Disclaimer: I do not own Red Eye.
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The sounds above them were constant: floors creaking under the weight of booted feet and leather shoes, muffled voices, laughter, questions, and at one point a crash as something fell, and more laughter. It seemed that the main door of the shop had a bell, which dinged every time someone went in or out. No one else came downstairs.
The other door jiggled once, as though someone in the alley was trying to get in, but then all was still. Jackson murmured to Lisa that he was certain they had only been pursued earlier to cover all options, not that their hunters actually believed he and she had escaped into the basement. Frank's driving was legendary in underworld circles, and it was most likely that they bought his feint and still chased him even now. Lisa hoped he was right.
While they waited, Jackson opened his laptop and, hunching over the screen in case they were disturbed, made notes about his meeting with his contact, the man Lisa had recognized. She leaned over, curious, and he glanced up at her. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to learn what's going on."
He gave her a weary look. "Leese..."
"Don't tell me, you'll let me know when I need to know, right?" She sat back against a box, irritated.
"Just give me time to collect my thoughts and I'll share." At her skeptical brow, his mouth quirked up. "I promise."
She sighed but returned the smile. "I'm holding you to it."
At five thirty, traffic upstairs slowed, and at six, a single pair of footsteps strode across to the front door, which they heard open and close with a merry jingle, and then all was silent. Lisa watched Jackson, who was still typing away, then tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey."
He started, then blinked and checked the time. "Sorry." He listened, watched the ceiling. "Everyone's gone?"
"Seems that way." She stretched and readjusted her legs in a different position under her. "So now what?"
"We wait a while longer, 'til after dark. I don't feel like surprising the janitor or something, and there'll be too much traffic on the street for us to leave quietly. Once we're out of here, I'll call a cab to pick us up a couple blocks away and have them take us the rest of the way to your place."
Lisa nodded, yawning. "Okay, then." She pointed at the laptop. "So explain?"
He leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking. "So we have a couple of options. Some involve you, some don't. I'd rather not involve you."
"How chivalrous," she said dryly.
"Chivalry has nothing to do with it," came his equally dry retort, "You're just not a killer, nor are you professional in the sense that I am. I don't want you in the way when the bullets start to fly."
"Especially if you're as bad a shot as you claim to be," she sent back.
He looked surprised, eyes focusing on nothing as he was wont to do when he was remembering something, then they met hers again with a smile. "Ahh, that's right. I told you that back when we met." He grinned almost boyishly. "I've gotten a little better since then. You know, work on your weaknesses and all that."
"I wondered why you seemed so confident with your gun the other day." Had it really only been a few days ago? This adventure she was on seemed to have lasted months. She let her head rest against the box at her back. "So anyway…"
"So anyway. My contact gave me a very good date and a few not-so-good ones. My best bet is to hit Connolly at Senator Hayne's Thanksgiving Ball. Both candidates will be there, and Connolly is at the top of the guest list."
She felt a little faint. "That's a terrible choice! There will be too many people around!" She imagined the panic, the terror that would spread like wildfire through hundreds of people who were completely unprepared for anything but an elegant holiday party. "Not to mention the security that will be there—two Presidential candidates in one room? It'll be near impossible."
"Security doesn't concern me," he scoffed. "Nor does the thought of 'too many people'. If nothing else, it'll help me. More people around means more cover, and more opportunity to get lost in the crowd."
"So, what, you walk in wearing a tuxedo, shoot Connolly, and leave like you're James Bond?"
"Pretty much." His voice was confident, but he rubbed at his eyes as though his head hurt. "Of course, it could all go to shit if I don't get everything lined up just right. It's been a long time since I had to do a hit myself."
For some reason, Lisa was worried, though she wasn't sure what about. She shook her head. "I don't like it. I don't like any of it, not since moment one when you told me you had to kill Michael Connolly, not since people tried to blow us up, not since Mr. White, and certainly not since you talked to your contact. Something is way off here."
"So tell me," he said, snapping the laptop shut, "Tell me what bothers you. Aside from your unfortunate possession of moral inflexibility."
"I'll tell you what bothers me," she bristled. "It bothers me that all of this hinges on the idea that if you kill one man, it will save your life—"
"Don't forget it saves your family's lives," he interjected, but she ignored him.
"—but how do we even know this is the case? You lost your job after being hospitalized, and you were on your own for three years before this came up. Mr. White kidnapped us so he could tell you to your face that he couldn't help you on this one, and that killing Connolly wouldn't make things okay between you two. So he's not the one behind the information, and though I don't like him, I do trust him after meeting him, on some level."
"Things work differently in my world, Leese," he said darkly. "Just because Mr. White said that doesn't mean my info is incorrect."
"But how do you know if it is? Who told you, Jackson? How did you find out that Connolly was being targeted by the FBI? How did you come to the conclusion that killing him before they get their hands on whatever he knows about your organization will keep us alive? How do you know you're not just being set up?"
"I don't!" He nearly shouted, froze for a moment, listening, then repeated more softly, "I don't. I don't know, and it is killing me, because I work in information, in cause and effect and plan A, plan B, all the way through plan Z. But I have only this little bit to go on, and one of the things that made me one of the best managers out there was my ability to take minimal resources and create a viable plan out of them. My instincts told me that this is the best solution, and so I'm going with it."
"Then why am I here?"
