A/N: BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER... Please go back and read chapter one. When I posted initially, it was only the prologue. It now includes chapter one as well. For those following the story more for the Cassadine/Davis girls interaction, there's more in upcoming chapters as that part of the story unfolds. In this story, much of Jason's back story is the same except that he never killed anyone for Sonny Corinthos.

2.

Sam laid on top of that lumpy mattress for quite some time trying to focus. Maybe it was after-effects from the drug they'd used, but it was hard to maintain coherent thought for more than a few minutes at a time and she still felt too weak to stand. Lack of food in her system probably hadn't helped. It took a couple more hours lying there before the cloud lifted. She began studying her surroundings once more for anything to fashion as a weapon or cut her free. If only her abductors had used handcuffs she could make use of one of the bobby pins she kept in her bra to pick the lock.

She finally managed enough strength to form a sitting position by sliding her legs over the side of the bed and contracting her abdominal muscles to lift her upper body. Her arms were tied behind her in an awkward position so her next move had been to contort her tiny figure until it bent through the hole her arms made and now they were at least tied in front of her. She pulled the duct tape from her mouth and pursed her lips with gritted teeth to resist crying out as it stung her skin. She welcomed the first deep breath she'd had in hours while soothing the irritated flesh with her fingertips.

Sam observed the lamp on the bedside table. She could use it to knock the first guard out, strangle the second unconscious with its cord and then tie them both up. She tried lifting it, but it was bolted down. She noticed a drawer below. A letter opener or scissors seemed too much to hope for. All she found was a bible covered in a fine layer of dust. She supposed if all else failed she could try praying her way out of it. She figured it probably couldn't hurt to do that anyway then closed her eyes and said a quick one though she hadn't spoken to Him in a long time.

Dear Lord, if you could get me the hell out of this mess I'd really appreciate it. Thanks, Sam. PS: Sorry for cursing.

She used the lip of the metal bed frame to nudge the stilettos from her feet. She could run full speed in heels with both hands tied behind her back thanks to the etiquette lessons her father insisted she take, but she wasn't sure how she'd fair with both feet tied too. She stood from the bed and inched her way toward the window. The thick curtains blocked any view. She hoped to see a familiar landmark or at least learn the time from the position of the sun. There was no sun, however. It was already dark and she couldn't be sure, but it felt like it was late. Her stomach growled in agreement.

The staggered lighting along the sidewalks showed them to be as empty as the streets they adorned and there wasn't much else to see, but what she could make out looked like any other village in France. She noted there were more lights to the right than left so her best bet appeared running that way when she escaped. She attempted to open the window, but it wouldn't budge any more than the lamp.

She considered breaking it, but there was no fire escape, ledge or even pipes to aide in her descent and they were five floors up by the count of windows on the building next to them. The two were separated by a small alley, but it was too dark to see what was down there.

She turned around and eyed the room again from the new angle. There was no bathroom, but there was a closet. She made her way to it hoping to find a heavy iron on the shelf, but once again luck wasn't on her side –or maybe it was.

A discarded coat hanger rested at the bottom. She squatted, leaning against the frame of the opening to steady herself as she retrieved it. Maybe she could use the wire to help loosen the knots around her wrists. She went to the door and gently tested it. The knob had been reversed. It was locked from the other side, but she was confident once she freed her hands she could pick it with her bobby pin. She hop-shuffled back to the bed to sit and begin working the knots with the hanger.

She'd just finished bending and untwisting the wire when a door outside her room slammed shut. The men were talking to one another again and she realized she hadn't heard their conversation in a while. She'd assumed one of them had fallen asleep since she could still hear the TV, but it was clear now one must have left and just returned. She listened in as best she could. They spoke in French, louder than before, but only one of them actually sounded as if it might be his native tongue. The other had an accent she recognized all too well. She should, it was from her homeland.

The Frenchman had stayed behind apparently as it was his accent that asked all the questions. She heard the other man with a harder edge to his voice bark short replies. They made the deal, she heard. They were to drop off the package, she assumed that was her, in the morning at 7.

"Eight more hours." The Frenchman had sighed then asked if his partner had returned with his food.

Eight more hours, she thought. No wonder her stomach was pissed. Eight from seven made it ten at night which made it fifteen hours since her last meal... if it was still the same day she'd been taken. The sound of her door unlocking had her falling back onto the bed and doing her best to conceal the wire hanger beneath her before she was caught.

It was pointless to play possum. Her shoes were off, her arms were now in front of her, the tape over her mouth removed and the curtains and closet door were wide open. Obviously she'd made herself comfortable. She watched as one of her captors entered. She'd never seen him before, but she could tell by his countenance he was dangerous. He was tall with a buzz cut, dark features and form of a wrestler. His eyes narrowed seeing what she had been up to.

"Don't suppose I could persuade you to ignore my father's orders and let me go?" She asked in Russian. Though, she spoke several other languages just as well –another thing her father had insisted on. He'd kept her bogged down in private studies most of her life as a means of isolation. She thanked heaven above for a few beloved servants who dared to share unfiltered bits of the outside world with her.

Sam watched the man closely as she'd asked her question. She knew it was pointless. Any man who worked for her father would never turn against him, not out of loyalty so much as fear of a slow and tortuous death. That was the cost of betrayal in Andre Karpov's world. Her point had merely been to see if he revealed any tells at the mention of her father.

