CHAPTER 8
Dean and Mark stood up in the bedroom, eyeing the lifeless boddy of Karl Anderson.
"Oh man. Did you kill him too?"
"No. I didn't. I was standing in the bathroom doorway. He had the knife and ran at me. I stepped out of the way, he tripped on the carpet, went down and..."
Dean shook his head as he walked into the bathroom. He reached for a washrag under the sink. He turned on the faucet and ran the rag under the water. He turned the faucet off and squeezed the rag in his hand before wiping the blood from the cut on his left cheek. Mark stood in the bathroom doorway and watched Dean. His eyes caught the tub full of water, then he turned his eyes back to Dean. Dean felt Mark staring at him. He eyed the tub, then eyed Mark.
"They tried to drown me," he explained. "I was kneeling at the side of the tub. I was almost dunked the third time when you showed up."
"That's the second drowning I saved you from."
"I'm beginning to think water and myself are not the best of friends," he joked.
From where Mark stood, he could see Dean's hands shaking. Mark walked up to Dean and took the rag from him. He told him to go sit on the foot of the bed.
"First aid kit?"
"Behind the mirror."
Dean heard the mirror to the mirror cabinet being pulled back, then closed. Mark walked into the bedroom, rag and first aid kit in hand. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of Dean and layed the first aid kit open at Dean's side. Mark reached forward and put the rag to Dean's cut lip.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
Mark gently wiped the blood from Dean's mouth. Tears filled Dean's eyes.
"I killed him," he whispered.
"What?"
"I killed him. I can't believe I killed him."
"You did what you had to do."
"It's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."
"Dean..."
"I killed him. I killed him. I'm a murderer."
"Stop."
"I'm a murderer, Mark. A murderer!"
Mark dropped the rag and took Dean's face into his hands.
"I said stop," Mark demanded. "Yes, you killed a man. However, to me, it doesn't make you a murderer. You saved me from a man that was going to kill me."
Dean lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I've never killed anyone." He looked back at Mark. "Does God hate me for what I did?"
"No. God could never hate you."
"He was going to kill you."
"You stopped him from doing so. You saved my life. Maybe someday, I can return the favor."
"You don't have to and I hope you never have to."
"Maybe I won't have to, but you know I would."
"God forbid it ever comes to that."
"Yeah."
Dean gasped. "The phone."
"What?"
Dean rose from the bed. "Anderson, the guy on my floor, was talking to his boss on the phone. He was video taping the attempted murder on his phone and was going to send it to the boss later on."
"Where's the phone now?"
Dean went back into the bathroom and picked up the phone which still lay on the bathroom sink. He walked back into the bedroom where Mark was now on his feet.
"Good thinking, Ambrose."
Dean went to the PREVIOUS CALLS list on the cellphone. He saw the top number. He pressed SEND for that number and the phone began to ring. The phone was answered immediately.
"About time you called back! I've been waiting for what felt like eternity! You know how impatient I get!
"Where's my wife?" Dean growled.
"Who's this?"
"Your boys didn't get the job done."
"Where are they?"
"Your boys are of no use to you anymore. Especially now that they're dead."
A brief pause. "You killed them?"
"One of them. The other tripped and felt on his own blade. Right through the heart."
"Well, Ambrose. I misjudged you. And that doesn't happen very often with me."
"You don't seem that upset about the loss of your two hit men."
"Ahh, they were imbeciles anyway. Pawns for my use. You saved me the trouble from doing away with them myself."
"Okay, wise guy. Cut the crap. Let me speak to Renee."
"I'm so sorry, Dean. I can't let that happen."
Dean was growing frustrated. "At least let me know that she's okay."
"Oh, she's fine. She's real fine."
The man chuckled sadistically. The way that this individual just described Renee made Dean seethe and his skin crawl.
"If you lay one hand on her..."
"Relax, Deany. She's okay...for now. However, I'm willing to give her back to you unharmed."
"Whatever you want. Just name it. I'll do it."
"Anything?"
"Yes. Anything."
"Okay. Here it is. Show up on RAW tomorrow night. Call the person in charge and explaing what's going on. Have them send a private jet to Vegas so you can make the show in Philadelphia."
"I'll do it. What else?"
"That's it for now. Show up tomorrow night and get further instructions."
"Let me ask you this. Why Renee? What does this have to do with us?"
"Not much you and Renee. Just you."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. What does this have to do with me?"
"Everything. And just so you know. I wouldn't leave Renee without some company."
"Wait. What? What does that mean? Do you have someone else there?"
The only reply Dean got was a tone signaling that the call had ended. Dean threw the phone against the wall causing it to shatter. Dean's palms rested against the wall. He hung his head low, trying to calm his breathing. Mark cautiously approached him.
"Dean." No reply. "Jonathan." He locked eyes with Mark. "What did he say?"
"He wants me to be on RAW tomorrow night. He has Renee. And the way I gather it, she's not alone. I think he has somebody else in his clutches."
"Who?"
"He didn't say. Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"Would you be at RAW with me tomorrow night? I don't want to go alone."
Mark nodded. "I'm there for you, man."