Innocent People's Lives

Chapter Fifteen

Her hands shook as she turned on the tap. After a few squeaks, water started to flow from the faucet, but it did little to ease her nerves. The water lapped at her hands, running red down the drain. Blood, Mark's blood, coated her skin.

Eventually the water ran clear, but she was still coated in his blood.

Numbly, Lisa turned on the shower, slowly stripping out of her now ruined clothes. She stood there under the spray, not moving. Lukewarm water hit her body, but she didn't flinch.

The door opened and Jackson came in. He threw his jacket and button-up shirt in the pile with hers before twisting the water knob more to the H. He ran his hand under the steady stream, testing it.

"Leese," he said softly.

Her body shook under the warming spray.

"Hey, hey, don't shut down. Look at me." He lifted her chin. "Look at me, Lisa. You saved my life. What you did, you saved us both."

"I killed a man."

"He would've killed you."

"I've never killed anyone before."

He stepped closer, still half-dressed. He didn't seem to care as the water soaked his clothes. "I know."

"I… there was so much blood…"

He touched her cheek. "Let me. You'll feel better once you're clean."

"I'll never be clean again."

"Ssh," he soothed, grabbing a washcloth. "Just close your eyes."

There was nothing sensual or erotic about him washing the blood from her skin. It wasn't foreplay. It was compassion. Human kindness. He was the stronger one and he used his strength to help comfort her. It was merely routine. A cleansing of the body.

Jackson wrapped her still-shivering body in a towel and guided her into the bedroom.

She sat on the bed while he rummaged through their luggage and pulled together a set of comfortable clothes. One of his t-shirts, loose pj bottoms, and underwear.

With his help, she dried off and slipped into the clothes. He was still dripping wet as he helped her climb into bed and under the covers.

"Stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.

He nodded. "One minute, ok? Hmm?"

He changed into a dry shirt and pants before climbing onto the bed beside her. Lisa curled up to the side and he wrapped an arm around her. "Just rest," he said, softly.

She nodded her head, already subcoming to exhaustion in his arms.

He watched her turn silent. She was in shock. He wasn't surprised. It was common after a kill or a traumatic event for someone to draw into themselves. What had just happened must've shaken Lisa to her core. She'd truly believed in Mark – believed that he was a good, decent person who cared about her. She had trusted him and he'd belonged to Keefe. He'd turned on her. On them.

But he wasn't the one who killed him. Lisa pulled the trigger. She made the choice to save him. She made the choice to kill her boyfriend.

Jackson was lucky to be alive. They both were. He knew in his bones that if Lisa hadn't killed Mark, he would've killed her the second Jackson stopped breathing. He knew that it was their only choice for survival. But he also knew Lisa wouldn't see it that way. She was too deep in shock.

He would find a way to bring her out of it. She would see the truth eventually. She would hate him for it, but that was okay. If she needed someone to hate, someone to blame, he could take it. He would, for her.

He owed her a debt now.

And no matter what, he would do his best to protect her. He would help her get through this.

He rolled over in the darkness to grab the ringing phone, cursing whoever was on the other line. A warm body moaned beside him, clearly just as disturbed by the noise as he was.

He picked up the phone, hissing, "Yes?" into the receiver.

"Abbott's dead. They killed him."

Charles Keefe sat up in his bed and turned on the beside lamp. The woman beside him groaned, stuffing a pillow over her face. He ignored her. "What?"

"Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner are in D.C. They were nearly intercepted at her residence, but the team there was overwhelmed. She called Abbott for a meeting. He sent us directions just before. After he didn't check in, we went to the location and found his body. He'd been shot multiple times at close range."

Charles breathed, "Jesus. Are we sure it was Rippner?"

"Caliber matches Abbott's weapon. There was a struggle and he lost. We assume he tried to grab the girl and Rippner shot him."

"Assume nothing. We don't know if Abbott's cover was intact. Increase all defenses. If you spot Lisa Reisert, she is to be taken alive. Kill Rippner on sight. But bring her to me alive and unharmed."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I want a full update in the morning."

"Will do, sir."

He hung up the phone and switched off the light. His secretary grumbled, but he pulled the pillow from her face and kissed her neck to make up for it. She sighed and pulled him closer.

In the morning, Lisa woke to find arms wound around her waist. Strong arms. She felt safe, secure.

"Mark…" she breathed, then turned to face the man.

She felt her body tense when she saw the sleeping man's face. It wasn't Mark. She should've known it wasn't. The security and safety she felt, the uninterrupted sleep, it only ever occurred beside one man. Jackson. She knew that wasn't his real name, but she didn't know what else to call him.

His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep. He looked young and vulnerable in sleep. Like an entirely different man.

Slowly, she slipped out from under his arm. He shifted on the bed, still asleep. She eased out slowly, feeling the bed move as she put her feet on the ground, wearing his too-big t-shirt that smelled of him and very loose pj pants. He'd picked the most comfortable clothes for the moment.

Lisa padded to the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, she splashed cool water on her face, willing herself to wake up. She felt an urge to leave. She could leave him behind. He wouldn't even notice she was gone.

But where would she go? She couldn't trust Mark. He'd turned on her. She killed him to save Jackson, just as he'd killed to protect her.

Where would she run? She had no one else left except her mother and a few friends. No one except the man still sleeping in the bed. The man who climbed into the shower last night to help her cleanse the blood from her skin. The man who held her all night simply because she asked him too.

No, she couldn't run. She wasn't going to leave him. She still needed his help.

She padded back into the room softly and slipped back underneath the still-warm covers. She snuggled against him, putting an arm around him this time. And just like that, she drifted off again.

Author's Notes:

Just a quick aftermath chapter. Next chapter will be longer.

Their little shower scene was another one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. It shows just how far they've come since the beginning of the story. We've got some more big action to come.

And since I'm trapped at home due to Snowzilla, there's a chance I might be able to get this story finished finally during the storm! Or at least several more chapters done. :) I'm about halfway done with the next one and the story pace is getting ready to pick up again, I promise.

Thanks for reading and please review! It helps remind me to update.