Didn't his dad get, like, second place for the richest-people-in-the-world list or something? I tried to remember exactly what...Oh...My...GOD!!! His dad didn't make second! He made first! And all of this was because of him! He was going to be kidnapped and held for ransom, and then -knowing the Mask- they would kill him.
Chapter 3
All of this thinking happened in approximately three seconds. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of this sooner. Crap. I was out of practice. And suddenly, and idea hit. The only problem was that in order to make it work, I was going to have to give the son of the richest man on earth a black eye. Sorry, Mr. Mehoffer, I thought uncomfortably as I scooted closer to Brent. It struck me now that I had never seen him in the flesh before, since he was always being blocked by his bodyguards. I had just assumed that he was a short, skinny teenager with slightly gay-looking hair, glasses, and acne covered with makeup. At least, that's what he'd looked like a year or so ago. All of the kids of rich people were like that, other than movie-star kids. What I meant was one of those billionaire company people. Boy was I wrong. The only reason he had looked hunched and small was because he was tied up. But I could tell that he had broad shoulders, slinky light brown hair, and an extremely hothothot (did I mention hot?!?) looking back. I cleared my throat and he turned his head. The world seemed to be spinning. He was beautiful. His perfect face was like a carved statue, yet with a slightly Abercrombie & Fitch twist. He had the most gorgeous green eyes that seemed too beautiful to belong to a mere mortal. God, what have you done? How in hell was I supposed to damage and blacken an eye so beautiful??? I would probably get arrested for this, just because I had deformed this wonderful creature. I would not resist. If they wouldn't arrest me, I would arrest myself. I could see it now, perfectly clear and detailed, as if it was right in front of me. I would sneak in to jail at night through the windows. I would lock myself in there and refuse to come out, refuse to eat anything. I would beg them to at least let me stay for a year, and when that year was up, I would move on to another jail and spend a year there, until I finally died of old age. Or starvation. Either one would work for me. He seemed confused for a second, obviously not knowing who (or maybe what) I was. Ouch. I took a deep breath. It's for the greater good, I thought. Think of what would happen to him if he got killed! My heart seemed to stop. This beautiful creature would not be harmed if I had something to say about it! I took a deep breath, and suddenly, I was an agent again, not a teenage girl. "Look," I said. "I'm going to get you out of here, but first, I need you to turn away because- and please don't laugh- I have to take my shirt off."He stared at me, then smirked. I held up my arm and pointed it to the ground, rotating it in a small circle. He smirked again, but turned around. I shoved my hand down my bra, just as I saw his head about to turn around. With one quick step, I was behind him, my hands cupped over his eyes."I knew you were going to do that," I said through gritted teeth. "But it might not be the best idea since you probably don't want to anger the person who has your life in her hands, would you?"I could see that he was somewhat convinced now that I was no longer using my kiddy voice, but my real one. But I still didn't trust him, so I took off my T-shirt and tied it around his eyes. Much better. Then I proceeded to try and yank the first gun out from my bra. By the way, they were really small, and I had made special little pockets for them, since it would be rather uncomfortable if I hadn't. The problem was that they were not meant to be accessed when said bra was still wrapped around a person."Can I ask why you just had to take your shirt off in order to save me?" Brent asked lightly, but I could tell he really wanted to know."I'd rather you didn't," I shot back."Too late," he said quietly, a smirk once again on his face. "So what's the deal? You owe me that much, at least."I guess he was right. "Fine," I said warily. "Just don't laugh, or you can forget the whole I'm-gonna'-save-your-life thing, got it?" He nodded. I sighed."Okay," I began. "I might have stuffed a gun down my bra."I waited. Brent cleared his throat. "You...Stuffed a gun down your bra?" He repeated. I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I glared at him."Actually, two guns. And remember, don't laugh, or else.""Did you...do it for a reason? Because that's the first time I've ever heard of that one...""Actually, I can't tell you that.""And why not?""It would blow my cover."