Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's note:
Again, a huge Thank You to all who have read and reviewed. The level and quality of feedback floors me, frankly. You guys are the best! A special thanks to Royalty09 for her advice on this particular chapter, as well as her encouragement and humor in general.
Chapter 35
Three men entered – Forbish and two others. They were all dressed in a similar manner, carrying themselves in much the same way, yet obviously worlds apart in the pecking order. The room nearly hummed with tension as Jackson's ex trainer coolly mustered the two bound women on the floor.
"You must be Cherry." When he received no reply other than a wordless stare, Forbish cocked a brow. "I will pretend you don't know any better and give you one more chance. Are you, in fact, Cherry Stettyson?" All he got was a shit eating grin, so he bent down and frowned. "Stop acting foolishly, I don't suffer fools."
Cherry spat at him and his fist collided with her jaw, rocking it sideways with a sickening crunch. His expression completely impassive, Forbish hit her again. From the corner of her eye, Lisa saw blood and spit drip from the other woman's lips as she coughed and gurgled.
Forbish stood up straight, calmly wiping the saliva off his cheek. "Ms. Reisert, answer in her place. Is this Cherry Stettyson?"
Lisa looked up at Forbish who was looming over her like an Armani-clad specter, bathed in an aura of pure, undiluted malevolence. Then she spat at him.
----------
The phone was picked up after the first ring tone. Introductions were unnecessary, the parties were fully aware who they were talking to.
"Forbish has Lisa Reisert."
Fingers tightened around the receiver, knuckles turning white. "Tell me you're kidding, you fuck. How the hell did that happen?"
"She didn't pay attention."
"More like you didn't pay attention." A deep breath. "Where are you?"
"Regarding our deal -"
"Where. Are. You." It wasn't so much a question as an order.
Only that orders didn't work on this man. "We both know that a collateral damage of one isn't going to change our deal, so let's get right to it."
"Listen -"
"And we both know that the United States of America won't be paralyzed by a pair of sad, sad doe eyes." There was a short, heavy pause and when the voice continued, poignant sarcasm had drowned out large parts of its dispassion. "What is it about the girl? Care to enlighten me, Whitley? You all do love that bounce-back-fight-back spirit, don't you? Or is it the whole silent pleading thing that she has down so well? Ooooh, be better, ooooh, do better." Sarcasm changed to anger. "Can't stand the thought of 'letting her down'? You'd think she would have learned her lesson by now. Business is business. Life is no merry dance on a spring meadow. People are people. End of story."
"You talking about her, me or yourself here, Rippner?"
Click.
In truth, Rippner was correct - the United States of America were immune to a pair of sad, sad doe eyes. Heavy heart yes or no, Keefe would want to go ahead on the deal anyway, which left Whitley with exactly one last chance, one last try to free Lisa Reisert. He raked his hands through that 200-Dollar-haircut of his, vile curses streaming from his mouth.
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Lisa was curled up in a fetal position and felt her heart hammer against her ribs, causing a sharp pang of pain with every beat. Forbish had kicked her in the sides, once, twice, several times until she was screaming. It was only when her screams subsided and her grasp on consciousness had diminished considerably that he had stopped, examining her laconically. Then the three men had left in silence.
Jaw clenched tightly in a determined effort to hold the tears at bay, Lisa glanced at Cherry who was lying with her back to her, moaning softly every now and then. "Ch … Cherry?" It was so hard to speak; everything hurt.
The other woman turned around. "Mhmmm?" She was sickly pale, thick lines of crusty red running down a face that was lumpy with swollen bruises.
"Anything broken?"
"No." The words came out slurred. "Twisted my neck, loosened some teeth. Fuck."
Lisa stared at her and swallowed. "That wasn't very smart of us."
"Agreed." Cherry groaned as she sat up. "Didn't think you'd follow suit."
"Reflex, I guess." Lisa winced at the memory. "What now?"
"Not much. Rest, regain some strength, focus."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It's not, but it's the only thing left to do at this point."
A tidal wave of frenzy rolled over her. "That cannot possibly be the only thing!"