He responded with a "not likely" smirk and little huff. She could interpret that two ways. Either they were working under the orders of her father or, at the very least, knew of her father's reputation. Knowing of him and abducting his only child anyway meant they must work for someone more fearsome than even the likes of Andre Karpov. And that thought was enough to spoil her appetite… almost.

He ignored her and tossed a paper bag and bottled water to her on the bed as he stalked to the window to ensure it was still secure.

"Eat. Drink." He ordered as he snapped the curtains closed again.

Her legs slid back over the bed and she sat up careful to keep the hanger out of sight. She grabbed the bag and dumped its contents out next to her. There was a Daunat brand sandwich and Odise cup of lemon yogurt which confirmed her suspicion about France. They were common finds at any French express market. The sandwich was still sealed in its triangular container. It didn't appear the bag of chips, yogurt or water had been tampered with either, but she couldn't be sure about the pear so she wouldn't risk it.

While Sam inspected the food she noticed danger guy had been inspecting the room before returning his scrutinous gaze to her. She focused on her meal to hide the nerves creeping up. She couldn't afford for him to find the hanger.

"Kind of hard to eat with your hands tied." Sam commented as she held them up in front of her.

His hard glare never faltered. Apparently, he was immune to the pout on her lips. "Make do." He told her then exited, locking the door behind him.

Damn, she sighed. That had to be one of the first times her sexy pout hadn't worked for her. When she made her move, he would be the first one she took out. The other one couldn't possibly be as much of a hard ass as that guy. Her stomach rumbled again and she went back to the task at hand, keeping her strength up.

An hour later the pear sat uneaten on the nightstand, but fortunately her stomach had been sated. She'd managed to loosen the knots around her wrists, but nowhere near enough to remove them yet. It was her bladder that spoke to her next. Her body was seriously beginning to piss her off with its demands. Didn't it realize they needed to work as a team right now to get the hell out of there? Maybe she could use this to her advantage.

She hid the hanger under the bed and yelled. "Hey! Danger boy!" That ought to get him riled up. "I need to pee!"

Nothing.

"Helloooooo..." She hollered as obnoxiously as possible. "Is anyone out there?"

She heard muted curses as heavy boots clunked toward the door. It flew open and danger guy stood there in a tizzy. "Quiet!"

"I need to go to the bathroom." She said flatly, though it was interesting to hear that he cared if she were to make noise. Did that mean there were others around who might hear and come to her rescue, or was she just interrupting their late night movie of choice?

He stared at her then relented with a sigh as she gave him her "defenseless little woman" face.

The bathroom was directly across from her so she never neared the front room where the second man was with the television. Danger boy opened the door, turned on the light and inspected the bathroom for anything she might use against them. He then exited and stood just outside crossing his arms over his chest and jerking his head for her to enter.

She held her hands up expectantly, but he just stared without making a move.

She scoffed, thoroughly annoyed. "You can't honestly expect me to go with my hands tied?"

His jaw clenched. "Make…"

"Ugh!" She growled. "I know. Make do." She finished for him shuffling into the bathroom and slamming the door in his face.

Not only was danger boy going to be the first she incapacitated. She was going to stomp him in the ribs with her stiletto for good measure.

After silencing her bladder and washing her hands as best as she could danger boy returned her to her room. She made her way back to the bed and sat as he bent down to retrieve the bag of trash from the floor. She shifted in front of where she'd placed the hanger afraid he might see it since there were no linens to hide it from view then cursed herself for the action. It drew his attention. His eyes narrowed on her and she tried not to bite her bottom lip. It was her worst tell. A split second later danger boy had flipped her legs up into the air sending her flat on her back against the mattress as he pulled the hanger from beneath it.

He cursed in Russian and she took offense at being called a fucking bitch by anyone, but especially by that asshole so she pulled both feet back and kicked him with all her might. He stumbled back nearly falling as she rose to her feet to make a run for it. She knew it was futile since her ankles were still bound, but she couldn't go out without a fight.

He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground as she kicked and struggled to break free. Her arms were trapped under his so she chin-checked him with the back of her head causing him to curse again as he shouted for his partner. His arms tightened around her even more, squeezing the air from her lungs as he turned and slammed all one hundred and three pounds of her back down on the bed. The other man appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, as danger boy gave her a murderous glare which she returned. He ordered the other man to bring the chloroform and that's when she changed her tune.

"No. No, please. I'll be quiet. Just please don't drug me again. No! Don't... Somebody, help! Help me! Hellllllp!" She screamed and struggled as danger boy held one arm over both of hers and the other over her shoulders while the Frenchman covered her mouth and nose with the cloth.

xxxxx

Jason waited at the agreed upon spot just outside of Nice. It was early yet. The sun still labored to wake as its rays stretched sleepily over the village. He checked his watch and noted the time as an SUV parked a few feet from behind him. They were on time. Good start.

He watched in his rear-view as two men stepped out. He recognized the driver as the one with the Russian accent that accompanied the Jackal the night before. They went to the rear of their vehicle and approached his car with a black duffel fitting the dimensions he'd been given. He pushed the button releasing the lid of his trunk as it popped open. He watched as the driver placed the bag inside while the second man stood as a lookout.

