Shiver

Prologue

Alex

Damn! It was Jackie. What the hell was she doing here? It was too early for her to be here.

I've been watching her for weeks. Not her exactly. The place where she worked, casing the joint, getting the routine down, getting ready for the heist. It was a data processing office, a boring, bland place, its only purpose to collect, sort, and store data. It stored classified data, but it was an easy mark. The job should have gone smoothly. It *did* go smoothly. We were on the way out, Ricky and me, free and clear. Until now. Until I found myself staring into blue eyes gone dark with fear and felt cold dread settle in my stomach. I couldn't kill her. I couldn't let Ricky kill her.

"Wait," my voice was calmer than I could have believed. He had already raised his gun and took aim. "We can use her."

He hesitated, looking confused. He wasn't the smartest, but he had his uses. "For what?"

"She has clearance. We can use her if anything goes wrong." We were on our way out. Nothing had gone wrong. It was thin, but it was all I had at the moment to divert Ricky.

"She's seen our faces." His gun came back up.

I stepped in front of Ricky, pushing his gun away impatiently. She was frozen, staring like a deer caught in headlights. There wasn't any place to run to anyway. "We can always kill her later if we can't use her." My voice was calm and cold, not matched by the chaotic knot of dread twisting in my stomach. She was more important to me than she should have been. I felt like a deranged stalker. She didn't know me, but I had been watching her for weeks.

It was a harmless fantasy. Something to while away the long hours of solitude and the boredom of surveillance. I hadn't planned on it ever being anything other than a harmless diversion while I waited for the right time, the juxtaposition of opportunity and availability, when the information I needed was finally within reach. I never thought I would ever actually look into her eyes and have to decide whether to kill her or not.

It was her absolute normality that fascinated me. Daydreams of a different life, different possibilities, all impossible now, but pleasant to speculate on. She had taken on a starring role in my fantasy of a normal life with a wife and kids and hadn't even known it. Would never know it.

Finally Ricky dropped his aim and shrugged. "Sure, whatever. We can always kill her later."

At his words I felt an absurd relief, but Jackie let out a startled croak as fear finally snapped her out of her immobility. She turned and tried to run past me. She was athletic, but her heels slowed her. She didn't have a chance. I caught her in two strides. Arms locked firmly around her waist, I lifted her and carried her back to the car. We had already wasted too much time on her. We had to get out of here. "Open the trunk."

Ricky popped the trunk and I dumped my struggling burden inside. "Shut up," I snarled in my most threatening voice. "Or I can kill you right now and save myself some trouble."

Her eyes went wide with terror, but she went still so suddenly that she looked flash-frozen. My eyes silently warned her as I began lowering the lid. Her eyes clung to mine, searching for some human warmth, some hope, but with Ricky so close I couldn't allow any to shine through.

The trunk clunked shut.

Jackie

I huddled on the floor of the bare room, aware of only darkness and coldness and fear. The windows were boarded over, but I knew the sun had gone down hours ago. The concrete floor was icy against my bare feet. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest and shivered harder.

I didn't know when he would be back. I dreaded it but was also anxious for it. I was so cold, and fear had battered at me all day long. I was worn out from it, exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. I ached with cold all the way down to my bones.

There was a distant squeak. When I heard footsteps approaching, I tightened up into a smaller ball.

God. What if he was coming to kill me? I shivered harder with that thought, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. I could try to fight, but I think he could snap my neck and go peacefully to sleep without a single second thought afterwards. I convulsived sickly at the thought until I controlled myself, pushed it down to only a small steady shaking. I was terrified of provoking him. I had to control myself, be as cold as he was.

The door opened and light hit my face. I blinked and flinched in the sudden glare. The flashlight beam swept past me and wobbled as he pulled back and started to close the door. A different fear rushed me. He was going to leave me here. He was going to let me freeze.

"Please." It was an involuntary, desperate whisper, but it stopped him. "Please. I'm so cold." Only that plea. Too afraid to actually ask for anything. A blanket. A coat. Anything. Couldn't even consider what I really wanted: for him to let me go.

He went still. I desperately tried to read his reaction in the uneven brilliance of the flashlight beam that slanted past him, sinking him deeper into shadows. Straining to hear any sound, sense his intentions, still I was startled when he abruptly started forward. I shivered and jerked in fearful anticipation.

But he only pulled me to my feet and tugged me after him out of the room and into the next. The flashlight beam flitted around this room, revealing a small bed with a rough wool blanket and a single pillow. Otherwise this room was as bare as the last one and just as cold. The cold air cut through my thin dress pants and blouse. I shivered as goosebumps raced over my skin.

He shoved me towards the rickety bed. "Go on. Get under the blanket." His rough voice sent more fear skidding through me.

I didn't look at him as I shuffled forward, but I heard the door close with a soft click. I pushed away the sudden fear at that quiet sound and hurried around to the far side of the bed. I shuffled along the wall and pulled up the blanket, distantly surprised to find a sheet on the mattress. I slid under the blanket and curled into a tight ball, facing the wall and still shivering. This was better but not by much.

I heard him moving around behind me. I was too busy shivering and fighting back the cold to lift my head to see what he was doing until an orange glow slid over the wall in front of me. I looked back to see him standing in the glow of a space heater. I was able to watch him kick off one boot before the cold air won out and I ducked back under the thin blanket.

More whispers of movement that I barely noticed until the bed depressed under his weight. I jumped. I had expected him to go somewhere else. I impatiently pushed away that stupidity. This was probably the only bed and the only blanket in the entire decrepit building.

The blanket tried to tug away as he slid in next to me, and I clutched it tighter, unwilling to let it go. I curled up smaller on the edge of the bed as far from him as I could get. He shifted, and I jerked as his arm went around my stomach, sliding past the knees I had pulled to my chest. He pulled me to his side, and I stiffened in sudden terror.

I had no experience with a man like him, cold and hard with blank, soulless eyes. When I looked into his eyes I saw cold, burning death and a remorseless determination that terrified me. He gave nothing away, and I didn't know what to expect from him. Uncertainty added to terror and submerged all reason. I could only lie beside him and shiver, waiting for what he would do.

But he made no further move, and my fear started to subside. He was wearing only jeans and a T-shirt now, and against my will I shifted back closer to his warmth. I lay on my side, my knees half pulled up. Even with his warmth against me, I continued to shiver.

