Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.

Author's note: A big thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I'd like to yell out a quick extra-thanks to the unsigned reviews, as I can't answer them personally. I'm floored by your kind comments!

Chapter 27

With cuffed hands, Lisa paced up and down in her closet, but try as she might, she just couldn't get into the right state of mind. When she heard the apartment door open and the low murmur of voices travel through the wall, she dropped down, fear surging through her veins like an electric current. Fuck!

The wall slid apart and Lisa blinked against the bright light. The man standing next to Jackson must have been her age, but his eyes were brimming with hidden agenda and marred his youthful features into someone a lot older. The dark hair was slicked back perfectly, suit immaculately pressed into starch obedience. His gaze traveled to Jackson and Lisa flinched. Whoever he was, this one wasn't merely checking them out, he wanted to prove them wrong on a very personal level.

"Why isn't she dead yet?" He sounded bored, words drawn out to a slight whine.

"Why should she be? She's fun to keep around." Jackson's voice was different as well, albeit professional as ever. Yes, these two definitely had an axe to grind.

"Never figured you for that type of guy, Rippner. Of course, there was also a time when nobody thought you'd ever fail."

"Well, Laritt, just goes to show that -"

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall … yeah." Laritt snickered and took a good look around the room, obviously hell-bent on finding something suspicious.

"So do I pass?" Jackson scratched his nose, giving his opponent the most condescending grin Lisa had ever seen on him - and was answered in kind.

"Patience, comrade. You know how it is."

Lisa stared at the mattress, barely daring to breathe. She had hoped this meeting might turn out less frightening than the one before, but the way things were going right now, it had the potential to be even worse. Forbish had stopped when he'd gotten the validation he had wanted, but Laritt … he was the type to keep going out of pleasure, just to spite them.

Unfortunately, he hadn't forgotten about her. She heard swift footsteps approach and then cool fingers lifted her chin. "She's pretty."

"Yes."

"I don't like the way she looks at me."

"Leese."

Barely managing not to grind her teeth at Jackson's tone, Lisa fixed her eyes to the floor. That was how dogs were talked to.

"So you're a fan of the tough love, huh, Rippner?" Laritt clicked his tongue. "Look at all these bruises." She could hear the smile in his voice, probably all teeth. "You know, honey, I would have killed you right away. Especially with that police file on your rape. Does it hurt? I mean physically, because judging from the medical records there must be a lot of scar tissue. Parking Lot Guy didn't exactly go easy on you."

The fucking bastard.

"Talk to me, Lisa."

Hell no.

"Rippner, tell her I wanna know."

"Leese, be good now. Talk to the good man." The amusement in his words almost shocked her into a stupor. Still, she wouldn't speak and Jackson approached her fast, jerking her head back by the hair. "We've been over this, bitch." His eyes flashed at hers in fury and Lisa couldn't help but shrink away.

She shuddered. "It … it hurts."

Laritt nodded, apparently pleased. "Figures." He stepped away from her, but then changed his mind and crouched down until they were eye to eye. "Think he'll share?"

"Absolutely not," was Jackson's curt reply.

Lisa's stomach churned at Laritt's wolfish grin and his fingers on her cheek. For a long moment, she wanted to claw his eyes out of their sockets, assignment be damned. Nothing was worth this! But then the strangest thing happened. Laritt's full attention was on her as he slowly pulled down the neckline of her shirt, so Lisa dared to look up to Jackson. He was following Laritt's actions with what seemed to be honest distaste and anger. Her eyes met his and for a split second, Lisa feared he might give them away before Jackson frowned in something like confusion. His features returned back to neutral and she focused. Time to get the ball rolling.

Deliberately, Lisa shifted her gaze downwards. "You have to ask him that."

Laritt's fingers paused. "Hot damn, you got her trained well, Rippner."

Let him think that, let him get comfortable in the belief of her inferiority … Laritt would never know what hit him until it was too late. One day, she was going to be served his head on a silver platter and she would revel in the knowledge that it was her doing that got him. This was her fight and she'd bring him down.

"You sound surprised. Leese, what do you think?" Don't speak.

She heard it every bit as clearly as if he had said the words out loud. Lisa waited.

Jackson's voice didn't waver. "Let's do some business first and then maybe."

"We're not at school, so fuck that. Seems like you're feeling a little protective … which doesn't suit your bad boy rep at all, I might add."

"Laritt, the bitch is mine and I quite like it that way. Isn't that right, Leese?" Speak.

"Whatever you think is right." You hold up your end, I'll hold up mine.

Laritt reached for her again and Lisa flinched, exaggerating the movement a little. "Hold still, honey. Wouldn't want to hurt you any more than necessary."

Jackson stepped in, bumping into Laritt's shoulder with his knee. "Alright, if it means that much to you." He shoved the other man aside and bent down to pick up Lisa by the arms. "Just give him a little taste." You up to this?

She stared at him. Don't let this go on for too long or I swear … I'll kill you.

Jackson chortled. "One condition. She looks at me the whole time."

He gave her a push towards Laritt who caught her, hands digging into her skin. It was odd ... even through the horror, Lisa felt a keen sense of power that she had never expected. It was Laritt who was weak, not she. Here he was - sorting through whatever childhood trauma he was undoubtedly suffering from, prancing around in his blind arrogance, when it was her who played him like a fucking fiddle. Every step that he believed to bring him closer to the finish line was actually just another knife she was thrusting into his back. Laritt turned her around, so they were both facing Jackson and Lisa locked eyes with her accomplice, lips pressed into a thin white line.

"You smell nice." Laritt's hips swayed as if they were dancing together, yet the movement was impersonal, distant. It was nothing but cold, calculated provocation.

Jackson raised his brows. "Answer." Stay calm.

That's easy for you to say. She choked out a thank you.

"You're welcome, Lisa." His sugary tone, so smug, so sure of the infallibility of his little plan, filled her with loathing. Enjoy this while you can, you prick, because at the end of the day, you're going down and you're going down hard.

Jackson smiled.

"What the hell are you smiling at, Rippner? Stakes not high enough to be interesting for you or what's the deal here?" Laritt's fingers traveled underneath her shirt, squeezing her breasts almost clinically, and Lisa grimaced with disgust. "How far do you reckon can I go before she no longer obeys, huh?"

Smile fast in place, Jackson gave a dismissive shrug. "That's really not the question here." The air around him crackled with tension. This was Jackson at his best, at his most dangerous, and he dominated the room by sheer force of personality. "The correct question would be: how far do you reckon you can go before I lose my patience and report to your client that unfortunately, we will be unable to resume business relations. All because his representative was distracted to the point of being useless." His voice was smooth, low. Ready, Leese? "How far away is that? Try me."

Laritt snorted and Lisa grew stiff as a board. Great job, you idiot. Next thing she knew, she was shoved hard and she tumbled into Jackson, no longer able to suppress the shivers she had so bravely ignored before. Without a word, he motioned towards the mattress, his eyes never leaving hers until she was settled. The wall slid closed and once again, Lisa was alone in the darkness. The image of Jackson's curt, proud nod right before he had pressed the button burned a hole in her mind.