The Russian closed it back, pausing to make eye contact with Jason in the rear-view. It was a look that said they were good. He turned to walk back to his truck as the other man bent down to tie his shoe. He wouldn't need Mozart for this job after all, it seemed. He was glad. The chases were good to keep his skills sharp, but he much preferred a quiet exchange. He turned the key and pressed play on the stereo as Dido began singing about her heart behind tired eyes and being out all night. He then entered the ignition code and was on his way.

xxxxx

"Pinch it off." The Russian ordered as he zipped his fly and flushed the urinal.

"Three minutes!" The Frenchman grunted from the stall.

The Russian grimaced. "I'll be in the truck. Hurry or you'll be walking."

Etienne waited another minute until he heard the door click closed and knew he was alone. He pulled the special phone used for just such occasions from his pocket and made the call.

The other party picked up on the second ring.

"Verify." They instructed.

"Day trader." The Frenchman replied.

"Status?" His boss inquired.

"The package has been delivered as planned. He'll never suspect anything other than an ordinary road hazard."

"Was she harmed?"

Etienne sighed. "We had to drug her again. She was fighting Vas. I thought it safer than to risk him hurting her."

A minute of silence passed as Etienne held his breath.

"Pray this doesn't cost me –or you. Keep me posted." The caller informed before the line went dead, as dead as he knew he would be if he fell a millimeter out of step with any of the three bosses he took orders from.

He'd worked for her for nearly a decade before accepting the assignment as a plant within Alcazar's organization and the danger only increased when he'd been loaned out by Luis to handle a job for a very important business associate. Andre Karpov, it seemed, couldn't chance tying himself to the abduction of his own child. His boss had been fair throughout the years, but was not forgiving in nature. If his judgment cost them this chance, his years of loyal service would count very little toward saving his life. He would be as dead as if Karpov or Alcazar discovered his duplicity themselves. Etienne whispered a plea to Saint Jude as he re-pocketed his phone and hurried to the truck.

xxxxx

She awoke with a start as her calf muscle contracted, refusing to relax. She cried out fruitlessly breathing heavy through the pain. She had no idea how long she'd been out this time, but her limbs were still bound and more tape had been placed over her mouth. She was confined in a tiny space with a course fabric brushing against her as she struggled to massage her cramping limb. It was hard to breathe. Oh God. Have I been buried alive? She freaked then quickly disregarded that notion as her other senses kicked in.

She heard music. Was that… Dido? Were her kidnappers getting in touch with their softer side? She felt the hum of tires against the pavement. She was moving so she must be in some type of vehicle. The air smelled of that new car smell. Whatever she was on definitely wasn't as cushioned as an upholstered seat and the music was loud, but muted. She must be stuffed in someone's trunk. Inside, what she had now guessed was some kind of bag.

She felt the wheel closest to her begin to shudder with a loud flap as rubber slapped pavement. The car slowed to a stop and she heard one door shut and then another. She tried her best to make her presence known, but the effects of the drug hadn't worn off yet. Every thought, every movement was formed in slow motion. She didn't even have the strength to call out.

xxxxx

The CD continued to play as the female vocalist insisted on thanking someone. It was turning out to be an enjoyable ride along the mountainside until the rumble and flap of an all too familiar sensation took hold.

"Flat!" Jason spat like a curse.

He pulled onto the gravel and silenced the engine. He pulled the keys and removed his belt before stepping out to inspect the damage. Sure enough the rear passenger-side tire was flat. He must have caught a nail from the construction zone he'd passed a few miles back.

He kicked the tire in frustration. This would throw him off schedule. He hated being off schedule. He opened the front passenger door and removed his jacket and folded it before tossing it on the seat. He loosened the narrow black tie at his neck and rolled up his cuffs.

He popped the trunk for the spare, doing a double-take as his package… moved.

What the fuck seemed an appropriate thought as it crossed his mind. This was a first for him. He'd delivered people from one point to another many times, but it had always been willingly, as far as he knew. He doubted he could say the same for whomever was stuffed in that bag.

Sam moved her body as much as she could the minute she heard the trunk open. In her mind she was screaming out for help, but in reality it was a slight moan at best.

The revelation of just what he was transporting had thrown him for a minute, but then his survival code kicked in, his rules. The deal was the deal. No names. No looking inside the package. This was business and he had a deal to conclude. Besides, who said there was a person in there? Maybe it was some kind of exotic animal.

He pushed the bag out of the way and could feel the form of a small body inside. Damn, he cursed. So much for that exotic animal theory. He retrieved the jack and full-sized replacement and proceeded to change the tire.

Ten minutes later Jason placed the damaged tire where the spare had been along with the jack and closed the trunk. He fixed his sleeves, pulled his jacket back on then adjusted his tie before sitting behind the wheel once more. He buckled up and was on his way again with hardly a second thought.

It was thirty minutes later and halfway to the drop point when he made his one scheduled stop for refreshment. He sat at a little table of a small roadside café washing down a sandwich with a bottle of mineral water, telling himself all the while to stop staring at his trunk. He couldn't take his eyes off of it though or stop himself from wondering just who was in the bag.

They were small. They had to be to fit in that bag. Was it a child? There was no way he could be party to kidnapping a kid, but the trouble that would bring down on him made him not want to pursue that line of thought another minute. He was better off not knowing, but could he live with himself if he'd help steal a child and deliver them into who knew what level of hell? The Jackal might be running with the Russian mafia and those guys were into all kinds of ugliness.