He rolled up onto his side behind me, and I jerked as fear shot through me. His arm wrapped around my stomach and pulled me back into his warmth, his body cupping around mine. He rearranged the blanket over us then his arm slid around me, a warm solid weight imprisoning me but holding me to the warmth I so desperately needed. My body was taut against his hold, almost vibrating with fear and dread.

He tugged on me impatiently, but I was already as snug against him as I could get. His body shifted against mine, and my stomach dove into my feet.

His face slid against my hair, his breath a sudden warmth on my ear that makes me shiver. "Go to sleep," he ordered harshly.

After a few minutes pass and he made no further move, I gradually started to relax. Still uneasy with his closeness, I was forced to admit that this was better than the cold bare room next door. As his warmth seeped into me and eased my shivers, I felt myself relaxing.

I tried to stay awake. I didn't trust him. But I was so worn out from fighting back the cold and terror all day that I drifted off to sleep, vaguely aware that I shouldn't, but too tired to fight anymore.

Alex

The deal was a bust. The information I had gone to such lengths to get a hold of was useless. It was too late to try again. Weeks of work and months of planning down the drain. I rode out the sick disappointment and tried to plan for the future, what my next move would be.

Ricky expected me to kill her and dump her body somewhere, but I had never actually said I would kill her. What Ricky didn't know would only hurt Ricky once I dropped her off and was out of the country. A nice island vacation seemed called for at this point. Get out while the getting was good, regroup and come at the problem from a different angle. You only lose when you give up, and I refused to give up. My time would come.

That was my philosophy anyway, but it didn't help pad the blow from this botched job. I had time and money invested in this and to discover that the information I needed to bring the Consortium down wasn't here was a crippling blow to my confidence. I was running out of strings to pull.

Jackie shifted against me and my attention came back to her. She wasn't supposed to be there this morning. Why she had decided to come to work early I didn't know, and it was pointless to ask her now. She was here. I had to deal with her.

She stopped shifting around, and her breathing deepened as she drifted off into a deeper sleep. I did plan on getting rid of her, just not the way Ricky expected. She wasn't an agent, only a paper-pusher in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the morning I would dump her someplace on my way out of the country. That would solve that problem. Even if she could give the police a coherent description, it wouldn't do any good. I would be out of the country within a few hours, long before she could get to a phone. Ricky never needed to know what happened to her. And if he happened to come across her after I let her go... well, that wouldn't be my problem anymore, would it?

She shifted in her sleep and sighed, my arm holding her so firmly against me allowed the sound to vibrate into my chest. I relaxed my grip and let my hand stroke over her stomach lightly, absently thinking of which country to run to and which contacts to use to get my plans moving again after this abrupt derailment. My hand glided over the smooth material of her blouse as I appreciated her warmth and the subtle scent coming from her skin, the movement unconsciously soothing my turbulent thoughts.

My thoughts broke off abruptly when she shifted back against me, her whole body stroking against mine as she arched into my gliding touch. Her head came back to move in a light caress against my throat, her hair sliding against my skin like tumbled silk. Abruptly realizing how I had been touching her, I made my hand go still and held my breath; waiting, hoping she would fall back into a deeper sleep.

She slowly shifted back against me one last time then went still. Just when I was sure she had drifted back to sleep, she raised her arms and stretched her body against mine in a long, sleepy stretch before she relaxed with a sigh. Her hands came down on my arm, one hand sliding along my forearm, caressing lightly, while the other clutched at my fingers.

She fit against me so snugly I could feel every move she made and every breath she took. She continued to shift restlessly. I lifted my leg and let it drape over both of hers, trying to still her movements without waking her. In my new position, though, I pressed against her even more intimately. But at my move she seemed content to settle to stillness with another soft sigh and a last maddening wriggle of her hips. She didn't move again for quite some time. I knew because I was wide awake and throbbing with arousal the entire time, blood pounding in my ears.

I lay awake a long time, aching with arousal, listing all the reasons I shouldn't do what I desperately wanted to do. It was wrong. She didn't know it was me touching her like this. She was asleep. She would refuse me if she was aware enough to know what was going on. But these reasons were pitiful and paltry against the pounding need in my head and her instinctive, sensual response to my touch. I allowed my hand to once again gently roam over her stomach in a light caress, pressing the thin blouse to her skin. She murmured something low, still asleep, and shifted against me in one long sensuous stretch, lifting her arms and stretching like a cat. I stifled a groan of pleasure deep in my throat, striving for silence in the face of this torture. Her hips hitched, and this time I did groan out loud, desperately trying to swallow the sound, terrified of waking her and ending it. I knew I couldn't do this if she was actively fighting me.

With sudden sure purpose, my hand stroked down her belly to the flesh between her legs, her thin pants no barrier at all. Her reaction was instant and pure instinct. I lifted my leg from over hers as her legs parted and her hips rotated in a small circle, sweetly following the movement of my hand, her ass rubbing against my bulging erection, soothing and inciting at the same time.

I knew she was still asleep. Her movements were pure instinct. That was what made them so maddening. Careful not to jostle her too much, I slipped my arm between her body and the mattress. She murmured something low that I didn't catch, then my arm was wrapped under her and around her stomach, holding her restlessly twisting body against mine. My breath quickened and a tortured whimper slipped from my throat, a sound I had never heard myself make before.

Her unconscious, instinctive reaction to my touch was driving me wild. I stroked myself against her ass. This went on for long minutes as I desperately tried to bring myself back under control. Nothing had happened that couldn't be ignored if I stopped now. I was sure she was asleep. She never needed to know she had driven me wild in her sleep. But I knew I wasn't going to win this one. Some part of me had known all along. She arched against me again and I was lost.

My hand slid to her hip and found the fastening to her pants. She mumbled a low protest at the loss of my warm touch, but wriggled obligingly as I pushed her pants down, quickly followed by her panties. My hand went to my jeans and as I struggled with them, I let my other hand slide down her stomach and stroke over her hot, naked flesh. She moaned low and her hips moved more urgently.

Her head went back against my chest. She turned her head up to call softly, "Steve, oh, Steve." A small shock went through me at her words, but it was far too late now. Any self-control that I had started with had deserted me. I fought free of my jeans and pressed hot, hard flesh against the bare skin of her ass. My hand wrapped around her stomach to hold her against me as my other hand came back and worked between her legs. She arched hard, her whole body undulating sensuously. Slick warmth seeped over my hand as she twisted against me, moaning.

