I've recieved some really lovely reviews lately, and I just had to say a quick thank you to CakeyxClickx, Kathryn Hart, Stephanieella96, sopheezmum, Squabble, Nathol99 and jojokidi for your kind words of encouragement that have helped me make a story out of what was originally only mean to be a one-shot. It's really nice to know you're all enjoying it, so thank youuuuuu :D
Just to let you know, I may not be able to be update for a few days due to bloody uni work and the like, but if I have a spare hour I'll try and fit a short chapter in :)
And so we continue . . .
Chapter 21
Jenny paced around her new room anxiously, her gaze continually scanning, taking in everything crucial for her plan for the umpteenth time . . . glass of water . . . moisturiser bottle . . . mattress . . . locked window . . .
She was so nervous about what she had to do next, not only because it'd be difficult to pull off, but because of the repercussions if she were to be caught. She was unsure of how long Ben was going to be occupied, and there was also the chance that the guard outside her door was one of the good guys . . . but it was her only option.
Mind made up, she took a deep steadying breath to calm herself, before reaching into the pocket of the skirt Kathryn had given her and retrieving the strong sleeping pills she had spat out before and transferred over when she had changed, knowing they were likely to come in useful at some point. She placed them on the bedside table, and using the blunt end of the cream bottle, she began to carefully crush them into powder form. When she was satisfied that it was as fine a powder as she could make it, she scooped it all into the palm of her hand and before she could change her mind, she threw it into the water that she had asked the guard for not long ago. Hand shaking, she picked up the glass and swirled the contents round until most of the powder had dissolved, leaving the water looking as pure as it had been previously. Then, straightening out her black skirt and top, she walked over to the door.
"Excuse me?" she shouted through it, but not loud enough that her voice would carry downstairs.
"What now?" the gruff voice asked back, sounding aspirated.
"I - I've got a bit of a problem," she said, her voice quivering with nerves.
With a sigh, the guard open the door and poked his head around. He was tall and built, with a mop of flaming red hair and pale freckled skin. "You've got to be the most high maintenance hostage in existence," he said in a bored voice. "What do you want?"
"The water you've given me tastes funny," she stated in her bossiest voice, hands on her hips. "I think you've drugged it."
"I - " he stammered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I did no such thing!"
"Well I think you did, and unless you can prove otherwise, I'm going to tell B - Matt," she caught herself before she slipped up and called him 'Ben' instead. "And you remember what happened to the last man who tried to hurt me I assume?"
"I'm telling you - I didn't put anything in your drink!" he maintained hotly.
"Oh really?" she said, raising a doubtful eyebrow. "Well if it's so safe to drink then maybe you wouldn't mind having a taste of it yourself to prove it?"
"Fine," he stated, rolling his eyes as he picked up the glass. "Cheers," he added, raising it up to her before downing it in one go. "There," he said triumphantly, smacking his lips together. "All gone, and would you believe it - I'm still here!"
"Okay, fine, I believe you," she stated as a wave of satisfaction flooded her stomach. "Can't be too careful though, can you?" she added, flashing him her most disarming smile.
"I - I suppose not," he sniffed uncertainly, putting the empty glass down and turning to back out of the room.
"Wait," she said quickly, resting her arm on his, stopping him in his tracks. "Stay a moment."
"I - " he stuttered, clearly caught off guard. "I'm not supposed to be with you . . ."
"Matt said you're not allowed to touch me," she reminded him as she hoisted herself up on the table and crossed her legs, leaning her arms back on it casually so that her chest was pushed out. "He didn't say anything about keeping me company. And if he does get mad, I'll just tell him it was all my idea."
"I'm not really the talking kind Miss," the man said, his eyes lingering in her legs.
"Oh? Is that so?" she smiled, reaching up and brushing her fringe out of her eyes.
"Yes, I'm more of a . . . physical being . . ."
"Really?" she said, trying to keep her expression seductive whilst all the time, she was counting the minutes. "Care to show me what that's like?"
His smirk faltered slightly. "I can't," he said bitterly. "The boss had made it perfectly clear that you're his."
"I'll let you in on a little secret," she whispered, leaning forwards slightly. "I don't belong to anyone."
"Just the same," he replied, looking down at his feet. "I'd rather not risk being killed for a quick fumble."
"Who said anything about it being a quick fumble?" she said, catching and holding his gaze. He should have started showing signs of drowsiness by now . . .
"Look, you're a really beautiful woman, and I really really want to, but the boss will go nuts if he found out . . ." the man trailed off, looking torn.