He sighed as he finished his lunch and disposed of the waste before pulling a straw from a dispenser and a bottle of Orangina he'd already paid for from the refrigerated display. He returned to his vehicle and drove down the road another fifteen minutes until he reached a deserted overlook and stopped.

He got out of the car and halted in front of his trunk. He hesitated and cursed himself for what he was about to do. He was about to break his own rule, one of the rules that had kept him alive and well so far in a very dangerous business. He was about to open the package, or was he?

He decided to make a deal with himself. If he opened the package and it was a child he would do what needed to be done to help, but if it was anyone else he would give them the drink then go back to business as usual.

Sam was more awake now and when she heard the car stop again she prepared herself for a fight. They may not let her out of the bag, but she was going to raise so much hell inside it that it would be sure to cause a scene if they were anywhere public.

His finger hovered over the trunk release a moment longer before surrendering. The lid popped up and he unzipped the bag.

Holy Hell. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found inside.

She was small, but she was no child. She was… something, something that took his breath away. She had to be the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

Her head poked up out of the bag and he could see that she was bound and gagged. Dark chocolate hair fell in soft layers around her delicate shoulders with whiskey eyes that had been set ablaze with a golden fire ignited by the sun. He was speechless. But she wasn't.

It took her by surprise when her captor actually opened the bag. She inhaled as deep of a breath of fresh air as she could with her mouth still covered. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when she did she was stilled by confusion.

This wasn't either one of the men who'd taken her. She must have slept through the exchange and she had no idea where she was or what this man's intentions were with her. There was only a slight comfort in the hope that he wouldn't be stupid enough to harm Andre Karpov's heir, not that she would ever accept a dime from dear old dad. The way he made his fortune disgusted her to her core.

She stared up at the man momentarily lost in the blueness of his eyes as he gazed down at her. He was dressed far more professionally than danger boy or Frenchie. They hadn't worn suits and especially not designer originals hand-tailored for a custom fit. She'd grown up surrounded by luxury and could spot a seven thousand dollar ensemble when she saw one. She wondered if that meant he was higher up in her father's pecking order.

The thought of her father doing this to her brought anger coursing through her and broke her from her trance. She began thrashing to remove herself from the bag and cursing up a storm. She might not be in the position to lash out at the man she had a sneaking suspicion was responsible, but she was going to take a piece of every one of his minions that crossed her –starting with this creep.

Jason's eyebrows rose in surprise. He couldn't make out all she was saying, but he was pretty sure he hadn't heard such creative streams of curses since his days in the service. Boy, is she pissed! Even in that vulnerable state, against a man nearly three times her size, she appeared ready and willing to take him on. A part of him admired that about her, but he quickly beat that sentiment into submission. She wasn't a child. He would give her the drink then it was back to business.

"Whoa! Whoa!" He ordered in the manner a man might command a stage coach gone wild. He held his hands up in front of him to suggest he meant no harm which wasn't exactly true since he had no intentions of letting her go, but he needed her to be still long enough to finish the drink so he could get back on the road.

Whoa? Whoa? Did he just order me to halt like an animal? She narrowed her eyes at him and breathed hard and fast causing her nostrils to flare. All the extra movement had tired her out and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She stared at him with a clenched jaw wishing like hell she was free so she could show him just what she thought of his flunky ass and over-priced power suit.

She stopped moving so he figured he'd move on to step two. "I'm going to pull out my knife now."

He waited for her to scream or thrash about again, but she just stared at him with a burning hatred that set his skin on fire. Her only tell of anything other than fury had been the way her eyes widened briefly at the word knife.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to cut a hole in the tape so you can drink this." He pulled the bottle of Orangina from his pocket to show her.

Her brows furrowed in first confusion followed by skepticism. He waited for her consent before making another move. Finally, she nodded and he removed the switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open. It was razor sharp and a quick flick of the wrist left her with a half inch slit in the tape between her lips. He re-pocketed the knife and twisted the cap. He pulled the straw from his other pocket, inserted it into the bottle and bent it to fit into her mouth.

Man, am I thirsty. Her mouth was full of cotton most likely due to lack of sufficient fluids and being drugged. She hated this guy for his part in all of this, but she would have been grateful to the devil himself at the moment if he'd given her ice water and this was just as good. She sucked it down as fast as she could, afraid he would decide she'd had enough before she was done. She studied him as she drank.

His dirty blond hair was cropped short all around with an inch or more up top that stuck out every which way. It was the only disorganized thing about him from what she could see. It was unruly and yet he'd allowed it to remain that way which meant as cultivated as he appeared to be there was another part of him that was untamed, rebellious even, which he seemed to acknowledge if not embrace. His given vocation seemed to support this theory.

He was tall, at least six feet and well built. His chiseled features weren't unattractive at all. He was actually rather good looking. The fact that he worked for her father had to be the ugliest thing about him. He wasn't French. She'd realized this the moment he first spoke. He was American and that surprised her. Her father rarely trusted Americans with business and any business having to do with her would be of highest importance. He must be really good at whatever he did and proven himself many times over for her dad to trust him alone with her. She assumed they were alone since she hadn't heard anyone else any of the times they'd stopped. Well, whatever he was really good at she would just have to be better. She needed to get away while there was only one of them.