Breathing hard, I slid my leg between hers, lifting her leg and sliding forward. My cock slid against her, searching, driving need submerging any other consideration.

"Oh, Steve," she moaned. "I love you so."

I jerked a little at that, but only allowed a fleeting sense of guilt as the tip of my cock slipped inside her. I took a harsh breath then drove forward in one smooth thrust, becoming buried in a throbbing warmth that sent exquisite shivers of pleasure exploding over my body.

She arched at my very real invasion, the feel of hard flesh sliding inside her waking her. Hovering over her, I watched her eyes blink open, look around frantically, then listened as she whimpered a denial as reality sank in. "No. Please, wait."

But I ignored her, the guilt buried so deep I never felt it as pleasure pushed it even deeper. I pulled back and pressed forward in a long slow stroke. It was good, so good. I gave a guttural groan that was lost in the softness of her hair.

"I-- no--," she muttered desperately, trying to squirm away, trying to damp down the pleasure shivering over her in waves. My hand skimmed up her body to cover her mouth, pressing hard in silent command, my other hand wrapped around her waist to hold her as I continued to stroke in and out of her hot body with a slow rhythm. She shook with fear and helpless arousal. Shivers raced over her skin, and I absorbed the sensation with a perverse enjoyment that I couldn't deny.

After a moment, when it became clear she understood to stay silent, my hand left her mouth and moved down to her waist to hold her firmly for my thrusts. My other hand moved between her legs. She clutched at my arms, her fingernails digging in and drawing blood in little crescents, but she only clutched at me; she didn't dare to try to pull my hands away.

She gave a choked off whimper as my fingers flicked over sensitive skin, arching and squirming involuntarily at the pleasure I gave her. Her body coiled tighter and tighter under my touch, her shivering sinking past her skin and into blood and bone. I felt her shaking in my arms, torn apart by conflicting desires. Silent tears slipped down her face, wetting my arm as her body betrayed her to my touch.

I shifted over her, pressing her more deeply into the mattress beneath me. She whimpered again, in protest or encouragement it was impossible to tell, and I was past the point where I could care. I moved faster, long strokes picking up speed, my hand moving over her faster, pushing her onward until she was mindless under my touch, until it was only two bodies moving in ancient rhythm, striving to reach a far distant place and yet never move from where we lay.

She gave a startled cry as her release caught her by surprise, and she bucked hard against my hands. Convulsions broke over her, and she screamed, a short, shrill scream followed by a longer, wilder scream.

Her abandoned reaction surprised me, but sent a wild rush of excitement racing through me. I came hard, my yell muffled in her hair, my arms wrapped around her tightly.

I panted heavily into her hair, my body still claiming hers, and shook with the strength of my reaction to her. She shivered in my arms and gasped for breath beneath my body.

I didn't move for a long minute. Couldn't move. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I had never forced a woman in my life. I had never had to. I hadn't even kissed her, and, except for the necessary clothes shoved out of the way, we were both still fully dressed.

I closed my eyes as unaccustomed remorse came over me. I didn't understand why, after all I've done, this should leave me with such a hollow empty feeling.

I desperately wanted to tell her I was sorry, but I knew it would sound pitiful next to what I had just done. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to kiss her and soothe away her fears. I wanted to tell her everything would be all right. But I knew how she would react to any further touch of mine. With horror and fear. So I pulled myself away from her with a surprisingly difficult act of will, crawled out of bed and stood.

I pulled my jeans up with shaking hands while I stared at the back of her head and her unmoving body. She hadn't made a sound since her wild scream of release. I shuddered at the memory of her uncontrolled response and abruptly decided to leave before I did anything else I would regret. I picked up my gun and went out the door, quietly pulling it shut behind me.

Jackie

After he left the room, I lay still a minute in numb reaction. Eventually my hands fumbled down my body and clumsily pulled up my panties and then my pants. Sticky wetness seeped uncomfortably from between my legs as I fumbled the zipper up and fastened it. It was only then that I realized I was still crying, the tears silently slipping down my face. I jerkily rubbed at my face, but they wouldn't stop. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them in misery. Lying on my side, I started to rock gently. My throat ached with anguish, trapping my voice, or I would have started keening. I could feel the sound lodged below my throat, stuck. After a while, the rocking seemed to help. I slowed and then stopped, lying still. My tears had dried and stiffened against my cheek. I wiped at my face with a small sigh and relaxed, my mind numb.

I lay quietly until he walked back into the room. When he turned on the overhead light, my reaction was pure instinct. I slid out of bed and crouched against the far wall, blinking in the suddenly blinding light and watching him warily. He stepped into the room, and I slid away along the wall until by feel alone I found the corner and slowly lowered myself, clutching my arms around my knees and watching him the entire time.

He stopped at my movement and watched me. He was grim as he approached me, and a voice sent up a wail inside my head as I tried to force air into lungs that had stopped working.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me up, and dragged me to the door.

My silence broke, and I started to babble. "What do you want? What are you going to do with me? Where are you taking me?"

But he silently took me back to the room next door. He shoved me inside without a word and locked the door.

Now I was cold again as well as filthy.

Inside and out.

I could tell it was morning when he came back by the light seeping past the boards over the window. I stood braced against the far wall, watching him. He carried a long black coat that he threw at me.

"Put it on," he ordered grimly.

Shaking with cold, I did so. He moved forward, and I backed away into the corner. His face slimmed down and he looked even more foreboding as he moved forward and jerked me towards him. He turned me and pushed me face first into the wall. My stomach gave a convulsive jerk of fear. He was at my back again, and I couldn't see what he was doing. He pulled my hands back and I whimpered a little but bit it off as I felt him loop rope around my wrists. I didn't want him to know how afraid I was even though I was sure it was obvious in the shaking of my hands.

He tied the rope around my wrists tightly then a white piece of cloth flashed past my face. I clenched my eyes closed tight. I expected him to strangle me, but he only gagged me, tugging the cloth hard and tying a tight knot at the back of my head.

He pulled me after him out of the room and we left the rundown building. His car was parked outside and he pulled me around to the trunk. I choked back another whimper of fear when he opened the trunk. He grabbed me around the waist and lifted me into the small, cramped space. After one last inscrutable look, he closed the lid and I was in darkness again.

But at least I was alone.

