Chapter 7

As expected, Jackson didn't have much sympathy for Lisa's plight. She slumped at the kitchen table, head in her hands, and didn't even notice when he left the room to retrieve a carton of files. Jackson returned to find her in the same position and exhaled loudly as he dropped the box on the floor. Lisa jumped at the sound and glared.

"Buck up," he said. "Playtime is over."

Jackson yanked the lid off the carton and got to work opening folders and extracting documents. Lisa watched as he arranged them on the counter, pausing every now and again to examine something. She couldn't help but notice his strong jawline as he grimaced at some photographs. An unruly lock of hair hung over Jackson's forehead as he leaned in, and her eyes followed as he absentmindedly swept it back with his hand. She shook her head and mentally slapped herself.

Let's not get carried away, Reisert.

Lisa stood up and peered down at the files Jackson had spread on the counter. There were financial records, print outs of emails, and clippings from magazines and newspapers. A wedding photo of their targets was scattered amongst the papers. Lisa leaned against marble slab to steady herself.

"Can the theatrics," Jackson said. "You knew what you were getting into."

"Destroying other people's happiness, you mean?" Lisa snapped. "Killing their dreams, their futures, and even themselves?"

"You can't look at it that way," he said with sudden intensity. "No wonder why you're going crazy."

"How have you not gone crazy? I know you're not the sociopath you want me to think you are. You've demonstrated the possibility of having a heart, but you fight it."

"I have to fight it. At least until this is over. How many times must I remind you that I was trying to get out of this business until you screwed it up."

"I know, but—"

"You don't know," he rasped. "You don't know how it feels to one day be numb to the death and destruction, then overnight start growing a conscience. Do you think I enjoy being alone with my own thoughts and going through the repository of what I've done?"

"Well, no. Why were you numb in the first place? What happened to you?"

"That's none of your business, Dr. Freud. Instead of worrying about me, I need you to focus on this case file. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," she muttered and grabbed a file at random.

"I'll need you to focus on these today," he said. "Because starting tomorrow, we're Mr. and Mrs. Murphy."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Lisa said before she could stop herself. She diverted her face from Jackson's sudden, intense gaze.

"Why don't you say what you actually mean."

"I did," she insisted. "I don't think it's a good idea for our working relationship."

Jackson cocked his head as he scrutinized Lisa, his icy-blue eyes ran over her delicate features and stopped at her mouth. He rubbed a hand over his stubbly cheek.

"Oh, Leese. Why must you always lie to me," he sighed. "Even half-truths are lies."

"It's not really a lie if you can read between the lines," she said. "Why don't you tell me what I really mean."

"You don't think it's a good idea because posing as a couple will be confusing for you. We both know you're still sorting out your feelings for me. It has nothing to do with our so-called 'working relationship' as you called it."

"That's not fair," Lisa yelped. "What about you?"

He stared at her incredulously.

"This isn't a one-way street, Jack. Maybe posing as a couple would be confusing to you, too."

She expected him to scoff and make some witty rejoinder, but he seemed to be considering her words.

"I'm not going to deny being attracted to you once," he said at last. "I admit it's been unnerving having you around so much lately, but we both know this would never work."

Lisa blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Then explain what happened yesterday at gun practice. Why did you bother comforting me? And letting me spend the night?"

"You don't get it. There's nothing to dissect here."

"Why can't you admit that you let your guard down for a moment? That on some weird level, you actually care about me?" she said.

"I only care about one thing right now; getting the job done, and making a clean break. I'll work through my own issues after this is over."

The sat in silence that was only punctuated by the shuffling of papers. The more Lisa read about the Dunsworths, the heavier the stone forming in her stomach felt. On paper they appeared to be kind, philanthropic, and respectable members of society.

The world is full of terrible people. Lisa thought. The last thing we should be doing is getting rid of the good ones.

"I can't do it," Lisa finally said. "I can't be an accomplice to murder."

Jackson's head swiveled towards her.

"Who said anything about murder."

"But you said—"

"No, you assumed," he said. "Being a manager isn't all high-profile assassinations despite what I led you to believe. We are given other tasks besides killing everyone in sight."

"Are you saying this to make it easier for me?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

She studied him and looked for a crack in the facade. His face remained placid and unnerving, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"It seems too easy," she said.

"It's not. Remember when I invited you to have Tex Mex with me back in Dallas? You were strangely immune to my charms. It's not easy getting people to do what you want."

"Nevermind the Tex Mex," she scoffed. "How about when you were trying to get me to make the call?"

"My point exactly," he said as he hopped to his feet. "I'm going to run out and get some supplies we'll need. Continue to study and come up with a background for Mrs. Murphy."

"If I must," she said as Martin entered the room. Jackson waved him over.

"Martin, I have something to attend to. Please see that this kitchen is taken care of and assist Miss Reisert if she needs anything."

"Yes sir," Martin said as he watched Jackson head out the front door. Lisa clattered to her feet and began piling dirty dishes into the sink.

"No need for that," Martin said with pursed lips.

Lisa turned to face him and gave him an awkward smile.

"I haven't had a chance to apologize for that whole, um, kick to the groin thing back at my house," she said.

"No need," he said stiffly. "You were only following your instincts."

"Ah, yeah," she admitted. "I took a self-defense course."

"I'm aware," he said as he cleared the table. "I've been Mr. Rippner's right hand for seven years."

"Oh? So, were you there when Jackson was casing me?"

"No, he liked to be alone for that," Martin said. "I handled his notes and case file on you."

"Interesting," she mused. "Out of curiosity, does he still have my case file?"

Martin scowled. "I'm not at liberty to say. Even if I was, the last thing I would do is piss Mr. Rippner off by telling you."

"Understood," Lisa said lightly. "By the way, thank you for the shampoo in the guest room. It was considerate of you to stock my brand."

"Not my doing," he said. "Mr. Rippner insists on always having that particular shampoo in his house. You should be thanking him instead."

Lisa stared at him dumbly. "Oh, I must have misunderstood."

Martin gave her a meaningful look. "I don't think you did. Anyway, I have this mess to clean up."

He shooed her away unceremoniously, and Lisa retreated towards the guest room feeling more confused than ever. On the way, she noticed Jackson's door was slightly ajar. Knowing Martin would be distracted for at least another fifteen minutes, she bypassed her room and went straight into Jackson's, quietly shutting the door behind her.

It was time to get some answers.