Jason stood there holding the drink for her as she sipped greedily from the straw.

"Slow." He instructed. It wouldn't do for her to choke to death. He was sure whoever wanted this package wanted her to arrive alive.

She looked up at him with perplexed curiosity as she drank and there was something so completely vulnerable about her in that moment that he felt his heart thud a little harder. Before he knew it, he'd brushed a lock of hair from her face and behind her ear. He blinked at the action and stared at the hand that had betrayed him then gripped it into a fist and pulled it away.

Sam watched as his hand slowly approached her face and stroked the stubborn strands from her cheek. She could tell from his reaction it had caught him as off guard as her. She wasn't sure what to make of it. It hadn't felt threatening at all. In fact, under other circumstances she would have found the sensation highly enjoyable, but she could never enjoy the touch of any man who could treat women this way or work for her father. She wasn't sure why she was so sold on the idea that her father had orchestrated this and not some unknown threat, but it made sense considering what she'd uncovered about his business. She was a threat to that highly profitable venture and he knew it and this felt exactly like something her father would do to teach her a lesson.

There was something about her that was getting to him and he couldn't have that. He needed to shove her back in the bag before he screwed himself over for a woman he didn't even know. And he didn't need to know either, he reminded himself. No names. He rushed her to finish drinking as she gulped a few more sips. "That's enough."

He pulled the straw then recapped the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Good girl." He patronized as he stuffed her head back into the bag and zipped it closed.

He ignored her cries of outrage and muffled expletives as she realized her fate had not changed then slammed the trunk closed before he could second guess himself.

He was back on the road for another twenty minutes when the screaming and kicking started up again. He pulled over on another deserted overlook. The mountain roads up there were full of them. He sighed then opened the trunk and the bag.

She mumbled something he couldn't understand, but there was urgency in her eyes.

"I'm going to take the tape off. If you scream, I'll have to kill you. Understand?" He threatened with a stern finger shaking.

It was an empty threat of course. He could never kill a woman, but she didn't know that.

She nodded her head and shouted out as he removed the tape from her mouth.

"I have to pee." She told him. It hadn't worked for her back at the dilapidated hotel, but she figured it was worth another shot.

He stared down at her considering the request.

"Unless you want me to do it in your car." She issued flatly, but there was a trace of contempt too.

That statement pretty much sealed the deal. There was no way in hell he wanted the stench of urine anywhere in his car.

"Okay." He slapped the tape back over her mouth then lifted the entire duffel from his car and set it on the gravel.

Her arms were tied behind her again and she used them to help push her up as she wiggled free of the bag. She watched as he pulled a length of rope from his trunk then fashioned a loop at the end and tightened it around her neck.

"What the hell?" She mumbled then wondered if he could actually make out what she was saying with the way he looked at her.

"I'm going to take my knife out again. Okay? Don't scream. It's to cut you free."

She refused to flinch as the blade snapped open in front of her. She focused on as many details as she could. She ran the plates over in her head. There was no make or model of the car on the back, but she could tell it was a fairly new black BMW. She'd been taught long ago that information was power and you never knew what little detail might come in handy later.

Jason cut the rope from her wrists as she rubbed them with her hands then moved on to the rope at her ankles. She moved to pull the tape from her mouth, but he stopped her. "You don't need your mouth to pee."

Asshole, she thought as her eyes narrowed at him.

He helped her to her feet then held the rope at her neck. He held up his left hand to look at his watch. She glanced down at it. Correction, she amended silently, thirteen thousand dollar ensemble. He was obviously well-compensated for whatever other heinous acts he performed for her father and, as with her first abductors, she had little faith of talking him into a change of heart.

He pointed to the bushes just off the overlook. "You have one minute."

One minute? Was he serious?

He held his watch up in front of him again. "55… 54…"

Apparently, he was. Good thing she didn't actually have to pee, but she'd hoped to have more time to get away.

"53… 52… " He called out as she turned and started to run.

Her legs were still a bit shaky, but she ignored that and pressed on. It may be her last chance to escape and to find those women before all traces of them were erased.

She disappeared behind the bushes as he fed the length of rope to give her more lead. She was petite. She couldn't be five foot six even with the four inch heels, and light. He'd lifted her to her feet with ease. She couldn't weigh much more than forty-five kilograms, if that. He chided himself for breaking the rules and for thinking about the woman when he should be thinking about what the woman was up to.

"Fifteen!" He called out then began to coil the rope as he walked over to the edge of the pull off.

"Seven." He called, getting an uneasy feeling when he didn't hear a sound.

"Two! Times up!" He told her then tugged at the rope.

It didn't budge. "Don't make me drag you out."

He pulled a little harder then began to follow the rope down the gradual slope of the mountain. He rounded a tree and another couple of bushes to find she'd tied it off to a branch.

"Shit!" He cursed and looked out over the vast expanse of wilderness covering the terrain. Where the hell did he start?

He decided on the clearing that appeared to be a mountain bike trail. He looked down and saw she'd broken the heels off her shoes to move quicker. Smart.

Sam was running for her life. She wasn't sure what the man behind her was capable of if angered and she didn't want to find out. She had to make it to safety so she could help those women. Women, she cringed. Most were younger than her and barely legal.