He drove for what seemed like a long time, but I had no way of knowing exactly how long I lay in darkness. I only knew that my hands were numb, my mouth ached where the gag cut into my mouth and I was stiff from lying in the same position for so long. I began to wish the ride would end even though I suspected that the end of this ride was also the end for me. Despite that knowledge, I lay in tormented misery for so long that I soon began to wish fervently that the ride would be over.

We finally came to a stop, and the engine died. I heard his footsteps echo on concrete as he walked away. Another small eternity in hell stretched out as I wondered if he had left me here to die until I heard more sounds outside the trunk then a key in the lock and the trunk was lifted. I blinked up to find him coldly staring down at me.

He lifted me up and out, and I muffled a cry of pain at the movement. Then he was slamming the trunk closed and untying the gag. I blinked and looked around as he worked on the knots in the rope around my wrists. We were in an underground parking garage. Soon I was freed of the rope. He gripped my arm while his other hand lifted my chin to force me to look up at him.

"We're going upstairs. Don't make a wrong move, don't try to call for help and I won't have to kill you." His grip on my jaw turned painful. "Understand?"

"I understand," I said with a dry mouth.

He grunted acknowledgment and pulled me around to the passenger side. He opened the door and pulled out a huge, droopy black hat and slapped it on my head, pulled out a small black bag and slammed the door shut. Gripping my arm tightly, he led me to the elevator.

We didn't run into anyone during the ride up in the elevator or the walk down the hall to the room. He opened the door then pushed me in ahead of him. For the first time I noticed the luxury of our surroundings as I got a chance to take a good look around. It was a suite of rooms. We were in the main room which contained a table and a couple of couches for entertaining. I wandered in further and saw a bedroom leading off to one side. Everything was grandly done up and screamed expense.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor sent me whirling around.

"What's going on?" I finally asked.

"Nothing," he answered shortly. "We're staying here for a few days, that's all." He took my arm in a gentle grip, led me into the bedroom then tugged me over to the bathroom.

"Take a shower," he ordered quietly.

I nodded. I stepped into the bathroom, but before I could close the door he stopped me.

"Leave it open," he ordered, his hand on the door. I nodded jerkily, and he moved away.

I hurriedly pulled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. I sighed with pleasure as the heat of the water moved through my body. I was there for quite a while, just standing, until I realized he was probably waiting on me. I hurriedly began to clean up. I was just rinsing the last of the conditioner out of my hair when the shower door was pulled open and he stood staring at me, naked.

I took a gasping breath of fear and jumped back against the wall. He ignored my reaction and stepped under the shower, pulling the door closed. I didn't know what to do, so I didn't move. He calmly picked up the soap and began to wash. He was too tall and wide for the small space, and I began to shake. I tried to make myself even smaller as he moved around, quickly washing and rinsing off, but I jumped every time he brushed against me.

Finally he rinsed off the last of the soap and turned to face me. I kept my eye determinedly on his face. He offered me the soap, and my eyes dipped until I jerked them back up to his face.

"Are you done?" he asked softly. His expression was strangely compassionate as he stared at me. I could only nod mutely.

"Good," he said softly and put the soap down. He turned off the water then turned back to me. He took the small step forward that was the only space between us and his arms went around me.

I jumped and let out a squeak of dismay. I arched away from his hands and tried to back away, but I was already at the wall. I pushed at his arms, frantically trying to pull his arms from around me. My hands slipped off his slick arms and onto his chest so I pushed at his chest. His arms around me were strangely gentle as he let me try to twist away from him but never so far as to twist free. I tried to slide past him but he pulled me back. I felt his erection brush against my stomach and went still, cold and wet and terrified.

His head dipped down to mine, and I found myself staring into serious green eyes.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked quietly.

After a moment I answered in a shaking voice. "Yes."

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I opened my mouth to ask just what he was going to do when he dipped his head closer and his mouth came down on mine. It was a slow, exploratory kiss, and I realized that he had never kissed me. He had fucked me and made me scream with pleasure but he had never kissed me. I could feel his arousal against my stomach but even after long moments, he made no other move, only kissed me hungrily, deeply.

Finally, he pulled away from my mouth and took a heaving breath, resting his forehead against mine. I waited dazedly for what he would do next.

He pulled his arms from around me and stepped back. He opened the shower door and stepped out. "Stay here," he ordered then pushed the door closed.

I stayed frozen against the cold wet wall and watched his vague movements through the door as he dried off then dressed. He opened the door just wide enough to thrust his arm through. He held out a big, fluffy towel, carefully not looking at me.

"Get dressed," he ordered harshly. Then he turned away and was gone, closing the bathroom door behind him.

I dried off in a hurry then looked around for my clothes. They were gone but hanging on the back of the door was a dress. I touched it hesitantly. It was creme-colored with two thin straps and a deep v-neck. Sequins were sewn into the fabric, giving it weight. There was a satin inner lining. I touched it gently, barely believing it was real. It looked expensive. I looked around. There was nothing else to wear.

I pulled it on over my head, and it whispered down my body in a soft caress. The dress fell to just above my knees and dipped so low in back that I could easily pull up the zipper. It fit snugly against my body and my breasts were gently held and lifted. It was a dream of a dress. I stared at myself in the mirror, startled at the picture I made. The dress sparkled against my darkly tanned skin and made my eyes seem intensely blue. My shoulder-length blond hair was quickly drying into a chaotic mass of short curls.

I smoothed my hands down the dress with pleasure, forgetting my fear and confusion in the sudden surprising delight of discovering this dress.

But very soon I remembered the man that waited in the other room. I looked around. There was nothing else in the bathroom. No underwear, no nylons, no shoes, nothing. This wasn't a dress you could wear anything underneath, but I was still acutely aware of satin sliding against bare skin as I walked into the bedroom.

He wasn't there. I let out a small sigh of relief. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. I would have to face him. It might as well be now.

My bare feet were silent as I walked to the connecting door. He was silently staring out the window at the sweeping panorama of the bay, the evening sun leaving darkness behind. I must have made a sound because he swung around. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, his hair slicked back, and my stomach clenched as I realized just how breathtakingly handsome he was. I blinked and tried to breathe normally.

"You look beautiful," he said softly and moved forward.

