Steal My Life

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!

Chapter Twenty-three

A year later…

Lisa was drinking perhaps her fourth cup of coffee that day. It was all she could do to keep her head from falling on the desk.

Why did I offer to work a double-shift? What was I thinking?

She downed the rest of the murky liquid with a sigh. I have no life—that's why I work here… Not that there's anyone here at the moment. A quick nap couldn't hurt…

"Miss Reisert?" a voice called and Lisa picked her head up from the desk and stared at the customer waiting patiently in front of the desk.

"Mr. Keefe, I'm so sorry." Lisa scrambled to grab the check-in folder and to enter the information into the computer.

"It's fine. Long day?"

"It's been a long couple of years," she replied with a half-smile. "What about you?"

"The same."

She nodded and typed away at the computer, swiped the key cards to activate them, and looked up to face Charles Keefe once more. He was a politician and his favorite place to stay in Miami was at the Lux Atlantic.

"Here you go," she handed him the folder with information and the key cards. "Room 3825 and it's set up just the way you like it."

"You're an amazing woman, Lisa. What do you say to an early breakfast? My treat."

"Oh, Mr. Keefe, I can't leave—"

"Hey, Lisa, it's time for your break," called Jeff, another employee. "You've got an hour."

"Well, I guess that solves that." Charles smiled at a flustered Lisa.

"Yeah. Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Of course," he said, heading over to the lounge while she retreated to the back to grab her purse and to freshen up. Her make-up had started to wear off and the little bit that remained had been smudged by her nap. The neck of her light pink top had begun to shift and reveal the nasty scar that she tried to keep hidden.

What am I doing? I must be insane.

Despite her reservations, Lisa returned to the lounge, where Charles Keefe was waiting and they left the hotel for an early breakfast.

A dart flew right into the middle of Charles Keefe's forehead, where a crude bulls-eye had been scrawled. He had his arm around Lisa Reisert and was escorting her to his car.

Two pools of ice were riveted on the surveillance photographs that papered the walls. The ones that ended up defaced by a combination of markers and target practice all showed Lisa with another man.

"Feeling better now?" Craig Smith asked, his voice causing Jackson Rippner to jump.

"Oh that?" Jackson gestured towards the photograph that he had just punctured. "It's a new type of therapy—very relaxing."

"I'm sure it is."

"What do you want?"

"The company wants you back. You were the best we ever had, Jack. The absolute best."

"I've told you time and time again that I'm freelance. I don't do shit jobs anymore."

"Yet you still haven't won her, right?"

Jackson's fingers tightened reflexively on the knife he carried. "What are you talking about?"

"Lisa Reisert—she doesn't want you, does she? You spend all your time obsessing over her, yet you still can't touch her. You can't even approach her."

"I'm just bidding my time."

"It's been what? Seven years now? I'm not a fool, Jack."

"Neither am I," Jackson snapped bitterly. "Now get out."

"Wouldn't it be a shame if Miss Reisert was to have a little… accident? Hmm?"

The dark haired manager froze. "You—you wouldn't dare."

"You can't watch her all the time, Jack. What's to say that I haven't already issued a job? What's to say there aren't already men watching her—waiting for my order to slit her pretty throat?" Craig said; his voice low and with a hint of a smile.

Jackson turned pale and began to look ill. "No…"

Craig moved closer and whispered in his ex-employee's ear, "Did you know that she's fucking Keefe? She doesn't want you."

"You're lying," Jackson hissed, clenching his left fist. "Lisa wouldn't do that. She loves me and I love her. She's waiting for me."

"Do you want proof? Which do you prefer—photographs or videotapes?"

Jackson swung his left hand straight into Craig Smith's jaw. A sharp crack filled the air as his punch connected with the bone. Craig howled in pain and reached towards his face.

"Just for that, I should kill your little toy."

"You so much as look at her the wrong way and you'll wish that I'd only broken your jaw," Jackson warned, withdrawing his sharp knife from the sheath.

"You're in no position to make threats, Jack. You have no one to watch your back. You're an island—a miserable little island. No one would complain or even notice if you suddenly disappeared."

"Is that so?"

"Listen to me—you do some jobs for me, forget about her, and I'll let your precious Lisa live. You disobey or refuse and I'll have her head Fed-Ex'ed to you. Do we have a deal?"

Jackson ground his teeth for a moment and then looked back at this wall of pictures. He stared at the vibrant young woman he had been tracking for seven years and seemingly collapsed. His shoulders drooped and his knife clattered to the floor. Defeated, he whispered, "What do I have to do?"

"That's more like it," said Craig proudly, even though he was still having problems speaking with his injured jaw.

Author's Notes:

So to recap the past year, Lisa's become withdrawn, Jackson was allowed to quit, and Craig started extra surveillance on Lisa. He waited for a while and tried to get Jackson to come back to the company. Jackson's been refusing and working on his own. Jackson hasn't moved in on Lisa yet because he's been busy and he could tell she was tired.

Now Craig's using Lisa to his advantage to get Jackson back, even on a job-to-job basis. Pretty good leverage, isn't it?

Hopefully Jackson wasn't too unrealistic and I had to finally bring Keefe into the picture.

Thanks for reading/reviewing! Only two more chapters to go!