She ran full force wishing for better traction than the slippery tread of her slaughtered Louboutin's. She jumped a fallen tree blocking her path and kept running. She tried to keep her focus in front of her as she'd been trained, but so much more than her own freedom was riding on her success. She had to get away. She took a quick peek behind to gauge if she was being pursued and lost her footing. She slipped and slid down a sudden decline toward a small riverbed, but she didn't take time to brush herself off. She jumped up and kept moving.

Jason found the piece of tape that had covered her mouth a ways down the trail and knew he was on the right path. He increased his speed and spotted her running parallel along a narrow bed of water below. His training had taught him just how to maneuver to get the upper hand. He practically jumped in front of her and she fell back with a shout.

"No, please!" Was all she got out before he covered her mouth with the piece of tape he'd retrieved.

She tried to slap and fight him off, but he restrained her arms. He was strong and unless she thought of something quick she was going back in that trunk.

Suddenly, she fainted. She fell into him as he prevented her fall and as he brought her to his chest she swiftly kneed him between his legs.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit was the only thing running through his mind for a good three minutes as he watched her retreat back up the trail that led to his car. He willed for air to rush back into his lungs and for the strength to return to his legs as he cupped himself.

Sam had never been so thankful for the two years she'd run cross at school. She made it back to his car in record time and used the keys she'd lifted from his pockets to unlock the door and get in. She locked the doors behind her and turned the key ready to race off, but it didn't start. She turned it frantically several more times before realizing there must be a switch interrupting the signal to the engine.

She searched under the dash and around the front seat. She pushed on a cover in the console and it sprung open to reveal a keypad. "Great," She huffed. She'd heard of systems like this before but never disarmed one. She needed the code to start the car or the proper tools to crack it.

How the hell was she going to figure out his code before he got back and broke through the glass? She began searching the visors, glove box and other compartments hoping for a clue as to what it might be. Maybe he'd actually been dumb enough to write it down. She couldn't help notice how spotless everything was as she searched. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. "Man." She said to herself. "He sure loves his car. He treats it better than people."

She glanced down at the manual she'd thumbed through now sitting in her lap as a thought occurred to her. "It couldn't be that easy, could it?"

He made his way back to the car not surprised to find it still sitting there. He stormed around to the driver's side as he realized she'd not only taken him down with that swift kick, but also picked his pockets while she was at it.

"Hah!" He gloated as he slapped the glass to get her attention. "Keys won't do you any good without an ignition code."

Sam just looked up at him with contempt in her eyes and a wicked grin.

"Five, three, seven, nine, nine!" She shouted at him through the glass taking satisfaction in wiping that smug smirk off his face.

How the hell did she figure out my code so fast? He hadn't left it written down anywhere. Panic filled him as he watched her begin to enter the code. He quickly reached under the front wheel well and pulled a hidden key from its hiding spot. He managed to get the door open just as she put the car in drive.

Sam tried to fight him for control, but he simply out-powered her.

He was able to force his way into the driver seat with her and push her away from the pedals and wheel. She was still slapping and fighting him until he'd pushed her into the passenger seat completely and stopped the car again. She resigned herself to running once more and as soon as the car stopped she attempted to bolt, but he caught her by the arm and held on tight. He put the discarded piece of tape resting on his floorboard back over her mouth and carried her back to his trunk to tie her up with some of the rope he'd used before. It was still lying nearby as well as the bag she'd been in.

He'd worked up a sweat and nearly ruined his suit. He was winded and his groin still throbbed. He definitely hadn't charged enough for this job.

This was her last chance to change his mind and, as pointless as it may be, she had to try.

"Don't do this!" She begged. "You have to stop. There isn't any time. I need to save them!"

That was all she could get out before her voice and vision was silenced once again.

He slammed the trunk closed and growled. She'd pissed him off, but he was really angry with himself for breaking his own rules. He wouldn't break them again. He'd made a deal with himself that he would only intervene if he'd found a child in the bag. Rule One: The deal was the deal. Once it was made it could not be changed or renegotiated. He kept reminding himself of this for the remaining fifteen minutes of the ride.

Minutes later Jason pulled up to the front gate of the estate. The guard waved him through and he trailed up the drive to the front of the main house. It was palatial… and accessorized with armed guards. Two of them stood behind a third man waiting for him as he drove up. It must be the man the Jackal had tried to name before he'd cut him off. He was tall with dark features sporting a designer suit that fit him well. His striking good looks and Hollywood swagger suggested he would never need to resort to kidnapping a woman for her company, but the lethal gleam in his eyes told Jason that wouldn't stop him from doing it anyway.

The job was almost done. Just be cool and stick to the deal, he told himself as he stepped from the car.

"You're late." Luis accused. He wasn't accustomed to being kept waiting.

Jason could hear the dissatisfaction in his tone, but responded coolly as he retrieved the bag from his trunk and closed it. "Ran into a little problem."

"Nothing serious?" The man questioned.

"Nothing serious." Jason reassured.

He walked the bag over to him and placed it on the ground. The two guards retrieved it and began to walk away. Jason couldn't keep his eyes off of it as it retreated out of sight. He heard a muffled cry and his heart thudded again. Dammit, he lectured himself. Stick to the deal. Stick to the deal!

Luis observed the way the tranporter's eyes lingered on the bag. He didn't like it and he didn't trust it. "Did you open the package?"

"Rule Three," Jason recited. "Never open the package."

