He brought her within inches as his eyes thoroughly searched hers. She could have pulled away. He didn't really have the strength to hold onto her. But she allowed the movement, looking a little startled and a lot afraid. Maybe he could use words. At this moment in time, she might appreciate it.
"Gillian, I jusstt wanted to sayyy that I…" He took a quick breath but continued to keep his eyes glued to her face. "…I lovvve youu and I…always have." His voice was like caress.
They both heard the heavy footsteps at the same time. More than one person was coming up the stairs. Not much time.
Her heart clenched at his admission, tears filling her eyes. But she kept them from falling. All she could do was nod several times before her voice found a tiny bit of strength. "Love you too." With that she leaned the rest of the way in and touched her lips to his. The kiss was short and desperate and as their eyes opened, they met and held, both painfully but mutely acknowledging that it might be their last. He touched her face, and she quickly covered his hand with hers.
The footsteps stopped outside the door and they could now hear the murmur of two voices, one familiar baritone, the other familiar as well but it didn't rumble with gravel. It was much worse. Honey dipped with an underlying poison.
Pulling away, her one hand remained clasped around his and she palmed the knife with her other. Her dress was a little less form fitting then some of her others so she could hold it flush against her leg without looking too obvious.
A key rattled in the lock before the door swung inward.
Gillian's hand went rigid in his and Cal gave it a squeeze. He did his best to wipe his expression clean and from the corner of his eye, he saw Gill do the same. Best not to give the little freak any extra ammo.
"Well! Isn't this a surprise?" Finn's smile was huge and oddly sincere.
They both stared blankly at him but Cal could feel a tremor run through Gill.
"Shocckking."
"Wow Lightman. You sound buzzed. Was it good for you?"
"Soddd offff." Her hand tightened in his although he honestly didn't think antagonizing the bastard mattered one way or another.
The larger man stood behind Finn. Without his mask. He was in his mid-thirties, well over six feet tall, with light brown hair that curled behind his ears in evident need of a trim and light blue eyes. His face attempted detachment but Gillian could see the inner struggle. As a result, she tried to keep her eyes on his but only after a moment, they flicked away in guilt. He held a straight back chair under one arm.
Finn's smile faltered ever so slightly. "Your manners leave something to be desired sir."
"Anndd yourrr hobbiesss leavvee somethin' to be desireddd." Cal's voice throbbed with anger. "Whyyy donn'tt youu be a reall mann and let Fosterrr go andd takke me downnn on your ownnn. I'mm nott upp to fighting youu. It'dd be ann eassyy winn."
Finn still held his bag. He set it on the bureau as he looked at Cal. "Don't think so."
"Whyy? You'rre jus proving howww spineless youu arrre."
The younger man whirled, suddenly inches away from Cal. Gillian startled while Cal stared, narrowing his eyes. "No. Because keeping her here hurts you. You're going to see her suffer before it's your turn. This is payback, you son of a bitch. And just so you know…" he leaned slightly closer, voice taunting. "I really plan on enjoying myself."
It wasn't expected, that was evident. The expression on Finn's face said it all. Cal swung his legs over the side of the bed and quickly lashed out. There wasn't as much power behind it as there normally would be but it was all in the placement. His fist connected with the other man's throat, sending him stumbling back a few steps as he gagged and wheezed.
"Basstarrd." He wanted to get up and follow the younger man, wanted to kick the living shit out of him but when he attempted to push himself up, a wave of dizziness brought him back down.
Berkley watched with interest and more than a little admiration, making no attempt to help Finn, knowing that it wouldn't be appreciated anyway. He still stood in the doorway, barring the path if the woman decided to make a run for it. He expected she wouldn't leave Lightman but he stayed put, just in case.
Cal felt Gill's fingers curl around his arm as she moved closer. His head spun but the hit had definitely been worth it. He had no intention of going out without a fight.
Now a safe distance away, Finn straightened, still gasping and face red. His eyes had teared up slightly and he brushed at them forcefully. "Brilliant Lightman. You know just the things to do to make it worse for yourself."
"Likkewisee." It was a growl erupting from deep within Cal's chest.
It was almost like a dance. Finn moved away to come up on the other side. Cal moved his head to track him but the room tilted slightly and before he realized it, Gillian gave a gasp.
"Hello Dr. Foster. Long time, no see." He'd pulled her up and gave a nod to Berk who moved forward, setting the chair at the foot of the bed.
The big man cautiously approached Cal, who stared up at him, warning all over his face. "I don't want to hurt you sir."
"Thenn kickkk his arse and lett us go."
"Be good for him or Dr. Foster here might have a premature painful accident." The words were almost lost in a giggle. "You'll have a great seat after all. Front row."
The man was right behind her, one hand on her throat, the other having settled on her waist, becoming intentionally familiar. She had to fight a shudder, knowing that he'd only be excited by it. The knife was still gripped tightly in her fist. She knew that it could easily be slid open by one thumb but she was terrified. Terrified of acting too soon. Terrified that the ramifications would prove to be fatal regardless.
Cal sagged slightly before he looked over his shoulder, catching fear on Gillian's face. Seeing the smugness on Finn's. Shit. Now what? He plays nice, she gets hurt. He plays not so nice, she gets hurt sooner.
He surmised playing nice might buy a couple more minutes but for what? There was no way Gillian could overtake both men with a bloody pocketknife. One, maybe, by virtue of surprise but certainly not both. Of course if she could just take out Finn, the other might call it a day. Key word being might.
"Finnne. Do wha youu neeed to do to mee. Jusst don'tt hurt herrr." He knew the plea would fall on deaf ears regardless.
(BREAK)
Greg would only need a couple of minutes to assemble the gun. He could even do it in complete darkness if he needed to, but that didn't keep him from being afraid. He'd seen combat, seen friends lose the lives right in front of him but this whole Finn thing was entirely different. In combat, it's pretty cut and dried. They're fighting for a cause and so are you. It's just a question of who had the best hiding place and the quicker trigger but Finn wasn't fighting for anything. He was the proverbial loose cannon that no one wanted on their side. Unpredictable, calculating, sadistic…just evil. That's what you saw when you looked in that guy's eyes. He was reminded of Donald Pleasance warning everyone that 'the evil had escaped' in the movie Halloween. He hadn't even referred to Michael Myers as a person. That's kind of how Greg felt about Finn. Especially the devil's eyes part.
The exit off the freeway was coming up. At the moment two thoughts floated around in his head: I wonder if I'm too late and I think I'm going to piss myself.
(BREAK)
Finnley senior took another sip of his Brandy. It was smooth, very expensive and the only kind he bought. Certain things he didn't cut corners on. Of course a lot of people would think he didn't cut corners on anything. Not true. Definitely not true. He cut corners on his son. He should have put him away years ago but what did he do? Protect him. Love him. Hope that it would all work out in the end.
What a foolish old man he was. If Finn were a dog, he would have been euthanized.
The phone was sticky with perspiration, he'd been gripping it so tightly.
As he looked at it, it grew oddly blurry. He hadn't even realized he was crying. When the hell did that happen? Finnley Bainbridge Senior didn't cry.
His thumb hovered over the number pad.
It would be for the best.
Sometimes a parent had to learn to let go. Even if it meant allowing the child to seal his own bleak fate.