life, Lisa could not help but to regrettably feel that life was passing her by, and she was still watching from the sidelines.

After a quick, cold shower to help her further wake up, Lisa chose her appropriate work clothes for the day – a high-collared shirt and knee length skirt, as always – styled her hair and makeup the same way she always did, then proceeded to head downstairs, not bothering with breakfast as she grabbed her purse from the hallway table and heading outside. She had no time for breakfast anymore, not when she was getting out of bed later and later. Starbucks had become a poor substitute for a proper meal in the morning, and she was never one to have a latte sit well on an empty stomach. Still all routine, still all unexceptional. Lisa was very quickly becoming one of the most boring people that she knew. Even her father had more of a life than she did, whether it was out playing golf or poker with his old friends from work, when he was not spending the rest of his time worrying about her.

The first half of the day was uneventful, or at least as much in the Lux Atlantic's terms. On top of the waves of check-in, check-outs, security clearances and maintenance authorizations, there were always a slew of "customers with special needs" to attend to. Today was particularly trying, more so than usual. First there was the guests who demanded why their son couldn't hook up his Playstation to their room TV, and then there was the whole fiasco regarding a hung over frat boys who tried to convince Lisa that their room was thrashed before they even checked in, blaming the poor Puerto Rican cleaning women of not doing their jobs properly as they tried to defend themselves in broken English. Lisa had a pounding headache before it was even lunch that not even her prescription stress medication could touch. Her nerves were a series of tangles and knots as she took a much-needed break in the back shortly after security had to fish a couple of rowdy kids out of the front fountain who decided to go skinny dipping because they couldn't wait for their parents to take them to the beach.

When did it ever come to this? Lisa thought miserably to herself as she massaged her temples, the back of her eyes throbbing so badly that she felt like they were going to explode in their sockets. I used to love this job. It was everything to me. Yet why does everything suddenly feel so…pointless?

"Lisa?"

A small squeak of a voice from the break room door caused Lisa to look up to see Cynthia standing there. Lisa had to suppress a groan. The younger women had one of those "I-think-I-screwed-up" looks on her face, which was the last thing Lisa wanted to deal with on top of everything else that day. Lisa honestly did not want to take out her pent-up frustration out on her friend, but God knew that she could no longer be held responsible for her actions if she had to deal with one more stupid ordeal that day…

"There's someone at the front desk who wants to see you." Cynthia said. "I…I think that she might work for some magazine or something…"

Lisa did groan audibly that time, her head falling against the back of her chair. She had hoped that in the year following the attempted Keefe assassination that people would stop wanting to interview her on her perspective on the ordeal. Apparently all that hoping had been for naught. "Tell them I'm not interested."

"I don't think it's a journalism magazine, Lisa, I think she said she was from some travel magazine or something. She's really, really intent on talking to the hotel manager. She won't let any of the other receptionists answer her questions, she only wants to talk to you."

Lisa's head gave a particularly painful throb. If it was a journalism magazine wanting to do some follow up story on the Keefe incident, then Lisa could have easily told the woman that she could not be disturbed at work, then set up some faux time for an interview which could be efficiently dodged until the reporter eventually lost interest. But a travel magazine was different, especially if they were doing a promotional article on the Lux Atlantic. Corporate would never allow her to pass up an opportunity to further publicize the hotel, especially after one of their finest suites was blown to hell.

"Duty calls, then." Lisa said sarcastically, pushing herself off the chair and following Cynthia to the front reception desk.

The lobby was thronged with milling people, most with mountains of luggage in tow, others either ready to take an expedition to downtown Miami for lunch or shopping, or to head down to the resort's private beach not more than two blocks away. Standing in the middle of it all was simply the most beautiful woman that Lisa had ever seen. Long black hair framed a striking face complete with high cheekbones, a delicate chin and large, dark eyes, all complimented by a to-die-for body clad in a suit that Lisa was sure cost more than an entire month's pay at the hotel. The woman radiated professionalism and elegance, easily drawing all attention in the hotel lobby to her. No, not drawing attention, Lisa noted. She demanded it. Lisa swallowed, brushing her hair back from her face, smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt, then put on her best manager's smile before stepping out from behind the desk. The woman turned to look at her as she approached, and Lisa felt sudden a chill run down her spine, her smile faltering. The woman might have been beautiful, but she was…cold. There was just no other way to describe it. Colder than any other person Lisa had ever met in her life…

Jackson included.

"Hi, I'm Lisa Reisert, manager of the Lux Atlantic. May I help you?"

The woman smiled, her full lips turning up just slightly at the corners. "Miss Reisert. My name is Lenore Bardwell. I'm a writer for Regal America. Perhaps you've heard of us?" Lisa felt her stomach turn over. Regal America was the top travel magazine for the rich and famous worldwide, one of those "if you have to ask the price, you shouldn't be reading" sort of journals. As far as Lisa knew, the Lux Atlantic never before had an article printed in the magazine other than a fleeting mention a few times a year. If corporate found out that Lisa nearly turned them down…

"Yes, of course." Lisa answered carefully, fighting to keep her cool. "What can I do for you, Ms. Bardwell?"

"I am here hoping to write a full article on your hotel. You see, the Lux Atlantic has gotten a substantial amount of press this last year, what with the terrorist attack and all, and our offices have been overrun with customers wanting more information on the hotel. Now, granted that we've never done an article on the Lux Atlantic before because of…standards…" Lenore noted, glancing around at some of the guests in the lobby. Lisa felt a pang of irritation, and decided immediately that she did not like the woman. The journalist turned back to Lisa, her eyes glinting with cold humor. "But upon looking into the hotel, my editors decided that it's worth at least investigating, then they decide from there if the Lux Atlantic would be a suitable hotel for our customers."