"What?" He had been pacing in the narrow aisle between the boxes, but her question made him stop and half-turn to face her.
Lisa swallowed. "Why did you seek me out? I've told you that this goes against all of my instincts and you're not listening to me, so it wasn't my counsel you wanted. Why am I here?"
He stared at her, and yet again she watched the parade of emotions that shoved his mask aside as he thought of his answer. In the end, however, he made a dismissive noise and turned away once more.
She was on her feet before he could take another step. "Don't. You. Dare." She grabbed his arm, whirled him so he had to look at her. "You can stop treating me like a fucking passenger right now."
Part of her almost wished she hadn't moved; the same expression that had been on his face last night at the Inn was there now. He saw her notice, and with a step he'd backed her against the wall of boxes. Lisa couldn't push against them too much for fear of toppling them, and she knew he knew it.
"What was that, Leese?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side as if asking an honest question. "You sound like you didn't understand something. I thought it was pretty clear why I brought you along." Nothing held her there but the closeness of his body; his arms hung at his sides, but still she couldn't move.
Damn her body for reacting, damn the traitorous way her heart beat faster and made her breath come harder. She was so tired of behaving like this around him, especially when he knew how much of a diversion it was for her. She found her original thought in her mind, closed a mental fist around it and dragged it back, closing her eyes to keep from looking into his.
"Never mind," she said, measuring her words, breath catching when she felt him lean in, "It's okay. I understand."
"Do you?"
"Jackson." She felt him pull back, and finally she opened her eyes, let the threat behind her words shine through them. "Do that again, even joking with me, and I will break your nose."
That had obviously not been the response he had expected, for his delicate brows rose and his mouth opened and closed a few times. The expression turned from surprise to interested speculation. Funny how she knew that he was thinking on his feet, as he had when they first met. "You know what, I believe you would."
"Good." With a slight shove, she put distance between them again. "I'd hate to ruin your pretty face."
"Aha, so you do think I'm hot."
Lisa snorted. "Only until you open your mouth."
"I'm hurt." His tone said otherwise, and the glow from the laptop highlighted his smirk when he opened it again. "Now, let's see…"
Within a few minutes, Jackson was absorbed once more into his plans and plots. He seemed to have forgotten that Lisa was even there. She sighed and sat back against the box again, beside him, only half watching what was happening on the screen. She lazily noticed that he'd set it up so he had an Internet window open on one half, then the other half was taken up by a text document and some kind of gauge that fluctuated. Whenever it rose past a certain point, it turned orange and then red; whenever it turned red, Jackson would pause and watch it, then relax when it went back down.
"What is that?" she asked, scooting forward.
He seemed surprised she was still there, but recovered and turned back to the screen. "It tells me what monitoring devices are active in the area. It changes because newer cars passing by can affect the readings."
"Only newer cars?"
His eyes looked almost colorless in the thin light. "They only recently started adding a monitoring chip to cars manufactured in the USA. Imported cars will start getting them in the next year or so. All those handy GPS trackers and OnStar systems and 'smart cars' that tell your dealer when they need oil changes." At her expression, he gave her a mirthless smile. "You didn't think the government would pass up a chance at keeping tabs on people, did you?"
"You know what, Jackson?" she said, feeling sick, "Your world is a creepy place."
"It's just the real world, Leese." He sighed and sat back as well, shoulder to shoulder with her. "You can't wander around out there forever, just thinking everything is beautiful and happy. No one is nice all the time, no one is completely selfless."
"Not everyone is evil," she countered, and he held up a cautionary hand.
"I didn't say everyone is evil. I said that no one is completely perfect. I have no illusions about anything; I understand that there are a lot of people out there who want to make the world a better place or end hunger or something. I also know that there are even more people who don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. Most people want to get ahead, no matter what. They step on the ones around them because they don't see past the boundaries of their own families. A lot don't see past their own hides."
"So what then? What's your ray of hope? Why bother getting out of bed if you're only going to get stepped on?"
His head swiveled to grin at her, his chin in the air and his hair mussed by the wall. "I never said I was the one getting stepped on. That would be my little ray of hope, as you so quaintly put it."
"Ugh. You know what, I don't want to have this conversation anymore." She looked away, troubled, only to snap back around when she felt his hand on hers. The angry warning that sprang to her lips died before she could voice it; he was completely serious.
The shifting glow of the computer hit the planes of his face and made deeper shadows where they already tended to fall. "Nothing is going to happen to you," he said, a bit awkwardly. His brows drew together into a fine, wide v, as though he hadn't expected to say quite those words. "I mean—"
"It's okay." Lisa shook her head, pulled her hand out from under his, instantly felt the loss of warmth when she did. "I'm not from your world, Jackson. I can't ever understand how you got to be the way you are. I won't even try to imagine what you see on a daily basis. And I don't want to know. The glimpses I've gotten so far don't really make me eager to see more." She clasped her hands together under her knees.
He said nothing more, but she felt his eyes on her still. At last she looked back at him.
"I mean it," he said as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I brought you along, got you involved in this. I'll make sure you make it out unscathed—well," he amended with another of his dry smiles, "as unscathed as I can manage."
She shouldn't have felt comforted by that, but she was. "I'm holding you to that, you know."
Jackson laughed. "I'll never lie to you."
The funny thing was, Lisa believed him.
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