Yeah, I know. It's been too long. Life got in the way. Here's the next installment. Enjoy.

Chapter 8

Two months later, Sam McCall stepped through Andre Karpov's mansion like a cat, her footsteps light as she managed to sneak past another guard without being noticed. Of course, the information Jason had compiled about the guards and their surveillance weaknesses was a tremendous help, she knew most her success was thanks to her own instincts, which she had managed to hone to perfection when she was barely a teenager.

Her senses were on full alert as she closed the door to Karpov's bedroom all the way, barely hearing the soft click of the mechanisms within the heavy metal door with her own ears.

She looked down at the old man who was snoring away, completely unaware of the danger he was now in and wondered again how he could be so lethal when he wasn't even capable of fortifying his own home. She shook her head in disappointment, annoyed that this old fart was the cause of all her own problems, as well as Jason's and Sonny's. How could he be such a threat?

She knew the answer, though. No man was an army and Karpov had followers who would do anything for him. People that would jump off a bridge on his say so.

Sam glared down at him as she walked quietly over to his bedside. He still wasn't aware of her presence and she had to remind herself that it was a good thing. It was what she wanted—to get in, kill the bastard and get out, everyone else none the wiser to her presence in the house.

As much as she wanted to watch him die, knowing it was her that killed him, she knew it was safer for herself and everyone else if the killer of Andre Karpov was anonymous. That was why she chose to go with the weapon she now held in her hand; a syringe.

She jabbed the syringe into his arm, and injected the paralyzing agent she had managed to acquire.

Once she saw the drug taking effect, she took advantage of the IV that had already been set up. She had heard through the grapevine on the piers that Karpov had had surgery recently and now homecare nurses who came every day to set up an IV for him. She turned off the IV so the medication would no longer flow into his body and held up the empty syringe to the IV tube.

She punctured the tube with the needle on the syringe and injected a dose of nothing but air into the IV which caused an air bubble. After several minutes, she checked his pulse to make sure that he was indeed dead and smiled with delight.

It really was tragic. Karpov was a mob boss and all it took to kill him was a measly little air bubble injected by someone who didn't even know how to set up an IV.

"Oh well, better him than me," She muttered as she left the room as quietly as she had entered. Or Jason, her heart added.

Two days later, Sam crossed the hall and knocked on Jason's apartment door with a newspaper in hand. Once it opened and he saw that it was she, his eyes grew wide and he quickly ushered her inside.

"I have been checking my voicemail every hour," he told her angrily. "Why haven't you checked in?"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "I live across the hall."

He faltered at the realization that she was right and he was scolding her for no apparent reason, but then grew annoyed at her callous attitude. He had been worried about her.

"Well?" He asked, looking at her questioningly. "How did your trip go?"

She held up the newspaper so he could see the headline and flashed him a dazzling smile. "How do you think?"

He took the paper from her and read the article, frowning when he read the cause of death. "Myocardial infarction?" he raised a brow incredulously at her.

"Who knew air bubbles could cause so much trouble?" she answered jokily.

He smirked. "No wonder you never told me how you were going to do it."

Sam shrugged in response. "It would've been way too obvious if I had used a gun or tried to suffocate him. This way, there's no way the police will suspect either one of us were involved."

"What about the Russians?" he asked seriously, worried that they might catch on.

"They won't think of me." She assured him. "When I was piloting for him, there was a time when someone got shot and captured. It was one of your guys and before he could recognize me I pretended to faint because of all the blood." She continued to explain that when she had come to, she had made a big show about how she couldn't stand the sight of blood and told them that she even dropped at the sight of a needle one time.

Jason found himself smiling as she told him the story. She constantly amazed him with her resourcefulness and ability to think on her feet. It was remarkable how she managed to improvise and adapt to any given situation.

Throwing in the story about fainting at the sight of a needle would definitely cross her off the list of potential suspects in the Russians' eyes.

"I pretended to have a diva moment and told them that if they had to bump somebody off on a freighter I was piloting, they should have the decency to do it below deck." Her eyes were bright with merriment as she finished telling him the story. "One of the guards actually apologized to me."

"Sasha Danev was the only one that really unnerved me," she confided and then her eyes grew troubled. "She's got a real set of brass ones on her. I don't think there's anything she wouldn't do to save her own skin."

"Then she shouldn't have a problem taking my money to go away." Jason walked into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with two beers in his hands. He offered her one of them and she took it from him with a grateful smile. "We actually pulled it off," he told her in surprise as he sat down.

"Yeah, we did." Sam nodded in agreement. "It'll be good to no longer have that death threat looming over my head."

"You did a good job." He spoke softly but his voice was full of seriousness. "And I couldn't be more proud of you."

Her eyes widened in surprise at such a compliment. "Um, thanks. And you were great backup."

They gazed at each other for a long time, sharing the moment of triumph and reconnection until the ringing of Jason's cell phone broke the spell.

Jason jerked his head towards the offending sound and grumbled as he got up to answer the phone he had stupidly left on and all the way on the desk. He picked it up and felt nauseous when he saw who the caller was.

"What is it?" He asked and watched as Sam stiffened at the shrill whine that came over the other line, loud enough for her to hear on the couch.

"Calm down, Elizabeth," he told her patiently and felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest as the walls came down over Sam's face and her expression turned cold.

She had just been open and happy with him moments before. Her eyes were full of laughter as she had told him about her time with the Russians. She had really opened up to him in the little while they'd been working together. She shared how excited she had been when she got her scores back from her PI exam and told him how it had been surprisingly easy for her to set up the PI firm she now ran.

And all it took to shatter the moment they had shared and taint their tentative friendship was a small utterance of a name.

"He's gone!" Elizabeth shrieked into the phone. "Our son is gone."

Jason's eyes widened. "What do you mean Jake's gone?" He demanded in terror and headed into the kitchen as he listened to her broken explanation of the events surrounding the day.

"Jake's been kidnapped." He told her bluntly when he returned and she gulped at the pain in his voice. Judging by the guilt and agony she could see swimming in his eyes, she bet Elizabeth had blamed it all on him.

Moved by an inexplicable feeling, Sam walked over to his side and placed her hand in his. It was a knee-jerk reaction to his pain. She squeezed his fingers lightly. "We'll get him back." No matter what, she added silently, and knew without a doubt that she would lay down her life to save Jake Spencer if she had to.