Lisa awoke feeling an odd version of calm. Slightly dizzy, she pulled herself out of tangled

sheets and stumbled zombie-like from the warm bed.

The cool air conditioning hit her skin like ice as memories from the last day (or night? She

couldn't remember) flooded back into her brain. She clutched her forehead and sobbed a little as the painful thoughts scrubbed at her emotions. Grandma died...airport...cancellation...Tex

Mex...Jack...phone call...4080...pen...shoe...gun...no...electricity...white...

Recalling the sterile white environment of where she'd drifted off, she forced her eyes open, curious to see if this was still white. If she was, at least she'd have the chance of being in heaven. I just wish I had died and gone to sleep forever. Maybe I have. A blur of soft orange and brown hues hit her slightly dilated pupils and slightly blinded her. Damn it. She scrubbed at her itchy eyes, adjusted her clothes (which were still in the same condition as she remembered them, thankfully), and pulled open the first door she saw, unwilling to remain in this unfamiliar dwelling. If I could find I bathroom...gee, that would be swell. Ugh. How is it possible to feel so nauseated even though I haven't eaten in at least seven hours?

She entered a hallway in a pale shade of lilac, and from there discovered a bright blue, fairly

modernized kitchen. The image of a twelve-inch Ka-Bar popped into her head and she suddenly lost

her nausea and grew enraged. I need to find a weapon. Jackson must be waiting somewhere here to kill me.

Knife. She tugged fiercely at a drawer before realizing with bitter irony that it was locked.

She then turned to the cupboards and pulled. They too were tightly fastened, but seemed looser. She

kept pulling on the handle, feeling it budge little by little.

When it flew open, the force she had exerted caused her to fly back to the floor. Feeling a bit

stupid, she slid in her sleek skirt for a few feet before her legs kicked up and she slowly felt gravity

press her to the tile.

"You accomplished a hell of a lot there," a raspy voice said quietly in the doorway,

accompanied by a deep chuckle.

Lisa picked herself up and spun around to see Jackson leaning on the island countertop, a

boyish smirk spread over his lips. Lisa scowled indignantly at him. "Shut up."

"Ooh, good one." Jackson rolled his eyes and strode broadly to the cupboard, gesturing grandly at its contents. "Come on, Leese, come claim your prize!"

Lisa squinted before realizing that it was holding only a few scented candles and some

maroon cloth napkins. She blushed furiously.

"I suppose there's no point in asking you what you were looking for," Jackson hissed sardonically, suddenly angry as he walked briskly towards her. Before she could move, he had her up against the wall.

"That was stupid," he whispered into her nose. "Too stupid."

"You're stupid," she snapped, feeling childish. Sticks and stones...she could picture her father telling her with a shrug.

"One to talk," his lip curled into a bitter smirk. "What are you planning to do now, Leese? Beat me with the fruit bowl?"

She slapped him. He slapped her back. "Fuck you," she hissed. "Let me go!"

"Little chance. I guess that taser had more effect on you than I thought. Remember our good friend Keefe? He's still alive, Leese. At the moment, so is your father, but if you keep dallying that fact will rapidly change."

"I'm not killing Keefe!"

"Then sing a song of absolution, Leese, cause it doesn't work to your advantage. By all means, if you've got some hostile feelings worked up towards your dad, make that choice, but if you'd like him to remain with his organs inside of his body, I'd shut that pretty little mouth and listen."

Lisa fell into a seething silence. "Now," Jackson proceeded smugly, letting her go. "At the moment, Keefe is in a bit of a security buzz. The FBI and all those pesky little governmental

investigation people are busy figuring out exactly what happened. Don't worry, I'm sure that your little friend back at the Lux will probably sell you off as the hero of the day, but since you're missing things will be a bit shadowy. Hell, you might even be lumped in the terrorist category with me and blamed for the whole ordeal."

"Why would they believe that?" Lisa snapped, cutting her eyes at him. Jackson leaned back on the refrigerator and tapped his chin mirthfully.

"Well, hmm, Leese, I don't know," he mused. "Maybe because you were the one who called the hotel to have Keefe's room switched anyway? How else would you know about the bomb? Police could very well assume that you had some very buried feelings about Keefe deep inside, I don't know, you know how customers can be, and finally decided to off him. However, at the last minute, you got cold feet and frantically called dear Cynth back to save him. Now, feeling a bit guilty, you're in hiding. How does that sound for logical?"

"If Keefe thinks I tried to kill him, then, how the hell am I going to finish the job?" Lisa yelled, feeling sick again.

Jackson paused, gazing intently, coldly into her eyes. He sighed and shook his head, then

pulled open the refrigerator. "Scotch, Leese? You'll need it."

"Never been a scotch fan," she replied sarcastically. "Get to the point."

"No, you definitely need a drink," he decided with a nod after contemplating her for a moment. He pulled the bottle from the fridge and placed it on the counter. With a second thought, he

also retrieved a bottle of Pinot Noir and waved it at her. "More to your taste?" Lisa nodded

sardonically.

He handed her a full glass and poured himself some scotch. After a long gulp, he spoke. "The job doesn't actually require you."

The drink sloshed in Lisa's hands. "So then let me go!"

"I can't do that."

"Why the fuck not?"

Jackson took another drink and smirked slightly at her. "You keep forgetting that second

part of our little discussion back in the car. I want to steal you. Talk about your selective hearing."

Lisa poured about half of her drink into her mouth, wishing to wash away what she was

hearing. "No! This doesn't even make sense!"

"Nope."

"Are you even going to kill Keefe?"

"Why, do you want me to?" he laughed, but at her glare stopped short. "Yes. But you aren't involved. You would need to stay here even if I hated you because otherwise, an outside source

would be pinpointed as the murderer. What sense does it make if Keefe dies in Georgia when his

killer is three hundred miles away, sitting comfortably at home watching the Lifetime Channel For

Women?"

"So you're framing me," Lisa replied with her jaw tensing a bit. "You can't! My dad! He saw everything!"

"No, Lisa, not everything," Jackson smirked. "He saw me attacking you, did he know if it was provoked? I doubt it. Even if he did, he's not in the position to go whining to the police, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a bit of an ironic situation here, Leese," Jackson chuckled, then his voice grew cold. "See, if your dad doesn't keep his mouth shut, then you die."

"I thought you weren't going to kill me."

"I'm not. But he doesn't know that."

"So you're basically paying him off with lies so you can frame me."

"Exactly," Jackson grinned and snapped his fingers. "Now you've got it. Somewhat. It shouldn't matter, because you'll be here the rest of your life anyway. You go anywhere, its with me. You're just starting over. If you do what's asked and don't piss me off too much, maybe you'll even get a new job. With the company, of course."

"I don't want that!" she screamed.

"Scream all you want, Leese, I don't care what you want. You haven't realized that by

now?" Jackson snorted and finished his scotch. The ice clanged in his empty cup as he shook it. "Drink up, sweets, cause otherwise you're not going to be able to deal."

"I'll get away," she threatened. "I'll get away and-"

"And what?" he chuckled. "Go whine to the police about your mysterious kidnapper who also murdered Keefe? What are you going to tell them, Leese? You're the criminal in this situation. You made the call, shot Keefe at his cushy hotel in Georgia."

He's right. If I escape, I'm still doomed to a life in prison. Lisa screamed and slammed her glass to the floor. It shattered, the shards skittering over the liquid and the tiled floor. "I hate you!"she yelled and stomped back to her "bedroom".

Jackson just laughed after her and as she slammed the voice she heard his chuckled reply in

the kitchen as he stooped to clean up her mess. "I hate you too, Lisa."