John set Jessie gently on the floor and she immediately went to a corner in the bunker and slid down into it. John picked up the keys to the handcuffs and unlocked them, then sat down and untied his feet. His side and thigh felt like they were on fire and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He sat still for a moment hoping some of the pain from his movements would ease some. He looked over at Jessie. She had her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms folded across them. Her head was down, her forehead resting on her arms, and she was rocking herself as she cried. John crawled over and sat next to her. He put his arm around her and she pulled away without looking up. She inched away from him and continued to rock and cry.

"Okay..." He said softly. "I'll leave you alone...for now." He put his hand on her head, she flinched but didn't move away, and moved his fingers through her hair. "I'll be right here."

As he sat with her, he looked around the bunker to assess their situation. Because it was used for storage there was absolutely nothing they could use. There was a rotted pallet in one of the other corners and a tarp that was riddled with holes that would probably disintegrate if it was touched. Other than that there was nothing else in the bunker beside the two of them. 'Not good," John thought. 'Not good at all.' He wondered about the temperature. All he had on was a pair of jeans and although Jessie was fully clothed, he knew that blood loss caused body temperature to drop. If it got cold enough the two of them would be in serious trouble, himself especially. There was also their wounds to think about. He had no way to clean them. No way to dress them. No way to control bleeding. He glanced over at Jessie's wrist. The bleeding had slowed considerably, but it still bled. He looked at his own wounds. The 'L' shape cut on his chest had clotted and wasn't bleeding at all. The cut on his side was a mix of clotted and fresh blood. It would stop bleeding if he didn't move but the location made it impossible for him to control. Hell, when he breathed he could feel the cut expand and contract in time with his chest. It hurt like hell too, but it still didn't come close to the pain in his thigh. Though he couldn't get a good look at it through his jeans, he knew it was a mess. He could feel that his flesh was torn away or just hanging there in some parts, from when Langston had yanked the razor wire out of his thigh. There was no comfortable position for him, standing or sitting caused the same pain, and his leg throbbed constantly.

Jessie's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"He...he dragged Dad...uh...away...where-"

John moved closer to her and silenced her by pulling her to him. "Shhh...don't think about that."

She pulled away from him and looked up at him. "I'll...I'll never see him again."

He couldn't take it. The lost, heartbroken look in her eyes was too much for him to keep it together any longer. His own tears started to fall and he again pulled her to his chest, which was now heaving from his sobs. He laid his cheek on the top of her head and held her tight. "We're gonna get through this...I promise."

When Langston came in from putting Patrick in his car, Krieger was busy hosing down the floor to wash any evidence of blood away. He had Langston's 'goody bag' and their jackets set aside and ready to go.

"Damn, I never realized how big O'Doyle was. Ready to go?"

Krieger turned off the hose and picked up his jacket. "It's pretty clean in here. If anyone were to happen by they wouldn't notice anything."

"And our permanent guests?"

"They're not going anywhere."

"Good. What do you give them like a day...two tops?" Langston grinned happily.

"I don't know maybe." Krieger looked towards the office door. He was having trouble getting John and Jessie out of his head and he didn't like that at all. "We should've just killed them, Roy."

"We did...it's just gonna take time for them to actually be dead." He picked up his jacket and bag. "I'll go dump the bodies at the docks...you go about fifty miles South and get rid of everything in the van, including Lewis' stuff. We'll meet in an hour at The Red Dragon to celebrate a job well done and then...well, maybe we'll work together again someday."

"Sounds good. Let's get the hell out of here."


Krieger drove two miles before he pulled over on the side of the road and turned off the engine. He punched the steering wheel and sat back in the seat angrily. He was angry at Lewis for 'fucking up' the camera job and getting them all identified. He was angry at Langston for 'fucking up' the job and not getting the facts straight. He was angry at himself for not checking into the job thoroughly and letting Langston get out of control. And he was angry at Jessie O'Doyle for leaning on him for comfort...him. The man who knocked her unconscious, who stood there and smiled when Langston touched her, and the man who put a gun to her head. She had made him feel something he'd never felt before...guilty. In the twenty and some odd years Thomas Krieger had been for hire, he had killed well over a hundred people, all in one way or another guilty of something. He made sure of it...until now. The only thing Jessie O'Doyle and John Grant were guilty of was having a mob boss for a Father and a Grandfather and despite that fact, neither of them used it to their advantage. Fuck! He sat up and punched the steering wheel again. Think! Think! Think! He got up and went to the back of the van. They had brought John and Jessie's packed bags with them. He went through them finding nothing but clothes. Good. He picked up Lewis' backpack or 'snack pack' as Lewis called it on their many surveillance nights. There was a variety of snacks inside...chips, crackers, Twinkies, chocolate bars, and small cans of Vienna sausage. Well, he wasn't the one that was going to be eating it. He pulled a small cooler from underneath the passenger seat. Five bottles of water were left in it. Good. He reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a bottle and a half of whiskey. Even better. He looked over the inventory he had piled in the center of the van and smiled, satisfied with himself.

"I can't let them go, but I can try to give them the time they need for someone to find them."

He got back into the driver's seat and headed back towards the warehouse. He smiled when he noticed John's cell phone on the dashboard. He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

"I'll get my money from Langston...three days...I'll give myself a three-day head start and then call someone for them. That'll do it...that will make this damn knot in the pit of my stomach go away."


Tbc...