Luis studied him speculatively before a sly smile spread across his lips. "I like that. Rules, you can't get anything done in the world without rules."

He descended a step putting him on equal standing with the man in front of him. "You're a foreigner, right?"

Jason didn't respond.

Alcazar continued unperturbed. "This is a nice little thing you've got going for yourself here; high class, good reputation."

Jason nodded in acknowledgment.

"I didn't get your name."

"Rule two," Jason informed. "No names."

He was ready for the deal to be over and hoped it was the last he would see of that man.

"Of course." Luis smiled as he pulled an envelope from inside his suit jacket.

Jason accepted it and pocketed it without opening.

"You're not going to count it?" Luis was surprised.

Jason huffed. He didn't want to be in that man's company a second longer than necessary. "Why? Should I?"

"No, no need." Luis assured.

"That concludes the deal." Jason told him as he turned and headed for his car.

"I was wondering..." Luis addressed him as Jason opened his door. "If you wouldn't mind transporting something for me. That is what you do, right? You deliver, no questions asked."

Jason paused before answering. "Why not?" The man was right. It was what he did after all.

He closed his car door and stepped back over to the man.

"Weight?" He inquired.

Luis accepted the titanium briefcase from another guard that brought it out to him.

"Maybe a kilo." He estimated.

"Destination?" Jason asked.

"Grenoble. Three Oh six Rue de Lac." Was the response.

"A mister…" Jason held up his hand before Luis could finish.

"Oh, right." He smiled. "I forgot, rule two."

Luis motioned for the guard to extend another payment for the second job and Jason accepted once again without counting. Luis handed him the briefcase and Jason got back in his car with no further adieu.

Luis watched him drive away as a deadly smile crept onto the corners of his mouth.

xxxxx

"He's made delivery and is leaving the property now." The Jackal informed as he watched the security feed from his laptop. "Are you sure…" He intended to question his instructions one last time before being cut short.

"If he leaves her there, he dies." His boss confirmed.

"It's just that I think he may be of good use later. It would be such a terrible waste of talent not to mention…" he was cut off again before his argument could build any more steam.

"Spinelli!" His boss snapped then sighed. "We gave him a chance to show his true character and he failed. He cannot be trusted and he will not get away with what he's done."

The young man gulped then acknowledged his compliance. He knew better than to question the cold finality of those words. She was one of the most lethal adversaries he'd ever known and it was healthier to remain with her than against her. He didn't have to be a genius to know that much.

xxxxx

It was insane. What he was contemplating was not only career-suicide, it just might be actual suicide. He was one man and that was a huge estate that must have at least ten to fifteen armed guards patrolling it. Even if he could make his way past the gate undetected there was still the matter of taking out at least one guard unarmed before he could acquire a weapon. Not to mention, his chances of finding the woman before reinforcements showed up wasn't great.

No. He shook his head as he tried to finish off a last bite of food he wasn't even hungry for any longer. It was better to walk away. He'd already walked away so what difference would it make to keep on walking? It was a poor logic that was doing little to convince him not to change his mind. He couldn't get her face out of his head or the whiskey eyes he'd been lost in or her spirit. She'd been trying to tell him something, something that seemed important, but he hadn't wanted to hear what she was saying. He was afraid to hear anything that might make him break another rule.

Those rules had kept him alive when his emotions had done their best to destroy what was left of him. If he turned his back on them now and allowed his emotions to gain control again he just might not survive the outcome this time. He wouldn't claim to be the happiest man alive, but he had gotten back a will to live. He was content with his life now and it had been years since he could say that and mean it.

He exhaled in frustration as the image of her face replayed its way through his memory. His fingers twitched in recollection of the softness of her skin when he'd brushed the hair from her cheek.

It was abso-fucking-lutely insane. But he was going to do it anyway. And whatever it was that passed for the remainder of his conscience reminded him he should have done it in the first place. His grandmother would be ashamed of him carrying her name if she knew what he'd done. She had been forgiving, understanding even of many wrongs he'd made in his life, but that would not be one of them. And that was just one more reason his initial decision didn't sit right with him.

He stood from the little table of the gas station he'd stopped at to refuel and tossed his trash in the can as he walked back to his car. He passed an Orangina machine on his way out and stopped after a few more steps. It made him think of her. He wondered if they had already mistreated her in any way, if she was still thirsty or hungry.

He put some change into the machine and retrieved the can of orange soda from the tray. He was walking back to his car, strategizing the best way to get her out of there when his car exploded in his face. He was no more than twenty feet away when the force of the blast sent him throttling in the air cracking the windshield of a nearby car when he landed.

He watched as a fire ball enveloped what was left of his BMW and felt his blood boil. He'd completed the deal honorably as far as they knew and they wanted him dead anyway. His jaw clenched as tight as his fists. This was no way to conduct business. They'd just made this personal. Someone had a death wish and he would see to it they got exactly what they wanted.

xxxxx

Jason didn't wait around for police to question him. Instead he pulled off in an unattended car when the owner went inside to pay. He abandoned the vehicle a couple of streets over. He couldn't just stroll up to the main entrance, so he surveilled the perimeter on foot for a better point of entry. The estate was surrounded by a solid eight foot wall, but he found a spot along the side that was vulnerable. He climbed a massive chestnut tree rooted six feet from the wall and balanced himself along one of the branches far enough to leap toward it. He gripped the top with both hands as he fell against it and pulled himself up and over.

