Chapter 3

Somewhere in the recesses of Lisa's mind there were voices. Two actually, one high-pitched and excitable and the other modulated and murmuring. She couldn't hear what the people were saying, but it was obvious there was a bit of a disagreement going on. The voices rose and made her throbbing head pulse in pain. Ugh, did she leave the television on again?

Her eyes fluttered opened, and she squinted at the two blurry figures hovering over her.

"Nice of you to join us, Leese."

Her vision sharpened the figures into focus as the events of last night came rushing back. She would have loved to slap the self-righteous expression off Jackson's face, but she had more pressing matters to tend to. Namely her headache and cottonmouth.

"Water," she rasped and Jackson cocked his head towards the door.

"You heard the lady, Martin."

The man called Martin glowered at them both and reluctantly left the room, grumbling under his breath. Jackson sat at the foot the bed, his weight causing Lisa to shift slightly. He looked her over without expression.

Lisa rubbed her bleary eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're in my home. My bed, actually."

Lisa frowned at his suggestive tone and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Now that she could see clearly, she took in her surroundings. A large and airy master bedroom filled with sleek furniture, a huge balcony, and framed black and white photos scattered about. If she were a decorator she would call this room Modern Zen.

"What, no screaming?" Jackson asked drily. "No accusations of wanting you dead?"

She gave him a scathing look.

"You would have already killed me," she said. "But instead, you brought me all the way here and tucked me into your comfortable bed."

Lisa ran a hand over the expensive Egyptian sheets while Jackson watched on warily.

"Why am I here, Jackson?"

He stood up, tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, and strode towards the balcony. He stopped short and stared at the expanse outside. Lisa noticed the creases on the back of his white button up and her eyes strayed to the slope of his back. Was he always so well turned out She wondered if he owned a pair of jeans or even sweatpants. The thought was so bizarre she had to smile.

He turned to look at her, and she was quick to settle her features into something more neutral."You're here because you turned on that cell phone," he finally said. "You got what you wanted right? My attention?" Lisa fumbled with her hands and averted his gaze. He shook his head. "That's what I thought, but I'm still trying to understand."

"What's to understand?" she shrugged. "I had some things to get off my chest."

"I get that part," he said. "But Martin has reported some interesting behavior..."

Lisa jolted to her feet and lurched at him unsteadily.

"You've been spying on me? How dare you after all you've put me through!"

She came at him and peppered his chest with weak blows. Jackson grabbed Lisa's flailing wrists and pressed her against the wall with his torso.

"You wanted me to spy on you," he hissed. His breath was hot against her neck and she struggled against his firm grip. "Dressing in lingerie and standing at the window sends a pretty obvious message, Leese."

She reddened at the words and stopped fighting. Of all the things he could say, this was possibly the worst.

"That wasn't for you," she denied.

"Then who?" he growled. "For random neighborhood weirdos? Or that Federal agent?" Lisa's eyes flickered back towards his face.

"Are you…jealous?"

He released her wrists in shock, and they sprang apart, both disheveled and breathing hard. Martin barged into the room holding a tall glass of ice water and grimly setting it on a dresser.

"Will her highness be needing anything else?" he groused.

"No, that's all," Jackson said, waving his hand dismissively. Martin rubbed his arm woefully and shot Lisa a meaningful look as he turned on his heel.

"Don't mind him," Jackson said. "He's still upset that you got the best of him. I got to hear all about his battle scars."

Lisa involuntarily smirked as Jackson picked up the glass and brought it to her.

"Good," she said. She drank deeply and handed him the empty glass. "Now tell me about the situation I caused."

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "Do I really need to spell it out?"

"I have my guesses," she admitted. "I'm assuming your employer also noticed the cell phone signal."

Jackson cocked his head slightly. "They thought about killing you."

Lisa's startled eyes met his.

"Don't play dumb," he sighed. "They didn't understand your intentions. All they knew is that you would possibly hand the phone over to the Feds."

"But I wouldn't!"

"And therein lies the question of the hour. Why?"

"Because," she stuttered. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters because I had a hunch," he said. "And by going with my instincts, I've saved you from yourself. But if I'm mistaken, then it was all for naught." Lisa rubbed her palm against her temple in a circular motion.

"Jackson, stop talking in riddles. Just spit it out."

"Fine. My employer thought about taking you out, and I was able to talk them out of it."

"I'm surprised to hear that," she said.

"You shouldn't be."

"Shouldn't I? The last time we were together, you were trying to kill me." Jackson winced at the words.

"I snapped, okay? I'm not a killer despite what you think—at least not directly. I was under a lot of stress. It was supposed to be my last job." Lisa stared at him in surprised and tried to process this revelation.

"My conscience had been nagging me around the time I was watching you," he continued. "And your disgust towards me on the plane didn't make it any easier."

"Why should you care about my opinion?"

"Because you were only echoing what I had already been thinking. All I wanted was to get it over with and move on with my life," he said bitterly. "Now, that's impossible. With the bungling of the Keefe job, I've been put on notice to make it up to them."

Lisa stared at his hunched form. He looked so miserable that she wondered if he could possibly be telling the truth. He had to be, right? She was alive, for starters, unless this was some twisted game to gain her trust and kill her when she least expected it. She didn't know what to think.

"Jackson, earlier when you said you had a hunch. What did you mean?" He looked at her evenly.

"You must have some type of Stockholm Syndrome," he said simply. "Why else would you desire my attention and want to protect me?"

"I don't have that," Lisa faltered. "It's complicated."

"I understand why you would be perplexed," he said. "But it's either Stockholm Syndrome, or you actually have feelings for me." Lisa gaped at him, and he met her expression with equal bemusement. "Exactly, the thought is absurd, isn't it?"

"Okay," Lisa said. "Let's say that I do have that. What does that mean to you?"

"It means you will be a valuable asset to me and my employer."

"What—what do you mean?"

"The only reason you are alive right now is because my employer thinks you are loyal to me," Jackson said. "And if you want to continue to be alive then you will help me."

A cold shiver of dread ran down Lisa's spine.

"Help you what," she whispered.

"Help me with one last job."

Lisa swallowed and stared into his crystalline eyes. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," he said woodenly. "You don't. Now please, let's dispense this rigamarole. We have terms to discuss."