I watched him nervously. This was the same man who had kidnapped me, raped me and threatened to kill me if I tried to escape, wasn't it? But that reality seemed to be slipping away under his appreciative gaze. I only nodded demurely as he led me over to a table laden with food and seated me with an innate chivalry that was soothing and disturbing at the same time.

"I hope you like steak."

I nodded again and picked up my fork. I eyed the steak knife a moment before picking it up. Not looking at him, I began to eat. The wine was nice, but I would have preferred water. I didn't say anything, only tried to keep from greedily sipping at the wine to quench my thirst. I couldn't keep track of how much I drank. As soon as my glass got the least bit low, he refilled it.

Half-way through the delicious meal, I became aware that he had finished and was watching me. I glanced up. He had a small half-smile on his face and his eyes looked gentle in the candlelight. I quickly looked away and back at my plate. I tried to decide if I would be able to finish with him watching me or if I should give up on the rest of my food.

"Who's Steve?" The question cut across the silence and sent a shockwave through me.

Steve. How did he know about Steve? I put the fork and knife down, deciding to give up on the food. There was no way I could finish.

"Steve is, uh, was, uh..." My voice was shaking, and I took a breath. "Steve was my boyfriend." I looked up to find him staring at me.

After a short, measuring pause, he asked, "Just a boyfriend?"

"Yes, for about five years." It was getting easier to talk. "We were going to get married."

"You *were* going to get married?" he questioned. "What happened?"

"He broke it off." It was getting difficult to talk again, but now it was because of painful memories. Miscarriage and a man who couldn't live with a woman who couldn't give him children. I shrugged the memories away. I didn't want to think about Steve. Nevertheless I felt strangely compelled to correct what I had said. "*We* broke it off."

And we had. It had been a mutual agreement. If Steve couldn't live with half a woman, I couldn't live with a constant reminder that I was only half a woman. Every glance seemed pointed and reproachful. He never came right out and said anything. It was the looks I would see when he thought I wasn't watching and the perpetually disappointed shadow in his eyes. After only a few weeks we had agreed it wasn't working.

My captor pushed away from the table and stood. He went over to a small radio and music filled the silence. He walked back to me and held out his hand. "Care to dance?" He arched an eyebrow politely.

I wasn't sure I wanted to dance with him, but I was also not sure of his reaction if I refused. He had been civilized up till now, but I didn't know how long that would last. Even with the wine buzzing through my head it was an easy decision to make. I nodded and stood. He pulled me into his arms, and we started moving in a slow waltz. I was tense at first and couldn't follow him easily but after a moment of slowly moving around the room I relaxed and began to move with him smoothly.

That song ended and another began, and we kept moving slowly to the music. By the end of that song I somehow came to be resting against his chest. We were barely moving now, just swaying from foot to foot. That song ended, and we stopped moving. I lifted my head to stare at him. Another song started, but we didn't move, only stared into each other's eyes.

It must be the wine, I decided desperately. He must have drugged it. But I knew he hadn't. My mind was babbling that wine *was* a drug, but I knew that wasn't it either. When he lowered his lips to mine I was shamefully aware that I went up on tiptoes to meet him. But that knowledge didn't stop me from enjoying his long, soft kiss.

He was the one to pull back first. A distant shame went through me. I should be fighting him, trying to escape. Not kissing him. Not enjoying his touch.

"I think it's time for bed," he said quietly.

Alarm rocketed through me at his words. This must be what he wanted all along. Before I could form words into a coherent protest, he swept me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. He laid me down on the bed then sat beside me. He leaned over me, his arm arching over me to brace against the bed. He solemnly stared into my face, and I was distantly aware of the logic of the situation. If I fought him this could get very ugly very quickly while if I just gave in it could stay pleasant. Remembered pleasure coursed over my skin and I shivered. Very pleasant.

"My name is Alex," he stated calmly.

I could only stare at him in confusion. I expected him to jump me and ravish me, not introduce himself.

"Say it," he ordered quietly. "Alex."

"Alex," I repeated on a breath of air.

He smiled. "Good."

I stared at his smile, dazzled. I had never seen him smile like that.

He pressed a light kiss against my lips then lifted his head to stare into my eyes from inches away. "I'm sorry about last night." His words were barely audible.

I could only return his stare in blank surprise. He was a criminal. He was probably going to kill me when he was done with me. Why was he apologizing? But he wasn't acting like a criminal, and my thoughts whirled dizzily.

His hand stroked over my face then brushed lightly through my hair. "I've never done that before, not being able to stop like that, and I'm sorry." He didn't wait for an answer. He pulled back.

"Good night. See you in the morning." Then he was up and off the bed and out the door. I stared after him in a daze, fighting back an odd feeling that couldn't possibly be disappointment.

I found a nightgown of pale pink satin draped over the end of the bed. It was a simple design, but it looked expensive. I carefully changed out of the dress and into the nightgown. The satin brushed over the floor as I walked into the bathroom to hang the dress up behind the door where I had found it.

I lifted the hem and walked back to the bed. I paused to stare uneasily at the door that led to the other room, but the door was closed, and after only a moment's hesitation, I pulled back the sheets and slid into bed with a sigh.

I tried to worry about what could happen tonight while I slept, but exhaustion mixed with wine soon pulled me under.

Someone was shaking me. I mumbled a low protest. The shaking didn't stop. I cracked open an eye to find Alex leaning over me. Both eyes shot open and I went to sit up, but his hands went to my arms to gently press me back against the bed.

"Relax," he soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I didn't believe him and looked around wildly. I caught sight of the tray beside the table. It carried toast, coffee and a bowl of warm cereal. Some of my tension drained away at the sight. I doubt he was here to attack me if he was bringing me breakfast in bed.

He released me. His hands went beside me to brace himself, and he leaned in close. He kissed me softly, his lips moving over mine, and I relaxed with a confused moan, waiting for the kiss to deepen.

He pulled back, his breathing as uneven as mine.

"Eat your breakfast, get cleaned up. I'll be in the other room." He abruptly stood and walked out.

I stared after him a moment, waiting for my breathing to return to normal and my heart to stop pounding. I picked up the coffee with a trembling hand and took a sip. I added sugar and took another sip. Better, but my hands still shook.

After I ate and washed up, I found clothes in the bathroom; jeans and a blouse along with some underthings. But strangest of all was a brand new pair of hiking boots. After I dressed, I uncertainly walked to the connecting door and looked around.