He landed just inside the property behind thick foliage, but was met with no resistance. He approached the main house from the side, entering with care, but a guard stepped into the hall before he could hide and raised his gun to fire at him. Jason advanced on him quickly and delivered three blows disarming his opponent and rendering him unconscious before a single bullet could be fired. He claimed the weapon for his own and continued down the hall clearing rooms left and right as he passed.

Stealth was his best tactic in that situation, but that had been ruined when he took out the first guard. He didn't have much time until his body was discovered. Now he was just in a hurry to find the woman and get out of there by any means necessary. He turned a corner and was greeted by another guard who got off a shot before he could silence him. This alerted three more who came running as a firefight broke out.

Jason dove behind an antique chest as it was riddled with bullets meant for him. He waited for a lull and returned fire taking two of the three out before ducking behind another piece of furniture.

After trading a few more rounds with the third guy, Jason clipped him in the hand forcing him to drop his weapon. He kept him alive long enough to inquire about the woman. He shot him in the leg when the guy refused to talk and then aimed the gun at his privates before he finally shouted out "downstairs" and pointed toward a door.

Jason left him alive and bleeding on the floor as he headed in the direction he'd been pointed. He pulled the door open and nearly missed an axe being swung at his head. It lodged itself into the wood giving Jason enough time to aim and fire two shots dead center into the guard's upper torso. Who brings an axe to a gunfight? He ran down the stairs and peeked around the corner ensuring the room was clear before he made himself a larger target.

The room was empty with only three exits. There was the one he just came down, one set of glass doors that led outside and another door he wasn't sure about. A wooden chair that stood in the middle of the spacious room garnered his attention. Closer inspection revealed remnants of burnt rope on the floor nearby and an abandoned piece of duct tape.

A half smile formed on his lips as he realized she must have gotten free again, but his brows furrowed trying to decide what direction she'd gone. He ran to the glass doors, but didn't spot her out back. He hadn't passed her coming down so that left only one other door. He flung it open and entered with his gun drawn spanning for targets as he moved.

It was a four car garage. He scanned the cars. The first two were covered, but the third and fourth were not. He passed by the jag convertible for the last car when he spotted a familiar hue of dark chocolate in the driver's seat barely visible as her head ducked below the dash.

He sighed in relief. He was so wrong to have left her before, but it wasn't too late to make it right. He ran over to her door and swung it open. Reinforcements could arrive any time and they needed to get the hell out of there.

Sam's head jerked above the dash as the door swung open stunning her into inaction as she watched the jerk that left her step into view.

"This one's taken." She informed matter-of-fact as she went back to accessing the wires below. "Get your own."

Jason scoffed. "I had my own until one of your friends blew it up a half hour ago."

"Friends my ass!" Sam replied heatedly. "And…" She spared him a second glance as she worked. "Not my problem. Serves you right anyway, asshole."

Guilt belly flopped in his gut. "I was coming back for you."

She stopped what she was doing to look up at him. He almost made her laugh. "Right. Sorry. You must be this honest," she held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart, "to ride this ride. If you were so anxious to come save me, why the hell were you just trying to leave without me?"

She held up her hand when he started to speak. "Save it for some other sucker." Then she went back to weeding through for the right wires she'd just pulled.

"It's the truth!" Jason exclaimed. "I stopped for gas and couldn't get that last look you gave me out of my mind. I forced a guard to tell me where they'd stashed you. I worked my way down to the basement and found the burned rope and the tape on the floor. I figured you would have headed for the nearest exit so I ended up in the garage and approached this car when I noticed the top of your head in it."

Sam studied him hard. His words seemed sincere enough, but she was still stuck on something else. "What look?"

Jason wiped his hand over his mouth to tamp down the smirk that wanted to come out and play. "That look that said you couldn't wait to get free again so you could come find me and kick my ass for what I was doing to you."

"Oh. That look." Sam looked away from him. "Yeah, well… whatever." She told him, preoccupied once again with the task at hand.

She sparked two wires together and the engine hummed to life. "Look I'd love to sit and chat about old times, but, you know, I'm sure you've got places to be too. More people to screw over." She mumbled loud enough for him to hear as she pulled on the door to close it, but the stubborn ass wouldn't move.

"Do you mind?" She said now totally annoyed.

"I'm serious." Jason told her as his body stood firm preventing her feeble attempts to shut it. "I was coming back for you. I was walking back to my car to turn around and come get you. If I hadn't taken the extra minute to get you another drink, I would've blown up with it."

Sam took in his words and noticed the red mark on the side of his face for the first time. He'd been burned and his jacket, shirt and tie looked singed. Why should she care if he was almost blown up? He performed jobs for despicable men like Alcazar and her father, but there was something in his eyes that was different from her father or Alcazar or any of the other men that worked for them. There was sincerity within all that blue. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he did have a change of heart. "You got me another drink?"

Jason nodded, not sure why that of all things mattered, but answering anyway.

"Okay." She told him. "Get in."

Jason hid the smile that wanted to show itself as he moved to do just that.

First thing in the morning, he told himself, I'm buying stock in Orangina.

Page 24 of 24 Created: 2012-02-12 Updated: 2013-06-05 Words: 10059 Characters: 53454