"He's not going to find out though is he?" she interrupted brightly, knowing she nearly had him. "He's not going to be back up for hours yet, and lets face it - it is rather unfair of him not to let you boys have any fun whilst you're here," she added in a false-pitying voice, echoing the men's complaints from earlier.
"Well . . ." he began again, his gaze traveling over her.
She made eye contact with him again and blinked, and saw him blush slightly. She smiled, feeling a pulse of triumph - big eyes always did the trick.
After a slight hesitation, he closed the space between them and quickly pulled her face so that her lips met his. She kissed him back, feeling nauseous, fighting back the urge to gag as he parted her legs and ran both his hands up her thighs. She had to keep repeating the same sentence over and over again in her head to keep herself from slapping him - any means necessary . . . any means necessary . . . She was desperate to act now, but if she spooked him too soon, he'd alert the whole house. She needed to wait until he showed signs of the drugs working . . .
He broke away from her and ran his hands softly up her side, pulling her top off, and - jumping on the opportunity to stop kissing him - she made slow work of stripping off his jacket and his shirt. As she did so, her hand brush against what was unmistakably a gun tucked into his belt, and she made a mental note of its exact position as he kissed her up neck and smoothed his hands over her stomach. Suddenly, he stopped and gritted his teeth against her shoulder, clutching her hips as though for support as he swayed slightly.
"Everything okay?" she asked innocently, anticipation flowing through her.
"I just feel a bit . . ." he trailed off, before shaking his head. "Nothing," he finished, taking her lips again.
As she kissed him back, her hand felt its way down his chest and back down to his belt, knowing that it was now or never - she couldn't risk being unarmed when the full effects of the drugs hit him, least he call for help. With the pretense of undoing his buckle, she allowed her hand to brush up against the cold metal again. She braced herself, knowing this could all go horribly wrong . . .
She pulled it out and as quick as a flash, she pressed it right up against his chest.
"Make one noise, and I won't hesitate to put a bullet right in your heart," she whispered dangerously, heart pounding.
"Alright," he said immediately, his eyes wide with fear as he raised his hands up to indicate his complete co-operation. "Okay . . ."
"Now back off," she ordered, and slowly, he retreated a few steps.
She hopped off the dresser, using the back of her other hand to wipe her mouth as though she could erase the memory of his lips on hers. However, she ensured she kept the gun pointed directly at him. Originally, she had half-intended to kill him and have done with it, but now that she was facing doing it, she found herself unable to. Still, it did comfort her slightly that no matter how much of a dire situation she was in, she still couldn't bring herself to be a cold-blooded killer like the person she had given birth to. She still had some morals.
"Look - " the guard began, but he stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply as he staggered, clearly disorientated. "What have you done to me?" he murmured groggily.
"I've drugged you," she replied coldly. "I'm no medic, but I'm betting you've got about a minute before you pass out completely. It'll be easier if you don't fight it."
Gritting his teeth, he sunk to the floor, obviously struggling to stay conscious. Eventually, he passed out completely, his head smacking to the floor hard. Jenny waited a moment, gun still aimed at him, unwilling to move until she was certain he was really out for the count. It was only when a slow rhythmic breathing filled the room that she became convinced he wasn't getting up any time soon, and she breathed a sigh of relief before she picked her top up from the floor and hurriedly pulled it back on.
Now for phase two.
She crouched down next to the guards unconscious form and turned him over onto his back, making it easier to search him for keys that he was sure to have. At long last, a quiet jangling sound came from his pants pocket that she had brushed up against, and frantically, she fished inside it, pulling out a rather large set of keys. She glanced up at the window again, noting that its lock was a rustic-looking brass colour, indicating that the key was likely to look the same. Panicking about the amount of time this was taking, she fumbled with them all, checking each one briefly before moving one the next. It was slow work, but eventually, she pulled a brass coloured key up to her eyes . . . yes, that looked like the one. Straightening up, heart pounding with fear and anticipation, she hurried over to the window and tried it, in her haste, missing the lock a few times before managing to push it in. She turned it, and mercifully, it clicked. Relief flooding through her as she turned the handle and pushed it open as far as it would go so that it swung outwards on its hinges, big enough for her to fit out of, and more importantly, big enough for the mattress to be pushed out of.
But how to lift the bloody thing was the next big problem . . .
She turned and, without hesitating, began ripping the sheets off the bed, freeing the mattress. Knowing this was going to be difficult, she grabbed it from underneath and above, clamping it in her grip and pulling it. It barely moved an inch - it was a large double mattress, and it was too heavy for her to pull herself.