Lisa's smile was gone, her green eyes narrowed at the other woman. "The Lux Atlantic is a beach resort, Ms. Bardwell, not a celebrity penthouse. If you even have to question whether or not your customers find this hotel worthy enough for them, or you have to judge our regular guests, then you and your magazine do not belong here."

If the woman was offended by Lisa's words, she did not show it. Instead, she only smiled, her lips curling around perfect white teeth, reminding Lisa very much of a predator. "Please, Miss Reisert. I insist. And I don't think your superiors would be very pleased if they found out that you turned us down."

A growl resonated in Lisa's chest, but she kept it suppressed. She only smiled again, tight and warning as she nodded. "This way, then."

They started with the grand tour of the Lux Atlantic. Lisa took Lenore Bardwell through the lobby, walking her through their computer system to show its top-of-the-line programs. Then she showed her to the ballrooms, naming off the events that took place there before heading to the hotel's renowned pools, bars, restaurants and gym. Lisa took her through the guest rooms, fighting back a retort when Lenore turned her nose up at the regular rooms, before they went up to the VIP suites on the top floors. Lenore seemed particularly anxious to see the suites, in particular the newly renovated room 4080, and Lisa felt a tingle of premonition run down her spine.

Great. She's going to ask about the Keefe incident.

When Lenore stepped into room 4080, a strange sort of smile spread over her face, and Lisa wanted nothing more than the interview to be over as soon as possible. "Magnificent." The journalist said. "You would have never guessed that this room was destroyed by a bomb last year."

"Missile,actually." Lisa corrected her without thinking, silently berating her own irrationality. "And yes, we had one of the most able construction crews in Florida rebuild the entire floor after the incident. Granted, no one's willing to stay here much, anymore, except for maybe a few curious tourists who want to 'be a part of history' as they put it. But most people assume now that this room's bad luck, or something like that. As if we get missiles shot at the hotel on a regular basis." Lisa laughed dryly, but it died in her throat when Lenore peered at her from over her shoulder. "But our suites have had a long list of VIPs, long before the Keefes were guests here. This was a favorite hotel of President Carter, and Bush Senior was a guest a few times during his term. Every now and then a celebrity will stay. Julia Roberts actually was in this room about five years ago, and she sent personal sympathy when she learned that it was destroyed…"

"I'm not interested in who's stayed here in the past, Ms. Reisert." Lisa could have sworn that the temperature of the room dropped ten degrees when Lenore spoke. "I'm interested in what happened last year."

Lisa stiffened. "I don't think that it's a good story for your article, Ms. Bardwell. For the past year we've been trying to rebuild the Lux Atlantic's reputation. We don't need a new group of your customers showing up and dredging up past events."

"Oh, it's not for the article. Call it a personal interest. And, seeing how I'm speaking to the one person who went through the whole ordeal first-hand, I figured there's no one else better I could get the whole story from."

"There's not much else to say other than what you might have heard in the papers and the news." Lisa said carefully. She suddenly felt trapped, like a mouse caught in a cobra's unblinking gaze as Lenore peered at her, silently urging her to continue. "Keefe stirred up some bad blood with his new policies on National Security, and I was kidnapped to make the call to change his room so…"

"I'm not interested about that." Lenore snapped, making Lisa start. Then the other woman's face softened, that icy smile back on her lips. "I'm more interested about the part that you didn't talk about in the news. Tell me, Miss Reisert, about the man who held you captive on that plane."

"Jackson?" Lisa questioned, now thoroughly confused. There was something amiss here, something lurking below the surface. Warning bells were sounding dangerously loud in Lisa's head, her blood pounding in her ears. She swallowed thickly, choosing her words carefully. "What's there to say about him? He was a terrorist, and he used me for his job. I was able to get away from him, warn the hotel, but he followed me back to my father's house. He would have killed me had my father not shot him."

"Ah, yes. Terribly good luck on your part, wouldn't you say? Had it not been for that little stunt with the pen, then you probably would have never gotten away from him."

"No, I suppose…" Lisa's words trailed off, and she looked back at Lenore as fear began to pit in her stomach. "Wait a moment… I never said anything about the pen."

"Oh. Well, I must have heard about it in the news."

"No… I never said anything about it there either."

Lenore continued to stare at Lisa, then scoffed, turning away. "Well then, Miss Reisert, I think that about completes our interview. Thank you for your time." The woman brushed past Lisa, holding the suite door open for her. "Shall we?"

Lisa walked out of room 4080, her legs shaking under her. Something was wrong. She had to get away from this woman, get her out of the hotel, away from her and the guests…

It was Lenore's returning voice that caused Lisa to pause again. "Oh, I also heard some time back that Jackson escaped from the hospital and is still on the loose. Tell me, my dear, are you still afraid of him?"

Lisa stiffened. "I was never afraid of Jackson."

"Is that so? So you mean to tell me that you believe that he has no reason to one day, suddenly show back up in your life to complete his revenge?"

Before Lisa could respond, something closed over her mouth and nose, her senses filled with an offensive odor as strong hands pinned her arms behind her back, holding onto her shoulders as she struggled and screamed, her voice muffled by the cloth over her face. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her as the chloroform began to take effect, and Lisa's vision dimmed as her own struggles drifted further and further away. The last thing she saw was Lenore's icy eyes before the world went black.

-X-X-X-

Author's Note: Woo, quick update! Once I started this chapter, it really just wrote itself. It was supposed to be longer, but I thought this was a good place to leave off. Still kinda clique, I know, but trust me, it should get better. Lenore's character came out nicely, IMO. She's fun to write and fun to hate. I can't promise an update this quick next time, but stay with me! I love you all!