Alex was waiting for me, dressed as casually as I was. He immediately came forward and took my arm in a polite grip.

"Let's go," he said and led me to the door.

"Where are we going?" I found the courage to ask.

"It's a surprise."

I frowned at him, worried, and he smiled reassurance. "Don't worry. It's a good surprise."

I silently followed him down to the car and soon we were driving. We arrived at a park, and I watched him pull a basket from the trunk. He took my hand, threaded his fingers through mine and smiled at me. I smiled back uncertainly then frowned and looked away. We began to walk.

Because it was the middle of the week there weren't a lot of people around. Alex seemed relaxed and at ease. There was no trace of the hard criminal that had threatened to kill me. I could almost believe we were on a date if I didn't catch a flashing glimpse of the gun in his shoulder holster every once in a while.

I was confused. Why the act? If he was bringing me out here to kill me, why bother? There was no one around to hear me scream.

He could have left my body in that abandoned building. Why the game? We both knew he was a kidnapper and a rapist. Why pretend otherwise? There were no answers and the questions were turning my stomach into a shivering knot of dread.

He pulled me to a stop in the middle of a clearing. I looked up with alarm, not sure what was next.

"Have a seat," he ordered pleasantly, motioning under a tree.

Uncertain, I sat, folding my legs under me. I watched him warily, but he only sat across from me and opened the basket. He pulled cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine out. He used the lid of the basket as a small table and set out the food. With a small smile he handed me a glass of wine. I took it watched him begin to nibble on a cracker and sip at the wine. I made no move towards the food, only continued to sit and watch him, holding the still-full glass of wine.

Finally my curiosity got the better of me. "What's going on?" My voice was subdued; it didn't want to work.

"What?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this," I motioned around the clearing with my wineglass, "all this. What's going on?"

"We're having a picnic," he answered calmly.

"I know it's a picnic," I snapped. "Why?"

He didn't answer immediately, and I began to regret my tone. I didn't want him to get angry.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but something forced me to ask, "Are you going to kill me and leave my body out here?" He looked surprised at the suggestion. "Are you going to rape me again?" That seemed a more logical conclusion after all he had done, everything that had led up to this.

"No! I'm not going to hurt you. I swear."

I stood up, still clutching the wineglass. "So I can leave if I want?"

He stood up, too, looking disturbed. "No. Not yet," he said quietly.

"That's what I thought," I answered just as quietly. I sounded defeated and started to sit back down.

He had started to sit as well when, with a quick flick of my wrist, I splashed the wine into his face then threw the glass after it. I didn't stick around to see if I hit him. I was off and running.

I ran deeper into the woods, hoping to circle around and head for the road after I lost him. I don't know what he had planned, but I knew I didn't want to stick around and find out.

My heart was pounding as I tried to crash through the woods quietly. It was impossible. I thought I heard him and looked back, my breath stopped in my throat, but there was no one.

I crashed through some more brush, desperately trying to breathe as bands of fear tightened around my lungs.

I paused after that first crazed run to get my bearings and listen for signs of pursuit. I was panting for breath and trying to quiet my desperate heaving gulps so I could hear when he crashed into me from the side and down we went. I twisted and tried to squirm free, but it was no contest. His arms kept me from squirming away while the weight of his body held me down.

I couldn't move and could barely breathe. I tried to elbow him, but it was no use. I couldn't move enough to even do that. Mindless panic began to surge through me at the familiar feeling of him pressing along my back and holding me down. My stomach twisted sickly, and I began to shake. My cheek pressed to the ground and black fear engulfed me. I heaved for breath that quickly changed to choked-off sobs as I began to cry helplessly.

He eased off me and turned me over. He stared at me grimly, and I closed my eyes as I desperately tried to stop crying. I didn't want to die weeping and wailing, but I still couldn't breathe and the tears continued to fall. "If you're going to kill me, just do it," I hiccuped. "Stop playing these sick games."

I felt him ease back some more and opened my eyes. He didn't look angry. He looked... He looked strangely sad.

"I'm not going to kill you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Then what do you want from me?" I asked desperately.

"I'm sorry, all right? I'm trying to make up for what I did." He grimaced. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it?" He sat up beside me, then mumbled, "It doesn't help that I discovered I like kissing you."

That dazed me. I must have heard him wrong.

He stood up impatiently, looking away from me. "Come on. I'll take you back."

I didn't move, just lay on the ground feeling as though I'd been kicked in the stomach. I stared up at him. "Back where?"

"Wherever," he said shortly. "I'm letting you go."

"Really?" Hope went through me so strong I went dizzy with it. I was going to live. He was going to let me go. I sat up. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now," he said impatiently. He leaned over to take my arm and pull me to my feet. He brushed leaves and dirt off my back. "You're a mess."

"So are you," I defended. I plucked a twig out of his hair and held it up as evidence.

"Yeah, well, you're *more* of a mess." He vigorously ran his hand over my curls and dirt and leaves rained down in a shower of debris.

"And whose fault is that?" I asked. All the while, I'm going to live, I'm going to live, kept running over and over through my head.

"Your own fault," he answered shortly and tugged me forward.

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, really." My voice was sweet but my thoughts were raging. This was all his fault as far as I was concerned. Everything. It was all because of him. He started to pull me back the way we came and I looked around narrowly, considering. I spotted a promising-looking mound of dirt and leaves.

I don't know why I was even considering what I was considering. I felt strangely confident while at the same time a small part of me calmly watched and evaluated. This would tell me if he meant what he said or not.

"Alex, look! Over there!" I pointed away from the mound and he turned and looked up in alarm. Then I tripped him and shoved and over he went. I stood a second, staring in amazement -- it worked! -- then started to laugh. As laughter rolled out in great waves, I felt the last of the clinging fear leave with it.

It felt so good.

He struggled to sit up, looking furious, but I didn't care. He could hit me if he wanted to. It was worth it to watch him helplessly fling clumps of dirt around as he struggled to sit up.

Finally he succeeded in sitting up and scowled at me. There were leaves sticking up in his hair. I started laughing again.

"What?" he scowled. "It's not funny."

I laughed helplessly and lifted a hand to point at his hair. But I couldn't talk yet so I unsteadily moved closer so he could hear what I struggled to say.

"Hair," I gasped.

"What?" His scowl had melted away to only a disapproving frown, but I thought I detected a glimmer of answering amusement in his eyes.

"Your hair," I managed.

