Innocent People's Lives

Chapter Three

She gasped but he tugged her down the stairs after him. Around and around they went, her dragging behind. "Why would…?"

"Political reasons. And you're a witness."

"To what?"

He sighed as they cleared another floor, one more closer to the ground. "Sarah Keefe is in critical condition."

"How? Her car wasn't the one that exploded."

"That's why they want you dead. You're the only witness."

She tugged back, pulling out of his grip. "Wait, how do you know any of this?"

He stopped to look at her. Again with the questions… does it ever end?

"Jackson?" she pushed. "How do you know what I did or didn't see or why they'd want me dead? How do you know how much the contract is?"

He knew she wasn't going to move without answers and they didn't have time. The clock was going to run out and he hadn't brought any weapons. He'd thought about it and decided to risk it. He didn't want to worry about getting caught with a gun or knife by hospital security.

They were four floors from the ground. In a pinch, Jackson would throw her over his shoulder and carry her. But he'd rather not – she might try to stab him with her shoe. His thigh ached at the thought.

"I was one of the first people offered the money because of our history."

She was whiter than paper. All of the color had been bleached from her face. He could see the wheels churning in her head.

"Because of that, I couldn't let someone else take it. I'm not letting someone else take you out for a payday."

Lisa took a step back. He could see the instinct to flee in her eyes. He couldn't fault her – not this time.

"I'm not here to kill you. Don't make me say it again."

"Then why are you here? Why are you telling me this?"

He resisted the urge to check his watch. "Because for the past ten years I haven't been able to forget you. I haven't been able to walk away. You got under my skin and I should hate you for that. But I don't."

"What are you talking about? Is this some kind of obsession? That's sick."

"Leese, the longer we stand here and chit chat, the more likely it is that someone turns the corner and starts—"

A door banged open above them. He put his hand on her shoulder and shoved her around the corner. She stumbled a bit and he supported her. "Jack—"

"Ssh," he hissed. "Later."

She was going to have deep, gouge-like bruises from his grip.

Lisa still didn't know why she hadn't run away from him and screamed bloody murder already. Why was she trusting him? For all she knew, he could've set this entire thing up and hired the guy to play killer. But that was insane.

More insane than trusting the very man who tried to kill you?

Jackson had many flaws, but he wasn't crazy. If he was, there was no way he'd have escaped prosecution all these years. Even Keefe's men hadn't been able to find him. They'd confirmed his death. Or rather, that Jackson Rippner never existed.

Lisa had spent the past ten years doing her best to forget him. To move on. But the truth was, he'd broken her. Physically, she'd been the stronger one. But he'd destroyed her trust in men. Because of him she kept others at arm's length. She avoided having a family because of it.

And just as she was preparing to make a big step forward, here he was again. And he wanted her to trust him.

Did she even have a choice?

He shoved her behind him as footsteps rang out in the stairwell above them. "When I tell you to run, you run. Got it, Leese?" he breathed into her neck.

She hesitated. Where would she run? Home was a few states away. How had Jackson got here? Did he have a car? Where was he taking her?

Footsteps again. He nudged her toward the next flight down.

Lisa bent down and kicked off her shoes. She could've sworn he'd smirked a little.

A man glanced over the railing from above. Jackson gave her a shove. "Run!" he shouted as a gun went off overhead.

She took off, down and around, her shoes held tight in her hand. Her body ached all over and she pushed through the pain. If she didn't, she'd die. Jackson might not be telling her the whole truth, but he was right about one thing—she was in danger.

There was a crashing sound above her. Against her better judgment, Lisa glanced back to see Jackson struggling with another man. This guy had "thug" all but tattooed on his face. He was muscle-bound and dressed in all black. The two men were grappling over a gun.

Jackson took a fist to the stomach, nearly doubling over.

Lisa glanced down toward the ground level. Two flights. So close.

Against her better judgment, she ran up.

The other man had the upper hand. There was no doubt about it. Jackson was merely buying her time. He was no match. Not for this guy. Not even if he'd been popping steroids.

The gun went off again.

She ran faster.

Jackson got a few good hits in. He was quick. It was his only saving grace from the devastating blows from their attacker. She was almost there, then the gun swung around. And it was aimed at his head.

Lisa hurled a shoe with all her might. It was too much to hope for the show to pierce him like a knife. But it sure as hell distracted him.

That's all it took. One moment.

The gun discharged again and warm blood splattered her face.

She flinched, freezing stone still in the middle of the stairs.

"It was us or him," Jackson said, tucking the gun in his waistband. He was rumpled, his lip bloody, but alive. He bent down and picked up her heel. He held the shoe out to her like a peace offering. "As much as I appreciate your help, Leese, the next time I tell you to run, you damn better well run."

She yanked her shoe out of his grip. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?"

"There's only about five hundred thousand reasons, none of which we have time to discuss. We need to move. There's more where he came from." He grabbed her elbow, guiding her down the stairs.

"How many more?"

"It's an open contract. I don't know how many. I don't know how high it goes."

"You said they came to you. Who came to you? Who is offering all this money? Who tried to kill Sarah?"

"You won't like the answer."

They reached another landing. She ripped the gun out of his waistband and aimed it directly at his chest. "I'm not taking another step until you tell me who. Who wants me dead?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Charles."

Her hand trembled. "What did you say?"

"Charles Keefe. He's the one who hired me to kill you."

Author's Notes:

Took a bit longer to write this chapter than I expected. Everything else is pretty well planned. I'm hoping to get back on a regular schedule for this.