Heart sinking, she stepped back and surveyed it again, trying to squash the panic that had risen in her like bile. Keep calm, she though to herself firmly. There's a way to solve this . . .
But she could think of nothing, short of trying to rouse the guard and get him to help her with the threat of a gun to the head. But as that seemed impossible, not to mention suicidal, she decided her best bet was to try pushing it instead, reasoning that it would be easier to do than trying to pull it. She rounded the bed, and after a taking a deep breath to summon her strength, she pushed her shoulder up against it, and smiled to herself when she felt it slid a considerable distance. Nearly there . . .
The tricky bit was trying to stand it on its side so that she could push it out of the window, but she managed it eventually, and before she knew it, she was watching as it flopped down into the front garden and thudded heavily to the grass.
Panting heavily with the exertion that had cost her, she glanced back at the door, sincerely hoping that no one had heard that sound downstairs, but very much doubting that was the case. Still, there was no point in dwelling on it - she just needed to get out quick. Shivering slightly as the cold air washed over her, she heaved herself up on the windowsill, and crouched cat-like next to the open window, looking out at the mattress on the ground, trying to gage the angle at which she should fall . . . now that she was staring downwards, it looked like a long way to fall . . .
Unexpectedly, the door opened from behind, startling her. She turned sharply, her heart jumping to her throat as she aimed the guards gun at who ever it was, ready to shoot.
With a terrible jolt of fear, she saw that it was Ben.
His eyes scanned the room, taking in the full scene of the guard slumped unconscious and topless on the floor, and the bed with no mattress, before finally resting on Jenny. His mouth fell open slightly, but he quickly recovered himself and pulled out a gun, aiming it at her.
Stalemate.
"I'm impressed," he stated icily, half-glancing at his sleeping guard. "But isn't it the parent that's supposed to walk in and find the child sneaking out the window late at night?"
"Well, I'm a rather unconventional mother," she retorted sarcastically, not taking her eyes off his weapon.
"Clearly," he chuckled coolly. "Now come down from there this second, and we'll forget any of this ever happened."
She tilted her head to the side and lowered her gun slowly, knowing that no matter what the man had done, she could never bring herself kill him. He was her son after all. And unless she was very much mistaken, as messed up as he was, he wouldn't be able to harm her either.
"Are you really going to shoot me Ben?" she asked in a forced-sweet voice.
He stared at her coldly . . . emotionlessly . . . the gun still poised, his finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. However, after moments of agonising silence, he lowered his weapon also.
"That's what I thought," she stated in a voice more confident than she felt, and after a few strained seconds, she turned her back on him and, without thinking about it any further, she jumped, aiming for the mattress.
She landed ungracefully but unharmed, and wasted no time in scrambling to her feet and taking off down the driveway. However, as she ran, she was unable to stop herself glancing back round at him. He had hurried over to the window and was watching her, a resigned and slightly stung look on his face.
"JENNY!" Nick's voice cut into the silence, making her head snap round.
"NICK!" she shouted back, her voice cracking with emotion as she reached the street.
The darkness was intense; for reasons that she couldn't bring herself to be bothered about at the time being, the street lamps were off, plunging the road into blackness. Her gaze frantically searched down the street, desperately trying to spot Nick, but her eyes were having a hard time adjusting to her new surroundings after the intense bright lights of the house -
Something tapped her on her shoulder blade, and with a yelp of shock, she turned and aimed the gun fiercely at who ever it was.
"Jenny, it's me!" Nick's voice stated, sounding taken aback. "You're okay, you're safe."
With a cry of relief, she let the gun fall to her side and he hurriedly pulled her into him, holding her close against his chest in a one-armed embrace.
"Thank god," he sighed deeply, kissing her tousled hair and squeezing her shoulders.
Jenny clutched at his shirt, unable to allow herself to believe that it was him, but at the same time, knowing his smell and touch so well. As the adrenaline rush left her completely, she was struck with sudden mind-whirling dizziness, and she felt her knees buckle, all the tiredness of being awake for over forty hours catching up with her all in one go.
"Shit," Nick murmured, catching her round the waist before she hit the floor.
"Where have you been?" Becker demanded, crouching down also. She hadn't even registered his presence until that moment. "Which house are they in?"
"No . . ." Jenny tried to answer, but she couldn't seem to get her voice to work. "We can't beat them . . . we have to go . . ."
"I can handle it, now where are they?" Becker pushed.
"No . . ." she repeated firmly, aware that she was shaking uncontrollably.
"Becker, lets just get her back to the ARC and we'll worry about them later," Nick interrupted sternly, pulling Jenny's arm over his shoulders and gently helping her to her feet.