His hand lifted to brush over his hair. A rain of debris came down in a mighty deluge. I choked on more laughter.

He surged to his feet, and I sealed my lips to stare up at him solemnly. But I could feel laughter bubbling in my chest and dancing in my eyes.

"It's not funny," he stated sternly, but there was a decided gleam in his eyes.

He looked so silly with one lone leaf hanging off the side of his hair that I choked on more laughter. Then it happened so fast, I lost my breath and the laughter died. He grabbed me, twisted around and suddenly I was on my back in the leaves with him kneeling beside me with a very annoying, very self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face.

I gasped in a surprised breath and the dry leaves crinkled and scraped against my back. But as quick as he had moved, he hadn't hurt me. Maybe it was the childish self-satisfaction in his eyes or the arrogant way he propped his hands on his thighs as he knelt beside me, but I wasn't afraid of him. I suddenly couldn't stand his self-satisfied smile a minute longer. I clutched two handfuls of leaves and let fly.

The first handful caught him in the face and his eyes widened in surprise. The second handful sprayed across his shoulder. Then I twisted over and squirmed away across the leaves, scooping and throwing leaves as I went.

I was as dirty as he was by now, but it was worth it just to get to hit him with something. Even if it was only dirt and leaves.

Then the fun was over. His arms came around me, and I collapsed to the ground under his weight. He wasn't crushing me and his arms were gentle, but I knew I couldn't break his hold. I was strangely serene as I tried to catch my breath. It felt good to hit back at him, even in such a small way. I was strangely sure he wouldn't hurt me. The gentleness of his arms around me reassured me of that.

I could feel him trying to catch his breath. His face dropped to my shoulder, and I shivered convulsively as I had a violent flashback to the night before last. Darkness and helpless fear and shame.

I shuddered again and my breath hitched. I didn't want to think about it. I never wanted to think about that night ever again. But it wouldn't stop and I could only lay there helpless as the memories rolled over me in great waves.

It was dim here because of the surrounding trees but hardly dark. He wasn't going to hurt me. He *hadn't* hurt me. Breathing unevenly, I stared into the distance, trying to make out the pattern of leaves on a distant tree and shake away those memories.

When he felt me start to shiver, he lifted his head and eased away. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." My voice was shaky. "Fine." But I didn't move except for the trembling of my body.

"You don't sound fine," he corrected. He pulled me around so he could see my face.

I couldn't meet his eyes. I felt ashamed, dirty, and I didn't know how to deal with it. He pulled me up to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

I nodded and blinked back tears, still unable to look at him. I wiped dirt off my face with a shaking hand.

He wasn't touching me. We sat side by side as I struggled with myself. After a moment, he lightly touched my shoulder. When I didn't move away, his arms went around me and pulled me against his chest.

I relaxed against him with a sigh and clutched at his jacket. I was so confused. It was wrong that I trust him and relax against him and let him comfort me. The whole reason why I was in this state was *because* of him, because of what he'd done to me, what he made me feel. But I only knew that I was so tired of being scared, and so tired of feeling alone, and it felt so good to relax and stop worrying. I didn't even know why I believed him when he said he wouldn't kill me. There was no reason why I should believe him. I just did. Maybe I had to.

After a long time I quieted to a numb kind of calm. He had been so patient for so long that I was surprised. He didn't seem the patient type.

"I like kissing you, too," I mumbled out of nowhere. I buried my face deeper against his chest. I was shocked. I don't know why I said it. I wasn't even thinking about it.

"What?" he asked blankly, sounding just as surprised.

I pulled away, not looking at him. "Nothing," I mumbled.

He was silent.

"I like kissing you, too," I repeated, still not looking at him. I peeked up at him to judge his reaction.

He stared at me, uncertain.

I eased up on my knees and leaned towards him. My hands came down on his shoulders and his hands went around my waist.

"I don't think-- " he started.

"Don't. Think," I whispered, then touched my lips to his. It was a sweet, soft kiss. I slowly relaxed against him, leaning more and more forward until he was holding me lightly against his chest.

He eased onto his back, but I barely noticed until he suddenly deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around me.

Panic rolled over me, and I pulled away, gasping. "I can't..." I muttered and pushed away from his chest. "I'm sorry."

Laying back against the leaves, he let me move away, silently watching.

Sitting up, I turned my back to him and took deep, calming breaths. He remained silent and still behind me as I struggled for control.

After my breathing evened out, I numbly stared at nothing as I wondered if I was ever going to get over this. I heard a faint rustling from behind me and looked around to watch him slowly sit up with an inscrutable expression on his face. I shivered a little at the grimness in his eyes and quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry..." He trailed off. I looked back to see genuine sadness in his eyes as he looked at me helplessly.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "I'm sorry, too."

I felt so ashamed. I couldn't look at him anymore. I should have fought harder. I should have stopped him. But there was nothing I could do. I had just woken up, and I was disoriented. He wouldn't stop. <You didn't want him to stop> my conscious prodded viciously.

It wasn't my fault. He was already buried inside me by the time I knew what was going on. It wasn't my fault I couldn't make him stop. He was too big and too strong. I couldn't stop him. I...

It was no use. The shame wouldn't go away.

"Look at me, Jackie," Alex commanded sharply from behind me. But I couldn't. " Jackie!"

But I wouldn't look. He gently took my shoulders in his hands and tried to pull me around to face him. I resisted, turning my head away.

"It's not your fault. What happened is not your fault."

He had me half turned to face him and at his words I finally looked up. "Yeah, right," I said bitterly. "And horses can fly." I looked away as another wave of shame broke over me. "I should have stopped you. I should have fought harder."

But I liked it, I thought. I liked his touch, the way his body felt against mine. I'm a whore. A shudder of disgust went through me, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, distantly aware his hands were still on my shoulders.

His hands left my shoulders so abruptly that I looked up in alarm. He was violently pulling off his jacket. I began to inch away from him as I realized how angry he looked.

He laid his jacket down, draped over the dirt and leaves, the soft satin lining facing up. He looked over at me. The determination in his gaze was suddenly scaring me. I tried to slide away from him and gain my feet at the same time, but he moved too fast. His hands went around my waist and lifted and then I was on my back with Alex straddling my hips.

He held my wrists in a merciless grip in midair between us and scowled down at me. Fear made my heart pound and my breath short.

"So stop me," he taunted.