"What else would you have us do?" Cherry grimaced. "We're hurt, we're cuffed and we're being guarded by who knows how many. Calm down, this isn't the end of the story - it's just the end of this chapter, okay?"
They huddled together as the cold started to creep into their sore bodies and Lisa allowed her mind to retreat into soft, salty arms that washed her into oblivion.
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"Yes?"
He didn't know the man. Once, there had been a time when he had known every single man to pick up that phone. "This is Jackson Rippner."
"Hold on."
The line went dead and long, elegant fingers tapped against a certain brown folder.
"Jackson?"
"Yep."
"I am disappointed in you." Forbish sounded calm; a good many had died of believing it.
Well, the same was true for Jackson. "That's unfortunate. What's your proposal?"
"The two women for all your files. And Laritt's."
"Too expensive."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Two women, two organizations and all their respective files. Take your pick."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not."
How quickly and comfortably they had settled back into their old routine, business talk that went back and forth, back and forth. Detached, matter-of-factly, with lethal consequences. They were both masters at their game.
Forbish chuckled. "You forget who you're talking to."
"Believe me, I am well aware of that."
"You seem very confident for a man in a pickle."
"There's comfort in the knowledge that I'm not the only one. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"I was just going to give you the same advice."
Jackson breathed a little exasperated sigh into the speaker, the equivalent of rolling his eyes. "Is this leading somewhere or are we just playing?"
"That depends entirely on you."
"Well, what I have here is a very big stack of papers with your name on them … and your suppliers' names. Even some of your clients' names. Great stuff, really."
"You'll never survive this, Jackson. I'm your only chance."
"And I yours."
"I have support, wealthy organizations that will do everything in their power to stop you. You got no one in your corner, boy. You have a good head on your shoulders, don't start acting stupid now. Hand over the files and walk away."
Ah, the daddy speech. Make a threat, serve it with a compliment to take off a bit of the edge. Big dog's advice to the little pup. Only that the little pup has hidden all of big dog's food in the garden - and big dog is hungry. Jackson leaned back in his chair. "Let's talk business. Neither of us is willing to accept the standing offers, so it's time for compromise."
"No compromise."
"Suit yourself."
Click.
A few seconds later, the phone rang and Jackson picked it up with a satisfied smile.
"That was a very stupid thing to do, Jackson."
"I was making a point."
"That you're a careless, cocky fool?"
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen … Colin Forbish was officially hooked. Jackson's features slid into a grin and he enjoyed translating it into words. "A wise teacher once told me that a personal insult – not to be confused with a controlled provocation - during a business meeting is a sure sign the other side is weak."
"It's a pity, I almost forgot how good you are. I should have shot you in the garage."
"Pity has nothing to do with it. If you could have shot me right then, you would have, but that was a risk you obviously weren't prepared to take. Under these circumstances and with these stakes, I don't blame you. Your proposal?"
"All the files with my name on them and that's my last offer."
"Very costly."
"Last chance, Jackson. Don't muck it up, you don't want to make me angry."
"And here I was under the impression that you already were angry with me."
"All I want to hear from you at this point is 'I accept'. Are you going to say it or am I going to terminate our conversation and start planning your untimely demise?"
Jackson's forehead creased at the sight of the glossy, black and white image of a young woman walking through the lobby of the Lux Atlantic. Short, quick strides. Head up, shoulders back. A professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Jackson?"
He snapped the folder shut and tossed it to the others on his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slow, circular motions. Jackson rested his elbows on the laptop and drew a deep breath, carefully turning away from the speaker.
"You still there?"
"I accept. I will locate the files and get back to you."
Jackson hung up the phone, staring straight ahead. A few seconds passed during which he was absolutely still, unmoving, unblinking. Then he gave a sharp nod and pursed his lips while swift fingers dialed another number.
"What is it, Rippner?"
"It's on."
"When? Where?"
"No details yet. You better prepare your best agents."
"What?"
"I'm not suicidal. Forbish wants me dead, no matter what."
Click.
Cell in hand, Whitley ran straight to Keefe's office.