I gulped in a breath and tried to pull my hands free of his grip. It was unbreakable. He abruptly slammed my hands down to the ground on either side of my shoulders, lunging over me. My heart jumped with fear. He leaned in until his face was close to mine.

"Stop me from doing whatever I want to you," he ordered softly. It could have been an endearment if I listened only to his tone, it was that sweetly soothing, like the murmur of ocean waves on a distant beach. But I had heard his words, and I shivered as fresh fear slid through my guts. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, trying to block out his image and the hot, enticing scent coming from his skin.

I shifted under his body, trying to inch away, gain some distance from him, but I couldn't move.

His hands were hard on my wrists. I felt the feather-light touch of his lips brush against my cheek. I shivered. "Please," I whispered. "Don't."

"You'll have to do better than that," he whispered back in that same seductive drawl. "If you *really* want to stop me. Isn't that right? If you only fight hard enough you could get away. If you *really* wanted to."

His words cut deep. I felt a trembling start in my stomach as I realized how helpless I was. I struggled briefly against his hands, arching my body under his and trying to squirm free, but he quickly reined me in. Suddenly knowing how hopeless it was, I gave up and went limp. Tears welled up behind closed eyes. One leaked out of the corner of my eye and trailed into my hair.

After a long moment passed he abruptly released my wrists and leaned away from me. I opened my eyes just in time to see him draw his gun.

My breath caught and my hands scrambled at the ground as I tried to pull myself from beneath his body. But he was immovable as ever and suddenly the barrel of the gun was pressed under my chin. I watched him with my eyes narrowed and my face clenched as if that could stop a bullet. I waited for the explosion of pain as the bullet burst into my brain.

"Do you believe I'll kill you if you don't do as I say?" he growled.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. His face was blank and his eyes were cold. The barrel of the gun dug into the sensitive flesh under my chin.

"Y-yes," I finally whispered.

"Good," he said shortly. He pulled the gun away and holstered it.

I took a breath of relief as I realized he wasn't going to kill me, but it was short-lived. He took my wrists again and pinned them to either side of my head. He leaned in close, and I stared at him uneasily. He was acting so strangely.

"Open your mouth," The seductive drawl was back but his eyes were still unreadable. I stared at him uncertainly. I don't think he was aware of the effect of that slow, soft whisper. He didn't seem aware of it. He merely seemed very serious.

His grip on my wrists tightened. "Don't make me hurt you. Open your mouth."

I swallowed and let my lips part slightly. He moved in closer, tortuously slow.

I was panting lightly with a combination of fear and uncertainty by the time his lips closed over mine in a gentle kiss. My eyes closed and I moaned softly, denial and confusion combined. I felt his own moan vibrate into my mouth. His lips pressed against mine, pushing my mouth open wider. I squirmed as he began a slow exploration of my mouth. God. It was so wrong but it felt so right.

His hips shifted against me, and I shivered as I felt his arousal brush against my stomach. He broke away, panting for breath. "So stop me," he said hoarsely. "Stop me from doing anything I want to you."

Dazed, I could only stare at him. Finally I managed to whisper in a small, broken voice. "I can't."

He slowly released my wrists, but I remained motionless. One of his hands came up to gently brush my hair back from my face. He thumbed away tear tracks. "Exactly," he said softly. "You can't. What happened wasn't your fault. It was *my* fault."

I swallowed convulsively, my throat not wanting to work, and tried to hold back more tears. My eyes remained locked on his as his hand continued to stroke over my face.

"I raped you," he said softly, and I flinched. "It was good for you because I wanted it to be good for you. You had no more choice about it than that. You screamed with pleasure because I wanted you to. If I wanted you to scream in pain and terror than that's what would have happened. *I* did it, not you. You couldn't have stopped me, so stop feeling guilty."

I took a heaving breath as his words sank in. It wasn't my fault. Finally I believed it. I felt light, like a great weight had lifted off me. I started to cry then, great tearing sobs that wracked my body. Alex eased back and off me and let me cry. I curled up and pressed the side of my face against his jacket. It smelled of him and was strangely reassuring while at the same time disturbing.

I hate to cry, always have, so I only allowed myself a few moments of abandoned weeping before my sobs quieted. I gave a last muffled sigh and my body relaxed into as close an approximation to relief as I had achieved in the last thirty-six hours.

I decided he wasn't going to kill me. He wasn't going to hurt me or rape me, either. He was going to let me go. I suddenly believed it, against all reason. Another small sigh of relief leaked out of me.

Worn out, I looked up from where I lay curled up on his jacket, eyes searching for him. I found him sitting up and silently watching me from a few feet away. He watched me solemnly, and I smiled a watery smile at him. I slowly pushed myself upright, my arms trembly and weak.

"I..." I started only to hesitate. I stared intently into his eyes. "Thanks," I said softly. "I feel better."

"Good." He heaved himself upright. Standing over me, he held out his hand. I stared up at him a minute then smiled and took it. He pulled me to my feet beside him, and we smiled into each other's eyes. He dropped my hand to bring both his hands up to very gently cup my face.

I went breathless as he leaned in and laid a light kiss against my lips.

"You're braver than you think." He solemnly stared into my eyes.

I looked away in disbelief and stifled a snort. I had only been terrified since this whole ordeal began. Scared and shaking and only wanting to curl up in a ball in some corner and wail for my mommy. Some brave. If only he knew.

He tugged my face back up so he could look in my eyes. "You are," he insisted. "Being brave isn't not being afraid. Being brave is going on despite your fear. Remember that."

His words were resounding in my head as later that evening he pulled the car to a stop in front of a Georgetown apartment building. He handed me a piece of paper.

"Go to this apartment." He gestured to the paper. "Give this to Dana Scully." He said the name carefully and clearly. "She's a federal agent. She knows me. Tell her what happened." He paused, looking grim. "Tell her what I did. She can help you."

I stared at the piece of paper and then back at Alex. I didn't have a lot of options. I only had the clothes on my back and this small slip of paper.

My hand slipped into the door handle, but I paused in opening the door to look at him. He was watching me with that same cold, blank look that I knew so well but this time he didn't scare me.

I released the handle and hesitated, looking at him. "You're a better man than you think, Alex."

A flicker of an eyelash was his only reaction then I was out the door and walking for the entrance to the building. As I opened the door, I heard him drive away.

I didn't look back.